Ken Takahashi

Everything was blurry, as if the world had been enveloped in mist, and in this blurred realm, a single silhouette appeared.

It was a woman with soft facial features and a straight nose, but her eyes held something deeply predatory and alien, as if they reflected the wisdom of millennia mixed with disdain for the surrounding world. Her eyes were dark, and the slight half-smile on her lips seemed more like mockery than friendliness, adding even more detachment to her appearance. Prominent, rough horizontal scars stood out on her forehead, hinting at some intervention in her body. These scars appeared grotesquely unnatural, as if someone had decided to cruelly tamper with a body.

Her hair was dark and straight, framing her face in a careless manner, as if she couldn't care less about her appearance. Her clothing was dark and loose, reminiscent of a modern interpretation of traditional Japanese style. A long black coat or haori added a gloomy touch to her figure, emphasizing her detachment from the world around her.

Her facial expressions and movements seemed strangely deliberate, as though she were performing a role rather than expressing genuine emotions. Her expressions were precise but unsettlingly mechanical, and her gestures, while fluid, carried something repellent. Her entire image evoked a sense of unease.

The woman looked at me, her eyes narrowing, and a crooked smirk formed on her lips. With a haughty tone, she said:

"Did you think this could be a huge problem for me? Not at all; this actually made my task easier."

Her face twisted into a sinister grimace:

"When we meet again, Yuta Okkotsu, I won't let you catch me off guard. I will make you witness the death of all your loved ones."

After these words, a high-frequency sound echoed—a faint, unnoticed sound growing louder and louder until, within seconds, it filled the entire space. Suddenly, a voice resonated:

"You must find yourself."

The sound of shattering glass was deafening, as if the very fabric of reality had exploded. Yuta felt someone touch his shoulder.

"Yuta, are you okay?" Gojo asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Disoriented, Yuta could only manage a mumble: "Uh... yeah."

"Don't worry, I was joking about making you a teacher at the technical college," Gojo said in a soothing tone.

Yuta, regaining some composure, exhaled deeply, saying, "What a relief."

"And don't worry about your future classmates; they're nice kids. But I can't say the same about the second-years," Gojo teased incessantly.

"Satoru-san, did you notice anything strange or anyone unusual around?" Yuta asked with concern.

"No, why?" Gojo replied, looking at Yuta with interest.

"Oh, nothing, just asking," Yuta said, dismissing it.

He didn't want to share what he had envisioned—it could be connected to how he ended up in Yuta Okkotsu's body, and he wasn't ready to share that information.

"I think I've had enough for today. I'll head home," Yuta said, bidding Gojo farewell.

"See you, sensei."

"Yep, see you tomorrow at the technical college at 9 AM. Don't be late," Gojo called out, waving goodbye.

---

Yuta lay on his bed, exhausted after the tense day, but sleep was elusive. Thoughts swirled in his mind, one after the other, like an endless carousel of questions.

Who was that woman? Why did she appear to him? What did she mean by mentioning another meeting with Yuta Okkotsu?

And perhaps the most important question of all: What did the words of that strange voice mean? "You must find yourself." What "self" was it referring to?

Yuta tried analyzing everything that had happened, but the deeper he delved into his thoughts, the more it all seemed like an unsolvable riddle. His heart alternated between slowing down and racing as he replayed the moment he heard that voice.

Over time, he formed one hypothesis that lingered in his mind:

"Maybe that voice was talking about my past self? About Ken Takahashi," he thought.

Yuta had long wondered: does Ken Takahashi exist in this world? At first, he considered it impossible. After all, this world was completely different—a world of sorcery and curses. But now, after hearing those words, the idea that his past "self" could exist here wouldn't leave him alone.

"Even if Ken exists in this world, what difference does it make?" he asked himself.

These thoughts seemed endless. But one thing Yuta understood clearly: he could no longer ignore this. The voice had pushed him to act. He needed to investigate.

Rising abruptly from his bed, he felt a surge of energy, as if some unseen force was pulling him outside. Wasting no time, he put on his jacket, grabbed his backpack, and stepped out into the Tokyo night to search for answers.

---

Tokyo at night was an entrancing sight.

The city, shrouded in semi-darkness, still glowed with millions of colorful lights. Bright neon signs of shops and restaurants, the lit windows of skyscrapers, and the occasional car headlights created a sense of a living, pulsating metropolis. Yet under the night's cover, it seemed subdued.

The streets were relatively empty: a few pedestrians hurried home or lingered in 24-hour convenience stores. The wind played lightly with forgotten plastic bags on the sidewalks, and in the distance, a siren's wail resonated with the hum of the city.

Yuta moved across the rooftops like a phantom, avoiding camera surveillance. His movements were swift and precise, like a calculated dance. He leaped effortlessly from one rooftop to another, covering vast distances in a single bound. Shadows concealed his figure, and the rustle of his clothing blended with the night breeze. From this height, the city resembled an endless maze of light and shadow, where Yuta was merely an unnoticed specter gliding through the barriers.

University of Tokyo in Bunkyo City

At night, the University of Tokyo in Bunkyo City appeared both majestic and mysterious. Its main gates, with their massive red-brick arches, were softly illuminated by streetlights, casting long shadows on the adjacent pathways. The central building, adorned with a blend of traditional Japanese architecture and European elements, stood like a repository of ancient wisdom.

Expansive green spaces surrounded the university, transforming into dark silhouettes of trees and bushes under the night's veil. Narrow paths snaked through the greenery, leading to various buildings and dormitories, all shrouded in a faint mist rising from the cold ground. Light glowed faintly from the windows of a few buildings, occasionally revealing the silhouettes of students engrossed in late-night studies.

Yuta paused on the rooftop of a nearby building, surveying the campus below. From this vantage point, it looked like a tranquil island of knowledge, lost amidst the sprawling city. The interplay of tree shadows and building lights, along with the glistening marble steps at the central entrance, painted a serene picture. Yuta took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. He knew an important task awaited him, but for a moment, he allowed himself to appreciate the beauty and stillness of the place.

Yuta stood near the dormitory building, drawn there by his memories. The night was quiet, with only the faint rustle of the wind and distant city sounds reminding him that life around him was still bustling. He raised his eyes to the familiar high-rise, peering into the windows. Everything looked almost exactly as he remembered it: the warm glow in several rooms reflecting off the glass panels and faint silhouettes of students moving behind the curtains.

His gaze settled on the window of the very room he had lived in as a student. Nostalgia washed over him in a wave. This was the place where he had spent four years of his life—planning, struggling, and dreaming about the future.

It was 2016 now. That year, Ken Takahashi was a sophomore, and the room still looked familiar. Yuta carefully approached, trying not to attract attention. With extraordinary ease, he climbed the building's wall, using his cursed energy to enhance his movements, and stopped by the window. He now sat on the narrow windowsill, gazing inside.

The room was almost exactly as he remembered it. Two beds stood opposite each other, a small kitchenette where Ken had once spent evenings preparing simple meals, and a separate bathroom. The room's arrangement seemed to reflect the personalities of its occupants, divided into two completely different halves.

One side was lively: the walls were adorned with posters of popular actors, singers, and anime characters. Bright pillows were scattered around, and the shelves displayed colorful trinkets, souvenirs, and books with vibrant covers.

The other side was cold and monochromatic. A plain gray-and-white bedspread, a neat stack of books on the desk, a couple of notebooks, and nothing extra. Yuta's heart quickened as he looked at this part of the room. He remembered well that it was his side.

Taking it all in, he tried to calm himself: it wasn't strange for the room to look the same. After all, the difference between his world and this one lay not in the room or lifestyle but in the magic and curses that were a part of this reality.

Yuta took a quiet breath of the cool night air, trying to focus on his mission. He needed to find out if Ken Takahashi existed in this world and, if so, where he was now. His eyes returned to the room. This place held memories, but now it was only a part of his past.

---

Two hours passed before the room's door creaked open. Yuta, still perched on the windowsill, instinctively tensed. His heart pounded faster, as if anticipating something incredible. In the doorway stood a young man of average height with short, jet-black hair. His eyes were reserved, cold, as if they looked straight through the world, and his face was unremarkable—the kind of appearance one could easily lose in a crowd.

Yuta froze, studying every detail. It was Ken Takahashi.

The young man let out a weary sigh and entered the room, as if the day's exhaustion had finally caught up with him. Without glancing around, he turned on the light. The soft glow illuminated the room, pulling its familiar interior out of the shadows. Ken shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off before heading toward the bathroom.

Yuta watched all of this as if spellbound. It was him. Himself, from this world—the person he had been before being thrown into a reality of magic and curses. He swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry and his breathing become shallow and erratic. Inside him, a storm of emotions brewed: astonishment, shock, and a strange, almost inexplicable sense of unease and tension.

For a moment, a bizarre thought crossed his mind: to enter the room, approach Ken, and touch him—as if that might help him understand something profound. But Yuta quickly dismissed the intrusive idea.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, and slapped himself lightly on the face to clear his thoughts. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he opened his eyes again and looked back into the room. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Yuta realized that his presence here was a risk. He shook his head, calming himself, and turned away.

"There's nothing more for me here," he thought, leaping from the windowsill with such ease that it felt as though everything that had just happened was merely a dream.