The library of the Imperial University was unusually quiet today, with most students preoccupied elsewhere. Takeru sat at one of the long tables near the window, the warm afternoon light spilling across his neatly arranged notes and open textbooks. His black and gold Imperial Royal Guard uniform was spotless, as always, the polished trim catching the light in subtle gleams.

Though he looked calm and focused, his mind was juggling multiple thoughts. He had returned to the university to catch up on coursework — a requirement he had fallen behind on due to his Eishi training. In this timeline, he hadn't been destined to be an Eishi originally. That path had belonged to his older brothers, Shirogane Arata and Shirogane Hiroto, but their deaths had left him no choice but to step up.

The coursework wasn't difficult for him, not with the knowledge of countless timelines tucked away in his mind. Even so, Takeru had to correlate what he remembered with the specific curriculum of this world to ensure his work would pass muster. It was tedious, but necessary.

He was halfway through refining an essay on international economic policy when a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Takeru-kuuun~!"

The sing-song whine was unmistakable. Kouzuki Yuuko, the prodigious and insufferably mischievous scientist, plopped down into the seat beside him without waiting for an invitation.

Takeru didn't bother looking up from his paper. "Kouzuki," he greeted flatly.

Yuuko rested her chin on her palm, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "No 'hello' for your favorite genius? Also, like I said, just call me Yuuko. Honestly, you're so cold, Takeru-kun."

"I'm busy," Takeru replied, his tone neutral as he scribbled a note in the margin of his paper.

Yuuko didn't seem to care. She leaned closer, her violet hair spilling over her shoulders as she poked his cheek with one slender finger. "Don't you 'I'm busy' me," she said in a mock whining voice. "I need someone to vent to. That bald idiot of a professor is making my life difficult again."

Takeru finally glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You pissed him off somehow."

Yuuko gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to her chest as though he had just accused her of a heinous crime. "How rude! I'll have you know I was perfectly polite. It's not my fault he couldn't keep up with my brilliance."

Takeru shook his head and returned to his work. "Maybe you shouldn't call him 'baldy' to his face next time."

Yuuko pouted. Seeing that Takeru wasn't giving her the reaction she wanted, she huffed and leaned her arm on his shoulder, her head tilting lazily against him. "Your coursework is so boring," she complained, staring at the neat rows of text on the page in front of him.

"It's necessary," Takeru said simply. "And I don't do them for fun."

Yuuko poked his chest with her finger, drawing idle circles on his uniform. "Takeru-kun, you're no fun at all."

"Stop that," Takeru said, his voice still calm but firmer this time.

"Don't wanna," Yuuko replied stubbornly, poking him again for good measure. "Let's make out?"

Takeru sighed. He had spent far too much time with Kouzuki Yuuko across both worlds and timelines to fall for her antics. He knew exactly what ticked her off and what entertained her, and he also knew better than to indulge her boredom or whims. Unfortunately, that didn't mean he could avoid her completely.

After a moment of silence, Yuuko tilted her head and asked, "So, Takeru-kun, are you going to fight the BETA?"

"Probably next year," Takeru replied, not looking up from his paper. "Depending on the movements of the BETA on the continent."

Yuuko's violet eyes sharpened for a moment, a seriousness flickering beneath her usual teasing tone. "Are you a good Eishi?"

"Yes," Takeru said simply, his pen gliding across the page.

Yuuko leaned back slightly, her smirk returning. "Good. I need competent people if I'm going to save the world. Maybe one day you'll help me."

I always do, Takeru thought. Always.

She paused, then added in a casual tone, "But don't expect me to 'hope' that you'll stay alive. I don't pity Eishi. What you do is respectable, but…"

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the playful edge in her demeanor softened.

Takeru glanced at her briefly before returning to his work. "Understood."

Yuuko suddenly grinned, her mischievous spark reigniting. "But if you do die, don't worry — I'll remember you as the guy who popped my and Marimo's cherries."

Takeru froze for a fraction of a second, his pen hovering above the paper. He sighed deeply, feeling the beginnings of a headache. That night had been… an experience. One that, despite his many timelines, remained strange and hard to categorize.

Yuuko's smirk widened as she poked his cheek again. "What's wrong, Takeru-kun? Don't like being reminded?"

"Can we not talk about this?" Takeru asked, his tone flat.

"But it's fun," Yuuko replied, resting her chin in her hand. "Marimo's still hung up on it, you know. She's such a romantic — it's adorable. But in a way, it's good. She's been way too serious lately, and that little accident cracked through her walls a bit."

Takeru resisted the urge to groan. "It's hardly something to celebrate."

Yuuko shrugged. "I disagree. It was a happy accident. Lighten up, Takeru-kun."

Deciding it was best to redirect the conversation, Takeru asked, "How's your work coming along?"

Yuuko perked up immediately, launching into an animated explanation of her latest research. She went on and on about theories, data, and the challenges she was facing. Takeru listened quietly, nodding occasionally but offering little in the way of feedback.

Internally, he judged that her theory still needed time and a lot of it. While he had read her papers and understood the concepts, he didn't recall every detail perfectly. She would need years of research and refinement before her ideas bore fruit.

Yuuko finally paused, taking a sip of the tea she had stolen from his tray. "You're so quiet, Takeru-kun," she said, her tone teasing. "You're not going to criticize my work again, are you?"

"It's not my place to," Takeru replied. "But your theory has potential. It just needs time."

Yuuko studied him for a moment, then leaned back with a satisfied grin. "Well, at least you're not completely useless like baldy who can't even see how good it is"

Takeru glanced at the clock.

Ten years. That was how long they had until the end of the world.

As Yuuko continued to chatter beside him, Takeru focused on his work.

After Yuuko had her fill of poking, teasing, and venting, she bolted from the library with an energetic wave, her violet hair trailing behind her like a ribbon. "See you later, Takeru-kuuun!" she called out, leaving him in peace once more.

Takeru let out a soft sigh of relief, closing his notebook and straightening his papers. Yuuko was an exhausting presence, her antics always demanding more attention than he preferred to give. Still, she had a way of injecting levity into even the most serious conversations, a trait he begrudgingly appreciated.

Gathering his materials, Takeru made his way to the faculty building to submit his coursework. The task was mundane, a simple exchange of paperwork, but it was another step toward maintaining his position at the university. As he left the faculty office, he spotted a familiar figure standing in the hallway, arms crossed and a deep frown etched across her face.

"Jinguuji," Takeru called out, his voice calm.

Jinguuji Marimo looked up sharply, her stern expression melting into something far more flustered the moment their eyes met. Her face and ears turned bright red, and she immediately began stammering.

"Sh-Shirogane-kun!" she exclaimed, her voice unsteady. "I-I didn't see you there!"

Takeru raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "You look serious. Is everything alright?"

Marimo's blush deepened, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Oh no, not him, she thought, her mind flashing back to the events of weeks ago. Her lips quivered as she tried to form a coherent response. "I-I… I mean… About what happened before, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for things to—"

"Don't worry about it," Takeru interrupted, his voice steady but kind. "I don't exactly mind. It was… enjoyable."

That only made Marimo's face redder. She waved her hands in front of her as if trying to dispel the memory. "T-That's not the point!" she stammered. "I-It was all Yuuko's fault! If she hadn't—"

"Jinguuji," Takeru said gently, cutting her off again. "It's fine. Let's just put it in the back of our minds and move on, alright?"

Marimo opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself, her shoulders sagging slightly as she sighed. "…Alright," she murmured, her blush slowly fading.

The tension between them eased, and the two began walking side by side through the campus grounds. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of students filled the air as they moved.

For a while, they walked in silence, with Marimo looking around the campus grounds, but she eventually spoke up, her voice quieter than usual. "You know, I came to this university with a dream. I wanted to become a teacher. Someone who could inspire others, the way I was inspired."

Takeru nodded slightly, glancing at her as she continued.

"But it didn't take me long to realize," she said, her tone turning somber, "that war was going to reach our shores, eventually. The signs were everywhere, even back then."

Takeru's gaze returned to the path ahead. "And now?"

Marimo hesitated. "…Now I'm not so sure. The university has changed. Everything's changed." She frowned deeply, her fists clenching at her sides. "The government diverted so much funding toward theoretical studies and high-tech research for military applications. My department, the Faculty of Education, is understaffed and under-funded. The quality of research has dropped, and it's compromising the ability of universities to do what they were meant to do… educate."

"It can't be helped," Takeru said simply. "The BETA are coming."

Marimo shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I know that. But it's still tragic, isn't it? For our society to reach a point where the needs of the military outweigh the needs of civilians… It feels like we're losing something important."

They stopped beneath a large cherry blossom tree, its pink petals fluttering gently in the breeze. Marimo stared up at the branches, her expression heavy with thought.

"Ignorance is the root of all misery," she said softly. "Knowledge is humanity's greatest weapon. It's the one thing that can improve the human condition. That's what inspired me to become a teacher in the first place. But now… I look around, and all I see is ignorance growing like a shadow."

Takeru looked at her quietly. He understood her pain, her frustration. But at the same time, he couldn't share her idealism. "With humanity on the brink," he said carefully, "what else can we do?"

Marimo's jaw tightened, and she turned to face him, her eyes sharp. "We can fight to hold on to what matters. If we don't, then eventually we'll stop caring about education entirely. The only knowledge we'll value will be the kind that helps us survive in a never-ending state of nature. Pacifism stopped being a viable option for a long time ago, but that doesn't mean we have to abandon everything else."

Takeru nodded slowly, absorbing her words and guessing what was on her mind. "Are you planning to become an Eishi?" he asked after a moment.

Marimo hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. "…I'm undecided," she admitted. "But with how things are… I'll probably drop out of university in two years and volunteer."

"I see," Takeru said simply.

Marimo's demeanor softened, though there was a fierce determination in her eyes. She was a woman who clung to her ideals, even in the face of impossible odds. It was a quality Takeru had admired across countless timelines, a strength that inspired those around her… even him. She simply doesn't know how many times she had saved his soul.

After a long pause, Takeru spoke again, his voice quiet. "Whatever you decide to do, I'm sure you'll do well."

Marimo looked at him, her expression softening further. "Thank you, Shirogane-kun."

"Just Shirogane."

"… okay."

The mood lightened slightly, and Marimo shifted uncomfortably as she glanced away. "So… about what happened with Yuuko…"

Takeru sighed inwardly. "What about it?"

Marimo fidgeted, her cheeks reddening once more. "I… I'm not usually so, um, very open-minded. But, you know, cockblocking someone isn't my style and you and Yuuko decide to…."

Takeru blinked, confused by her sudden shift in tone. "I'm… not sure what you mean."

Marimo waved her hands again, her embarrassment reaching a new high. "I-I mean, Yuuko was so, uh, casual about the whole thing, and I just—"

"Jinguuji," Takeru said firmly, cutting her off. "We were drunk and out of control. Mistakes happened."

She stopped, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Let's just put it behind us," he said gently. "No need to overthink it. Understand"

Marimo hesitated, then finally sighed, nodding. "Alright, I understand," she said softly.

The two of them stood under the cherry blossom tree for a while longer, the soft breeze carrying the scent of spring around them.

Though Takeru didn't say it aloud, he couldn't help but admire Marimo's strength. Even in the face of a collapsing world, she held on to her ideals, refusing to let them slip away. It was a quality he had seen break in others, but Marimo remained steadfast.

The conversation beneath the cherry blossom tree had left a strange air between Takeru and Marimo. It wasn't unpleasant, but there was an unspoken tension. The pink petals fluttered in the breeze, brushing past their shoulders as the two stood in silence.

Breaking the stillness, Takeru glanced at Marimo and said, "Let's get something to eat."

Marimo blinked, her cheeks still faintly pink from their earlier exchange. "Wait—eat? As in, food?"

"Yes, food," Takeru replied dryly.

Her face reddened further, and she waved her hands in front of her. "You don't mean… drinking again, do you? I-I mean, after what happened last time…"

Takeru sighed softly. "No drinking," he said firmly. "Just food."

Marimo stared at him for a moment before nodding, her embarrassment slowly fading. "Alright," she said, smoothing her skirt as she composed herself.

They left the university grounds, walking side by side through the bustling streets of the Imperial Capital. The city was alive with energy, a mix of tradition and modernity on every corner. Ancient wooden storefronts stood next to sleek, glass-fronted buildings, and the scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the air.

Takeru's black and gold Imperial Royal Guard uniform made him stand out, earning him glances from passersby. But while people noticed him, they had the sense to keep their distance. The uniform commanded respect and a healthy dose of fear.

Eventually, Takeru spotted a roadside yatai tucked into a quieter corner of the district. The modest stall was adorned with red paper lanterns and a simple wooden sign advertising its offerings. Grilled skewers, noodles, and warm bowls of miso soup.

"This looks good," Takeru said, motioning for Marimo to follow.

They sat on the small stools provided, the owner greeting them with a cheerful smile before taking their orders. The smell of sizzling meat and steaming broth filled the air as they waited, the cozy atmosphere a welcome respite from the city's chaos.

For the most part, Takeru let Marimo lead the conversation. He asked her about her studies, her goals, and her thoughts on the state of the Empire. She spoke earnestly, her passion for education and her worries about the future shining through every word.

But as she talked, Takeru felt a pang of sadness.

There were things he couldn't say, memories he couldn't share. He had known this woman in another life, in another timeline, as a comrade, a mentor, and a friend. But here, in this timeline, their connection was still fragile — a seedling compared to the deep roots they had shared before.

Rebuilding friendships was always painful, Takeru realized. The gaps between what he knew and what they knew were vast, and the process of bridging them was slow and uncertain. But even so, he was grateful for the opportunity to speak with Marimo again. To see her smile, to hear her voice — it was a blessing he didn't take for granted.

Their food arrived, and the two ate in relative silence, the comfortable clatter of dishes filling the gaps in their conversation. The warm, savory flavors were a small comfort, grounding them in the present moment, making them somewhat forget about the future ahead of them.

After they finished, Takeru insisted on paying, brushing off Marimo's protests with a polite but firm refusal. They left the yatai together, stepping back into the bustling streets.

"I'll see you off," Takeru said.

Marimo hesitated, but eventually nodded. They walked together until they reached a point where their paths diverged. Marimo turned to him, her expression softer than usual. "Thank you, Takeru. For everything."

Takeru gave her a small nod. "Take care, Marimo."

She smiled faintly before disappearing into the crowd, her figure swallowed by the throng of people.

Takeru's mind was a jumble of thoughts as he made his way back to the Shirogane estate. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of sakura blossoms as he entered the grounds.

Once inside, he wasted no time changing into his practice attire, a simple black hakama and gi that allowed for ease of movement. He retrieved Shirohana no Yaiba, the treasured blade of the Shirogane family, from its stand and stepped out into the courtyard.

The estate's garden was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, the trees rustling gently in the breeze. Takeru stood in the center of the courtyard, gripping the hilt of his katana as he steadied his breathing.

He began his practice, moving through the techniques he had learned from Mitsurugi Meiya and Tsukuyomi Maya in countless timelines in his original world. His movements were fluid yet precise, each strike cutting through the air with a sharp hiss.

The petals from the cherry blossoms drifted around him, and with each swing of his blade, he seemed to slice through the ephemeral beauty of the moment.

Strike. Step. Turn. Slice.

His body moved instinctively, guided by years of experience that transcended time. The rhythm of his practice was meditative, each movement bringing a sense of clarity to his restless mind.

Finally, he stopped, lowering the blade as he stood beneath the falling petals. His breaths were steady, his mind calm.

Takeru recited softly, the words carrying on the wind.

Endless return, days lengthen, hours repeat,

and the silence whispers back.

He sheathed Shirohana no Yaiba with a quiet click and sat cross-legged on the stone path, the blade resting across his lap. The rustling of the leaves filled the air, a soothing melody that seemed to echo the rhythms of his soul.

For a moment, the weight of the world faded away, leaving only the stillness of the night and the quiet strength he drew from it.