The soft clatter of keys echoed in the quiet room as Takeru typed away at his desk. The dim glow of his monitor illuminated his sharp features, his black and gold Imperial Royal Guard uniform discarded for a simpler, more comfortable shirt and slacks. Piles of papers, schematics, and technical drawings surrounded him, but for once, he was almost caught up. Most of the paperwork from his business dealings had been processed, signed, and filed.

Now, his focus had shifted to something far more personal.

Takeru's fingers paused over the keyboard for a moment, his eyes scanning the lines of code he had just written. Recreating the XM3 wasn't just about technical expertise and data, it required an almost obsessive attention to detail. He'd done this before, so many times, each attempt carrying its own frustrations, dead ends, and breakthroughs. Even with the advantage of experience from his previous loops, it was grueling work.

The XM3 wasn't just an operating system for the TSF — it was also a lifeline. In the battles against the BETA, it could mean the difference between survival and annihilation. With the XM3, pilots fought better, faster, and smarter with it, and the tragic losses he'd witnessed over so many timelines had only reinforced its importance.

Takeru leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as memories of Sadogashima surfaced. The G-bombs, the disastrous missteps, the lives lost… He clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling just beneath his calm exterior.

If those bastards hadn't dropped the g-bombs too late… If they hadn't failed so catastrophically…

His thoughts spiraled. Sometimes they fell mid-operation, overwhelmed by the endless swarms of BETA. Other times, Yokohama crumbled during desperate defenses after they destroyed Sadogashima. And there were those horrible moments when Heavy Laser Fort-classes disintegrated entire units from orbit in a blinding flash of light as they assault the Original Hive.

Takeru exhaled sharply, forcing himself to refocus. Variables, he thought bitterly. That's what they were. Unpredictable, uncontrollable, devastating variables.

Unlike Yuuko, whose brilliance could bend those variables in humanity's favor, Takeru knew he wasn't a genius. He was resourceful, experienced, and determined, but brilliance wasn't part of his arsenal. The XM3 would require time, effort, and resources more than he could openly admit to anyone.

It was a project he'd have to complete alone, in secret.

He resumed typing, his movements precise and deliberate. It wasn't just about the code.

It was about creating something that could reduce casualties by half.

His thoughts drifted as his hands continued their work.

He had fought in countless TSFs that varied in make, model, and functionality. Each one had its quirks, but he'd adapted, mastered, and flourished no matter the circumstances. He knew the current machines weren't optimal, but that didn't mean he couldn't stack the deck in his favor.

Like a farmer planting seeds, he had invested in future advantages. From cutting-edge TSF components to synthetic food production, Takeru had laid the groundwork for what would come. Sprinkling his investments like seeds, he now waited for the day they would yield their harvest.

But here and now, he had time.

Time to reflect. To rest. To let his mind process the strange reality, he found himself in.

He leaned back again, closing his eyes for a moment. The silence of the room was comforting, but also oppressive.

Takeru had become a soldier and a businessman. He had fought as a surface pilot, endured as a lover, and now he wore the title of noble, with its expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders.

These roles weren't just duties — they were masks. Masks he had to wear, masks he had to balance. If he didn't, if he allowed himself to pretend nothing was wrong, he would break.

Why do I remember? He wondered, not for the first time. The question gnawed at him. Being thrust back further in time, into a timeline so different from the ones he had lived before, had made him acutely aware of the strangeness of his existence.

The smallest changes created ripples. Some were good. Others… less so.

And yet, for all his knowledge, experience, and planning, Takeru felt a pervasive loneliness that he couldn't shake.

He worked late into the night, the glow of the monitor casting long shadows in the room. The world outside grew quieter, the hum of life fading as the city settled into sleep.

When he finally stopped, his body ached from sitting too long, his mind buzzing with exhaustion. Takeru stood, stretching his stiff muscles before walking to the window. The view overlooked the Shirogane estate's garden, its cherry blossom trees bathed in moonlight.

The faint knock on the door pulled Takeru out of his trance. The rhythmic hum of his computer and the glow of his monitor had consumed his focus for hours.

"Come in," he called, his voice steady but distant.

The door slid open to reveal Emiko, her kimono perfectly arranged as always, her expression tinged with concern. "Shirogane-sama," she said softly, stepping into the room with a tray of tea. "You've been working late again."

Takeru turned his chair to face her, allowing himself a small, tired smile. "There's always work to do."

Emiko set the tray down on a nearby table, pouring a cup of tea with practiced grace. She glanced at the cluttered desk. Papers, schematics, and open technical manuals scattered across the surface—and then back at Takeru.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard," she said, her worry clear. "You need rest, Shirogane-sama. It's not just your mind that requires care but your body as well."

Takeru took the offered cup, the warmth seeping into his hands. "I'm fine, Emiko," he assured her. "I feel… stronger than ever, actually."

It wasn't a lie. There was something different about his body this time around. He was taller, his frame broader than he remembered from earlier timelines. His muscles, honed from years of combat training that were carried over, felt even more responsive. Whether it was the result of this timeline's unique variables or the accumulation of what carried over, he couldn't say.

"Maybe it's all the noble food," Takeru joked, his tone light, though his mind drifted to the complexities of his existence. Each iteration seemed to bring changes — small ripples that grew into larger waves.

Emiko's frown deepened. "Even so, you mustn't overwork yourself."

Takeru nodded, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

As the days passed, this late-night routine became his norm. Work bled into study, study into planning, and planning into restless sleep. Takeru balanced the roles thrust upon him. As Soldier, businessman, noble, and scholar.

The days were full of movement as well. He traveled to oversee investments, arranged meetings with foreign stakeholders, and kept a watchful eye on the shifting geopolitical landscape. Each decision he made was another piece in the puzzle, another step toward securing his goal.

Yuuko was a frequent, if chaotic, presence. She would drop in unannounced, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief, ready to vent about the incompetence of her colleagues or share some new breakthrough in her research. Takeru didn't mind. She was the only one who could match his thinking, even if she didn't yet realize the full scope of her potential.

Sometimes Marimo would join them, though her appearances were fleeting. She always seemed busy, as if she were being chased by some unseen force. Still, her determination and quiet strength never wavered, even in the face of the looming conscription. The Imperial Army's presence at the university grew with each passing week. Recruiters walked the halls with sharp eyes, identifying students with the potential to join the fight against the BETA. The once-lively campus slowly began to empty, the shadow of war thinning the ranks of future scholars.

Yuuko tried to act unbothered by it all, but Takeru could see the cracks in her façade. She wasn't yet the cold, calculating Yuuko-sensei he remembered from other timelines. Here, her emotions were still raw, unfiltered. The reality of humanity's existential threat weighed heavily on her, and she buried herself in her research to escape it.

It was a grim reminder of the stakes they faced.

When Takeru wasn't working or meeting with Yuuko, he was training. His studies at the university concluded smoothly, and with his coursework submitted, he also dedicated himself to his duties as an Eishi.

The training grounds were alive with activity, the air filled with the hum of TSF systems powering up and the sharp clang of practice weapons clashing. Takeru found himself among the elite. The twelve pilots chosen to helm the twelve Kagerou units, Japan's next-generation Tactical Surface Fighters.

Among them, Jun Sakai, his wingmate, remained his closest companion, though their chatter was often punctuated by Sakai's playful complaints about Takeru's recent stoic demeanor. The rest of the pilots were a mix of personalities, each bringing their own skills and quirks to the Company. Takeda Haruto, who had a rather methodical approach in battle. Fujimoto Daiki, a boisterous, confident pilot who often clashed with Haruto's methods. Nakamura Renji, though quiet and unassuming, was third only in the company who matched his maneuvers. Okabe Shun, a fiery, impulsive pilot who thrived on adrenaline. Tanaka Hiroshi, a steady, dependable marksman. Matsuda Sota, who often seems fond of the TSF's systems more than piloting it. Kobayashi Riku, a rather cheerful optimist who always found a way to lighten the mood when Takeda and Fujimoto clashes.

There was also Yamamoto Kenta, who was a serious and disciplined Eishi, who Takeru had to destroy in a sparring match to get on the line. Then Suzuki Koji, who has a sharp mind that Takeru relied on, and Inoue Takuya, the youngest of the group.

Their training sessions were grueling, pushing both their bodies and their TSFs to the limit. And Takeru often found himself at the lead of the company, his experience and skill setting him apart. Making it natural for him to lead Horn Company.

No one dared to complain. Even if they wanted to. Takeda, Fujimoto, Nakamura, Okabe, Tanaka, Kobayashi, and Matsuda had all learned their lesson the hard way, and the memory of that experience was enough to keep their protests firmly in check.

The days blurred together as he worked to finalize his coursework, balancing the duties of a student, a noble, and an Imperial Royal Guard. By the time the last paper was submitted, Takeru felt an unfamiliar lightness, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

But the sense of relief didn't last long.

With the year drawing to a close, the Shirogane family observed their traditions of paying respect for their ancestors. Takeru donned a black formal kimono embroidered with subtle gold details, his posture straight as he stood in front of the family shrine. The air was cold, carrying the faint scent of pine and incense as he placed his hands together in prayer.

The next day, Takeru found himself at the family gravesite, standing silently before the polished stones that bore the names of his mother and brothers. The winter wind swept through the cemetery, rustling the bare branches of nearby trees.

He knelt before the graves, placing fresh flowers at each one. His mother's grave was adorned with lilies, her favorite, and his brothers' with chrysanthemums, symbols of honor and sacrifice.

"Arata. Hiroto," Takeru said softly, his voice carried away by the breeze. "I hope I'm doing enough. I hope you're proud."

The memories of his brothers were faint in this timeline, overshadowed by the countless loops he had lived. Arata had been the eldest, stoic and disciplined, always setting an example for the family. Hiroto, the middle child, had been brash and headstrong but fiercely protective. Both had died fighting the BETA, their sacrifices leaving an indelible mark on Takeru's life.

As he stood, his gaze lingered on their names etched into the stone. "I'll carry on for you," he promised, his voice steady. "For all of us."

The final grave he visited was his mother's. The ache of her loss felt distant yet sharp, like a wound that had never fully healed. Takeru placed a hand on the cold stone, bowing his head in silence.

He didn't speak. There were no words that could capture the weight of what he felt.

The formalities didn't end there. The Shirogane family was expected to pay their respects to the Koubuin House for the New Year — a tradition that carried both political and cultural significance.

Dressed once more in his formal attire, Takeru accompanied his father to the Koubuin estate. The grand halls were filled with the soft murmur of conversations as some of the Empire's most influential families gathered to exchange pleasantries.

Yuuhi-sama, as ever, carried herself with grace and dignity beyond her years. She greeted the Shirogane family with measured words and a serene smile, her hair and kimono catching the light as she moved.

"Takeru-sama," she said softly, her blue eyes meeting his. "I trust the year has treated you well."

Takeru bowed respectfully. "It has, Yuuhi-sama. I hope the same for you."

The conversation was brief, formal, and precisely what was expected of them. But Takeru couldn't help but notice the weight in Yuuhi's eyes, the burden of leadership resting heavily on her young shoulders.

The evening passed in a blur of polite exchanges and ritualistic toasts. By the time the formalities were over, Takeru felt drained but content. Another year was ending, and he had fulfilled his obligations. He thought he could go home and for once take a long rest.

Or so he thought.

But the moment he stepped out of the Koubuin estate and into the crisp night air, Takeru was met with an all-too-familiar voice who he was not expecting at all in this place.

"Takeru-kuuun~!"

He turned to see Yuuko striding toward him, her violet hair loose around her shoulders and a mischievous grin plastered across her face. She was dressed in a sleek coat that was both fashionable and practical, her sharp eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Yuuko," Takeru greeted, already bracing himself for whatever she had planned. He was somewhat unsure how she'd found him.

"Don't 'Yuuko' me," she said, linking her arm with his before he could protest. "Marimo's too busy, so I only have you to annoy tonight. You're coming with me. You're done there, right?"

Takeru sighed, though he didn't resist as she began dragging him down the street. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" Yuuko replied cheerfully. "I drove her, so just follow me."

They ended up in a cozy izakaya tucked into a quiet alleyway, the warm light from the paper lanterns spilling onto the cobblestone path outside. Inside, the air was filled with the savory aroma of grilled meat and the comforting hum of conversation.

Yuuko chose a table in the corner, ordering drinks and food with the confidence of someone who had frequented the place far too often. Takeru sat across from her, his posture relaxed but his mind alert.

"You don't seem thrilled," Yuuko remarked, sipping her drink as she eyed him over the rim of her glass.

"I wasn't exactly planning to be dragged out tonight after the occasion," Takeru replied evenly. "How did you even find me? I'm surprise they didn't question you."

"It's fine, Professor Kiriyama is acquainted with Koubuin House so technically, as Kiriyama's student, we're like allies?" Yuuko smirked. "Oh, come on, don't give me that look. You should be thanking me. This is the most fun you've had all week. All you do is train, study, and paperwork."

Takeru raised an eyebrow. "Is that what this is, then?"

"Yes," she said, her grin widening. "And you're welcome."

The food arrived shortly after — a spread of skewers, small plates, and steaming bowls of miso soup. Yuuko dug in with enthusiasm, her sharp wit punctuating their conversation as she alternated between teasing Takeru and complaining about the state of her research.

"You wouldn't believe the kind of stupidity I have to deal with," she said, gesturing dramatically with a skewer. "It's like they're trying to make my work harder."

Takeru took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. "Maybe they're just intimidated by you."

Yuuko blinked, then laughed. "Good point. I am pretty amazing."

As the night wore on, Takeru found himself relaxing despite Yuuko's sudden appearance. There was something strangely comforting about her presence, even if she was relentless in her teasing and whining. Honestly, she was the only person in this timeline who could truly keep up with him, and for that, he was grudgingly grateful.

At one point, Yuuko leaned back in her seat, her expression softening ever so slightly. "You know," she said, her tone quieter, "it's not a bad thing to slow down once in a while. You've been running yourself ragged. All work with no play messes with the head."

Takeru met her gaze, his own expression thoughtful. "You sound like Emiko."

"Smart woman," Yuuko quipped, smirking again. "Maybe you should listen to her."

Takeru didn't reply, but the faint smile that crossed his lips didn't go unnoticed.

By the time they left the izakaya, the streets were quiet, the night air crisp and clear. Yuuko walked beside Takeru, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as she glanced up at the sky.

"You're an odd one, Takeru," she said suddenly, her voice carrying a hint of sincerity beneath its usual playfulness.

Takeru glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You've got this… thing about you," Yuuko said, gesturing vaguely. "Like you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders. It's weird. Most people our age are still figuring out what they want to do with their lives, but you're already…"

"Already what?" Takeru asked, his tone even.

Yuuko shrugged. "Doing things that seem to matter greatly to you."

Takeru didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Someone has to," he said finally. "And I could say the same."

Yuuko studied him for a moment, her usual smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I guess you're right. We are somewhat alike."

By all logic, she should've been content after complaining. But instead of parting ways, Yuuko stuck to his side like a particularly troublesome shadow, her violet eyes gleaming with the sort of mischief that made Takeru's instincts flare.

"So, Takeru," she began, her tone light but pointed, "do you ever let yourself have fun? Or is all this noble duty and soldier training weighing down your soul?"

Takeru sighed, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. "What exactly do you call what we just did? Isn't that 'fun' by your standards?"

"That was my fun," Yuuko corrected, poking his arm. "You? You just sat there like some stoic samurai, humoring me. Honestly, you're insufferable sometimes."

Takeru gave her a sidelong glance. "I think you find me entertaining enough to keep dragging me along."

Yuuko grinned. "Touché."

By the time they reached the Shirogane estate, the moon had risen high in the sky, casting its pale light over the quiet grounds. Takeru unlocked the gate, expecting Yuuko to bid him goodnight and leave.

Instead, she followed him inside, her arms crossed smugly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Yuuko," Takeru said flatly, turning to face her. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't go straight to bed and ignore me," she said breezily, stepping past him into the estate's grand entryway. "You know, for a noble, your place isn't half bad. A little too traditional for my tastes, though."

Takeru pinched the bridge of his nose, debating whether it was worth trying to reason with her. He knew from experience it wasn't. Hell, he didn't bother asking why she had someone come to the estate. Instead, he followed her silently as she wandered through the house, eventually settling in his private study.

"Make yourself comfortable," he muttered dryly, closing the door behind them.

Yuuko wasted no time plopping herself onto the plush seating, lounging as though she owned the place. Her violet hair fell around her shoulders, catching the dim light in soft waves. She looked entirely too pleased with herself.

"Don't you get lonely in this big house?" she asked, tilting her head as she watched him move about the room.

"No," Takeru replied, his tone clipped. "I have enough things to do to keep me occupied."

Yuuko smirked, leaning forward. "Like what? More boring coursework? Business deals? Secret plots to save the world?"

Takeru's gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable. "Something like that."

For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint rustle of papers as Takeru organized his desk. Yuuko watched him intently, her usual playfulness dimming slightly.

"You're really something, you know that?" she blurted, her voice quieter.

Takeru raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You're a noble, an Imperial Royal Guard, and apparently some kind of prodigy with how you keep up with me in a debate," Yuuko said, leaning back again. "And yet, you never seem full of yourself. It's… refreshing."

Takeru didn't respond immediately, unsure how to take the compliment. Instead, he returned to his work. His mind focused on anything, but the way Yuuko's gaze lingered on him that made it clear the night wouldn't end easily.

At some point, Yuuko had made her way over to him, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief once more. Before Takeru could react, she had perched herself on his lap, her arms looping around his neck.

"Yuuko," he said, his voice laced with exasperation.

"Shh," she said, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't talk."

Takeru sighed, leaning back slightly as she leaned in closer. Her proximity was distracting, her presence overwhelming. And then, without warning, she kissed him.

It wasn't the first time, it hadn't been since that night. But this kiss was different. There was an edge to it, a push-and-pull as though she were testing him, challenging him.

Yuuko's confidence was clear in every move she made, but Takeru had enough experience to turn the tables easily. His hands moved instinctively, one resting on her waist and the other trailing up her back. The shift in control was subtle but undeniable, and Yuuko's small, frustrated whine confirmed it.

"You've done this a lot," she muttered, pulling back just enough to glare at him. "Haven't you?"

Takeru smirked faintly. "Maybe."

"This is not fair," Yuuko said, pouting slightly. "You clearly had practice."

If only you knew, Takeru thought, the memories of countless timelines flashing briefly in his mind.

Yuuko rested her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin. "Honestly, I'm not sure what we are," she admitted, her voice soft. "How did we even get here?"

Takeru looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you actually fond of me?"

Yuuko pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "Are you serious? Look at yourself, Takeru. You're older than me, you're rich, you're a noble, you're not a bumbling idiot, and you're—" She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face. "—a good kisser. Not to mention what you can do in bed."

Takeru rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement. "So that's it? That's all it takes?"

Yuuko shrugged, leaning into him again. "What can I say? I'm a woman of refined tastes. I wouldn't have touched you if I didn't like your looks, either."

"Glad to know I meet your standards then," Takeru said dryly.

"You do," she replied, her grin widening. "Now shut up and kiss me again. I need practice!"

Takeru didn't argue.