Time did not move forward. It only pretended to.
We told ourselves that tomorrow would be different, that yesterday could not be changed.
But in the instant between life and death, I saw it—the world could still turn backwards.
If that was a miracle, then it was one meant only for me.
And if it was a curse, then I suppose I had already been chosen.
It was a mundane, cold day in December. Birds perched on bare branches, their songs too fragile to soften the bite of winter. The air itself carried that peculiar sharpness only winter mornings could hold. It really couldn't get any bette—
BZZZT! BZZZT! BZZZT! Crash!
The alarm clock slammed against the wall and tumbled onto the floor.
Haruka sat up with a groan, her hair a tangled mess. For a moment, the room was silent—until the clock buzzed again, stubbornly alive.
"I AM UP, YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER!" she shouted, stumbling out of bed. She silenced the alarm at last and dragged herself toward the bathroom.
A splash of cold water chased away her drowsiness. Then came the long ritual of preparation—forty minutes, as always. Kisaragi Haruka, the model student. A perfect balance between flawless grades and flawless looks. At Koryu Academy, she was easily the most confessed-to girl in school, but not once had she said yes.
Haruka had no interest in fleeting teenage romance. Love was a distraction, a game for people who feared loneliness. She had bigger ambitions, dreams she intended to chase with her whole heart. That was what she called the "future."
Still… the future was not always a straight road. Sometimes you had to leap across a bridge before you could walk again.
"Why won't you cooperate, stupid hair!" she muttered, wrestling with her curls. The daily battle raged, until at last she emerged from the bathroom victorious, her wavy hair tamed and her uniform perfectly in place. The white jacket contrasted neatly with her black hair, a look she had worn for two years without complaint. If she had any wish, it was for the school skirts to be longer—too many boys had been caught staring at legs that were not theirs to ogle.
The walk to school was fifteen minutes, a path she usually took alone. But today, she spotted a classmate sitting on a park bench. Before she could decide whether to greet her, the girl noticed her first.
"Good morning, Haruka-san. Are you planning on joining a club today?"
"Aoyama-san? Good morning. No, not really. Why do you ask?"
"Well, only students with morning practice usually arrive this early," Aoyama replied in her gentle voice.
Haruka tilted her head. "What time is it, exactly?"
"Six forty-two."
"…I see. Thank you, Aoyama-san."
"Are you leaving already?"
"Yes. I promised to meet someone at seven. See you at school."
"See you, Haruka-san."
Haruka continued toward Koryu Academy. Behind her, Aoyama turned her gaze back to the snow-frosted trees.
Six forty-two, huh? So I'm an hour early… I must have set the alarm wrong last night. That explains why I felt half-dead this morning. Well, not a mistake I'll repeat.
The academy courtyard was alive with activity. Students practiced for their clubs despite the biting cold, their breath steaming in the air. Haruka watched them briefly before silently thanking fate she belonged to the "sleeping until school" club.
Inside, she changed into her indoor shoes and climbed the stairs to Class 2-A. The first-floor chatter of her underclassmen faded as she reached her floor—until her name was called.
"Kisaragi?"
She turned. "Yes? What is it, Tohsaka-kun?"
Reiji Tohsaka stood behind her, his expression unreadable.
"I'm just surprised to see you this early. You're not usually a morning person."
"Well, today I decided to change it up," she answered with her usual warm smile.
"I see. For a second I thought you were joining a club."
"Oh? Is the athletics club desperate for a new female member? Or maybe you just want to boost the male count?" she teased, lips curling into a grin.
Reiji sighed. "You've got it wrong, Kisaragi. I wasn't talking about any specific club. And I'm not the type to use a classmate's body for recruitment numbers."
"Relax, it was just a joke," Haruka replied lightly. "Besides, you know me. I'd never join one anyway."
"See you in class, Kisaragi."
As he brushed past her, Haruka's eyes caught on something unusual: a faint red glow on the back of his hand. Strange… but not her business. She let it pass.
The bell rang, pulling them both back to the day ahead.
Classes slipped by without incident. Soon, Haruka found herself among the sea of students walking home, the December wind cutting like knives through her jacket.
Then it happened.
A truck barreled down the narrow lane ahead—too fast, far too close. The traffic light was red, but the driver ignored it, plowing forward.
That was it. For Haruka. For the strangers beside her. For anyone in its path.
Until—
Haruka opened her eyes.
She stood on the same street, unharmed. The world froze around her. She couldn't move. She could only watch—watch as the accident unfolded again. This time, she wasn't the victim. She was the spectator.
Her body trembled as she finally walked home. The images replayed in her mind. The truck. The screams. The impossible rewind.
She had seen it before it happened.
At home, while changing, she noticed something strange. In the mirror, her eyes—normally crystal blue—shimmered violet, with flecks of crimson dancing in the corners. They flickered with visions: tonight's dinner, a red plate shattering, and—blood. So much blood, pouring into a golden chalice.
Nausea clawed at her throat. She staggered to her bed, clutching her head. And then she saw them.
On her hand, three glowing crimson marks had appeared.
Her breath caught.
Reiji Tohsaka's hand.
The same glow.
And she understood, without knowing why.
This was the beginning.
Her breath came uneven, shallow. I pressed my hands against the marks, but the glow only pulsed stronger, like a second heartbeat that wasn't mine. My reflection in the mirror wavered—violet eyes, burning faintly in the dark. They didn't belong to me, not anymore.
"Why… me?"
The question slipped out in a whisper I couldn't take back. No one answered. Only silence, only the dull ache of inevitability.
I stumbled back onto the bed, the world spinning, my mind drowning in visions of blood and a golden cup. My eyelids grew heavier with every breath, until the violet faded into black.
And in that darkness, only one name clung to me—
Tohsaka Reiji.