As Sora followed the retainers through the inn, his eyes darted around, trying to take in every detail of the Heian period unfolding around him. The hushed conversations, the rhythmic sliding of wooden doors, the travelers arriving and departing. He noted how payments were made—not with coins, but with goods. Rolls of silk, compressed cubes of tea, sacks of rice, brown and white. A barter economy, just like the history books had described.
But he had no time to fully absorb it. His retainers moved with purpose, and he hurried to keep up. A stray lock of hair fell into his face, and he pushed it back absentmindedly. Long hair was annoying. How did Akiko even deal with this? What did he—no, she—look like? He hadn't seen a mirror since waking up. Did they even have proper mirrors?
Did I pay for the room? Did the retainers? He pondered for a moment but figured they had already taken care of it. The rhythmic clacking of wooden sandals on the polished floor filled his ears with an odd sense of joy, and he found himself smiling despite the unfamiliarity of it all.
"Wait!"
Sora turned at the sound of the strained voice. A man, pale and breathless, leaned against a low wooden table, struggling to stand. His lower torso was wrapped in bloodied bandages, his posture weak but determined. A samurai. Sora's heart skipped a beat. Was he talking to him—no, to Akiko?
"T…thank you for yesterday, my lady," the wounded samurai rasped, nearly breathless from the effort.
"If not for you… I would have surely perished."
He attempted to bow but collapsed forward, barely catching himself before hitting the wooden floor. A gasp rippled through the inn. Sora blinked.
Thank god they don't have tatami floors here, he thought. If they did, those beautiful mats would be ruined with blood. He felt a strange, inappropriate urge to geek out about it, but the gravity of the moment held him back—mostly.
The surrounding patrons rushed toward the fallen samurai, but he snarled at them, waving them off.
"Stay away!"
Is this pride? The honor of a samurai? Sora's mind spun with excitement. This was something straight out of a period drama. He was so caught up in his historical fascination that he almost missed the warning look his retainers gave him.
"Come, my lady," one of them said in a hushed but firm voice.
"You must not associate with this man."
Why not? Sora wondered. What did Akiko do to earn such gratitude from the Samurai? Was she some kind of warrior? A rare female samurai who saved him yesterday? He was already lost in the fantasy of it.
The samurai, still struggling to remain upright, lifted his head.
"At least… grant me your name."
The retainers shook their heads, clearly signaling for him to ignore the request. But Sora, completely caught up in the theatrics of the moment, smirked behind his sleeve.
"Akiko," he said simply.
The samurai's expression softened, as if committing the name to memory.
"One day, I will repay this debt, Lady Akiko."
Sora turned on his heel and followed the retainers outside. He didn't know why they were so insistent that he stay away from the samurai, but it didn't really matter. This wasn't his life anyway. He might as well enjoy it.
—
The morning air outside was crisp, carrying the last remnants of winter. The sun was barely cresting over the distant mountains, its golden light washing over the courtyard. Travelers were beginning their journeys, their breath visible in the cold air. A group of noblewomen stepped into their lacquered palanquins, their silk robes whispering as they moved. Merchants packed their goods onto ox carts, while a cluster of monks passed by, their prayer beads clicking with every step.
Spring was in its earliest days, the chill still present but lacking the harsh bite of winter.
"My lady, please wait here while we retrieve our palanquin," the retainer with the silver-streaked hair instructed before walking off.
Sora barely acknowledged him, his attention drawn to a magnificent carriage nearby. It was adorned with gold and silver, delicate purple designs painted across its panels. A large entourage surrounded it—some on horseback, others in armor. The Fujiwara lady. It had to be her.
As the carriage passed, it briefly stopped in front of him. The silk curtains shifted, revealing the noblewoman's face. Even in the dim morning light, she was beautiful—flawless skin, elegant features, an air of superiority about her.
Her lips parted slightly before she spoke, her voice soft yet firm.
"The actions you displayed, Lady Akiko, are unbecoming of a noble of your status. I expected better."
Before Sora could respond, the blinds closed, and the carriage continued on its way.
Unbecoming? What did she mean by that? What an arrogant woman.
He scoffed internally. Expected better? Better than what? Having a basic sense of decency? What was I supposed to do, let the guy die? Maybe she just didn't like that I upstaged her ridiculous parade of wealth and silk.
Meanwhile, the retainer who had gone to retrieve their palanquin was deep in discussion—no, an argument—with a merchant.
"I'm telling you, the road ahead is too unstable," the merchant insisted.
"No palanquin or carriage will make it through. It's too rocky and steep."
"This is the shortest route," the retainer snapped.
"Lady Akiko carries an important message. We must take it."
The merchant folded his arms.
"If it was so important, your lord should have sent it by horse."
The retainer returned to Sora with a look of clear frustration.
"My lady, it seems we must proceed on foot. The road ahead is unfit for travel by palanquin. My deepest apologies. Would you prefer to return home and let a mounted messenger take over?"
Sora, thrilled at the prospect of exploring more of this world, barely hesitated.
"I don't mind walking. Let's go."
The retainers exchanged glances but nodded.
"Then follow closely, my lady," one of them instructed. "These woods are not as safe as the court."
Sora simply smiled to himself, stepping forward eagerly. He wasn't worried about safety. He was too excited to see what came next. Maybe the samurai would recover and catch up. Maybe something even more unexpected would happen.
Either way, he couldn't wait to find out.
As she grabbed the knob of the door, slowly twisting it, the door opened ever so slightly. With a big wham, Kazuki smashed the door open.
"What took you so long to open the door, Sora?!"
Half in shock, Akiko moved back into the apartment. Who was this overly enthusiastic person standing in front of him? Enemy? Friend? Maybe the kidnapper? No… no, no, she was not kidnapped. This was something else. She was this… Sora he talked about. What should she respond with? She couldn't wait too long; that would be strange.
In almost robotic, instinct-like movements, Akiko moved his arms to his face, just as she would have done with her sleeves if she were back in her old body. But she wasn't, and even if she were, it would make her seem like a stuck-up noble. Quickly, she removed his hands from his face and opened his mouth. The words she wanted to say came out way slower than expected, almost painfully delayed.
"Ka…zu…ki? Is this you standing in front of me?"
Dumbfounded, Kazuki looked back at Akiko, almost as if gears were turning in his head.
With the same weird energy Akiko had shown, Kazuki replied,
"So…..r...a…. is that you?" while tilting his head at a strange angle, mocking him.
With a face as red as a tomato, Akiko blushed, only managing a small "Yes," before Kazuki grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the apartment.
"You know it's still early spring, right? Bold of you to leave the house without a jacket."
Akiko followed Kazuki outside, almost feeling forced to do so. When he stepped out, the world of metal and stone surrounded him—left, right, up, and down, it was everywhere. The sounds pressed in from all directions. Akiko shut the door behind him, without locking it, obviously. Kazuki didn't seem to notice, and she had no idea that was even a thing.
As he followed Kazuki, Kazuki started rambling about some story, ending with:
"Thanks for the homework yesterday. I really don't like history as much as you. I mean, why are we supposed to know stuff that happened like over 1000 years ago? Like anyone here wants to know about the Heian period."
Akiko responded hesitantly.
"Ah… ehm… yes, I agree." She had no idea what else to say except to agree with whatever Kazuki was saying.
"What?"
Kazuki said, narrowing his eyes.
"But you love this stuff, right? History and things like that? Don't you still think Kyoto is supposed to be our capital city? Hahaha!"
"Heian-kyō?" Akiko said softly, unable to stop herself.
Kazuki chuckled.
"That's the Sora I remember, even calling it by its original name."
Akiko followed Kazuki in silence for what felt like ages but was only minutes. They reached a red metal pole with strange glowing signals. People stood waiting on both sides of the stone path.
Kazuki suddenly turned around, eying Akiko up and down. His expression shifted from a straight face to a smile, then to dead serious.
"You know April Fool's is already over, right?"
April what now? Akiko thought. Slowly, she responded,
"Uhm, it is?"
"I've never known you to make silly jokes like that." Kazuki pointed to the schools uniform tie around Akiko's waist.
"And since when don't you tuck your blouse into your pants? You know that's school protocol. Are you okay, Sora?"
Shit. Akiko thought. So the blouse does have to be tucked in. What a dumb mistake. This Kazuki person wasn't mad; he must be a good friend of this Sora person.
As the light remained red, Akiko started tucking the blouse into his pants. After a confirming look from Kazuki, he removed the strange strip of cloth—not a sash, not a belt—and tucked it away in one of his trouser pockets.
"There we go," Kazuki announced proudly, like he had just saved Sora's entire reputation.
As soon as the light turned green, Kazuki started walking, with Akiko trailing shortly behind.
Slowly but steadily, the crowd around them grew. More people. More noise. Akiko could barely keep up. In this single area, there were more people than in her entire hometown. This was madness.
They entered a massive stone building, and the moment they stepped inside, the overwhelming scent of sweat, metal, and something pungent filled Akiko's nose. The noise didn't just surround her—it crashed down on her, a relentless tide of overlapping voices, clanking metal, and strange chimes.
Masses of people walked by, all looking Japanese but dressed in odd clothing, their hair cut in bizarre styles. Almost every one of them held a strange black object in their hands, staring at it with an intensity that made them seem possessed. Even Kazuki was no exception.
Akiko struggled to keep herself calm. Her breathing grew shallow. This world—was it some bizarre spirit realm? An over-imaginative dream? A foreign country? No. The foreign country theory, which once seemed most logical, now felt like the least possible.
Then, before she could even process what was happening, a massive metal beast roared past them at impossible speeds. Not even the fastest horse could dream of reaching that velocity. The gust of wind it left behind nearly knocked her back.
Akiko barely had time to react before the beast's side split open, revealing a confined space filled with more people than she had ever seen in one place. Kazuki stepped forward without hesitation, pushing into the crowd. Akiko had no choice but to follow. The moment she did, the walls of bodies closed in on her.
The smell of sweat, cologne, and unwashed fabric was unbearable. Shoulders bumped into him from every direction, tugging, pressing, shuffling. There was no space. No air. She had never felt so trapped in her life. This must be some form of hell.
Kazuki, meanwhile, was glued to his spirit device, sometimes staring at it, sometimes pressing at it with his fingers. The entire situation made no sense. Akiko could barely keep her thoughts straight as her senses screamed at her to run. But there was nowhere to go.
And then, amid the chaos, something Kazuki had said earlier replayed in her mind.
School? Was that where she was headed? She had heard of schools before but had never attended one herself. Education was for noble boys, taught by private scholars or within temples. For a girl, knowledge was passed down at home, through poetry, etiquette, and the arts. She knew of learning, but a place where many people gathered for it? That was foreign.
As the metal beast roared forward, rattling under her feet, she clenched her fists. Today, she would experience this so-called school firsthand.
Whatever that entailed.
Sora had been walking for what felt like hours now. He knew these retainers were supposed to guide him, but would it kill them to talk a little more? Or at all? Akiko must be bored out of her mind. He wasn't about to be the first one to start a conversation, though—that would be weird… right?
The climb took them higher, revealing more of the landscape below. The sun shone brightly, the early spring air warming, though a small breeze kept his—no, her—long hair shifting. The many layers of fabric were a hindrance, making it difficult to keep up with the retainers. If only he had his own body right now, then it wouldn't be an issue.
Then, a new kind of dread struck. A pressing discomfort against organs his body—his real body—did not possess.
No. No, no, no.
He hadn't even thought about this. He had avoided looking when changing earlier, keeping everything as detached as possible. But now that he had to go, he couldn't ignore it.
How does this even work? Are there toilets nearby? No way, right? He had studied history, but never bothered to look up something as mundane as this. As a guy, it was simple—just "water the plants," as Kazuki liked to say. But as a girl? Not so much. How did women in this time even do this?
And worse, how was he supposed to announce it to the retainers?
Maybe he could wait. Maybe there was a village up ahead.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. The need only grew stronger. It was unbearable.
He had no choice. Swallowing his pride, he spoke up.
"How far… until our next stop?" His voice—her voice—felt unnatural to his ears, too light, too refined.
The retainer nearest to him glanced back.
"I hope we will reach the next stop by sunset, but we may have to pick up the pace." His voice was polite but firm.
Sora's stomach dropped. Pick up pace? These legs can't go any faster in these clothes. The wooden sandals were already uncomfortable—no blisters yet, but that was probably thanks to Akiko's familiarity with them. He, on the other hand, was not used to this.
The retainer must have noticed his hesitation. "Is something the matter, my lady?"
Sora nearly cringed. My lady. It was jarring every time he heard it, but that was the least of his problems right now.
How did people in this era even say they needed to use the toilet?
Before he could think of a delicate way to phrase it, the retainer spoke again.
"Shall we set up the tsuitate for you, my lady?"
Tsuitate. That word rang a bell. His mind scrambled for the meaning before it suddenly clicked. A screen. A privacy screen.
He stared at the retainer. He knows. He just knows. These retainers were too good at their jobs. Sora nearly teared up with gratitude.
"Yes, please," he managed to get out.
The retainer gave a respectful nod. "Wait here, my lady. I will find a secure place."
As he left, Sora remained with the other retainer, feeling awkward. He should say something. Did Akiko even talk to them much? Not that it mattered—he was going to do what he wanted.
"Carrying all this stuff must not be easy," Sora said, shifting uncomfortably in the layers of robes.
"Thank you for the hard work."
The retainer looked mildly surprised but gave a small nod. "It is our duty."
Feeling emboldened, Sora added, "What name may I call you?"
The retainer hesitated. "My lady, you mustn't call me by name. But if you insist, it is Tsukasa."
"Thank you, Tsuka!" Sora grinned.
A sigh escaped the retainer's lips. Did this lady just shorten his name? He decided not to correct her—him? No, her—and let it slide.
Sora made a mental note. Tsukasa. The younger one. Tall, strong-looking, hair tied in a topknot. Seems reliable. He still needed to ask the older one—shorter, with a streak of white hair. That guy gave off a sleeper build kind of vibe. Probably tougher than he looked.
Before long, the first retainer returned. "My lady, the setup is ready. Follow me."
Sora obeyed, though each step was torture.
When they arrived, he stared at the so-called setup. A single paper screen stood behind a rock, blocking the view from the road.
Just one screen? That was it? He had expected four, like a full enclosure. This wasn't privacy—it was a suggestion of privacy.
"I will wait by the road, my lady," the retainer said, leaving briskly.
And then Sora was alone.
Alone, behind a flimsy paper screen, in the middle of nowhere, a thousand years in the past, needing to pee in a body that wasn't his.
His hands trembled as he reached for the layers of robes. Lift it? Take it off? What now…?
The metal beast screeched to a halt, its doors hissing open like the maw of a mechanical dragon. Akiko stumbled out after Kazuki, her lungs gulping air untainted by the claustrophobic stench of sweat and steel. Yet freedom was fleeting. Outside, the world swarmed with more people—young, loud, and clad in identical dark uniforms.
Their laughter and shouts collided in the crisp spring air, a cacophony as alien as the towering concrete buildings that loomed around them.
Kazuki forged ahead, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Akiko trailed behind, her borrowed body shivering as the wind bit through Sora's thin blouse. No coat. Foolish. She hugged her arms, the goosebumps prickling her skin a cruel reminder of Heian-kyō's frost-laden mornings. Back home, servants would have layered her in embroidered uchiki and silk-lined karaginu. Here, even the nobles—no, students—wore threadbare wool and synthetic fabrics.
The walk stretched on, the loud sounds dulling to a murmur as they walked further and further away. Akiko's gaze drifted to the buildings—sleek, angular, their windows gleaming like obsidian. In Heian-kyō, such structures would have been reserved for the imperial family or the Fujiwara regents. Here, they housed schools. How could a society so advanced in architecture lack the elegance of wood and paper? Where were the cherry blossoms trailing over latticed eaves? The only beauty here was sterile, cold.
"You're awfully quiet today, Sora," Kazuki said abruptly, glancing over his shoulder.
His grin faltered at her vacant expression.
"Normally, you'd be ranting about, I dunno… Heian-period tax reforms or something."
Akiko stiffened. Tax reforms? She scrambled for a response, her mind snagging on a half-remembered lesson.
"Ah… the Handen system. The allotment of rice fields based on rank. Though it… collapsed due to provincial corruption."
Kazuki snorted. "Yeah, but yesterday you said it was because the emperor got lazy and let the Fujiwara clan do all the work. Which is it?"
A flicker of indignation burned in her chest. "The Fujiwara consolidated power through marital politics, not laziness. The emperor's authority was eroded—"
"Okay, okay!" Kazuki threw up his hands, laughing. "Save the lecture for class. Just… weird you're contradicting yourself."
Akiko pressed her lips into a thin line. Contradicting Sora. The realization coiled in her stomach. She needed to tread carefully.
They arrived at a sprawling complex—a fortress of concrete and glass. Students funnelled through the gates, their shoes clattering against stone. Kazuki walked toward a wall of small metal cabinets, yanking one open.
"C'mon, slowpoke. Lockers won't open themselves."
Akiko stared blankly until Kazuki jabbed a finger at the cabinet beside his. Number 227. Her hands fumbled through Sora's pockets, retrieving a key tied to a charm shaped like a cartoon cat. The locker creaked open, revealing a pair of scuffed indoor shoes.
Kazuki kicked off his sneakers, shoving them into his locker.
"You gonna stand there all day?"
Mimicking him, Akiko peeled off Sora's shoes—only to freeze. Kazuki's laughter exploded like firecrackers.
"Dude! No socks? It's like 10 degrees out!"
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I… forgot," she muttered, snatching the indoor shoes.
The liners were icy against her bare feet, a humiliation compounded by the stares of passing students.
The halls swallowed them next—a maze of fluorescent lights and linoleum. Akiko's nose wrinkled at the antiseptic tang of cleaner layered over adolescent sweat. Lockers lined the walls like sentinels, their metallic surfaces reflecting fragments of chatter and hurried footsteps. It reminded her of the palace corridors, but stripped of poetry and perfume.
"Where is the tsuitate?" she asked suddenly, the words slipping out.
Kazuki blinked. "The what?"
"A privacy screen. I need to… relieve myself."
"Privacy screen?" Kazuki's face split into a grin. "Oh my god, you mean a toilet? Since when do you call it that?" He jerked a thumb toward a door marked with a stick figure.
"Quit messing around. You've peed here a million times."
Akiko's throat tightened. The door swung open, releasing a wave of urinal cakes and damp mildew. Inside, boys clustered at sinks, their laughter dying as she entered. She ducked into the nearest stall, fingers trembling as she wrestled with the lock.
The toilet was a porcelain monolith, its lid raised accusingly. How? In Heian-kyō, she'd used lacquered chamber pots screened by silk curtains. Here, the options were baffling. Did men stand? Sit? Her body—Sora's body—thrummed with urgency.
Gritting her teeth, she fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings of Sora's trousers. The cold air hit her thighs, and she squeezed her eyes shut, lowering herself onto the seat. This is undignified. This is… modern.
Outside, a faucet squeaked. Someone snorted. "Hurry up, man!"
Akiko's face burned red. Never again, she vowed. Never again!