Morning - Ageha's Room - 6:00 AM
The sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon when Ageha opened her eyes.
She didn't need an alarm. Her old body was accustomed to waking at six every morning, even after decades. The same rhythm since she was young, since Kenji was little, since her husband was still alive. Only now, alone, that rhythm became a reminder that time kept moving.
Ageha sat up slowly. Her joints protested—usual. Sixty years old couldn't be denied. But she was still strong. Still could cook, clean, garden. Still could take care of Tobio.
She glanced at the alarm clock beside her futon. Exactly 6:00 AM.
The same time.
Ageha got up, folding the blanket neatly—an old habit passed down from her mother long ago. Then walked to the bathroom.
Her room was simple. No large bathtub like in the city. Only a small space with a shower and a plastic bucket. Ageha poured warm water from a pot—she had heated it before bed last night, so she wouldn't have trouble in the morning.
Warm water flowed down her back. Loosening stiff muscles.
But her mind couldn't relax.
Tobio.
Her only grandchild. Kenji's child—her son who was no more. Six years she had raised Tobio alone, since that accident. Six years knowing every one of his small habits.
The way Tobio smiled—rarely, but sincerely. The way Tobio was silent—not a shy silence, but an observing silence. The way Tobio ate—slowly, neatly, as if there were manners someone had taught him.
But these three days, since he woke up from the fever...
Something was different.
Ageha closed her eyes, letting the warm water wet her face.
Not different in a bad way. No. Tobio was still Tobio. But...
The way he looked.
As if he saw something others didn't see.
As if he was calculating something in his head.
And last night, when Tobio came home from the river with Sae... Ageha felt something. Not with her eyes. But with an instinct honed over sixty years of life.
There was something about him.
Like... someone else.
Ageha opened her eyes. The water was still running.
But that wasn't possible.
'He's Tobio. My grandson. Kenji's child.'
'Can't be someone else.'
She shook her head. Maybe too many thoughts, an effect of the fever. Or an effect of loneliness—maybe she had been alone too long, so she was overthinking about her own grandchild.
But in her heart of hearts, Ageha knew.
There was something. And she had to find out what.
Ageha finished bathing and immediately went to the kitchen.
Morning routine: cooking rice in the old rice cooker, making miso soup from fish stock prepared yesterday, grilling mackerel on the small stove. Her movements were automatic—her hands knew what to do while her mind wandered everywhere.
While waiting for the rice to cook, she opened the kitchen window.
The morning air of Hanyu village was fresh. Dew still clung to the leaves. In the distance, she could see some villagers already starting their activities. The Tanaka family across the rice fields—Mr. Tanaka bent over checking the rice plants. Some boys running on the path, probably catching dragonflies.
At the end of the road, a pile of wood and bamboo was visible.
Ah, right.
The summer festival.
Every year, Hanyu village held a festival at the end of August. A tradition passed down through generations. Villagers worked together to build simple stalls along the main road.
Paper lanterns hung from the trees. Children ran around in yukata. Small fireworks were lit in the field behind the shrine.
Tobio must like it.
Or at least—the old Tobio liked it.
Would the current Tobio also like it?
Ageha shook her head. 'Enough, don't overthink.'
The rice was done. The soup was ready. The fish was grilled.
Ageha arranged everything on a tray—breakfast for two.
Then walked to Tobio's room.
Ageha knocked on the wooden door. "Tobio, wake up."
No answer.
She knocked again, a little harder. "Tobio? It's morning."
Still no answer.
Ageha opened the door slowly.
Tobio was still lying on the futon. The blanket was slightly messy—the child must have moved in his sleep. His black hair was disheveled. His face was calm, as if he was having a peaceful dream.
Ageha smiled.
Still a child.
She approached, sat on the edge of the futon. Her wrinkled hand gently shook Tobio's shoulder.
"Tobio... wake up. Breakfast is ready."
Tobio stirred. His eyes were still closed. His voice was hoarse—the voice of a child just waking up.
"Good morning... need a moment. I'm still sleepy."
Ageha smiled wider.
'Still my old Tobio.'
"Don't take too long," she said as she stood. "Breakfast will get cold."
She returned to the kitchen, leaving the door slightly open.
Tobio opened his eyes.
The wooden ceiling with the crack in the corner. The sound of crickets from outside. The aroma of food from the kitchen.
The world was still here.
Day two—or three? He forgot.
He sat up. Stretched his body. This small body felt lighter each day. Maybe the effect of recovering from the fever. Or maybe this body was getting used to the new consciousness within it.
Tobio folded the blanket. Straightened the futon. A habit.
Then walked to the bathroom.
The cold morning water was refreshing. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. In the small mirror on the wall, he saw Tobio's face.
Gray eyes. Black hair. A slightly pointed nose—an inheritance from his father? He didn't know.
But in those eyes, he saw something.
Not just Tobio.
There was me in there.
Haruto.
Or what remained of him.
He didn't know how to feel about that.
---
Tobio came out of the room. Breakfast was neatly arranged on the low table.
Rice, miso soup, grilled fish, pickles, and green tea.
Grandma Ageha was placing the last dish—tamagoyaki, rolled omelet still steaming warm.
She turned, smiled. "Sit down."
Tobio sat on the cushion.
"Tonight there's the Summer Festival," said Ageha while pouring tea into Tobio's cup. "But right now everyone is preparing the food stalls. Want to take a look?"
Tobio nodded. "Sure. Do I have a yukata?"
"Yes. Your late father's—still kept neatly. It'll fit you." Ageha smiled. "This afternoon Grandma will dress you in it."
Tobio nodded again.
"Don't forget to invite Sae-chan."
Sae.
Tobio remembered that girl. Short brown hair. Green eyes. Bright laughter. Sleeping on his shoulder by the river.
Tobio's close friend.
"Yes, Grandma."
He took the rice. "Itadakimasu."
Ate slowly. Enjoying.
Simple living.
After breakfast and clearing the table together, Tobio and Ageha walked outside.
The morning sun was already warm but not scorching. The village air was fresh, the smell of earth and grass mixed with the aroma of wood from the construction site.
Along the main village road, an unusual sight was visible.
Usually this road was quiet—only passed by farmers going to the rice fields or mothers going to the market. But today, dozens of villagers were busy on both sides. Men carrying wood and bamboo, setting up stall poles. Women preparing decorations—colored paper, lanterns, handwritten banners. Children running around helping carry small items.
The sound of hammers, chatter, laughter—a lively mix unfamiliar to Tobio.
Tobio observed.
'This... a festival.'
A village festival. Not an official event. Not for cameras. Just for the villagers.
To have fun.
He had never experienced this as Haruto. The festivals he attended were always formal events—the opening of a new mall, New Year's celebrations at city hall, always with protocols, always with guards, always a distance between himself and the "ordinary people".
Here, he was an ordinary person.
Or more precisely—an ordinary village child.
Life is strange.
"Sae-chan!"
Tobio turned towards Ageha's voice.
From the direction of the shrine house, a little girl came running. Short brown hair flowing in the wind. A white t-shirt with a cat picture—same as yesterday. Denim shorts. Dirty sneakers.
Sae Toujou.
She stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath. Her eyes sparkled.
"Hello Tobio! Grandma!" She bowed politely—but her eyes couldn't hide her curiosity. "Looks like you're going somewhere? That's rare."
Ageha smiled. "Just want to walk around a bit, see the festival preparations."
Sae's expression immediately changed. Her eyes widened. Her lips formed an 'O'.
"I want to come!"
Without waiting for an answer, she was already walking beside Tobio.
Ageha laughed softly. "Of course, Sae-chan. Let's go."
They walked along the main road. On both sides, villagers were busy working. Some greeted—"Oh, Ageha-san! Morning!" "Tobio-chan is better?"—and Ageha replied warmly.
In front of a half-finished stall, a middle-aged man was nailing up a signboard. His body was sturdy, skin sunburnt—a true farmer. A shabby shirt rolled up to the elbows. A farmer's hat on his head.
Tanaka Sato.
He turned to see them. A wide smile appeared on his sweaty face.
"Oh, Ageha-san! Morning!" His eyes shifted to Tobio. "Wow, Tobio-chan! All better? Heard you fell from a tree."
Tobio nodded. "Yes, Sato-san. Thank you for worrying about me."
Sato nodded approvingly. "Good. Don't play too hard later." He chuckled.
Ageha looked at the stall being built. "Sato-san, is everything going well?"
"Good, good!" Sato answered enthusiastically. "Just a few hours until it's finished. This year there are more stalls than last year—the young people in the village are enthusiastic about coming up with new ideas."
He pointed towards another stall. "Look over there—Watanabe's goldfish scooping stall. The Suzuki family's takoyaki stall. Tonight it'll definitely be crowded."
Then he looked at Tobio and Sae. "By the way, you two will watch the fireworks later?"
Sae immediately answered enthusiastically. "Of course! Can't miss that!"
Tobio was silent for a moment.
Fireworks.
In the old world, fireworks always meant official events. Formal clothes. His father's speeches. Forced smiles for the cameras.
But here...
He saw Sae, full of excitement. Sato, smiling. Ageha, stroking his head.
Maybe it's different.
He smiled faintly. "Yes. Can't miss it."
They continued their walk.
The further they went, the more stalls became visible. Some were almost finished—with tarpaulin roofs and long wooden tables. Others were still just frameworks—only bamboo poles and rough boards.
Tobio observed everything.
Food stalls: yakisoba, takoyaki, grilled corn, candy apples.
Game stalls: goldfish scooping, archery, ball tossing, prize roulette.
Decorations: colorful paper lanterns hanging from the trees, small flags lined up along the road, "Matsuri" written on hand-made banners.
People: farmers, merchants, housewives, grandparents, children. All working together. All smiling.
This is a community.
Not a system.
But a community.
Something he didn't recognize as Haruto.
They had seen enough. Sae had to go home to help her mother. Ageha and Tobio returned home.
Sae waved from a distance. "Don't forget to come to the festival at 7 tonight!"
Tobio waved back. "I know!"
Sae jogged towards her house—near the shrine.
Tobio and Ageha entered the house.
"This afternoon we'll get ready," said Ageha. "Now rest first."
Tobio nodded and went into his room.
---
Tobio sat on the edge of the futon.
The sound of crickets from outside. A gentle breeze came through the slightly open window.
He stared at his left hand.
That light.
He still had no answer. All along the way earlier, he tried to feel something—was there any change in his body? Any new power?
Nothing.
Just himself. A twelve-year-old child. Small body. No different from other children.
But he knew that wasn't true.
'That light was real. I saw it. I felt it.'
'But what was it?' Tobio thought.
Golden yellow light. Soft. Calm.
In stories he had read—as Haruto, he had plenty of free time in his room, reading books—yellow light was often associated with holy energy. Or luck. Or protective power.
But he didn't feel "holy". Didn't feel lucky. Quite the opposite—he felt... alien. In a world he didn't know. In a body that wasn't his.
Or maybe... this isn't about what he felt.
But about what he wanted.
When that light appeared, he said "show me something."
Not asking for power. Not asking for magic. But asking for proof.
And that light appeared.
Maybe... it's a response to a desire?
Tobio sighed. 'But it can't be repeated. I've tried many times.'
Maybe it needs special conditions.
Or maybe... he has to test it in another way.
He glanced at the clock. Still 5 PM.
The festival tonight. Lots of games. Lots of opportunities.
'Maybe there I can find out.'
Is this luck? Or something else?
The sun had already set behind the hill.
Ageha entered Tobio's room with a piece of cloth in her hand.
A yukata.
Dark blue with horizontal black lines. Simple pattern, not flashy. Thin cotton fabric, comfortable to wear.
"This was your father's," Ageha said softly. "When he was your age. He wore it only once—at the festival that year, before..." She didn't finish the sentence.
Tobio understood.
Before Tobio's parents died.
He stood, letting Ageha dress him in the yukata.
Those wrinkled hands moved gently, tightening the obi at his waist, straightening the collar. Movements full of love—like tending to something precious.
Finished.
Ageha stepped back, looking at him from head to toe. Her eyes glistened.
"Still fits," she whispered. "Still fits you."
She smiled—but Tobio saw a tremor at the corner of her lips.
Memories.
"Alright then," Ageha quickly wiped the corner of her eye, "let's go."
Tobio nodded.