Pipipipi!…
pipipipi!…
The loud, rhythmic blare of an alarm shattered the morning silence, instantly pulling Yuki out of a deep sleep.
Groaning into his pillow, he reached out blindly with his right hand, slapping the top of his table until his fingers finally found the button to silence the noise.
He blinked against the dim morning light and checked the time.
It was 6:00 AM.
He moved to sit up, but a sudden pull around his waist stopped him.
Looking down, he noticed a small hand tightly clutching his shirt.
Shiro was curled up right beside him, snoring softly, her chaotic silver-white hair tangled across his blanket.
Ever since befriending her, she still routinely sneaked into his room over a deep-seated fear of isolation.
Yuki let out a quiet, affectionate sigh.
Moving with absolute precision, he carefully untangled her fingers from his clothes and slid out of bed, ensuring he didn’t wake his brilliant, fragile little sister.
Yuki stepped into the bathroom to begin his daily morning routine, splashing cold water on his face to wash away the lingering fatigue of late-night writing deadlines.
After brushing his teeth and fixing his hair, he quietly slipped into his Kamiyama High School uniform.
Stepping out of his bedroom and walking down the short hallway toward the dining table, the rich, comforting aroma of miso soup and grilled fish greeted him.
Standing at the stove in the kitchen was a girl with long brown hair, tied neatly back as she hummed a gentle melody.
Honda Tohru was another soul Yuki had anchored to this makeshift family.
Much like himself, Tohru had been orphaned after her mother tragically passed away in a sudden accident.
Yuki had stumbled across her a year ago under a bridge, living entirely on her own inside a flimsy canvas tent.
She had been fiercely determined to survive solo just to avoid being a burden to her remaining relatives or friends.
Befriending and convincing the relentlessly polite girl to accept help had been a monumental challenge.
Tohru had stubbornly refused to live at the orphanage for free, terrified of taking resources away from the younger children.
It wasn’t until Yuki utilized his income to offer her a formal job that she finally relented.
He had hired her as the official assistant caretaker for the orphanage, pitching it as a desperate necessity since the elderly head caretaker was suffering from severe joint pain and could no longer manage the daily cooking and cleaning alone.
Now, she splits her time between managing her classes and cooking nutritious meals for the orphanage residents.
“Ah, Good morning, Yuki-kun!” Tohru beamed, turning around with a bright, warm smile as she set a steaming bowl of rice on the table.
“You’re up right on time. Breakfast is just finished!”
“Morning, Tohru,” Yuki replied, pulling out a chair as the quiet safety of his domestic life wrapped around him.
“Smells amazing as always. Thanks for cooking.”
“It’s no trouble at all!” Tohru said, her hands fluttering politely as she poured him a hot cup of green tea.
“It’s the least I can do. Everyone was so well-fed last night, thanks to the groceries you bought. The children were completely stuffed!”
Yuki smiled, taking a sip of the tea.
“As long as they’re happy. By the way, Tohru… Shiro is sleeping on my bed again. I had to practically slip out like a ghost so I wouldn’t wake her up.”
Tohru blinked, letting out a soft, sympathetic giggle as she pressed her fingertips to her cheek.
“Ah, is that so? Again? I suppose it makes sense, though. After all, Yuki-kun, your bedroom is the only one with the desktop computer she can game with!”
“That’s true,” Yuki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I bought her that high-spec laptop last month, but she insists my desktop setup handles the server latency better for her grandmaster matches, or so she said. I think she just uses it as an excuse to not sleep alone.”
“I think it’s very sweet,” Tohru said softly, her expression turning incredibly warm.
“Shiro-chan really relies on you, Yuki-kun. To her, you aren’t just a big brother; you are her absolute safe haven. Seeing the two of you together always reminds me of how precious family is.”
Yuki looked down at his breakfast, a quiet warmth settling in his chest.
Before he could respond, the sound of tiny, dragging footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Shiro stood at the entrance of the dining room, blinking blearily against the morning light.
Her incredibly long hair was completely disheveled, and she was tightly clutching a large plush toy to her chest.
“The temperature dropped,” Shiro mumbled, her large red eyes blinking slowly as she tracked Yuki’s movements.
“Computation error… Ni was supposed to stay in bed for forty more minutes.”
Yuki quickly caught her by the shoulder before she could trip over the edge of the dining room rug, gently guiding her to a chair.
“I told you, Shiro, I have to get ready for school.”
“School… a boring tutorial level for NPCs,” Shiro whispered, slumping forward until her chin rested flat against the wooden table.
Her hair pooled across the tabletop like spun silk, catching the morning light with that distinct, ethereal rainbow tint.
She looked blankly at the steaming bowl of rice Tohru placed in front of her.
“Food… acceptable. Thank you, Caretaker.”
“You’re very welcome, Shiro-chan!” Tohru cheered, completely unfazed by the child’s blunt vocabulary.
“Eat up so you can stay healthy and strong!”
Shiro picked up her chopsticks, picking at a single grain of rice at a time.
“Ni… the game was loud last night. Western servers… full of total idiots. They tried to deploy an ambush against 『 』 (Blank), Total tactical failure. Shiro and Ni never lose… even if Ni… didn’t contribute. I smashed them in seconds.”
Yuki let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh, recalling the chaotic screen flashes from the brief moments he had tried to help her input commands earlier that week.
“I’m glad you won your game match, but you still need actual human sleep. If you keep pulling all-nighters, your brain is going to fry.”
“Improbable,” Shiro countered, her voice dropping into a flat, sarcastic drone.
“Ni’s logic… deeply flawed. My brain works fine. The humans at your academy… are practically single-celled organisms. Especially the ones who stare at you.”
Yuki choked slightly on his tea, coughing into his hand.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Data analysis from your school coat,” Shiro stated, pointing a chopstick directly at his uniform blazer hanging near the door.
“Traces of expensive floral perfume. A high concentration of silk fibers is left on the left sleeve. The probability of a girl attempting a high-society script approach… 94.2%. Annoying variables.”
Tohru blinked, her eyes widening in pure, innocent excitement.
“My goodness! Yuki-kun, is there a girl at Kamiyama High who likes you?”
“No, there isn’t,” Yuki rubbed his temples, feeling an incoming headache.
“Shiro, stop running forensic analysis on my clothes. It’s just a regular public school. The most exciting thing that happens there is the Classic Literature Club solving missing library book mysteries.”
“Hmph,” Shiro let out a tiny, sharp puff of air, turning her face away in blatant disapproval.
“Human emotions…
chaotic.
Illogical.
A waste of time.
Just like the world outside.
A poorly designed game…
with no clear rules.
Ni shouldn’t waste time on low-tier characters.
Keep writing the time-travel manuscript.
The causal loops in Steins;Gate…
require optimization.”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Yuki smiled, checking the wall clock.
It was already 6:40 AM.
He finished his breakfast, stood up, and grabbed his school bag.
“I’m heading out. Tohru, thanks again for the food. Shiro, please take a nap on your own bed today.”
Shiro didn’t look up from her rice, but her small shoulders tensed violently the moment he took a step toward the front door.
The physical distance between them was widening past a few meters, and the immediate, terrifying symptoms of her separation anxiety began to flare.
Her posture became rigid, her tiny fingers gripped her dress, and her breathing grew shallow.
“…Ni…” she called out, her staccato rhythm fracturing as she mumbled the words under her breath, a rare, desperate panic rising in her eyes.
“…Don’t leave… Shiro behind.”
Yuki stopped in his tracks, turning back immediately.
He walked across the room, closing the distance between them, and knelt right beside her chair.
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, staying directly within her line of sight so she wouldn’t break down.
“I’m not leaving you behind, Shiro,” Yuki reassured her quickly, his voice soft and steady.
“I’ll be home right after club activities, exactly at 4:30 PM. No deviations. I promise I won’t break my word.”
“…Uhmm,” Shiro murmured, nodding her head slowly as she tightly gripped the edge of his sleeve, accepting his reassurance.
Yuki gave her one last encouraging smile, gently patted her head, and stood up.
He walked to the front entrance, slid on his outdoor shoes, and grabbed his school bag.
The quiet click of the apartment door shutting behind him signaled the official start of his day as he stepped out into the crisp morning air of Kamiyama.
***
The traditional, tiled roofs and misty mountain backdrops of Kamiyama were crisp and quiet as Yuki made his way along the morning path.
The peaceful atmosphere of Gifu Prefecture always felt a world away from the chaotic conglomerates that ruled major cities, providing the perfect life for an ordinary high school student.
“Senpai! Good morning!”
A bright, energetic shout echoed from behind him.
Yuki paused and turned to see three familiar underclassmen jogging up the sloped street to catch up.
Leading the group was Miyamizu Mitsuha, her face flushed slightly from the brisk morning walk, her long dark hair tied back with a distinctive braided red cord.
Right beside her were her two inseparable childhood friends, Teshigawara Katsuhiko and Natori Sayaka.
Katsuhiko was lazily pushing his bicycle along the pavement, his school bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, while Sayaka walked in step with Mitsuha, clutching her books neatly to her chest.
All three of them commuted every single day to Kamiyama High School from the neighboring, deeply traditional lakeside town of Itomori.
“Morning, Miyamizu,” Yuki replied with a polite nod as the trio closed the distance.
“Teshigawara, Natori. You’re all running a bit late today, aren’t you?”
“Blame Tesshi!” Mitsuha huffed, pointing an accusing finger at the boy with the bike the moment she stopped in front of Yuki.
“He insisted on stopping by his dad’s construction office to check out some new machinery catalogs before we even got on the path. We almost missed our usual window!”
“Hey, those catalogs are important for the future of regional development!” Katsuhiko defended himself, rolling his eyes as he kicked a small pebble with his shoe.
“Besides, we made it, didn’t we? Good morning, Sato-senpai. Don’t let Mitsuha exaggerate; we still have a solid fifteen minutes before the warning bell.”
“A solid fifteen minutes means we have to walk at a brisk pace, Tesshi,” said Sayaka, adjusting her glasses, letting out a soft sigh.
“Good morning, Senpai. Please don’t mind them. They’ve been bickering like this since we crossed the town border.”
Yuki chuckled, falling into step with the three underclassmen as they walked down the winding hill toward the school gates.
“It’s fine. It’s actually a nice change of pace. How are things back in Itomori? Is the shrine festival preparation keeping you busy, Miyamizu?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Mitsuha groaned, slumping her shoulders dramatically as they walked.
“Grandmother has me doing the traditional braided cord weaving every single evening now. My fingers feel like they’re going to fall off. I swear, this town is too small, too old, and way too restrictive! Sometimes I just want to leave Gifu altogether and go to a big school in Tokyo.”
Yuki kept his expression neutral, though a sudden thought of the Shinomiya Conglomerate’s absolute, surveillance-like grip on Tokyo flashed through his mind.
Trust me, Miyamizu, he thought silently, you really don’t want to deal with the entities running the capital.
“Tokyo is overrated,” Katsuhiko shattered the silence, leaning over his handlebars as the bike rolled smoothly beside them.
“Too crowded. Too expensive. Out here, at least you can breathe. Though I wouldn’t mind if one of those massive corporate groups like the Sanzenin Financial Group invested a bit into our local train lines. The northern transit routes are always delayed.”
“Tesshi, all you care about is infrastructure,” Sayaka teased, earning a sharp glare from the boy.
As the imposing, historic gates of Kamiyama High School finally came into view at the bottom of the hill, the crowd of students wearing the familiar uniform began to thicken.
Yuki adjusted his school bag strap, the familiar domestic banter of the Itomori trio offering a comforting shield against the heavy, hidden realities of the world he was actively living in.