Day One (Chapter 0)

1st of January, 2034.

The year began not with fireworks, but with silence. A pale winter breeze drifted through the narrow streets of Nukado, as if uncertain whether to carry warmth or cold. The trees stood bare, their limbs skeletal against the grey sky, mirroring the feeling of something unfinished—something still waiting to fall into place. 

The quiet seemed to echo Kotae’s own reluctance to face the new chapter ahead, the way he wasn’t quite ready to leave behind the comfort of home. For Kika, the stillness reflected the weight of the day ahead—the same unspoken tension that tugged at her every time she stepped into the unknown. The city—still, frozen in its winter grip—felt somehow more alive than either of them, each corner whispering of new beginnings while the silence pressed in, as though it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

On the third floor of a modest apartment complex tucked between a convenience store and a quiet shrine, Kotae Inuzaki stirred from sleep. Eighteen years old, with a good amount of black hair styled with casual ease and eyes as dark as ink — two eyes always seemingly on the cusp of thought — he faced the morning with the wary anticipation of someone about to step into the unknown. Today marked his first day of college—not at a prestigious spring-starting university, but at a smaller, winter-entry institute, chosen less for its academic reputation and more for its proximity to home. He hadn’t yet felt ready to leave.

Below him, on the first floor, lived Kika Turue—nineteen, sharp-witted, with a quiet presence that seemed to ripple beneath the surface. She was beautiful, with large brown eyes that held a depth beyond her years. She had moved into the building four years ago, a stranger then, with two suitcases and a long braid of chestnut hair. Kotae remembered noticing her almost immediately, both of them silently acknowledging one another in shared elevator rides and passing glances. Their first real conversation had taken place in the corner of a neighborhood grocery store, over a mutual reach for the last can of mackerel in miso sauce. That odd, small moment had sparked something. An ease. A rhythm. They had become fast friends.

Now, years later, they shared an unspoken bond—neither romantic nor merely platonic, but something else. A knowing. A companionship tempered by time and the casual rituals of familiarity.

And today, as Kotae pulled on his coat and prepared to leave, he glanced toward the floor below, wondering if Kika was awake. The sky remained grey, and the cold lingered—but something new was beginning.

A sharp double knock echoed in the narrow hallway.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Inside, there was a muffled thud—something toppled—and then the distant patter of hurried footsteps.

"I'm coming!" Kika's voice rang out, half-shouted, half-panicked. "My alarm didn’t go off. You want some coffee?"

"Yes, please. Make it a strong one. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

Kotae leaned against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes and letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. Ten minutes crawled by. He stood motionless, facing the pale beige wall opposite her door, eyes glazed over in the kind of quiet existential daze only early mornings can summon. He counted a crack in the paint. Twice.

At last, the door creaked open. Kika appeared—slightly breathless, a mug in one hand and keys in the other.

"Was that a long time?" she asked, a little too casually.

Kotae took the offered cup without meeting her gaze. “Just... let’s go.”

Kotae and mornings didn’t get along. He was more of a night owl—always had been. Waking up before the sun felt like a personal affront to his entire being.

"I’ve never understood how you function at night," Kika said with a grin.

"It’s the only way I can get anything done. But mornings? Nope. Not my time. Maybe I need an IV of caffeine just to make it through."

They stepped out into the crisp winter air, scarves snug around their necks, their breaths forming little clouds as they walked. The streets of Nukado felt hushed, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only early mornings and holidays can bring.

“Hard to believe you actually got into college on time, night owl,” Kika said, bumping her shoulder against his.

Kotae shot her a sideways glance. “I would’ve been late by a year if someone hadn’t waited for me.”

“I didn’t wait for you,” she said with a mock gasp. “I was just... taking a gap year. For reflection.”

“Sure,” he muttered, smiling faintly.

“Besides,” she added, voice softening just a bit, “someone’s gotta make sure you don’t drift off halfway through orientation.”

Kotae snorted, and Kika grinned like she’d just landed a well-aimed jab. The cold didn’t feel quite so sharp anymore.

The university loomed only a short walk away—five minutes, give or take—but the stillness between them was soon broken.

"You ready?" Kika asked, peering at him with a sideways grin. "You look nervous."

Kotae frowned, adjusting his scarf. "Don’t project that on me. You know me. It’s just another day."

"You’re too serious sometimes," she said, then without warning, reached out and grabbed his hand. "Quickly now, we're almost there!"

Before he could protest, Kika tugged him into a run, their footsteps quick and uneven, the air sharp in their lungs as they raced toward the gates.

They came to a stop in front of the main gates of the university—a towering structure of steel and stone, stark against the pale morning sky.

"You know," Kika said between breaths, "I've seen it a hundred times, but it still impresses me how massive it is."

Kotae tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’s what she said."

Kika stared at him, blinking.

"..."

He burst into laughter, unable to help himself.

"Alright, alright," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "What class are we going to again?"

"3B. Or maybe 2A. No, wait... definitely not 3A," she said, the gears clearly still turning in her head.

"Kika!!"

She shrugged, unbothered. "It’s definitely 3B. Or 2A. But 3A’s out, for sure."

Kotae sighed, but there was no real frustration in it—only the familiar fondness of a well-worn friendship.

"Alright. 3B it is."

The main building of the university buzzed with energy—students poured in through wide glass doors, voices overlapping like waves in a restless tide. Kotae and Kika weren’t as late as they’d feared. A small victory. Turns out, living five minutes from campus had its perks.

They had barely a few minutes before class began. The corridor offered no real opportunity to talk, and besides, Kotae wasn’t one for idle chatter. Not unless it was with Kika. She, on the other hand, radiated warmth and ease—the kind of person who could strike up a conversation with a vending machine if left alone long enough. They were opposites, undoubtedly. But the kind of opposites that didn't cancel each other out—they balanced. And more importantly, they understood each other.

Kika never pushed him into groups or conversations. She knew he wasn't rude or aloof—just guarded. Life had taught him to be careful with doors; some, once opened, never closed the same again. If you were lucky enough to be let in, you’d find loyalty and depth worth the wait. But that kind of access wasn’t handed out freely.

They entered the classroom just as the final seconds of silence ticked away before the bell. Every head turned. Part of it was because they were the last to arrive—but part of it was something else. Kotae and Kika both carried a kind of quiet gravity. The kind that makes people look up without realizing why.

Sliding into two empty seats near the back, the classroom hushed as the bell rang.

The teacher, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a voice both calm and clear, stepped forward. “Thank you all for being here today—on time,” she added with a touch of humor, eyes flicking briefly toward the newcomers. “Today marks the first page of a new chapter in your life. We’ll begin by introducing ourselves—your name, your aspirations, and anything else you’d like to share. Please keep it brief—we’ve only got an hour and twenty names to go through.”

One by one, students rose, voices shy or eager, offering slices of themselves to the room. Some were awkward. Some were overconfident. Kotae said what he had to when it was his turn—nothing more. Kika followed with more warmth but still kept it short. By the time the last name had been spoken and the teacher wrapped up with a few encouraging words and an overview of her class, the room had softened. The ice had cracked—just a little.

The bell rang again. First class, over.

Kotae leaned toward Kika, stretching slightly. “Well… that was a lot. I think I remember maybe two names.”

Kika raised a brow. “Are they ours, by any chance?”

“Highly likely.”

She chuckled. “It’s fine. The interesting ones, we’ll remember fast enough.”

“Oh, I’m just thrilled,” Kotae muttered, oozing sarcasm.

They began to gather their things, ready to step out for a breath of cold air, when a figure blocked their path. A tall guy—well-dressed, confident, with slick blond hair and sharp blue eyes—stood before Kika, a smile that tried too hard plastered on his face.

“Hi,” he said smoothly. “I’m Guko Nuo. And what might this beautiful lady’s name be?”

Kika blinked, shoulders stiffening just slightly. “Uh... yeah, hi. I’m Kika. Kika Turue.”

“Nice to meet you, Kika.”

“Yeah. Likewise.”

“So,” Guko continued, unbothered by the awkward air, “would you like to grab some food after school?”

Before Kika could reply, Kotae’s voice cut in, low and steady. “Alright, dude. That's enough. We’ve got plans after school.”

Guko’s smile faltered just a bit. “Oh? Do you feel threatened? Little jealous, maybe?”

Kotae exhaled slowly. “You know what? Fair point. This isn’t my decision. Kika?”

She turned to Guko, polite but firm. “Yeah, no thanks. As he said—we’ve already got plans.”

Guko’s jaw tightened just slightly. “Alright. See you later, then.”

He turned and walked off, the tension melting the moment he left.

Outside, the cold air welcomed them like a splash of water.

Kotae muttered, “Man… this is gonna be a long day.”

Kika laughed lightly. “Looks like it. But hey, at least we’re in it together.”

“Yeah. We are,” Kotae said, glancing at her. Then, almost absentmindedly, “I just wish something interesting would happen.”

Kika tilted her head, half-smiling. “Maybe something will. Come on, it’s only been an hour.”

“Still…”

Those words would later echo in his mind like a premonition—Be careful what you wish for.
Because the day wasn’t done with them yet. Not even close.

And as they stepped through the doorway of their second class, they had no idea what was coming.