Chapter 4 14:30-15:30 | End of the Day

When we returned to the homeroom, I half-expected to see Dr. Takahashi waiting again. Instead, a man in a plain brown suit stood at the front, his beard neatly trimmed, his eyes calm but piercing. “Good afternoon. I am Professor Takeda. Today we begin history, not as a list of dates, but as the ground beneath your feet. For you, history is not the past. It will be your terrain. And if you cannot read the terrain, you will stumble, and stumbling in the wrong century means death.”

Takeda sketched a crescent on the board. “Mesopotamia. The world’s first cities. If Headquarters dropped you there, how would you survive the first hour?”

No one answered.

He nodded. “Exactly. None of you would. You would be foreigners in a land obsessed with omens and rituals. You would be asked who your god is, what city you are from. You must know enough to answer. If you claim the wrong god, the wrong city, you will be branded a liar, or worse, a spy.”

Ayami raised her hand. “So what do we actually say if confronted?”

Takeda nodded approvingly. “Good question. You give answers that are true but noncommittal. If asked your god, you choose one that is widely worshipped: Ishtar, Marduk, Enlil. If asked about your city, you give the nearest major one, not some obscure village. You always aim to blend into the crowd. Remember: you are not there to stand out. You are there to vanish.”

Then he tapped the chalkboard. “The first law code, Hammurabi’s Code. ‘An eye for an eye.’ Understand what that means: punishments are swift, brutal, humiliating and public. Show up in strange clothes, speaking strangely, and you will be dealt with under those laws.”

Maho raised her hand. “So we’d have to learn the languages of every era?”

“Not fluency,” Takeda said, “but awareness. You will be equipped with translation support, yes. But a machine cannot save you from customs. In Egypt, never turn your back on a statue of the pharaoh in a temple. In Rome, remember that public baths are as common as teahouses here, avoid them, and you look suspicious. These details are not trivia. They are survival.”

The chalk scratched again, this time a column and a laurel wreath. “Now, Greece and Rome. Here the danger is subtler. These were literate societies. You may survive a few hours without raising alarm, but the moment you speak, your accent will betray you.”

Rieko raised her hand timidly. “Wouldn’t translation tech help?”

“Machines will give you words,” Takeda said. “But not the rhythm, not the gestures. In Rome, a nod might mean agreement in one context and insult in another. In Athens, asking the wrong question could brand you a barbarian. Technology cannot save you from culture.”

He began to pace slowly. “But history gives you advantages too. The Roman roads, the first highways. If you know the routes, you can travel swiftly, disappear into the empire’s veins. But beware: those same roads allow soldiers to reach you just as quickly. And remember, if you ever find yourself in Rome, remember: never claim to be from nowhere. Romans despised vagabonds. Always give a city, any city. To be cityless was to be less than human.”

He fixed us with a look. “All right, now I have a question for you: let's say you find yourself in Athens in the year… 420 BC you step into the agora. A merchant approaches and asks what city you are from. What do you say?”

I raised my hand. “Uh… I say I’m from Sparta?”

“And that Daniel is the last mistake you'll ever make. Athens and Sparta were at war. You would be arrested as an enemy spy. The correct answer is to claim a neutral city-state, perhaps one allied to Athens. Remember: you must know the political climate, or you walk into a trap.”

Then Takeda moved on to the Middle Ages. He drew a dome, a cross, a sword. “The Middle Ages. Three powers dominate: Christianity in Europe, Islam across Africa and the Middle East, and feudal order wherever lords and vassals hold sway. What does this mean for you? It means every question is about loyalty. Loyalty to God, to king, to clan. Fail to show it, and you are an outsider.”

Ibrahim, seated near the back, raised his hand. “Sir, what about Islamic lands? Would they be safer?”

Takeda’s eyes softened. “Safer, perhaps, if you understand hospitality and respect for faith. But know this: cities like Baghdad or Cordoba were not just places of prayer, they were centers of learning. Arrive there ignorant of basic manners, and you will shame yourself immediately. If you bow wrong in Japan, you may get a scolding. Oh, and the Mongols,”

Takeda continued, “a reminder that even the strongest walls can fall. Their empire connected Europe and Asia, good for travelers, yes, but also dangerous. If you appear on the steppe without knowing how to ride, you will not last a day.”

Takeda then cleaned the chalkboard before writing something new.

“The Early Modern Era: 1492-1800” then underlined it.

“Exploration. Colonization. You will not be sent to this period lightly. A traveler in the Caribbean in 1500 must understand that every European ship means upheaval for the locals. You cannot stop it. But you must not add to it.”

Rimi raised her hand. “If we accidentally introduced something, like… even a word out of place… could it change history?”

Takeda said calmly, “Any words can change history though some are more impactful than others. Your task is to ensure your footprint disappears into the dust. If you are mistaken for a Spaniard when you are not, you may trigger panic. If you reveal technology a century too early, you may derail an empire. This is why you will learn discipline. Curiosity is not an excuse for recklessness.”

He looked directly at Tadano. “If you were sent to the Caribbean in 1500, what would you do?”

Tadano froze. “Hide?”

“Correct. You hide. You observe. But you do not interact unless absolutely necessary. A word out of place could spark violence. And remember: you are not there to save anyone. You are there to maintain the mission. And remember this: Heroic acts might turn you into a legend. But they're more likely to turn you into a cautionary tale.”

He then sketched a samurai helmet. “Meanwhile, Japan under Tokugawa rule was closed to outsiders. If you arrive in Edo dressed as a European, you risk execution. You must know enough to dress and behave invisibly.

Now let's say you are sent to Edo, 1700s. You are stopped by a samurai, who demands to know why you are in the city. What do you say?”

Miyu hesitated, then raised her hand. “That I’m a merchant?”

“Good, but merchants were restricted. You would need papers. A safer cover is to say you are visiting relatives, or serving a household. Always choose the story easiest to sustain.”

Next he moved on to the 19th century. Takeda drew a locomotive and a telegraph line.

“In this century things become a lot more familiar to you. But do not let this sense of safety deceive you, if you screw up, you've got nowhere to hide. Steamships and trains move people faster than ever. Telegraphs carry words across continents. Empires expand. For a traveler, this means fewer places to vanish. You cannot simply disappear into a remote village because that village may already be connected to the wider world.”

Miyu whispered something to Saki beside her. I was only able to hear one word: “witch."

Takeda also heard. “Yes. Witch hunts in earlier centuries, and scientific exhibitions later. Both stem from the same impulse: fear of the unknown. Your job is never to be the unknown. And while I doubt you will be tried as a witch in the 19th century they'll certainly try and dissect you.”

Haruka frowned. “Like we are specimens or in an exhibition?”

Takeda’s eyes were grim. “Basically. The 19th century loved ‘curiosities.’ If you are discovered with technology you cannot explain, you may find yourself in a laboratory or a prison. Regardless, you will have a very tough interrogation to look forward to and a low probability of escape.”

The subsequent silence that filled the room was heavy, to a degree that none of the students had ever seen before.

All right, now let's say you find yourself in London, 1850. You are seen using a wristwatch that glows faintly. A child notices and points it out. What do you do?”

Noriko and Miai looked panicked. They frantically answered “Hide it?” and “Deny its existence?”

Takeda responded. “Too late, the child has seen. What then?”

Ibrahim spoke up. “I’d laugh it off. Say it’s a toy, or a foreign trinket.”

Takeda nodded. “Correct. Misdirection. Always turn the extraordinary into the ordinary. Never leave a mystery unsolved, or someone will pursue it.”

The professor finally returned the chalk to the tray. “You see now why history is not a list of facts. It is survival. Every era has its laws, its gods, its suspicions. Fail to know them, and you will not last an hour. But if you understand, if you respect it, then you may move through time like a shadow.”

By the time the bell rang and I had completed my lessons, my head was spinning with new terms and responsibilities. For the first time, I felt the weight of what being a time traveler might actually mean.