The scene before Yuki unfolded like a curtain pulled back against his will.
A high school courtyard. The familiar cracked tiles of the walkway, the rust-stained railings, the worn benches where he once sat with a textbook open but his mind elsewhere. The air smelled of asphalt and early spring rain, the faint scent of wet uniforms and blooming sakura mixing in the wind.
And at the center of it stood her—Aoi.
The girl with the black ponytail, her schoolbag hanging loose at her side, trembling as she faced three older boys in faded jackets. Their mocking sneers hadn't changed from how he remembered them—delinquents who ruled the back gate with fists and cruelty. One of them kicked at her bag, sending its contents spilling across the floor—notes, pencils, a paperback novel she always carried.
"Pathetic," the tallest boy spat, shoving her shoulder. "Always acting high and mighty with your grades. Maybe if you begged us properly, we'd let you go."
The girl bit her lip, defiant even as her hands shook while picking up her scattered things.
Yuki's chest tightened. I know this… I've seen this before. I lived this before.
His instinct screamed at him to rush forward, to grab the delinquents by the collar and tear them off her. His legs moved—or rather, they tried to. His foot lifted, but his body refused to advance. His breath caught, frustration mounting as if invisible chains bound him in place.
No matter how hard he strained, he couldn't reach her.
His lips curled into a snarl, anger rising like a storm. "Damn it! Why—"
"Stop."
The voice was sudden, sharp, brushing against his ear like cold steel.
"What are you doing? Getting blinded by emotions when you know it's not real? Wanting to erupt because things aren't going your way?" The voice circled him, multiplying, resonating in every shadow, every echo of the courtyard. "These are the signs of weakness."
Yuki froze, his teeth clenched.
"You need to be collected at all times," the voice continued, calm yet carrying weight like a commandment. "Know what you're doing no matter what. Seal away your useless emotions when things are getting serious. And above all—become stronger. Strong enough to bend the scene itself, to bend fate itself, until things do go your way."
The air thickened, the voice swelling until it thundered from every direction.
Then silence.
A crow's caw split the stillness. Black wings brushed the air, and a sleek, dark bird alighted on Yuki's right shoulder. He didn't need to ask. He already knew.
"…Faunus."
The crow's glossy feathers shimmered faintly in the dreamlight. Its eyes, sharp and calculating, locked with his.
"Look again," Faunus whispered, voice now low and clear beside his ear. "Tell me what you see. Look deeper."
Yuki's gaze snapped back to the courtyard. The girl was still kneeling, clutching her books, the delinquents circling like wolves. At first glance, it was perfect—too perfect. Their movements, their words, their cruelty—all as he remembered. But as he focused, the seams began to appear.
The smiles were too uniform, the movements too mechanical. Their eyes glimmered not with true malice but with something hollow, empty.
He narrowed his gaze. A flaw. A concealment. A programmed loop trying to mimic reality.
"They're not… truly integrated with the real people," Yuki muttered, his voice steady. "They're fake. Lifeless. The flaw is in the programming instilled in them—it breaks when you look too closely."
The crow on his shoulder gave a quiet, approving sound.
"A marvelous test," Yuki admitted, turning slightly toward Faunus. "But this can't be your limit. It's too weak."
"Of course it isn't," Faunus replied. "My strength is restricted. You feel it, don't you? The suppression weighing down your soul. You must feel weak."
Yuki blinked. The pressure—yes, he had felt it from the start. A constant, suffocating force pressing on his chest, on his thoughts, as if the very fabric of the world wanted to keep him small. He had ignored it, endured it. But to hear Faunus call it weak—
His heart pounded. What had this crow, this being, faced before?
"Yes," Yuki said at last, hiding his surprise behind his usual composure. "I can feel the suppression. Is it because I came from another world? Or is it because my soul defied the law by transmigrating instead of reincarnating?"
The girl and the bullies froze mid-motion, like puppets suspended. The world itself seemed to hush. Yuki turned to look at Faunus—only to find the crow strangely still, eyes narrowed, feathers ruffled by an unseen wind.
For just a moment, Faunus looked… serious. No mocking edge, no hidden mirth. Only solemn silence.
Yuki didn't dare interrupt. He waited. Endured.
Inside the crow's mind, unspoken thoughts flickered. Why is he this sharp? If not for his wits, I'd have abandoned him like the rest. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like… if our roles were reversed. To walk in his shoes. To bear his fate.
"Are you alright, Faunus?" Yuki finally asked, voice flat, hiding the flicker of curiosity. "You still haven't answered my question."
Faunus tilted his head, then shook it slowly. "It's not time for you to know. Some truths are better kept sealed—not to deceive you, but to protect you. When the time is right, you'll understand. Until then, focus on becoming stronger."
Yuki studied him, unblinking. The silence stretched for a full minute before he exhaled. "Fine. I'll believe you—for now."
Then, for the first time, he spoke the name aloud without hesitation.
"Faunus."
The crow shifted slightly on his shoulder.
"Tell me exactly who you are. What this place is. And what you want from me."
The forest-dark eyes of the crow glinted, unreadable. Then Faunus leaned close, his beak almost brushing Yuki's ear, and spoke a single challenge:
"Defeat your heart demon… and I'll tell you. Deal, or not?"
Yuki's breath caught, but then his lips curled into a determined smirk.
"Deal."
And with that word, the frozen scene began to fracture, the girl, the bullies, the courtyard—all shattering like glass around him. Only the crow remained, perched on his shoulder, as the world dissolved into the next trial.