The orange light of late afternoon washed over the city as Kuhaku pedaled slowly through the quiet streets.
His bag rattled in the basket, the air cool against his cheeks, the smell of dinner drifting from nearby houses.
It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.
He raised his eyes toward the sky. Clouds stretched thin across a horizon painted gold and lavender.
No planes, no vapor trails.
Not even the distant hum of engines.
He slowed the bike, one foot touching the pavement.
"Huh… that's weird."
In his previous world, the sky had always been alive—white streaks of airplanes crossing paths, tiny dots flashing at night.
Here? Nothing. Not once since he'd woken up in this life.
He frowned, squinting up into the empty blue.
"Maybe I'm just… remembering wrong."
It made sense, didn't it? Two sets of memories pressed together—the old and the new—blurred around the edges. His mind probably filled gaps that didn't exist anymore.
He sighed, chuckled at himself, and pushed off again.
"Note to self: stop overthinking and start pedaling. Dinner waits for no man—or reincarnated boy."
The tires hummed quietly as he rode beneath the glowing streetlamps, the sound of cicadas beginning their evening chorus.
⸻
At Home
The Hoshizora house glowed warmly from inside, the smell of curry drifting out the open window.
Kuhaku leaned his bike against the gate, kicked off his shoes, and called out:
"I'm home!"
"Welcome back!" his mother answered from the kitchen.
Rin's voice followed, bright and urgent:
"Onii-chan! Hurry up, I need player two!"
He grinned. So much for a peaceful evening.
When he stepped into the living room, Rin was already perched in front of the television, gripping a controller with both hands. Her pink hair caught the light like spun candy; her blue eyes sparkled with victory.
"Three levels without you," she said proudly. "You're losing your touch."
Kuhaku tossed his bag onto the couch and dropped beside her.
"Excuse me, princess, but I was out providing for this family—with academic effort."
"You were biking home."
"Exactly. Cardio is the noblest form of heroism."
Rin stuck out her tongue. "You just don't want to admit I'm better."
He grabbed the spare controller. "Fine. Loser washes the dishes."
"Deal!"
The match began. The screen filled with colors and explosions. Laughter echoed through the small house. Somewhere behind them, Aoi's voice carried from the kitchen:
"Dinner's almost ready! Don't get too distracted!"
"Can't hear you, Mom," Kuhaku said, eyes on the screen. "Justice waits for no one!"
Rin elbowed him and sent his character flying off the stage.
"Ha! Justice lost!"
"Justice will respawn!"
Their laughter blended with the faint clatter of dishes and the sizzle of curry on the stove. For a moment, it felt like this world had always been his.
⸻
Dinner
Aoi served dinner with her usual soft smile.
Daichi had returned earlier, still in his "police" shirt, sleeves rolled neatly. He looked tired but content, sipping tea as the family sat together.
"So," he asked casually, "how was your second day, Kuhaku?"
Kuhaku shrugged. "No one's tried to arrest me yet, so I'd call that a win."
Rin giggled. Aoi shook her head. "You two with your jokes…"
Daichi allowed a small smile. "Good. Keep it that way."
The conversation flowed easily: Rin's art homework, Aoi's gardening mishaps, Daichi's "reports" at work. Kuhaku played along with the police stories—he liked seeing his sister's eyes light up when Daichi mentioned "chasing suspects."
When dinner ended, Aoi announced dessert, and Rin cheered like it was a national holiday.
"This family might actually be perfect," Kuhaku thought, watching them laugh.
"Or maybe I just never knew what 'normal' looked like until now."
⸻
Night
Later that evening, after helping clear the table (mostly watching Rin drop spoons), Kuhaku retreated to his room.
He lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes tracing the ceiling.
Memories drifted between the cracks of thought—images from his old world: long nights alone, cheap instant noodles, the glowing blue light of a computer screen.
Then came today's warmth—Rin's laughter, his mother's voice, his father's calm smile. The sound of chopsticks clinking against bowls.
Two lives, one heart.
"I didn't have any of this before," he whispered. "Guess I got lucky."
He rolled onto his side and stared at the faint glow spilling through the curtains. Somewhere outside, the wind brushed gently against the window.
For a brief second, that odd emptiness of the sky flashed in his mind—the strange, endless silence above.
"No planes, huh… maybe this world's just more peaceful."
He smiled to himself, the thought fading as quickly as it came.
Sleep took him easily that night, like the world itself was holding him in quiet hands.
⸻
Next Morning
Sunlight slipped through his curtains again, accompanied by the smell of grilled fish.
Rin's voice rang through the hallway:
"Onii-chan! Breakfast or starvation—your choice!"
Kuhaku groaned, dragging himself upright.
"Five more minutes… heroic rest is essential!"
"Dad said you'd say that!" Rin shouted back.
"Then Dad knows me too well!"
By the time he made it downstairs, Daichi was already at the door, uniform crisp, briefcase in hand.
"Morning," Kuhaku said, yawning.
"Morning," Daichi replied, adjusting his tie. "Try not to be late again."
"Can't promise miracles, Dad."
"Then aim for small blessings."
Aoi giggled, sliding a plate in front of him. "Eat before it gets cold, Ku-kun. And no punning before breakfast."
"That's cruel and unusual punishment," he said, but obeyed.
The sky outside the kitchen window glowed a clean blue, cloudless and vast. Kuhaku watched it absently as he ate.
Still no planes.
Still that same silent perfection.
"Maybe this world just doesn't need them," he thought. "Good for the environment, right?"
He finished his meal, grabbed his bag, and waved goodbye. Rin called after him,
"Don't forget—rematch tonight!"
"Prepare your defeat!" he shouted, stepping out into the gentle morning breeze.
The day awaited—quiet, ordinary, bright.
And for now, that was enough.
⸻
End of Chapter 1 – Part 2