Chapter 1: New World, Same Parents

Chris woke up in a dark room, illuminated only by a faint light seeping through the window. As she sat up, a damp cloth fell from her forehead, landing next to a small pot filled with ice water. Someone had been taking care of her, though she didn't recall having a fever. What she did remember was the old man, the red ticket, and the train.

"I hope it was just a dream."

She sat on the bed, taking in her surroundings. This wasn't her room. It wasn't even one of her friends' rooms, and she'd stayed with them plenty of times for sleepovers, as Hibiki often called them fun. Whoever had helped her was likely the room's owner—a girl, judging by the pastel light blue and pink decor, the stuffed animals scattered on the floor (which had probably been on the bed before her), and the school uniform hanging neatly nearby. A white blouse with dark accents and a red skirt, almost pink—it looked like something a nun might wear.

Then she noticed something strange. She was wearing pink pajamas. That wasn't hers. Maybe the girl had lent her clothes, but this felt excessive. "She must be someone like Miku, who cares too much" she thought, though the bitterness of the situation lingered with her neck. Her gear was missing. She searched frantically around the room but couldn't find it.

"I hope no one stole it. Or there will be trouble"

Before leaving the room, Chris opened the window, hoping to spot a familiar landmark. But there was nothing she recognized. No matter how hard she searched, she couldn't place this location. She'd been to many parts of Japan during her missions, and this wasn't one of them. It had to be a new place entirely.

Her gaze landed on a woman sweeping the front of the house. When their eyes met, the woman greeted her as though they were acquainted. Startled, Chris quickly moved away from the window, not wanting to create any misunderstandings with her "rescuer."

As she stepped out of the room, she was greeted by the comforting smell of homemade food. The aroma of chicken brought back memories of cooking classes at the academy and Shirabe's habit of making meals for everyone.

Descending the stairs, Chris froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her wide eyes locked on the scene before her, and her ears picked up the melody of the woman in the kitchen. The tune, soft and nostalgic, tugged at her heartstrings.

The woman's white hair shimmered in the morning light, the same color as Chris's own. Her melancholic hum echoed memories Chris held dear. Next to her, a man sat at the table, relaxed, reading a newspaper. His dark hair and calm demeanor felt hauntingly familiar.

They were like ghosts from a past she couldn't let go of.

Chris didn't pinch herself this time to confirm if she was dreaming. Her trembling lips, watery eyes, and the faint sobs she struggled to suppress told her everything she needed to know.

—"Chris."

The woman's voice held the same tone of worry her mother once used when Chris had hurt herself back in Valverde. A scraped knee, a frightening moment—it was always the same warmth.

But Chris couldn't stop rubbing her face, fighting back the tears. Even when the woman rushed to her and the man leapt from his chair to follow, Chris didn't try to explain. She simply wrapped her arms around the woman, letting her hold her as the tears she'd held in finally started to flow.

The gentle weight of a hand rested on her head. Her father's.

She didn't know what was happening yet, but She knew one thing: She didn't want to let them go. Ever.

—Chris, are you alright? —her father asked after she finally calmed down.

Chris didn't know what to say as she realized the situation she was in. If this was her new reality, what could she possibly tell them? "I can't just say I didn't expect to wake up in a strange place and find my parents, who are supposed to be dead. They'd think I'm crazy." Looking for an escape, she decided to stick to what she knew for now.

—I'm feeling better. Sorry for worrying you. —Her comment was enough to prompt sighs of relief from both of them, and her mother placed a hand on her forehead.

—Yes, you're better now. Yesterday, you came back with a high fever. It was pretty bad, but I think we're talking about something else.

—Well… I just… had a nightmare.

—Huh? A nightmare? —Her mother raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical and confused.

—Y-Yeah. That's right. —Chris confirmed it awkwardly, her cheeks turning red. Her father also seemed surprised, though he took it with a hint of amusement.

—Must've been some nightmare to scare our 17-year-old daughter like that. Want to talk about it?

—Well… I…

Suddenly, a growling noise broke the tension, silencing their questions. The smell of homemade food had finally worked its magic on Chris. Both of her parents turned to look at her, now red as a tomato, and whispered to each other—though Chris could still hear them clearly.

—Looks like that's the sign she's feeling better. See? My cooking never fails.

—That's true. But I do worry about her diet. She shouldn't overeat.

—Yeah, but she's always been like this. Though I hope it's not out of anxiety.

—You know I can hear you, right? —Chris asked, indignant, tapping her finger impatiently with her arms crossed.

—Just ignore us. —They responded in unison, avoiding her gaze with playful indifference.

—Of course not! I'm not fat, Dad, and it's not anxiety, Mom.

—Hahaha! There's our daughter. —Her father said with a warm, empathetic smile, leaving Chris frozen in place.

She figured her personality in this world must be just as fiery as her own. If that was the case, she didn't have to pretend to be a sweet, docile girl. She could just be herself. But… who exactly was this Chris Yukine? Her life, her friends, her interests—she didn't know anything about herself.

—Lunch will be ready soon, but before that, you should get changed, Chris. You're on rest today, but that doesn't mean you should lounge around looking untidy. At least I didn't prepare your uniform for nothing—you can wear it tomorrow.

—Oh, right. The uniform… "So that's my room? Stuffed animals? Seriously?"

As the family hug ended, Chris climbed the stairs slowly. Nothing about this felt fake or like an illusion, but it was all undeniably strange. When she reached her room, she closed the door and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling with questions.

Her gaze drifted to the bed, where a red crystal necklace caught her attention. Beside it was a piece of paper—a letter. She quickly looked around, searching for any signs of a forced entry or if it might have come through the still-open window. Approaching the bed, her eyes fell on her desk. Several photos were scattered there—maybe they could help.

She opened the letter, which read:

To my new source of amusement... I mean, friend,

The scene you showed me with your parents was moving. I hope you enjoy this world to the fullest. Don't worry about the other side; nothing has happened there yet, and nothing will happen for now. Maybe there's even a way to stay connected to that world—only the "horn" knows. May the "angel" guide you.

Now, back to the main point. I left the gear knowing you'd still think this is all a dream until it drives you crazy. Trust me, you'll thank me later. As pleasant as this place seems, it's far more dangerous than you think. With this, I'm sure you'll be up to the challenge.

Here's a piece of advice: don't overthink how I do this, that, and everything else. Just enjoy the life you've been given. You're welcome.

—Signed, your favorite transdimensional mage, Zelretch

P.S. If you're wondering why I did this, the answer is simple: I was bored.

Chris raised an eyebrow higher with every word she read, a twitch of annoyance starting to form. She wanted to shout at the sky, "Is this for real?!" But she didn't want to worry her parents more than she already was—especially since she was terrified they might figure out she wasn't their Chris or didn't fully remember them.

Shaking off her frustration, she turned her attention to the desk, rummaging through everything for clues. Notes, photos—anything she could find.

One picture showed a younger version of herself with her parents, all dressed elegantly. It was clear her parents were still in the music and singing business. Another with a little older version of her in the photo and it showed the entrance of a school. She stood there with two girls: one with brown twin tails and another with pink hair, both holding shinais with their bags. "That Photo might help me figure out where that school is."

On the desk, she found a map labeled Kuoh. "That's new, I think", she thought, trying to place the name.

Finally, her attention was drawn to a photo that filled her with the most confusion—and a hint of nostalgia. It showed three kids in a room playing video games. The décor included what looked like a sword. In the image, she was waving at the camera, sitting close to the others: a boy and a girl, both smiling happily with game controllers in hand.

The girl had blonde hair, purple eyes, and wore a black shirt, something tied around her waist, and yellow shorts. The boy, livelier in demeanor, had brown hair, brown eyes, a white shirt, and blue shorts.

The sight tugged at her heart. She felt a strange nostalgia, but deep down, she knew she didn't remember these two. She had never met them before.

Her mother's voice called from downstairs. Setting aside the mystery of the two kids, Chris decided it was time to enjoy lunch. At least something good could come out of all this craziness in this so-called other world.