Chapter 1

Thirteen Years

This was the time that Takashi Yamamoto had lived in this second life, carrying with him the memories of his previous existence as Kenji Yamamoto, an aspiring detective of 18 years in Tokyo.

The train traveled through the Japanese countryside. Takashi looked out the window, watching the rice paddies and small villages passing by. Each scene reminded him how different his current life was from his previous one. This contrast continued to surprise him, even after so many years.

The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks provided a constant backdrop to his thoughts, a metronome marking the passage between his past and present.

At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary middle school student.

Yet there was something in his bearing, in the way his dark eyes observed his surroundings, that suggested an unusual maturity for his age.

Takashi's fingers played with a train ticket, a residual habit from his past life.

His black hair fell softly over his forehead, framing eyes that revealed a maturity beyond his thirteen years. The ticket in his left hand was worn around the edges, a silent witness to his past as Kenji, an 18-year-old detective.

Takashi's movements were measured and precise, reflecting an awareness rarely seen in a teenager.

He wore a middle school uniform consisting of a navy blue blazer and trousers, both still tidy despite the long journey.

The late afternoon sun stretched shadows across the terraced fields, their waters reflecting fragments of light like scattered mirrors.

This unusual ability had emerged in this new life—he could see a golden halo around people telling the truth, accompanied by a sweet taste on his tongue, while a purple haze and a bitter, sour flavor enveloped those who lied.

It had taken years to understand when to use this power and when to remain silent, learning through trial and error the delicate balance between knowing the truth and revealing it.

Though he had learned to manage when to reveal the "truth" or the "lie" to others, the taste always persisted in his mouth.

This aspect of his ability proved particularly problematic when he was in the midst of groups of people: in such situations, his taste senses were literally overwhelmed, creating an experience that was both intense and disorienting.

After finishing his first year of middle school with top grades, he had chosen to drop out.

The decision had not been easy—he had spent nights staring at the ceiling, weighing his parents' expectations against the growing restlessness in his soul.

He needed time to understand who he was in this second chance at life, to reconcile his past self with his present reality.

With a rail pass and a bag containing little more than clothes, a notebook, and his savings, he set off to explore Japan, searching for something he could not define.

The countryside passed by his window like scenes from an old film—fishermen tending to their nets in a distant port, an elderly woman hanging laundry in a garden, a group of elementary school children returning home, their bright yellow hats bobbing in unison.

Every glimpse was a story he could have been part of in either life, paths not taken.

"Excuse me..." a soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "May I sit here?"

Without taking his eyes off the window, Takashi replied quietly, "Yes, of course."

His fingers traced shapes on the foggy window.

He knew this would require more cleaning, but he continued anyway. He felt guilty toward whoever would have to clean up after him. The temporary drawings on the glass were a way to express his fleeting thoughts.

The sound of someone settling into the seat drew his attention—the rustle of fabric, a soft exhale, the subtle shift of the cushion.

Across from him sat a young girl, probably twelve years old, with bluish-violet hair. Her eyes were unusual, shifting from violet to pink with a six-pointed star pattern in each iris. She wore a white dress under an oversized denim jacket, and held a wide-brimmed hat in her lap. Despite her young age, the girl displayed an unusual composure, as if she was used to the attention of others.

"Thank you," she said, offering a hesitant smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I moved between cars, looking for a... quiet spot." A golden halo surrounded her words, sparkling like morning light.

"Sure," he replied, then added, "I'm Mizuhara Takashi."

The purple haze of a lie made him flinch internally, as a bitter taste invaded his mouth.

Even with his ability to detect lies, old habits were hard to break—the false surname was one he'd used since he began his journey, a small deceit that now left an unpleasant taste on his tongue.

He noticed her trembling hands as she adjusted her hat, her fingers moving with the nervous energy of a caged bird.

Takashi noticed the telltale signs: the girl's anxious glance toward the car door, the tension in her shoulders.

These details were familiar to him from his previous life as an aspiring detective.

In a calm, neutral voice, he decided to address the matter directly: "Are you running away from something?"

Right after saying those words, Takashi wondered why he had done it.

Was it an impulse, an echo of his past life as a detective, or perhaps a genuine desire to help?

The question had slipped out before he could stop it, as if a part of him had decided it was time to stop being just an observer.

A soft laugh escaped the girl's lips, more breath than sound.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked Takashi, her voice barely audible above the noise of the train.

She turned to the window, watching her reflection blend with the moving landscape outside.

After a brief pause, she replied in a resigned tone, "I suppose it is, in a way."

The golden halo confirmed her honesty, though it flickered like a candle in the wind.

The rhythm of the train filled the silence between them, the wheels constant against the tracks.

A drink cart passed noisily by, the cheerful calls of the vendor fading into the next car.

Finally, she turned back, something in her expression had changed, as if she had made a decision.

"I'm Ai," she said softly, then added with forced lightness, "Though maybe I shouldn't introduce myself to strangers while I'm on the run."

Her attempt at humor failed to completely mask the anxiety that permeated her voice, like a thin but persistent thread running through her words.

"I guess we're both running, in our own way," Takashi said, recognizing in her something of his own restlessness, his search for meaning.

Her eyes widened, the star patterns in her irises seeming to pulse.

"What are you running from?" Ai asked, curiosity and a hint of expectation in her voice.

Her unusual eyes with star patterns stared at Takashi intensely, as if trying to understand more than he was saying.

Her hands clutched the brim of her hat, revealing a tension that wasn't visible in her calm demeanor.

"It's more like running towards something," he explained, watching the landscape change from fields to forest, cedars standing like sentinels against the darkening sky.

"No particular destination, just following the tracks, trying to figure out what it really means to live."

He paused, considering his words carefully.

"My parents think I'm in a summer study program, but really, I needed to find my own path."

"It sounds..." Ai searched for the right word, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of her hat, "wonderful. And terrifying."

She leaned forward, curiosity mixing with recognition in her expression.

"Aren't you ever scared? Being out here alone?"

Takashi looked out the window, noticing how the sun lit the inside of the train.

"Yes, sometimes I'm scared," he confessed, remembering the lonely nights in unfamiliar places and moments of doubt.

"But I think facing your fears is essential for growth. Don't you?"

"You know, sometimes I feel like a firefly trying to see its own light," Takashi reflected, memories of summer festivals from both his lives merging in his mind.

"We can never really see ourselves as others see us. But maybe what really matters isn't how we appear, but whether what we share comes from an authentic place inside us."

Ai's expression darkened slightly, like a cloud passing in front of the sun.

"An authentic place?" she repeated quietly, her hands still in her lap.

"I wouldn't know anything about that. The president of my agency says it doesn't matter anyway. He says..." she stopped, then continued with a studied brightness that reminded Takashi of a well-rehearsed performance, "he says what matters is making people happy, even if you have to lie to do it."

The golden halo around her words wavered, neither truth nor lie—as if she was repeating something she had heard so often she had started to believe it.

It was the kind of half-truth Takashi had seen often in his previous life, the kind that could trap people more deeply than any direct lie.

The train followed a curve in the track, afternoon light filtering through the windows. Despite her young age, tiredness showed in the set of her shoulders, in the way she seemed to carry an invisible weight.

"Where will you go next?" the girl suddenly asked, trying to mask her urgency with casual interest.

Her fingers moved restlessly over the fabric of her dress, gripping and releasing it rhythmically.

He shrugged, gesturing towards the passing landscape.

"There's a small coastal town at the next major stop. They have a festival around this time of year. After that..."

He pointed out the window, where the first stars were beginning to appear in the deepening blue of the sky, "wherever the wind takes me."

Ai sat in silence, her fingers playing with the brim of her hat. The sound of distant conversations and the steady rhythm of the train filled the silence between them.

"Could I... could I come with you?"

Takashi turned, surprised by the frankness of her request.

"Just for a short while," the girl quickly added, speaking hurriedly.

"I should be heading to Tokyo, to start training as an idol, but..." Her grip on the hat tightened.

"I don't know if I can do it. How can I make others happy when I don't even know what happiness should be like?"

The train gently decelerated as it approached the station. Through the window, ocean waves glittered under the last glow of the sun, which slowly dipped below the horizon, making way for the moon preparing to light up the night.

"You don't even know me," Takashi said gently.

"I didn't even introduce myself properly." After saying these words, Takashi bowed his head in a slight nod.

"I must start with an apology. When I told you my name was Mizuhara, it wasn't the truth. I am Yamamoto Takashi, I'm thirteen years old, and I'm just a middle school boy who decided to take a break from school. I apologize for my lie."

Ai's expression softened.

"You apologized for lying," she said, wonder in her voice.

"Most people just keep building lies upon lies until they no longer remember what's true."

A genuine smile touched her lips.

"Maybe that's why I want to trust you, Takashi-kun. You're honest even about your dishonesty."

Takashi remained silent for a moment, assessing the situation. "Ai-san, I understand your desire to get away from Tokyo, but I can't simply encourage you to run away from your responsibilities."

Ai lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping slightly. Then, she looked up with a spark of determination. "What if... what if we try it for a few days? It doesn't have to be anything permanent."

Takashi looked at her, curious. "What do you mean exactly?"

"Well," Ai continued, her voice gaining confidence, "we could start with three days, for example. A trial period, let's say. I could explore, reflect, see what it feels like to be... free."

Takashi raised an eyebrow. "And after those three days?"

Ai smiled. "After that, we reevaluate. If we get along well, we could continue. If one of us turns out to be unbearable," she added with a light laugh, "we part ways, no obligations, no pressure."

"Hmm," murmured Takashi, considering the idea. "And your responsibilities in Tokyo?"

"I promise to take them seriously after this... experiment," Ai replied. "In fact, I think it will help me make a more informed decision about my future."

Takashi nodded slowly, a smile forming on his face. "You know, I like this approach. Flexible, honest, no excessive expectations."

Ai's eyes lit up. "So... it's a yes?"

"It's a 'let's try,'" Takashi replied with a smile. "Three days to start, and let's see where it takes us."

The train began to slow down as it approached the station. Takashi stood up, picking up his backpack. "Well then, are you ready for this impromptu adventure?"

Ai stood up, adjusting her hat. "Absolutely ready! And remember, if you get tired of me before the three days are up, just say so!" Then she added with a shy smile, "But I hope that doesn't happen. I have a feeling this will be an unforgettable adventure."

With a hiss of the automatic doors, Takashi and Ai stepped off the train, their footsteps echoing on the station platform.