Chapter 4: A History Assignment Nobody Remembers

Ren didn’t remember signing up for the history project—because, as far as he knew, he never had.

And yet, here he was, standing in front of the entire class, holding a blank poster board while Mr. Nakamura tapped his foot expectantly.

“Mr. Takahashi, your presentation?” the teacher prompted, irritation clear in his voice.

Ren stood frozen, feeling every pair of eyes in the classroom on him. Shun, from the back row, offered a helpless shrug, mouthing: “You got this.”

Ren definitely did not have this.

“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” Ren stammered. “I didn’t—”

“No excuses,” Mr. Nakamura snapped, cutting him off. “You signed up two weeks ago. You’re lucky I’m even letting you present today.”

Two weeks ago? Ren’s mind reeled. Had he accidentally reset to a version of himself that did volunteer for this project? Or worse—was the timeline now making decisions for him?

The class waited. Someone in the front row coughed. Hana Nishimura sat near the window, doodling on her notebook, paying no attention to Ren’s slow public implosion.

“Ren,” Mr. Nakamura said flatly, “if you have nothing to present, it’s a zero.”

Zero. Great. Just another win for Team Disaster.

Ren swallowed hard, willing himself to speak. He needed a plan—and fast.

He glanced down at the blank poster in his hands. There was no way he could whip up a whole presentation on the spot, but maybe… just maybe… he could wing it.

Ren cleared his throat. “So, uh… today, I’ll be talking about… um… the Great Fire of Kyoto.”

A murmur ran through the room. Mr. Nakamura arched an eyebrow. “The Great Fire of Kyoto?”

Ren gave a nervous smile. “Yeah. You know… the one that almost, uh, destroyed half the city… back in, um…” He hesitated, then blurted: “1789.”

Dead silence.

A girl in the second row raised her hand. “Wasn’t that the French Revolution?”

“Totally different fire,” Ren replied without missing a beat. “Lots of fires in 1789. Global thing. Super unlucky year.”

Mr. Nakamura crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Takahashi, if you’re going to waste everyone’s time, I suggest—”

“Wait!” Ren cut him off, eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration. “The most important part about the Great Fire of Kyoto? It didn’t happen.”

The room collectively blinked. Even Mr. Nakamura seemed caught off guard.

“That’s right,” Ren continued, leaning into the absurdity. “Thanks to advanced fire prevention methods, Kyoto avoided catastrophe. And we all know the best disasters… are the ones that never happen.” He gave an awkward, triumphant nod, as if that clinched the whole argument.

The silence stretched. Then, to Ren’s surprise, someone in the back snickered. Another student laughed. Before long, the entire class was chuckling at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

Even Mr. Nakamura looked reluctantly amused.

“Alright, Takahashi,” the teacher muttered, rubbing his temple. “Just… sit down before I change my mind.”

Ren slumped into his seat, heart pounding. Somehow, by sheer luck or cosmic mercy, he had survived the ordeal.

Shun gave him a thumbs-up from the back of the room. “Legend,” he whispered.

But Ren wasn’t celebrating. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. The history project was the latest in a string of weird inconsistencies—details slipping out of place, moments shifting in ways they shouldn’t.

It wasn’t just the quizzes and teachers anymore. Time itself seemed to be unraveling around him, bit by bit.

And the worst part? It was starting to feel personal. Like the universe was messing with him specifically.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur, Ren too distracted to focus on anything. As the final bell rang, he shoved his books into his bag and made a beeline for the abandoned lab where the time machine was hidden. He needed answers, and fast.

By the time he reached the dusty basement room, he was out of breath, heart racing. The machine sat where he left it—quiet, lifeless, as if it hadn’t caused him endless trouble.

Ren knelt by the control panel and stared at the tangled mess of wires. There had to be something he was missing.

“Okay,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. “Think, Ren. What’s causing the glitches? What changed?”

He drummed his fingers nervously on the console. The machine had worked fine at first—perfect, even. But then, after a few jumps, the little inconsistencies began: missing papers, altered conversations, history assignments that never existed.

“Maybe I went too far back,” Ren whispered, trying to piece it all together. “Or maybe…”

His voice trailed off as a chilling possibility crept into his mind.

What if someone else is using the machine, too?

The idea sent a shiver down his spine. He had always assumed he was the only one messing with the timeline. But what if he wasn’t? What if someone else—someone with their own agenda—was making changes?

Ren’s thoughts raced. It would explain the weird glitches, the events that didn’t add up. If two people were altering the past at the same time, it could create overlapping timelines, twisting reality into knots.

But who? And why?

He stared at the machine, the hum of its circuits suddenly feeling ominous.

If he was going to figure this out, he needed more information. He had to be smarter—more careful. One wrong move, and things could spiral even further out of control.

Just as Ren was about to leave, a sharp knock echoed through the lab.

He froze. No one ever came down here.

The door creaked open slowly, and a familiar figure stepped inside: Kai Saito, the new transfer student with a reputation for keeping to himself.

Kai’s dark eyes flicked to the time machine, then back to Ren.

“So,” Kai said, his voice calm and measured, “you found one too.”

Ren’s stomach dropped.

Kai stepped closer, hands casually in his pockets, as if finding a time machine was no big deal. “I was wondering who kept messing with the timeline. Looks like we found each other.”

Ren stared at Kai, a thousand questions racing through his mind. “What do you mean… one too?”