In Another Lifetime

It was just before sunrise. The air was thick with humidity, utterly still. Not a single sound broke the silence. For two weeks, Akari and his five comrades had occupied the clock tower, their voices rising against the world. Sweat dripped down Akari's forehead as he sat with his back against the wall on top of the university clock. His muscles ached from nights spent on cold stone, but he had no intention of leaving. For 14 days, they had screamed at the world - demanding to be heard, to be seen. He wouldn't leave until they had accomplished that. Huge banners draped the clock tower, their bold letters shouting into the void.

SHINSEIREN - FIGHT FOR YOUR LIBERTY - WAR IS OVER - SHINSEIREN - FIGHT FOR YOUR LIBERTY

The banners cascaded downward, merging with hundreds of scattered flyers littering the ground. Thick metal barricades encircled the clock tower, where dozens of their comrades stood guard, ready to defend it with their lives. As Akari sat with his back against the wall, his comrades murmured about their hopes for the day ahead but he wasn't listening. He was worlds away in his own head, eyes shut, exhaustion pressing down on him, lost in a daydream.

He had been here before - in this dream, on this riverbank. He stood on the Katsura River bank. Across from him, on the other side, stood his mother. Between them, the river raged, wild and merciless. He wouldn't dare dip a toe in - it would swallow him whole.

Akari never knew his mother - only through a photograph and his grandparents' stories did he have any sense of her. And now, in his dreams, he found her.

She died bringing him into the world, and his father never forgave him for it. He never said it but he can see it in his father's eyes how he ripped his one true love away from him.

Akari and his mother walked parallel to each other down the river, Akari kept his eyes on her, not taking the chance that he would lose her. Then, his mother turned and walked away from the river and into the dense and deep bamboo forest. He tries to call for her but his voice fails. The words stuck in his throat, choking him.

I AM HERE.

He wanted to call out to her, but no sound came. And then - she was gone.

"Akari-kun!" A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him gently. He blinked awake to the warm brown eyes of his dear friend, Hana Shiratori.

"The team is waiting for the latest update on the university's stance" she said softly, satisfied that he was awake she re-joined the rest of the group huddled in a circle away from the edge.

He rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat of his forehead. Pulling himself together, he joined the rest of his comrades.

"Finally, you're up, sleepy head" Ichiro teased, and Akari felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"I was resting my eyes for just a moment" Akari scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

"Let's get down to business" Goro interrupted, not one for pleasantries. Akari nodded and cleared his throat.

"Hitomi-Senpai met with President Takeuchi and Vice-President Nakahara and it's not good news I'm afraid" Akari said, pursing his lips together tightly. The sun was starting to rise and the light touched Akari's face, bringing to light the dark circles underneath his eyes. For everyone, looking at Akari seemed like they were looking at their own reflection. The tired eyes, puffy face and dull complexion. This occupation was taking a toll on everyone but nobody said fighting for change was a walk in the park.

"They're still refusing to meet our full demands. All we're getting are empty promises" Akari finished, his frustration now evident on his face. The rest of the group huffed and shuffled on their feet, it wasn't what they wanted to hear.

"We've got to keep on pushing, we've built so much momentum, we can't lose it now" piped Hana. A chorus of yeah's erupted from the group and heads bobbed up and down. Akari shot her an appreciative smile. Hana's eyes darted away, tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear, her face flushing slightly. He could always count on her to lift the team's spirit.

"Yeah, occupying the Clock Tower is our leverage - let's keep sticking it to the man!" Michi added.

"We're not letting up" yelled Rin

"Our food supplies are running low. I'll radio Kenji's team for a re-supply" Goro said. Akari nodded in agreement.

Akari looked around at his comrades, pride swelling in his chest. Their enthusiasm and hope kept him standing tall.

"My comrades, don't lose heart. Every day we hold our position. We tell the universities, the leaders: We will not be pushed to the side, nor will we cower in the shadows while they do as they please. We don't just exist. We LIVE - together, with purpose. We deserve to have a say on how we shape it as the caretakers of tomorrow. So, I'm grateful you're giving your hearts to this, let's make it count. Hands in the middle, and on three, two, one - "

"PETROL BOMB!" someone screamed below. A whizz cut through the air, followed by a deafening bang, sending a plume of fire and smoke into the air as the clock tower's entrance erupted in flames.

The four of them scrambled to the edge of the tower, eyes straining to see below, searching for signs of what was happening. Mayhem greeted them. Barricades burned as riot police shoved through their wall of allies, sending them toppling like dominoes.

"ATTENTION! THIS IS A POLICE MESSAGE. DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY OR FORCE WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU. REPEAT: FORCE WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU"

A sharp whirring sliced through the air, the rhythmic thump of rotor blades growing louder. Akari’s eyes snapped up, locking onto the silhouette of a press helicopter hovering above, its camera lens gleaming like a watchful eye. His pulse quickened. This was it - proof that the world was watching.

A fire sparked in his chest. This wasn’t just about making noise anymore. This was their moment to seize control of their own story.

“Let’s give them a show!” Akari shouted, his voice rising above the chaos.

The others jolted into action, grabbing banners and placards, raising them high like warriors brandishing their weapons. The megaphone was solid and familiar in Akari’s grip, its weight anchoring him to the moment. Doubt flickered at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it away. No more hesitation. No more fear.

Today, they would not be ignored.

"Protect our comrades" yelled Akari into the megaphone

The chant rose like a storm: 'Listen to our voices! Do not steal the future of students!' Their words crashed through the air, rattling the walls and shaking the very ground beneath their feet. It was no longer just a protest - it was a declaration.

A thunderous bang rang out on the door, followed by frantic shouting on the other side. The sound of heavy boots pounding the floor echoes through the tower, and a cold sweat broke out on Akari's skin, his heart racing with the weight of what was about to happen.

Akari's voice cut through the chaos, steady and unwavering. He saw the fire in their eyes - the same fire that had driven them to this tower. The same fire that would carry them through the storm ahead, 'Don't lose heart!' he called. 'We've come too far to back down now'.

The heavy thud of boots echoed in the hall as the officers stormed in, the sound deafening in the tense air as the huge oak doors bust open. Riot police poured in, shields raised and batons swinging.They shoved back, locked arms, kicked - but the police overwhelmed them, bulldozing through with brute force. Batons swung. Shields slammed into ribs. Akari's body hit the cold floor with a sickening thud. Pain exploded across his chest. His vision blurred, but there was no time to fall. No time to give. He had to stand again.

"This must be their leader" one of the officers growled, noticing Akari's defiant stance as he struggled. The officer twisted his arm with brutal force, and Akari winced, biting his lip to stifle the pain. He couldn't let them see him break. Not now. Not when they needed him most.

He heard the sound of a scuffle, a rough order shouted from somewhere nearby.

"Quickly, move them inside away from the cameras!"

Hands gripped him, pulling him forward with harsh efficiency, pushing him into the building. He caught sight of the cameras hovering nearby, their lenses trained on the battle.

Akari's lips curled into a brief, bitter smile. He wasn't going to let them control this narrative. They would see him - see all of them - standing up for what they believed in.

They were shoved roughly down the hall, past broken barricades and metal debris that lay scattered across the floor. Akari took a fleeting glance at the wreckage of their effort, his heart sinking. The barriers they had built, the signs they had raised - it all felt like it was being torn apart in front of him

They descended the spiralling staircase of the clock tower, each step echoing in the heavy silence, until they reached the lower levels. Waiting for them was the sorrowful face of President Takeuchi.

Akari didn't recall the president having as many grey hairs as he did now. His face looked like it had aged ten years in the span of two weeks.

"You left us no choice" Takeuchi said, his voice a low rasp, each word heavy with years of compromise.

Akari's muscles tightened at the sound of his voice. It took everything in him to hold his anger at bay.

"No," he growled, his voice sharp, cutting through the stillness. "YOU left us no choice."

The words came out of him like an explosion. There was no mistaking the accusation in his tone - the rage, the bitterness. Takeuchi's cold indifference stung more than any strike from the officers. How could he stand there, after everything? How could he still act like there was no other option?

Takeuchi's eyes darkened. He looked like a man who had made his peace with the world as it was. He didn't respond immediately. His lips parted as if to speak, but he held back, his gaze flickering toward the officers, then back to Akari.

Behind Akari, his comrades stood silent but resolute, their faces harden in defiance. They hadn't come this far to back down now. Even if their bodies were broken, they would not surrender.

"Take them away" Takeuchi said quietly.

As they were taken away, a silence fell over the tower.

-----

A tattered newspaper lay on Akari’s desk, its pages crinkled and stained with dried teardrops. The Kyoto Times, dated April 30th, 1968.

‘STUDENT REBELLION SQUASHED’.

The headline screamed in bold ink, and beneath it, a grainy black-and-white photograph captured the moment - Akari, Hana, Goro, Rin, and Michi, their hands wrenched behind their backs, faces frozen in defiance as riot police hauled them away.

The university had chosen not to press charges, but the damage was done. Their names were tarnished, their futures uncertain. Suspended indefinitely, they were left in limbo while the administration “investigated their activities.” Across the country, riot police had crushed every spark of resistance, snuffing out what had once felt like an unstoppable movement. The revolution had burned too brightly, too fast - now, only ashes remained.

Akari sat on his bed, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them as if trying to keep himself from falling apart. The room was cloaked in dim light, the curtains drawn tight against the world outside. Days had passed - maybe longer. He couldn’t tell anymore.

A quiet melody hummed from his radio, barely breaking the silence. The Beatles. A new song. The sound felt distance, like an echo from a world he no longer belonged to.

His father's house felt suffocating. It had always been a place of distance and silence, but now, in the wake of everything, it was unbearable. The walls, once familiar, now felt like they were closing in on him. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. And even if it did, what was it for? What was left?

A sharp knock at the door cut through the silence, pulling Akari from his stupor. He blinked, his eyes sore and unfocused, and for a moment, he almost didn't register the sound.

"Who is it?" he said, his voice hoarse, lacking the usual strength he carried in his words. There was no fire now, no conviction - only the hollow echo of someone too drained to care.

The door creaked open, and there stood Hana, standing in the doorway like a faint glimmer of light in the darkened room.

"May I come in?" her voice was soft, tinged with a careful kind of curiosity.

Akari nodded, his gaze returned to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. He didn't have the energy to hide or pretend anymore. She stepped into the room, and Akari's heart sank. It was the first time she'd been here, the first time anyone had really stepped into this space in weeks. Her quiet presence seemed to fill the room, and for a moment, he wondered if she could see everything that had changed within him just by being here.

Hana eased into the desk chair, her eyes flickering over the room before landing on the crumpled newspaper. The space still bore the marks of a teenage boy’s world, yet the weight of the silence made it feel abandoned. Samurai and martial arts posters lined the walls - figures frozen mid-strike, their discipline and purpose a sharp contrast to the restless despair lingering in the air.

Her eyes stayed on the posters for a moment, absorbing the themes of strength, honour, and battle that once seemed to define this room.

"You know, I never really understood why you always had this warrior mindset. But now... I think I get it."

Akari looked up at her, a small frown forming. "What do you mean?"

"These posters," Hana gestured to the walls. "They were always about fighting for something greater than yourself. You're the same way. Even now. You just... lost track of who you were fighting for in the process".

The weight of her words settled between them, and Akari didn't respond right away.

His mind wandered back to the very beginning of it all - the moment he first joined Shinseiren, when he felt the fire of purpose ignite in him. He had felt like he finally mattered. For once, he wasn't invisible. For once, his voice could be heard. But now, it all felt so different.

He realised something that struck him like a cold gust of wind: he hadn't been fighting for justice alone. He'd been fighting for his own validation.

The movement had filled a void in him. Being part of Shinseiren had made him feel worthy. It had given him a place in the world, something he had never quite felt before.

It wasn't just the cause. It was the people who believe in him, the way they looked at him - like he mattered. Like he wasn't just a name in a crowd. It had been intoxicating.

Akari felt the void widen. Fighting for something greater had become tangled with fighting for his own need to be seen. He had lost sight of the purity of the cause. It had become about him, about what he wanted - what he needed.

"Why?" he muttered to himself, his voice hollow. He had wanted to change the world, but was that really all he had wanted? Or had he simply wanted to make the world notice him? To feel like he wasn't just some forgotten ghost drifting through the motions of life?

"Akari-kun?" Hana's voice broke through his reverie. He slowly lifted his head, meeting her gaze for the first time in what felt like forever. Hana's brown eyes were filled with worry, a silent question hanging between them.

Akari's chest tightened. He didn't want to be seen like this - weak, uncertain. But the walls he had so carefully built over the years had cracked, and it was too late to hide it now.

"I... I don't know anymore" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel like I dragged you all into this mess. You're all suspended, with nothing to show for it... and all for my selfish reasons." His words felt raw, the truth he had been avoiding for so long finally spilling out.

Hana sat silent for a moment, processing his words. She could see the internal battle raging inside him, and it hurt to witness it. She hasn't known Akari for long as they were both in the starting months of freshman year at university but straight away she saw he was a passionate, driven person, who had sparked something in all of them. And now, she was seeing a different side of him, one full of doubt and regret.

"Akari-kun..." she began softly, her voice steady, but kind. "You didn't drag anyone anywhere. We chose to stand with you, because we believed in the cause. No one's to blame here. Not you, not anyone else"

Akari shook his head, his chest tightening as if he couldn't accept her words. "But what did we even accomplish? All of us are suspended, and nothing's changed. They didn't listen to us.

She leaned forward, her gaze firm but warm. "Change doesn't happen overnight. And even if we didn't get what we wanted, we still fought for something we believed in. We still made our voices heard. You gave us a chance to do something meaningful, Akari-kun".

He wished he could believe her, but his self-loathing had wormed its way so deeply into his bones that her words felt like hollow echoes, falling into the abyss of his mind.

"About the suspensions... the university contacted me and the others for a meeting. They've actually lifted our suspensions," she said, looking down, her words trailing off as she avoided his gaze.

"The suspensions for all the leaders are still up in the air," she said, her tone tinged with sadness. "I think they want to make an example out of you."

Her words felt like a gut-punch. He hadn't made any real change, and now he was at risk of losing his place at university. When his father found out about the suspension, he grabbed Akari by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall, shouting about what a failure he was. It was the first time his father had ever lost control like that. He could still feel the sting of his father's hands, the weight of his disappointment pressing down him, suffocating any hope he had left.

Akari remained silent, his gaze distant as he processed her words. Her hard on his shoulder was warm, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it. She kissed him softly on the cheek, her lips lingering for just a moment as if to remind him that he wasn't alone, that someone cared. Her scent, sweet like strawberries, hung in the air.

"I'll come back to check on you, okay?" She gave him one last look before stepping out of the room, giving him space to process the information.

All this thinking made his head hurt, he went down to get a glass of water and he bumped into his father in the hallway.

"Did you drag that girl down with you too? Filling her head with your foolish rebellion?" his father sneered at him. His father was a strict man who was all about following orders and never disobeying authority. It came from his time as a naval officer during World War II. His father wasn't worth the argument. "No," Akari said, voice clipped. The less he said, the better. It was safer that way.

Seeing that Akari wasn't going to bite, his father turned on his heel, but before he disappeared down the hall, he barked out a final order.

"Your grandparents are coming this evening. Go to the markets and get some groceries"

"Ok" Akari said in a monotonous voice.

"Ok, what?"

"Ok, Sir" Akari muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

His father's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he walked away.

This was going to be a long day, he thought. He headed back to his room, changing into dark blue jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and his green bomber jacket, pairing it all with white high-top Converse.

-----

As Akari walked back from the markets, his arms weighed down with groceries, something caught his eye - a small antique store nestled between two modern buildings. The shop's wooden exterior was aged and weathered, its sign adorned with golden letters reading Kieyuku Shonin. The paint was slightly faded, as if time itself had tried to erase it, but the name still gleamed under the afternoon sun.

He would have walked past it without a second thought, but something stopped him. A strange sensation coiled around his chest, gentle yet unyielding, like unseen hands guiding him forward. It wasn't curiosity - it was something deeper, something he couldn't explain.

Akari hesitated, his fingers tightening around the grocery bags. Normally, he wouldn't entertain a place like this. And yet, as if pulled by an invisible thread, he found himself stepping toward the door.

The front door chimed as Akari stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and dust filling his nostrils. The air was thick with time itself, as though the past lingered in every corner.The shop was a labyrinth of forgotten treasures - old books stacked in uneven towers, vintage suitcases piled beside delicate porcelain teapots, mismatched spoons and forks nestled in ornate wooden crates. Every surface brimmed with trinkets, whispering stories of lives long past.

There was no one at the counter. The shopkeeper must be in the back, he thought.

Winding through the cluttered aisles, he ran his fingers over the oddities, searching for something - anything - that might interest his grandparents even. But nothing spoke to him.

Until he saw it.

A glint of green flickered in the dim light. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make him pause. Nestled between a pile of rusted watches and tarnished brooches lay a medallion - a deep emerald hue, its surface worn yet oddly mesmerising.

For a moment, he could have sworn it winked at him.

"Kiyoshi-kun, is that you?"

A frail, elderly man appeared beside him, his wrinkled fingers reaching out to touch Akari's face, studying his features intently.

Akari flinched, jerking back. "Hey, old man! What are you doing?" His voice was sharper than intended, but he didn't take kindly to strangers touching him.

The old man's eyes twinkled with something unreadable. "I knew I would see you again," he murmured.

Akari stiffened. Is he senile? He'd heard of memory-destroying diseases before - perhaps this man was suffering from one.

"My name's not Kiyoshi," he said firmly. This whole encounter was getting weird.

But the old man only smiled, his gaze drifting to the medallion.

"This," he said, voice thick with nostalgia, "has been in my possession for a hundred years. I once made a promise - to a dear friend - that I would keep it safe until the day I could return it to its rightful owner."

His expression grew distance, lost in memories of a past long gone.

The old man picked up the medallion with careful hands and, before Akari could protest, slipped it around his neck.

Akari opened his mouth to object, but the words never came. The weight of the medallion against his chest felt... right. Familiar, even.

"Uhh, well thanks old man" Akari said, still feeling disoriented by the whole experience.The old man smiled warmly. "Takuya, please. Call me Takuya, old friend."

Akari studied him for a moment, his eyes tracing the man's weathered features. His hair was thin and grey, his skin had a sun-beaten look, as though he'd spent his whole life outdoors. A deep, faded scar ran along his cheek.

No, Akari thought, shaking off the sensation. He had never met this man before.

"Well, I should be going now," Akari said, his voice trailing off as he moved toward the door.

"I'll see you soon," Takuya responded, his smile unwavering. "In another lifetime."

-----

As soon as Akari stepped through the door, his father's voice rang out, snapping him back into reality. "What took you so long at the markets?" Without waiting for a reply, his dad directed him straight into the kitchen to prepare dishes for his grandparents and set the table.

While he chopped the onions, the sharp scent stinging his eyes, his mind kept drifting back to the old man in the antique shop. What a strange man, Akari thought, the memory lingering like an unsettling shadow. Something about that conversation didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't quite place why.

"Aah!" Akari gasped as a sharp pain shot through his finger, a thin line of red blood pooling at the tip. He winced, the sting jolting him out of his thoughts. But even as the blood dripped, his mind stayed on the encounter with the old man. He would think about it later - when he had time to breathe. For now, there was a task to finish. If he didn't get the dishes done, his father would surely snap at him.

-----

"Akari-kun, you've grown into such a handsome young man," Setsuko said with a warm smile, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "You've got some of your mother's features."

Akari's cheeks flushed a deep red. It had been a while since he'd seen his grandmother, and he was acutely aware of the changes in himself. He had shot up over the summer, now standing taller than his father at 6 ft 3. His body had become lean and muscular from years of martial arts training, his movements more fluid and controlled than before. His cheekbones were sharper, just like his mother's, and his eyes - gentle and brown - mirrored hers too. But his hair, wild and shaggy, was unmistakably his father's.
It was strange, seeing how much his appearance had shifted, just as everything else in his life seemed to be changing.

"I'm glad he inherited his mother's cooking skills," Kikuko chimed in, her eyes twinkling. "Tokohito was never much of a star chef in the kitchen."
"Food is just sustenance to me, doesn't need to be glamorous," Tokohito said with a gruff chuckle.

Akari laughed, the familiar warmth of his grandparents' banter filling the air. He loved having them around. Their presence made the house feel like home, a home he desperately needed. Without them, he couldn't imagine how the space would feel - just him and his dad, unable to capture any of the normalcy of family life.

"I just wish he hadn't inherited her rebellious streak," Tokohito added, his voice gruff, always ready to throw a jab in his son's direction.

"Let's not get into that," Kikuko interjected, gently placing her hand over her son's to calm him. Hitachi, Akari's grandfather, remained silent, nursing his glass of whisky with quiet contemplation.

"Tomorrow, we're going to the Biwa Lake annual yacht race, where I'll be surrounded by old friends whose children have accomplished so much," Tokohito said, his voice dripping with spite. "And what do I have to show for it? Nothing. Just stand there, offering congratulations, while my son's a failure."

"Tokohito!" The grandmothers gasped, their disapproval clear.

Akari's heart felt like it was being squeezed, but he couldn't let them see how badly his father's words cut.

"Excuse me," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he stood up. Holding back tears, he quickly disappeared up the stairs, his head down, like a dog its tail between its legs. His father would never let him forget his place.

-----

The door creaked open as Akari rested his head on his desk. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The soft shuffle of slippers, the gentle scent of jasmine - Setsuko.

She shut the door behind her without a word. Akari turned his face away, feeling childish but unable to help himself. With her, he could let his guard down.
She walked over and placed a hand on his head, her touch warm, soothing - like a mother's. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, a quiet comfort.

"His words don't come from the heart," she murmured. "When you lose someone you love, it's like a grey lends covers your eyes. The colour of life disappears."

She paused, her hand stilling for a moment. "I would know," she said softly. "Ever since losing Yasuhito, there are days when I still reach for him in the morning, expecting him to be there. But grief changes you. It can make you bitter... or it can teach you to hold on to what's left."

"You try to see the best in everyone, grandma" Akari muttered, his voice muffled against the crook of his arm.

Setsuko gave a small chuckle, her fingers still idly stroking his hair. "Maybe," she admitted. "But sometimes, even the worst of us have reasons for the way we are."

She sighed, a wistful look settling in her eyes. "He sees your mother in you. We all do."

Akari stayed silent, but he felt his chest tighten.

"Did I ever tell you about the time the school was going to shut down the clubhouse at Yuriko and Takahito's school?" she asked. "Something about no funding. But Yuriko refused to accept that. She said that clubhouse was a safe space for the children, a place where they could learn and explore different things. She petitioned day and night - stood outside the gates gathering signatures, wrote letters to the school board, and even sent one to the school district leader. Your grandfather helped, of course.

Setsuko's lips curved into a soft smile, lost in the memory. "She saved that clubhouse. My dear Yuriko... she was one of a kind. Just like you, Akari"

Akari clenched his jaw, turning his face away further. Just like me... He didn't deserve that comparison. Not when she had done so much and was loved so dearly.

She should have survived, not me.

-----

After his grandmother left, exhaustion weighed heavy on Akari. The long day had gnawed at his bones, leaving him too drained to fight sleep. He collapsed onto his bed, sinking into a deep slumber.

In his dreams, he found himself somewhere unfamiliar yet oddly familiar - a place called from another time. He stood on the Togetsukyo Bridge, an ancient structure of cypress wood, stretching over shimmering waters. Surrounding him were majestic mountains, their peaks brushed with mist, and vibrant red maple leaves drifting in the wind like scattered embers.
But he wasn't alone.

Ahead of him stood a girl, breathtaking in her elegance. Her long black hair cascaded past her hips, swaying with the breeze. She wore a kimono adorned with delicate sakura blossoms, the fabric shimmering like moonlight. But what caught his attention most was the medallion hanging from her neck - the very same one he had received from the antique shop.She turned to him, her lips curling into a smile - a smile that could make flowers bloom early, one that felt like the sun would never set.

But then, shouts rang out. Shadows emerged from the mist.

Swordsmen surrounded them, steel glinting in the pale light. One lunged. The girl's eyes widened in terror.

Pain. A sharp, searing agony tore through his chest. He looked down. A katana protruded from his body, crimson blooming across his clothes.

The girl screamed.

"Kiyoshi-kun!"

Akari gasped awake, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. His breath came in ragged, uneven gulps. He clutched his chest. No blood. No wound. But the pain felt real. The name still echoed in his ears.

Kiyoshi.

But that wasn't his name.

Was it?

A faint glow caught his eye.

His gaze snapped downward, and his breath hitched. The medallion around his neck - the one the old man had given him - was glowing. A soft, eerie light pulsed from its surface, as it it were alive, as if it had awakened along with him.

He swallowed hard.

What the hell was happening to him?

Akari's gaze flickered to the clock on his bedside table - 6 a.m.

With a sigh, he pushed himself upright. He needed to start breakfast soon, especially since today was the annual yacht race. His father would expect everything to be in order before they to the docks at Biwa Lake.

His father loved the water. The sea ran deep in his veins, a legacy passed down through generations. Ever since Akari was a child, his father had taken him out onto the open water, teaching him how to read the wind, trim the sails, and when he was finally old enough - how to race.

"The sea makes a man out of a boy," his father used to say.

At times, being cramped together on a small yacht could be tense. His father's expectations were high, and mistakes were never tolerated. Yet, despite the pressure sailing was one of the few things they could do together without completely falling apart.

For better or worse, on the water was where they understood each other best.

-----

"Ready... Set... GO!"

The officiator fired the starting pistol, the sharp crack echoing across the lake. Within seconds, sails snapped in the wind, and the boats surged forward, slicing through the water like galloping stallions.

"Trim the jib!" his father barked.

Akari moved fast, adjusting the jib sheet to optimise their speed. The boom swung as the boat tacked, cutting cleanly through the waves.

"We're falling off course - bring her up!" his father ordered, gripping the tiller tightly.

Akari braced himself and shifted his weight, adjusting their heading to catch the best wind. Other boats closed in around them, their sails billowing as the crews work in perfect rhythm. The race was on.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden ripples across the lake. The water shimmered like scattered diamonds, their sailboat cutting cleanly through each cresting wave. The breeze was strong but steady - a perfect day for racing.

Weather forecasters had warned of a squall earlier that morning, nearly derailing the competition. But as the hours passed and their radars cleared, they dismissed it as a system error. Still, something in Akari's gut nagged at him. He shook it off, refocusing on the race.The crowd was electric with excitement. His grandparents, ever mischievous, had taken great delight in teasing him about Hana's presence.

"Your little girlfriend came to watch you, Akari-kun," Setsuko teased, a sly smile on her lips.Both he and Hana turned red, quickly sputtering out denials, much to the elders' amusement.
Akari smirked as their boat surged ahead, leaving the competition in their wake. "We're going to win this," he said, confidence brimming in his voice.

His father, hands firm on the tiller, barely spared him a glance. "The race isn't over yet. Stay focused. The others still have fight left in them - victory isn't ours until we cross that finish line."

His words were measured, a lifetime of discipline woven into them. Akari rolled his eyes but adjusted the sails regardless, gripping the jib sheet just a little tighter.

All of a sudden, the sky darkened, swallowing the golden sunlight in a mass of swirling, angry clouds. The wind howled through the sails, yanking them like a beast breaking free from its chains. The water, once calm and shimmering, turned into a rolling, violent abyss.

The boat lurched sideways, sending a spray of ice-cold water crashing over them.

"What's going on?!" Akari screamed, his voice barely cutting through the howling wind. His pulse thundered in his ears.

His father, gripping the tiller with knuckles white as bone, remained composed - still as a rock in the storm. His voice was steady, but sharp.

"A squall - it's hitting fast. Drop the mainsail before we capsize!"

Akari scrambled, his hands slipping against the soaked ropes as he tried to obey. But the storm was relentless. A monstrous wave rose before them, casting a shadow over the deck - then it crashed down, swallowing them whole.

The boat flipped.

The cold was instant, merciless - like a thousand needles piercing into his skin. The world became a blur of churning darkness, water filling his ears, his nose, his lungs. Akari kicked hard, fighting to break the surface.

But something dragged him down.

The medallion.

It felt heavier than lead, as if an unseen force was pulling him deeper, deeper into the abyss. He thrashed, his chest tightening as his air supply dwindled. Above him, his father's silhouette bobbed on the surface.

"Akari!"

Akari's vision blurred. He reached for the light above, but the medallion glowed, pulsing with something ancient and unknowable - dragging him further into the depths. 

-----

Akari woke up gasping for air, his lungs burning as if he had been underwater for an eternity. He tried to open his eyes, but his vision blurred with water, his lashes heavy with droplets. He felt solid ground beneath him - damp, rough, uneven. Sand? Stone? His fingers dug into it as he steadied himself.

"I must be alive... or maybe this is the afterlife," he thought, his head spinning.

He tried to push himself upright, but before he could, a wooden sandal slammed against his chest pinning him down.

"Don't move, you lecherous demon!" a voice shouted.

His breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, rubbing the water from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself surrounded by Imperial Guards, their armour gleaming beneath a hazy sky. The patterns, the fabrics - it all looked too familiar. Straight out of his history books."This must be the afterlife," he murmured, still dazed.

"Your Highness, are you all right? Stay behind us!" other guards called, urgency in their voices.It was then that Akari saw them - a group of women huddled behind the guards, their silk robes fluttering in the breeze. And standing among them, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes - was the girl from his dreams.

His heart pounded. This can't be real... can it?