The café was quieter than usual. The snow had kept most students home, and the regulars were huddled near the heater, sipping tea and murmuring about the weather. Ethan arrived early, a satchel slung over his shoulder, filled with manga volumes and retro cartridges he planned to flip later. But today wasn't about hustling. Today was about building.
Isabelle arrived ten minutes later, her cheeks flushed from the cold, sketchbook tucked under her arm. She spotted Ethan and gave a small wave before sliding into the seat across from him.
"You brought the whole store," she said, eyeing the stack of vintage items beside him.
"Side hustle," Ethan replied. "I'll explain later."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Instead, she opened her sketchbook and flipped to a fresh page. "So. StudySync."
Ethan leaned forward, pulling out his notebook. "I've been thinking about the core loop. What keeps users coming back. It's not just about tracking tasks—it's about feeling progress."
"Gamification," Isabelle said, nodding. "But subtle. No flashing badges or cheesy sound effects."
"Exactly. I was thinking of a focus timer that earns you points. You can spend them on unlocking themes, productivity tips, maybe even AI-generated study playlists."
Isabelle's pen moved quickly, sketching a circular timer interface. "What if the timer adapts to your habits? Like, if you always break focus after twenty minutes, it shortens your sessions and builds you back up."
Ethan smiled. "Smart. Personalized pacing."
They worked in sync, bouncing ideas back and forth, refining features, debating UX choices. Isabelle's design instincts were sharp—minimalist, intuitive, elegant. Ethan translated her sketches into modular components, mapping out how each feature would interact.
[System Update: Venture Progress 12%]
Milestone: Core Feature Set Defined
Next Step: MVP Wireframe
Ethan glanced at the System interface, then back at Isabelle. She was focused, her brow furrowed, lips pursed in concentration. He remembered seeing her like this years later, on a stage in Tokyo, presenting a design that would revolutionize mobile learning. But here, now, she was just a girl with a sketchbook and a dream.
"You're really good at this," he said.
She looked up, surprised. "Thanks. I don't usually share my ideas. People think I'm too intense."
"They're wrong," Ethan said. "Intensity builds things."
She smiled, a little shyly. "What about you? You talk like someone who's already built something."
Ethan hesitated. "I've... studied a lot. Seen what works. What doesn't."
She tilted her head. "You're not just guessing, are you?"
He met her eyes. "No."
There was a pause. Not awkward—just heavy with unspoken things. Isabelle didn't push. Instead, she flipped to a new page and began sketching a dashboard layout.
Ethan watched her, the System humming quietly in the background.
[Emotional Anchor Strengthening: Isabelle Hart]
Risk Level: Elevated
Strategic Synergy: High
He dismissed the alert. He wasn't going to treat her like a variable. She was a person. A partner. Maybe more.
They worked for another hour, refining the wireframes, listing out MVP requirements, and estimating development time. Ethan explained how he'd fund the prototype—flipping vintage items, reinvesting profits, and eventually pitching to early adopters.
Isabelle listened, impressed. "You really think this can work?"
"I know it can," Ethan said. "But I don't want to do it alone."
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. Let's build it together."
[System Update: Ally Confirmed — Isabelle Hart]
Venture Status: Co-Founded
Compatibility: 89%
Emotional Bond: Forming
They packed up their notebooks and sketchbooks, the café now nearly empty. Outside, the snow had started again, soft flakes drifting through the air like falling ash.
As they stepped into the cold, Isabelle turned to him. "You're different, you know. Not just smart. You feel... older."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Maybe I've lived more than I should have."
She didn't ask what he meant. She just nodded, pulled her scarf tighter, and walked beside him down the quiet street.
And for the first time since waking up in 1995, Ethan felt something more than strategy.
He felt hope.