Sora's alarm clock buzzed sharply, dragging him from a restless slumber. His hand shot out instinctively, swiping at the phone on the nightstand to silence the noise. The screen glowed in the dim morning light, displaying the harsh reality—6:30 AM.
Another day. Another repeat of yesterday.
The city outside his window was still cloaked in the quiet of early morning, with only the faintest hue of dawn creeping between the blinds. A dull throb of a headache pressed against his temples, the aftermath of yet another sleepless night. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest. The usual thoughts, the ones that gnawed at him constantly, raced through his head. Why did he feel so... stuck? Was this what life was supposed to be like?
Groaning, Sora swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor. He sat there for a moment, staring at the carpet as if hoping some burst of inspiration would hit him. It never did. He was used to it by now—each day felt like a blur of repetition. The same routine. The same people. The same empty feeling that followed him everywhere.
The small, cluttered apartment in Shibuya greeted him with its familiar mess—books, discarded clothes, a few too many half-eaten snacks. It was his space, but it hardly felt like home. It felt more like a holding cell, a place where he was stuck while the world outside rushed by.
He rubbed his face, pushing away the grogginess, and headed into the bathroom. The cold splash of water on his face barely helped to clear his head, but he stood there for a moment, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His brown hair, messy from sleep, stuck up at odd angles, and his dark eyes—tired and dull—stared back at him. He wasn't particularly handsome, not by any stretch. He wasn't ugly either, just... forgettable. He had the look of someone who blended into a crowd, unnoticed and unremarkable.
His mind wandered again as he ran a comb through his hair. It was a quiet kind of loneliness, one that didn't have a clear cause. He wasn't the type to cry out for attention, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something, anything, was missing. Maybe that was just how life worked in a city like Tokyo, where a million people moved through the streets and no one truly saw each other.
Sora sighed and left the bathroom, heading back to the kitchen. It was barely big enough for more than one person to move comfortably, but it had everything he needed. A quick breakfast was all that mattered. He pulled out a cup of instant ramen from the cupboard and popped it in the microwave. No time for anything more elaborate. No energy to care, either.
As the microwave hummed softly in the background, he glanced at his phone again, absentmindedly scrolling through his notifications. Nothing interesting. Just the usual barrage of social media updates, random ads, and a couple of messages from Kazuki. Sora skimmed through them, barely paying attention, until one caught his eye.
Kazuki: "Hey, you up yet? We're gonna be late if you keep sleeping in."
Sora read it and then put the phone down, taking a deep breath. He knew Kazuki meant well, but sometimes his constant enthusiasm was more exhausting than anything else. Still, it was nice to have someone who cared enough to check on him. Sora didn't want to admit it, but he knew that Kazuki was one of the few people who noticed him. A small part of him appreciated that.
When the microwave beeped, Sora pulled out the steaming cup of ramen, slurping it down as quickly as he could. It wasn't great, but it was fuel, and that's all that mattered. As he finished, the doorbell rang. Kazuki's timing was impeccable, as always.
Sora slid open the door to find his best friend standing there, grinning like an over-caffeinated puppy. Kazuki was always full of energy, his enthusiasm boundless, his voice as loud as ever.
"Yo, Sora! You finally awake, or are you just gonna keep snoozing until noon?"
Sora rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small grin that tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'm up. Let's go."
Kazuki laughed, slapping him on the back with enough force to make Sora stumble slightly.
"You've gotta start living a little, man. This routine of yours is going to suck the life out of you."
Sora wasn't sure about that. The routine was exactly what he needed—predictable, safe. It kept him from thinking too much about the emptiness he often felt. Still, he didn't want to argue with Kazuki. Instead, he grabbed his backpack and headed out the door.
The walk to the train station was as uneventful as ever. Tokyo was waking up around them, the streets slowly filling with people. The air smelled faintly of exhaust and city grime, but there was something comforting in the hustle and bustle. It was easy to fade into the background here, to become a part of the crowd, where no one looked too closely. No one asked questions.
Kazuki chatted away beside him, talking about a new game he'd been playing and some girl he'd met the night before. Sora nodded, half-listening, his gaze wandering over the sea of people rushing past them. He couldn't help but feel disconnected, as if the city itself was moving at a pace he couldn't quite keep up with.
The train station was packed, as usual. Commuters flowed in and out like a well-oiled machine, everyone with a destination, everyone with a purpose. Sora found comfort in the anonymity of it all.
They squeezed into the train, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, the hum of the crowd around them a constant backdrop. The train began its journey, rumbling along the tracks, and Sora stared out the window, watching the city blur by. The neon lights, the towering buildings, the never-ending streams of cars—it all felt so... surreal. Was this really his life? Was this all there was to it?
Kazuki nudged him.
"You're really quiet today. What's up?"
Sora forced a smile and shrugged.
"Just tired."
Kazuki raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
"You sure? You've been kinda spaced out lately. Don't tell me you're getting sick of school already."
Sora didn't know how to respond. It wasn't school. It wasn't the routine. It was... everything. There was just a constant undercurrent of dissatisfaction, a feeling that things were passing him by without any real meaning. He couldn't explain it to Kazuki, and he didn't want to try.
"Yeah, maybe,"
he said, keeping his voice light.
"But I'm sure it'll pass."
Kazuki nodded, his enthusiasm undeterred.
"Well, don't let it get you down. Today's gonna be awesome. I can feel it."
Sora wasn't so sure, but he played along.
"Yeah, sure. Maybe today will be the day that changes everything."
Kazuki laughed.
"That's the spirit!"
The train ride passed in a blur, the monotony of the world outside the window only serving to reinforce Sora's sense of detachment. Kazuki's endless chatter about the latest trends and gossip was like white noise to him. Not that he wasn't listening, but it all felt distant. He wasn't sure if he was tired, bored, or something deeper—something that he couldn't name.
As the train pulled into the station, the crowd of students flooded out, and Sora followed Kazuki through the sea of people, his mind still half-occupied with his thoughts. The rhythmic thud of footsteps on the concrete echoed in his ears as they made their way to the school gates. It was the same every day, just like the morning. The same tired feeling. The same faces. The same routine.
But something lingered in the back of his mind. Something about today felt different, as if there was a subtle shift he couldn't quite place. He glanced at Kazuki, who was already regaling some wild story to a few of their classmates, his exuberant energy lighting up the space around them. It was funny how Kazuki could stay so full of life, no matter how many days passed.
"Yo, Sora! You alright?"
Kazuki's voice broke through his thoughts as they entered the school courtyard.
Sora blinked, realizing that he'd drifted off mid-walk. He managed a small smile.
"Yeah, just... thinking about stuff."
Kazuki nodded, not pressing further. He was the type of person who preferred to move on to the next topic rather than linger on the serious stuff. It was probably why they'd been friends for so long.
As they walked through the school gates, Sora found himself scanning the crowd again, though his mind wasn't really on the people around him. His thoughts kept wandering back to the books he'd been reading the night before. There was something magnetic about the past, about the layers of history that felt so distant yet connected in strange, unexpected ways.
The school day unfolded like every other: the same bell ringing for each class, the same faces in the hallways, the same voices raising in the classroom. But as the day wore on, Sora found himself more and more disconnected from it all. His mind wandered to the historical events he'd been reading about the night before, the names and places beginning to swirl around him in an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Kazuki's loud voice broke through his reverie as he flopped down beside Sora during lunch.
"Hey, how about we hit up that café after school?"
Kazuki grinned, clearly excited about the idea.
Sora blinked, momentarily pulled back into the present.
"A café?"
he asked, confused. It had been a while since they had gone to one. Kazuki's enthusiasm seemed to snap him out of his fog.
"Yeah, why not? I heard they've got this new seasonal drink. You could use a break. Plus, I bet you've got a million things going on in that head of yours. A good coffee might help clear it out."
Sora chuckled, though it was more out of habit than genuine amusement.
"Sure. Sounds good."
Kazuki gave him a thumbs-up.
"Sweet. You'll thank me later."
After school, they made their way to the café. The bustling streets of Shibuya weren't far from the school, and soon enough, they were seated at a small table in the corner of the café, the soft aroma of coffee and pastries filling the air. Kazuki immediately ordered his usual—something ridiculously sugary—and Sora opted for a black coffee, the bitterness soothing him in ways the sugary sweetness never could.
Kazuki didn't waste time, diving into another one of his endless stories.
"Dude, you've got to check out this new game I've been playing. It's got these crazy graphics, and the world is so realistic, you can almost feel the wind when you're out in the open fields."
Sora nodded along, though his attention was elsewhere. His mind drifted back to the passages he'd read about the ancient courts of Japan. The intricate courtly rituals, the elegant yet cutthroat power struggles, and the way history often hid its true complexities behind the polished veneer of the aristocracy. The further back in time he went, the more he felt drawn to those untold stories.
He knew there were gaps in the history he'd read, too. The moments when things shifted, when real change took place in subtle, almost imperceptible ways. He had always believed that the true story was never just about the big battles or political revolutions. It was the quiet, hidden moments between the lines that truly shaped everything.
Kazuki's voice brought him back.
"Hello? Earth to Sora?"
Sora blinked, focusing on Kazuki.
"Sorry, what?"
Kazuki smirked, clearly amused by his distraction.
"You're spacing out again. What's going on with you today? You've been off all day."
Sora shook his head, offering a small shrug.
"Nothing, really. Just... thinking about some stuff."
Kazuki raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. He took a sip of his overly sweetened drink and looked out the window, a comfortable silence settling between them for a moment.
Sora's eyes flickered to the table. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of his coffee cup, the motion soothing in its simplicity. For the first time today, he felt a slight sense of peace. His thoughts quieted, just enough for him to take in his surroundings—everything felt a little sharper, a little clearer.
But as the day wound down and they finished their drinks, the peaceful feeling didn't last long. Sora's mind couldn't stop its relentless cycle of historical events, and the quiet undercurrent of restlessness returned with full force. He had an overwhelming sense that something was coming, something he couldn't explain.
After paying the bill, they left the café and stepped back into the cool evening air. The bustling streets of Shibuya surrounded them again, and Sora felt a fleeting sense of déjà vu. It was as if everything around him was both familiar and strange at once. Like he was walking through a dream he couldn't fully understand.
"Want to grab some dinner?"
Kazuki asked, breaking the moment.
Sora shook his head.
"I think I'm just going to head home and do some studying."
Kazuki raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.
"Alright. But you better let me know if you change your mind. You can't study forever."
"Yeah, I know."
Sora forced a smile.
As he walked home, the streets quieter now, his mind returned to the books he would dive into once he was back in his room. Tonight, he would keep reading about the ancient court, about the lives of those long gone and the ripples they had created in history.
Little did he know, his own life was about to intersect with that same history in a way that would change everything.
Sora walked through the quiet streets of Shibuya, the bustle of the city a distant hum behind him. The air had turned colder as the sun dipped below the skyline, and with each step, he could feel the weight of the day pressing down on him. His mind wandered, but not in any particular direction—just a constant swirl of restlessness, something he couldn't shake no matter how many distractions he tried to create.
As he walked, the familiar neon glow of a vending machine caught his eye. He paused and reached for his wallet, pulling out a few coins, before selecting a cold bottle of Pocari Sweat. The cool, refreshing drink was a small comfort, the slight sweetness of it soothing against the tension in his chest. Sora leaned against the vending machine, cracking the cap open and taking a long sip, letting the coolness calm his nerves for a brief moment.
After a moment, he stood straight, tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin, and continued his walk home, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty streets. The world felt still tonight. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another evening.
When he reached his apartment, the quiet buzz of the city outside seemed to fade into a distant memory. The door closed behind him, and he kicked off his shoes, stepping into the small living room. He dropped his bag on the couch and went straight to the kitchen.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd barely eaten today. Without much thought, he grabbed an instant meal from 7/11 out of the fridge—tonight's choice was a simple beef bowl. He tossed it in the microwave and waited, watching the spinning plate inside, the faint hum of the microwave filling the silence.
While waiting, he pulled out his history textbooks. He had a homework assignment to work on, and despite his scattered thoughts, he always found comfort in diving into the past. Tonight, he'd been tasked with reading about the history of the Heian period—around the year 1000 AD.
The microwave beeped, signaling that dinner was ready. Sora removed the steaming meal, the savory aroma filling the small kitchen, and sat at the table. The book was already open to the section on the rise of the aristocracy during the Heian period, specifically the political struggles and shifts in power between the imperial court and the rising military class.
He spooned a bite of rice and beef into his mouth, chewing absentmindedly as his eyes skimmed the page.
The Heian Period (794-1185) had been a time of significant cultural flourishing, with the capital at Heian-kyō (modern-day Kyoto) serving as the heart of Japan's imperial court. By the late 10th century, however, the court's influence was beginning to wane, as powerful aristocratic families like the Fujiwara consolidated control over imperial succession. It wasn't just the court that held power anymore—the aristocratic families controlled the imperial family itself, often arranging marriages to manipulate the line of succession.
The idea of power behind the throne fascinated Sora. He thought about how these families would sometimes control the emperor's decisions, often dictating the future of Japan's politics while the emperor appeared to reign in name only. The Fujiwara clan, in particular, had a monopoly on political power, with key marriages between their daughters and the imperial family.
The Fujiwara regents would hold positions of immense power, shaping the course of Japanese history for centuries. One of the most notable figures during this time was Fujiwara no Michinaga, who, in the early 11th century, became the de facto ruler of Japan. His influence was so vast that, for a time, it was said that the real power in the empire lay with the Fujiwara clan, not the emperor.
Sora paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he processed the information. There was something about these historical figures—how they manipulated and controlled not just armies, but the fate of the nation—that struck him as incredibly intense. It was all politics, yes, but it was also human. The ambitions, the scheming, the quiet power struggles—it all felt strangely relevant, even in the present day.
He continued reading, the passages detailing the intricate relationships between the emperor and his courtiers, as well as the cultural advancements of the time. Heian-kyō was also the birthplace of many of Japan's most iconic works of literature. The Genji Monogatari, often considered the world's first novel, was penned by Murasaki Shikibu, a lady-in-waiting at court. Sora had read parts of it in high school, but he was always drawn to the stories of court life, the artifice and elegance that veiled deeper emotions.
The court wasn't just about politics; it was about beauty, poetry, and aesthetics, something that was woven into the very fabric of the Heian period. Aristocrats were known for their poetry, often using it as a tool of expression, a subtle way to assert dominance or make personal connections. The waka poems were central to courtly life, and the ability to write poetry well was a key skill for anyone in the aristocracy.
His mind lingered on these details, on the cultural landscape of Japan during the 10th and 11th centuries. As he read about the political power of the Fujiwara clan and the cultural achievements of the period, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of connection. Something about this world, so far removed from his own time, seemed oddly familiar.
He finished his meal, pushing the empty container aside. The cold of the evening seemed to creep into the apartment, though the heater was running. Sora closed his book, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just learned. He didn't know why it fascinated him so much. Maybe it was the human drama, the grand sweep of history, or the fact that it all happened right where he lived now—just a thousand years ago, in a world that seemed so distant, yet so alive with its own complexities.
He sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to rid himself of the lingering feeling of unease. There was still something more to this. Maybe it was the thought that the world of the past—where power was wrested through subtlety, diplomacy, and sometimes sheer force—would eventually intersect with his own in ways he couldn't even imagine.
But for tonight, at least, he could try to push that thought away. He would let himself drift into sleep, knowing that tomorrow would come with its own challenges—school, homework, and maybe more lessons in history that would, one day, prove to be far more relevant than he could ever have imagined.
Sora moved quietly through his apartment, the evening settling in around him. He stretched, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a bit. The day had been long, but there was something comforting about being home. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall—it all felt like a lullaby, slowly pulling him into a sense of calm.
He walked into the bathroom and turned the knob of the shower, adjusting the water temperature to just the right warmth. The sound of the water rushing into the tub was soothing, a small luxury in his otherwise monotonous routine. As the bath filled, he wandered back into the kitchen and grabbed a small container of sweet, sour, and spicy cucumbers from 7/11. The crispy texture and the sharp tang of the seasoning were the perfect bite after the heavy beef bowl.
Taking the cucumbers to the living room, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and flopped back onto the couch. The screen lit up with a new message notification—Kazuki.
Kazuki:
Yo, you got the answers for the history homework tomorrow? I'm gonna be real, I'm struggling with it.
Sora chuckled, his fingers already typing out a reply.
Sora:
Of course you are. I swear you don't even try half the time.
He paused, thinking for a second, then added:
Sora:
You really wanna copy my answers? You do realize it's on the Heian period, right?
Kazuki's reply came in almost instantly.
Kazuki:
Yeah, I don't know anything about that period. I barely remember what I ate this morning. So, help a guy out?
Sora laughed to himself, knowing exactly what Kazuki meant. He glanced at the cucumber container, taking another bite before typing.
Sora:
Fine, I'll send them over. But you owe me a drink tomorrow. No arguments.
There was a slight delay before Kazuki responded, and Sora leaned back on the couch, the quiet hum of the air conditioner in the background. The bath was almost ready, the steam beginning to seep into the living room.
Kazuki:
Deal. You're a lifesaver. I'll make it up to you!
Sora smiled, shaking his head at the predictability of his best friend. He sent over the answers, keeping it short and clear. Kazuki could always copy them verbatim—he'd never be able to write them out on his own. But Sora didn't mind. He'd been helping Kazuki with schoolwork for years now, ever since high school, and it was just part of their friendship. He wasn't going to suddenly stop just because Kazuki couldn't be bothered to study.
He placed his phone down on the coffee table, finishing the last of the cucumbers. The spicy aftertaste lingered on his tongue, and he stood, stretching again. The bathwater was now the perfect temperature, and he could feel his muscles sighing in relief as he walked into the bathroom.
After a quick dip into the warm water, he leaned back, the steam enveloping him like a thick blanket.
He closed his eyes, listening to the distant sounds of the city—a siren wailing in the distance, a car honking at an intersection, the low murmur of voices from outside. It was like a constant, subtle soundtrack to his life, one that he had grown so used to that it was almost like a second heartbeat.
His mind drifted. He thought about the history lesson, about the way the ancient Japanese court had functioned so long ago, the way they'd hidden their ambitions beneath layers of poetry and art. Sora felt a strange connection to it—how power, even in such a different time, was manipulated through politics and subtle gestures, much like the unspoken dynamics he saw every day in his own life.
He could almost picture it: the bright, looming wooden structures of Heian-kyō, the court ladies dressed in layers upon layers of silk, writing delicate waka poems, their beauty and grace belying the sharpness of their political maneuvering.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. It wasn't like his life had anything to do with that world. He was here, in Shibuya, in the now. He was just a regular guy, trying to get through school and figure out what he was supposed to be doing with his life.
Sora finished his bath, stepping out and drying off, the warmth of the water lingering on his skin. He put on his comfortable pajamas and padded back to the living room. The lights in the apartment were dim, casting soft shadows against the walls. His phone vibrated once more on the coffee table.
He picked it up and saw a new message from Kazuki.
Kazuki:
Thanks again, man. You're a lifesaver. Let's do something fun soon, okay?
Sora smiled at the message, replying with a quick "Sure" before putting the phone down and walking into the kitchen. He grabbed a cold glass of water, feeling the coolness as it slid down his throat. It was a small thing, but it felt like a gentle ending to the night.
Sora returned to the couch and laid back, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was still a little restless, the flickering lights from outside casting odd shapes on the walls. The sounds of the city continued—the distant honking of horns, the occasional murmur of voices drifting up from the street below.
He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the world outside wash over him. It was a familiar lullaby, one that had followed him through countless nights. He could feel the weight of sleep tugging at him, his body heavy from the day.
The faint sounds of Tokyo's nightlife slowly faded into a distant hum as Sora's thoughts quieted, and before long, he drifted into a slow, dreamless sleep.
Tomorrow would come with its usual routine—more homework, more studying, more of the same. But somewhere, deep down, Sora couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. Maybe it would be tomorrow. Maybe it would be next week.
But for now, he let the night pull him in, surrendering to the calm, knowing that whatever came next, it was something he couldn't yet understand.