The class with Souta Nishizawa had finally ended for the day. Students scattered throughout the halls, cheerful and carefree, returning to their routines with bright smiles. But for Timeo, the weight of a difficult encounter still lingered. Ahead of him lay only the return to ordinary classes—if anything still felt ordinary at all.
Hands tucked in their pockets, Marin and Leo walked alongside him as they exited the classroom. Marin, visibly concerned, was the first to break the silence.
"Are you okay, Yamamoto? Your neck… does it still hurt?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine worry and guilt. The memory of the Time Fracture—one she had unknowingly been dragged into—still clung to her conscience.
Timeo rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a faint breath as his eyes met hers. Calm and composed, he replied honestly, "It stings a little. Last time, it didn't."
They moved through the corridor together, weaving between clusters of passing students. The atmosphere was buzzing with normality, yet theirs felt anything but.
Leo clenched his fists at his sides, his voice sharp with frustration.
"That bastard Nishizawa… I knew it! He's nothing but a damn tyrant! Treats people like pawns just because he calls himself 'the ruler' of the students!"
Though seething, Leo stopped himself from letting his anger spiral into another outburst. Marin nodded in agreement, her expression hardened.
"I didn't want to believe it at first—not until I saw it with my own eyes. Hearing those words come out of his mouth… it's disgusting. How does the school still not see how obsessed he is with control—how selfish he really is?"
Their words hung heavy in the air, a shared truth now undeniable.
Leo shifted the mood with a sudden change of tone. "Hey…" he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor, his voice stripped of its usual fire. There was no sarcasm, no grin—just raw, quiet regret. "It was my damn fault. If I'd done something… maybe it would've turned out different."
He paused, shoulders tense. The truth gnawed at him. He had been powerless during the confrontation—watching helplessly as phantoms beyond comprehension tore through the moment. It haunted him.
"So yeah," he muttered, barely above a whisper, "I'm sorry."
He swallowed the rest of the emotion building in his chest, forcing it down where no one could see.
Timeo didn't seem fazed by the apology. In fact, he didn't look disappointed or let down—just steady, almost understanding. His tone was calm but sincere.
"There was nothing you could've done," he said gently. "Trying was enough. I heard everything you said."
And in that moment, it was clear—Timeo didn't blame him. Not even a little.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, man. What you did for us back there… I mean it—I really appreciate it," Leo said with a grin, genuine relief in his expression. Even after everything, the fact that Timeo still saw him as a friend meant more than he could say.
"Well, I better head to class. Don't wanna be late." With a quick wave, Leo turned the corner and jogged off, his usual energy starting to return as he disappeared down the hall.
Timeo watched him go, quietly understanding him more than Leo probably realized. Though they had only known each other for a few days, they'd already faced more than most would in a lifetime. And that kind of bond didn't need years to form—it was forged in fire.
"Let's get to our class too, Yamamoto. Really… thank you for helping us," Marin said sincerely.
Timeo nodded once, silent but accepting, and the two of them made their way toward their classroom. With only minutes until the bell, the day's ordinary rhythm was already pulling them back in—but nothing about what they'd been through could be called ordinary.
The history class eased into a calm rhythm as students settled into their seats, the faint rustle of pages and shifting chairs filling the room. At the front, the teacher—Ms. Hoshino—adjusted her glasses and tapped her marker against the board, drawing everyone's attention.
"Alright, everyone," she began, her tone light but clear, "today we're exploring cultural influence through religion—specifically, how early belief systems shaped national identity. Let's focus on Japan and the roots of its imperial tradition."
She turned toward the whiteboard, writing the word Shintoism in bold letters. "Shintoism, as many of you already know, is Japan's indigenous religion. It didn't have a founder or central scripture like many organized religions, but it was deeply connected to nature and ancestral worship. What's important to note is how Shinto beliefs became tied to political authority."
She walked slowly across the front of the class, pausing as she scanned the room. "During Japan's early history, Shintoism played a significant role in legitimizing imperial rule. The imperial family claimed descent from the sun goddess, Amaterasu. This divine lineage helped reinforce the emperor's authority—not just as a political leader, but as a sacred figure."
She paused again, glancing down at her attendance sheet before lifting her eyes. "Yamamoto," she called, voice steady but inquisitive. "Can you explain how Shintoism influenced Japan's early political structure?"
Timeo looked up from his desk, leaning back slightly with his hands still folded across the surface. Though he wore his usual calm expression, the weight of Legion gnawed faintly at the edge of his thoughts, lurking just beyond the classroom walls. Still, he responded without hesitation.
"Shintoism gave the emperor divine legitimacy," he said evenly. "Since the imperial family claimed descent from Amaterasu, it unified the country under a central authority. It wasn't just about leading people—it was about being sacred."
Ms. Hoshino offered a small smile, nodding. "Exactly. That spiritual connection gave early rulers a kind of unquestioned reverence. And that shaped Japan's national identity for centuries. Well done, Yamamoto."
Timeo simply gave a quiet nod, eyes drifting back toward the window. Legion was still there. Watching. Waiting. But for now, he remained anchored in the ordinary—if only for a moment longer.
Marin peeked over her shoulder, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and admiration. "How in the world did you know that?" she whispered, almost stunned. "I'm pretty sure we covered that back in first year, near the end, before I transferred here. You're seriously impressive." She gave him a bright smile, her white teeth flashing with sincerity.
Timeo simply gave a modest shrug, his expression unchanged, yet his quiet focus said more than words. He wasn't trying to stand out—he just cared, more than most.
Around the classroom, a ripple of murmurs began to spread.
"Wait, did he really just say that off the top of his head?" one student whispered to another near the window.
"Yamamoto? I thought he was the quiet type," another said, leaning in. "I didn't know he actually knew this stuff."
"No kidding," someone muttered behind them. "That was, like, textbook perfect."
As Ms. Minami continued with the lesson, the air in the room subtly shifted. Timeo hadn't just answered a question—he'd quietly earned the respect of his peers, even if most wouldn't admit it out loud.
Perfect—thank you for the clarity! So Nozomi's not insecure, just flustered by the bump, but still composed and confident. And now, we'll naturally expand the small talk to include a brief exchange about Timeo being an upperclassman—something respectful, maybe a little playful, but totally in character for her. Here's the fully polished version:
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Finally, the last bell rang through the halls, marking the end of the day. Students flooded out of classrooms like a released tide, their chatter and footsteps filling the corridors. Timeo moved calmly among them, indifferent to the usual chaos, his pace steady as he made his way toward the staircase that led to the first floor.
The crowd began to thin, the noise dimming as he turned a quiet corner near the stairwell.
And then—an unexpected interruption.
"Ah—!" came a soft gasp.
Timeo halted just in time to avoid bumping into a girl who'd appeared from the opposite direction, cradling a stack of books that looked seconds from toppling. One wobbled loose, but she quickly adjusted, catching it with smooth reflexes. Her poise returned in an instant, though a faint pink dusted her cheeks from the unexpected encounter.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said at once, offering a graceful bow. "That was entirely my fault—I should have been more careful turning the corner."
Timeo blinked once, registering the girl before him.
She had rich crimson hair tied into voluminous twin ponytails that curled slightly at the ends, and a bold black bow rested neatly on the side of her head, adding just enough flair to her elegant appearance. Her sharp, vibrant eyes shimmered with life and grace, her posture straight and polished. The light blush on her cheeks was the only sign that she'd been caught off guard—otherwise, she carried herself like someone used to being composed.
"…No harm done," Timeo replied evenly.
She adjusted the books in her arms and exhaled softly, a hint of amusement playing at her lips. "I was rushing to return these before the library closed. It seems I underestimated the corner."
Timeo glanced at the stack. "You read all of those?"
"Eventually," she replied with a gentle laugh. "Some are for assignments, but most of them are just for fun."
That earned her a faint, intrigued glance.
"I don't hear that often," Timeo said.
"I get that a lot," she smiled. "But I think getting lost in books is still a worthwhile habit."
She paused, then gave a courteous nod. "Hazumine Nozomi. First year."
"Yamamoto. Second year," Timeo replied.
Nozomi perked up, her expression shifting to one of polite surprise. "Ah—so I was the one who ran into a senpai?" she said, her tone bright. "That makes it even more embarrassing."
"But you're not acting like it," Timeo noted, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Her smile deepened. "Should I be groveling more?" she teased gently. "I was always taught to respect my upperclassmen—but not to fear them."
Timeo gave the faintest smirk. "Fair enough."
She gave another soft nod. "Still, thank you for not scolding me. I appreciate the grace, Yamamoto-senpai."
With that, Nozomi stepped past him, her twin ponytails swaying behind her with an effortless bounce. But after a few steps, she paused and looked back once more.
"Maybe next time I'll keep my eyes up instead of buried in books," she said warmly. "Have a good afternoon."
"You too," he replied.
And with that, she descended the stairs, her presence lingering in the air like a subtle breeze—unexpected, but oddly pleasant.
Timeo stood there for a moment, quietly thoughtful.
He hadn't planned to meet anyone today. But sometimes, the best meetings are the ones you never see coming.
To be continued...