Altair's steps echoed quietly as he made his way deeper through the alleys.
His mind kept drifting back to the tracksuit kid. Subaru. Japanese name, modern clothes still fresh in his memory. Someone else from the same world.
The smart move was to just leave it alone. Subaru had his problems, Altair had his. They didn't need to mix. Still, the thought stuck like a thorn. Meeting someone else like him—was that just coincidence? Or a sign of something bigger?
He clicked his tongue and shook it off. It didn't matter.
Another turn, and this alley would connect to the main street. He was already picturing the open road when—
Steel whistled through the shadows.
Reflex jerked his body sideways, blade flashing free. The clash was deafening in the narrow passage, sparks spraying against the walls.
At that same moment, a stray arrow sliced past, close enough to clip his ear before embedding into the wall behind him. He hadn't even seen it fired. His eyes widened for a second—'if that had landed…'
But the thought died as the next strike came.
"The hell—?!" Altair hissed. His arms trembled against the force, but the muscle memory of his body kept him upright. His hands, though, were slick with panic.
The attacker stepped from the shadows and then lunged.
Altair's blade rose, instinct sharper than thought, and the strike slid just past his ribs. He countered on reflex, his form was clean. He almost scared himself with how natural it felt.
But his chest was heaving, throat dry, mind racing. 'I don't know what I'm doing—I can't do this—I can't—'
Flame burst from the man's hand. Altair slashed through it, his sword snuffing the fire out like it never existed. His eyes widened. That was a surprise, a welcomed one though.
He didn't have time to finish the thought. A blast of wind roared next, sharp as knives, slamming him off balance. He staggered, coat whipping, teeth gritted as the man closed the distance again.
Steel tore across his side—shallow, but hot pain flared, stealing his breath. His grip faltered.
Another strike came. He blocked, barely. His arms shook under the weight. He wanted to run, scream, anything, but his body was locked in place.
Then ice exploded at his feet, freezing him still. His eyes darted down, too slow.
The sword slid clean into his chest.
"—Gah!" His breath shattered. The pain was blinding, white-hot, ripping through every nerve. His knees buckled, vision swimming.
'It hurts—it hurts it hurts it hurts—'
Blood filled his throat. He gagged, coughed, the taste thick and metallic. His hands scrambled for anything—his sword, the wall, the ground—but they slipped uselessly.
'Why… why me…? What did I even…?'
His mind was a storm. Terror, confusion, desperation. He wanted it to stop. He wanted someone—anyone—to be there, to pull him back, to tell him it wasn't over.
But no one came.
The world narrowed, sounds muffling, light fading. The man pulled his blade free and was already gone, leaving Altair to crumple onto the cold stone.
His last thought, heavy and broken, wasn't about revenge or answers.
'I just… don't want to die…'
Darkness swallowed him whole.
.
.
When his vision cleared, the first thing Altair saw was Subaru.
The same posture, the same plastic bag swaying gently at his side, the same faintly awkward smile left over from their short exchange.
Altair's own lips twitched, but no sound came out. His brain lagged behind what his eyes were telling him.
He was back.
Not in the dirt, choking on his blood. Not with his body splitting in half from inside. Not staring at that blank mask of a killer as the world bled out around him.
Here. With Subaru. Exactly where he had been minutes ago.
"…What the fuck." The words slipped out under his breath, but Subaru didn't seem to notice.
His hand went to his chest on instinct. No wound. No scar. No pain but the ghost of it, burned into his nerves.
Altair froze, a deep chill crawling over his skin.
This wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. He remembered it too vividly—the sound of his ribs cracking, the heat of the blade sliding in, the terror of his mind clawing for escape. Dreams faded when you woke. This was stamped into him.
So why was he standing here, like nothing had happened?
Slowly, his thoughts began to shape into something tangible. It reset. Time… reset.
The idea hit like a hammer. Not a hallucination, not a second chance by miracle—a loop. Like restarting from a checkpoint.
"…No way." His throat felt dry.
But the more he turned it over, the less impossible it sounded. The world around him hadn't changed. Subaru hadn't changed. Only he had carried the memory forward.
Which probably meant… dying was the trigger.
Altair's hands clenched, nails biting into his palms.
It wasn't just that he'd been killed. The killer chose him. He'd been stalked through the alley, ambushed the second he tried to leave. That wasn't random.
'Why me?'
His gut twisted. He had no answer. Maybe it was just bad luck—or maybe someone wanted him gone before he even had a chance to find footing in this world.
Whatever the reason, walking the same route again would be suicide.
He swallowed, forcing his breath to steady. Survive first, panic later.
His gaze slid back to Subaru.
Subaru's brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face. "…Uh, you good? You're looking at me like I grew a second head."
Altair blinked, caught off guard. A crack in his mask—too obvious. He smoothed it over, his voice slipping back into casual tones. "…Yeah. Just spaced out for a second. Don't worry about it." He gave a quick, almost dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyways, I should get going."
Without waiting for Subaru's reply, Altair turned on his heel. This time he didn't take the long, winding path that had cornered him before. Instead, he cut toward the shorter way out—straight to the streets. His pace was steady, measured, the picture of someone unconcerned. Not hurried, not nervous. If Subaru was watching, if anyone else was watching—he wouldn't look like a man running from death.
But the truth thrummed under his skin. As he turned the corner and put Subaru behind him, a strange sensation crawled along his spine. From the nape of his neck down to his back, it tingled like a draft of cold air slipping through invisible cracks. A prickle, sharp enough to raise goosebumps.
He didn't know what it meant. He didn't have time to.
Because right now, it was the least of his concerns.
.
.
After Altair disappeared down the alley, Subaru jogged out a few moments later, plastic bag swinging at his side. He turned left onto the street, opposite the direction Altair had gone, but something made him glance back.
Nothing. The street was empty.
"Damn, he sure went fast, didn't he?" Subaru muttered, scratching his head. The corner ahead was close enough that if Altair had been walking at a normal pace, Subaru should've at least caught a glimpse of him turning. But he was just… gone.
He frowned. "Weird. He looked kinda panicked, too. Did he forget something important or what?" For a second Subaru mulled it over, but then he shook his head. "Nah, no time for that. Focus, Subaru. You've got your own stuff to deal with."
And with that, he hurried off, weaving through the crowded streets.
.
.
The dim loot house smelled of alcohol and dust, lit only by the weak glow of lantern light. Behind the counter sat the giant who had nearly crushed Subaru earlier—the old man who had introduced himself as Rom, though he'd said Subaru could just call him "Old Man Rom."
Their meeting hadn't started well. One wrong move and Subaru's bones would have been splintered beneath those massive hands. But, somehow, the impossible had happened. Subaru's desperate peace offering—a simple snack from his world—had saved him. The moment Rom tasted it, the man's anger melted into wonder, and Subaru had been set down safely as though nothing had happened.
Now, the two sat across from one another at the counter, the hulking old man filling a filthy glass with alcohol, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"People who come here are after one of two things," Rom said, voice rumbling like stone. "They're either bringing me stolen goods… or they're looking to buy them."
"That's part of it," Subaru replied carefully, his words faltering at the end. He hesitated, then took a breath and asked the question that had been clawing at him. "This might sound insane but… Old man, have you died recently?"
The words he kept to himself—with your throat and arm cut open—echoed silently in his mind.
For a brief moment Rom's gray eyes widened, then the man broke into booming laughter. "Gahahaha! What kind of question is that? True, I'm an old man at death's door, but sorry to disappoint you—I haven't kicked the bucket yet."
Rom's laugh was hearty, his face flushed with blood and drink. Yet to Subaru, the sound carried a cruel weight. He had seen this very man's corpse sprawled out in this same room, neck torn, arm ripped apart. That gruesome image was still burned into his eyes. But here Rom sat, alive.
Subaru felt his own reality beginning to wobble. 'If Rom's alive… then what about me?' He remembered the fatal pain in his own gut, the searing loss of life—and yet here he was too, alive, unmarked.
'Was it all a dream? A hallucination?'
His thoughts tangled like thread until Rom's gruff voice cut through. "Drink."
He shoved the glass toward Subaru.
"Sorry, not in the mood," Subaru muttered, waving it off.
"You stupid?" Rom snorted. "Drinking and acting tough—that's what being young's all about. Burn it down your throat, cough it back up, and whatever's weighing on you'll go with it."
He slid the glass forward again. Subaru tried resisting, but Rom's stubbornness was like a wall. Finally, he gave in.
"…Ah, screw it!"
He tipped the glass back. Fire roared down his throat. The burn exploded in his chest and stomach, forcing him to slam the glass down, hacking and choking.
"Ghagh! Hot! Horrible! This sucks!"
Rom roared with laughter, belching after taking a swig straight from his own bottle. "If you can't get the taste of alcohol, you're missin' half the fun of life!"
Subaru coughed until his lungs were raw. Then, wiping his mouth, he straightened and fixed his eyes on the interior of the shop. "Old man… let's get to why I'm really here."
"I'm looking for an insignia," Subaru said plainly. "A crest with a jewel in it. I need it."
Rom's hand paused mid-pour. "…Nothing like that's here."
"Are you sure? Maybe you're getting forgetful?" Subaru pressed.
But Rom only shook his head. "My memory's sharp as long as there's booze in me. If I can't recall it, it's not here."
Just as despair threatened to crush Subaru, Rom added with a thoughtful rumble, "Though… I heard there's a big haul coming in today. Could be what you're after."
Subaru's heart leapt. "The one bringing it—would it be a girl named Felt?"
Rom raised a brow. "So you even know the thief."
Hope surged through Subaru. Felt existed. If she existed, then the girl who'd lost the insignia—she existed too. Satella. His silver-haired heroine.
Trying not to grin like an idiot, he declared, "Then that's it. I'll trade for it once she brings it."
Rom frowned. "Trade? Boy, you don't look like you've got a coin to your name."
"Correct!" Subaru said with theatrical flourish. "But money isn't the only way to do business. Barter works just fine."
Rom's silence urged him on. With a grin, Subaru pulled from his pocket the one thing he had—his white cell phone.
Rom leaned forward, squinting. "What's this?"
"This, old man, is a magical device that can freeze moments in time. I call it… a cell phone!"
Before Rom could scoff, Subaru snapped a photo. The shutter flashed, startling the giant so badly he staggered back behind the counter. Subaru stifled a laugh and turned the screen around.
Rom's eyes bulged. Staring back at him from the glowing surface was his own face.
"That's… me?" he muttered.
"Exactly," Subaru said smugly. He took another picture, flashing a peace sign, and showed Rom the result. "See? A moment from just seconds ago, frozen forever. Pretty handy, huh?"
Rom scratched his jaw, deeply intrigued. "I've never seen anything like it… But I've heard rumors. A device they call a 'Meteor.' Supposed to let even those without open gates use magic. Rare beyond belief. I've never handled one till now."
He set the phone gently on the counter, his expression torn between awe and calculation. "Boy… this meteor of yours is worth more than anything I've ever sold. More than that insignia, ten times over. If you trade it away, you're sustaining a massive loss. Better to sell it outright and live easy."
The offer was tempting. Subaru had nothing in this world—no strength, no magic, not even literacy. Selling the phone would mean food, shelter, safety. A future.
But he shook his head. "Nah. I'll trade it for the insignia."
Rom's eyes narrowed. "Why go so far? Money is life here. Are you telling me that crest has more value than this?"
Subaru smirked. "Honestly? I've never even seen the insignia. For all I know, it's worthless compared to this phone. But—this isn't a loss for me."
Rom blinked at him.
"I repay my debts," Subaru said firmly. "That insignia belongs to a silver-haired girl who saved my life. It's precious to her. That's enough for me. No matter how much money I lose, I have to get it back."
Rom was silent for a long time, his massive frame looming in the gloom. Then, with a gruff snort, he muttered, "…You really are an idiot."