Chapter 16: Discontinuity

I woke up before my alarm as always.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I stayed very still, staring at the pale ceiling above Misaki’s bed canopy, listening to the soft rhythm of the dorm around me—the distant hum of the city outside, the muted footsteps in the hallway, the quiet rustle of fabric as Misaki shifted in her sleep across the room.

Morning.

The word felt strange and comforting at the same time.

There had been a time when waking up meant taking inventory immediately. Where am I? What hurts? What’s missing? What do I need to hide?

Now, I could lie there for a few extra seconds and just… exist.

I let out a slow breath and sat up, careful not to make noise. Misaki was still asleep, one arm flung dramatically over the edge of her bed, hair spilling like liquid gold over the pillow. She looked softer like this—unguarded in a way she never allowed herself to be when awake.

I padded quietly to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and watched myself in the mirror.

I still wasn’t used to seeing her.

Not the scars—those I knew. Not the dark circles—those came and went. It was the calm that surprised me. The way my shoulders didn’t automatically tense. The way my eyes didn’t dart away from my own reflection.

I brushed my teeth, tied my hair back, and changed into my uniform with movements that felt practiced, almost routine.

Normal.

The word settled in my chest again, warmer this time.

By the time I stepped back into the room, Misaki was awake, sitting up and scrolling through her phone with one perfectly manicured finger.

“You’re up early,” she said without looking up.

“So are you,” I replied.

She smiled faintly. “Force of habit.”

We didn’t talk much as we got ready. That, too, had become normal. Silence with Misaki wasn’t empty—it was curated, intentional. Comfortable in a way I hadn’t expected when I first met her.

We left the dorm together, the morning air cool and clean against my skin. Tokiwadai’s campus looked almost unreal at this hour, sunlight spilling over pristine paths and trimmed hedges like it had been staged just for us.

As soon as we stepped into view, I felt it.

The looks.

They were subtle—glances that lingered a second too long, conversations that dipped in volume as we passed, the soft whisper of my name carried just enough to be unmistakable.

“…that’s her, right?”
“…with Shokuhou-sama again…”
“…they’re always together now…”

I kept my gaze forward, posture steady. I’d learned quickly that reacting only fed it.

Misaki noticed, of course. She always did.

She adjusted her pace slightly so our steps matched, close enough that her presence anchored me. Not possessive. Not defensive.

Just… there.

If she meant it as reassurance, it worked.

Classes passed quietly.

We skipped the noise between them—hallways full of bodies and voices, desks scraping, chairs shifting, teachers calling for attention. I let it blur together, keeping the pieces that mattered.

The feel of a pen in my hand.

The scratch of paper.

The simple, grounding act of learning.

I hadn’t expected to like it this much.

Studying used to feel pointless—information stacked on top of survival, numbers and formulas that didn’t keep you safe or fed or hidden. But here, it was different. Here, learning felt like building something instead of just enduring.

I took notes carefully, asked questions when I didn’t understand, stayed after class once to clarify a concept instead of pretending I already knew it.

The teacher seemed surprised.

I didn’t mind.

By lunchtime, I realized I was smiling without meaning to.

That realization startled me more than it should have.

After the last class of the day, the air outside felt heavier, the city louder as students spilled out in clusters. Misaki walked beside me as usual, her presence a constant point in the shifting crowd.

“I’m going to walk for a bit,” I said after a moment.

She glanced at me. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

She studied me—not suspicious, not disapproving. Just assessing.

“…Training?” she asked.

I nodded. “It helps. Clears my head.”

A pause.

“Stay in well-lit areas,” she said lightly. “And text me if you’re delayed.”

“I will.”

She smiled. “Good.”

We parted without ceremony. I watched her disappear into a waiting car before turning the other way, heading toward the streets that sprawled beyond the polished edges of Tokiwadai.

The city changed as I walked.

Less manicured. More real.

Neon signs flickered to life, vending machines hummed, traffic noise layered itself into a constant background pulse. I let it all wash over me, breathing in time with my steps.

I focused inward, gently guiding my power the way I’d been practicing—slow, controlled, deliberate. Not pushing. Not hiding.

Just feeling it.

The streets narrowed, buildings crowding closer. I didn’t notice the shift at first—only realized something was wrong when the ambient noise dipped, voices cutting off abruptly behind me.

Footsteps echoed.

Not mine.

I stopped.

They didn’t.

“Hey.”

The voice came from behind, lazy and sharp at the same time.

I turned.

Three of them. Older than students. Jackets worn, expressions bored in the way of people looking for something to do.

“You lost?” one asked.

My heart rate ticked up, but I kept my face neutral. “No.”

“That so?” Another stepped closer. “’Cause this ain’t exactly a sightseeing route.”

I took a step back.

They matched it.

I could feel my power stirring instinctively, responding to the spike of adrenaline. I clenched my hands at my sides, grounding myself the way I’d practiced.

Don’t panic.

“Just passing through,” I said. “I’ll go another way.”

I turned.

A hand caught my wrist.

His grip was rough—too tight, too familiar. The sensation hit me like a trigger, sharp and immediate, and suddenly I wasn’t here anymore. The memory of a scientist dragging me across a cold floor flared so vividly it stole the air from my lungs. Fear spiked hard and fast, slamming into me before I could brace for it.

His AIM field brushed against mine.

It wasn’t particularly strong, but it was wrong. Sloppy. Unrefined. The kind of output that came from poor control rather than raw power, and it made my stomach churn almost instantly. Nausea rolled through me as my senses tried to process it.

From what I’d felt earlier, his ability wasn’t something I recognized. Not exactly. But even without knowing what it was, I could tell he had potential—if he trained seriously, he could probably reach Level 3 without too much trouble.

Right now, though?

Level 2 at best.

And worse than that—his AIM field resonated with things I didn’t want to see.

Images bled into my awareness without permission. A man yelling. A fist striking too hard. A child curled in on himself. Being thrown out into the street like garbage.

It was too much.

My knees buckled before I realized what was happening. My vision swam, edges blurring as my consciousness threatened to slip away entirely. I barely stayed upright, clinging to awareness by instinct alone.

And then I heard a voice.

“Hey! What are you doing with my girl?”

The words barely registered.

My girl?

Was that meant for me?

I could hardly keep my eyes open. All I managed to see was the silhouette of someone stepping into view—messy hair, spiking out in every direction.

Then he was closer.

A hand touched the back of my head as I tipped forward, catching me before I could fall.

And suddenly—

Everything went quiet.

The AIM fields vanished.

Not faded. Not muted. Gone.

My head still ached, a dull throb behind my eyes, but the pressure was gone. The nausea receded. My thoughts snapped back into focus so abruptly it almost hurt.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

I looked up at him.

And froze.

I knew that face.

Not just from pictures, or stories, or fragmented memories—but him. Exactly as I’d imagined. Exactly as he was supposed to be.

Kamijou Touma.

The realization hit me so hard I forgot to respond. I must have been staring longer than normal, because he waved a hand in front of my face.

“Heeey. You there?” he said. “Should I take you to a hospital?!”

“No—no, I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing my voice to work again. “You really saved me—th—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of the thugs snapped, cutting me off.

“Get lost, kid,” another added, cracking his knuckles. “We’ve got business with the girl.”

Touma let go of me carefully and straightened, placing himself between me and them without hesitation. His stance shifted—balanced, ready. Not flashy, but solid.

The moment his hand left my head, my AIM perception flooded back in.

I assessed them automatically.

The one who grabbed me earlier was the strongest—Level 2, maybe brushing the ceiling of it. The second had less output, also Level 2 but clearly weaker. An Electromaster. The third barely registered—upper Level 1 at most.

The first one was the leader.

They tensed, clearly preparing to rush him.

Touma could probably handle them.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get hurt.

And I wasn’t letting that happen.

I pushed myself fully upright, power surging before I could second-guess it. I reached for the flashiest ability I remembered from the labs—one designed to intimidate more than destroy.

Pyromancy.

At most, Level 3.

But it would be enough.

Flames bloomed in my palms, each fireball growing to the size of a basketball. Heat licked up my arms, bright and aggressive, casting sharp shadows across the alley walls.

I raised my voice.

“What business did you say you had?” I demanded.

The sound that came out of me startled even me.

It wasn’t a voice I chose. It was the one that came out when I stopped pretending I was safe.

Like my old self.

The thugs froze.

Their eyes went wide, pupils blown as they took in the flames—and then the uniform beneath them.

“Shit—she’s Tokiwadai,” one of them swore. “I’m out.”

He bolted.

The other two didn’t hesitate to follow.

It took less than two seconds for the alley to empty.

The flames vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Touma scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly.

“Uh… yeah,” he said. “Guess you didn’t really need my help after all… haha…”

“No,” I said immediately. “I really appreciate it. You saved me.”

He gave me a sideways look. “Didn’t look like it to me, but sure.”

He lingered for a second, like he expected me to say something else.

I couldn’t.

I was too busy staring.

It was him. In the flesh. No dramatic entrance. No background music. Just Kamijou Touma, standing in an alley like this was a normal Tuesday.

Eventually, he shrugged.

“Well, if you’re okay, I’ll head out,” he said. “Good night.”

“Ah—” slipped out of me, useless and breathless.

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Either way, he turned and walked off, disappearing into the city like nothing had happened.

I stood there for several minutes after he left, completely flabbergasted.

When I finally moved, my feet carried me back toward the dorms on autopilot. My thoughts spiraled, tangled and loud.

I’d met my inspiration.

Not the legend. Not the story.

Him.

By the time I opened the door to my room, my head was still buzzing.

Misaki was sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Cleared your mind?” she asked without looking up.

“Huh?”

“Your walk,” she said. “Did it help?”

“Ah… yeah. Yeah, it did.”

She glanced at me, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Didn’t look like it. Something happen?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Just… met someone.”

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Ohooo? A boy?”

“Well—”

“OHHH. So it was,” she said, dropping her phone and grabbing my arm. “Tell me everything.”

“Please,” I groaned. “Just let me sleep.”

“Tch. You’re no fun,” she said, smirking. “But you’re definitely not escaping tomorrow.”

“…Fine,” I muttered.

Not telling.

I skipped the bath and crawled straight into bed. I could shower in the morning.

As my thoughts drifted back to Touma, something clicked.

I didn’t remember the walk back.

No AIM noise. No overload. No strain.

Everything had felt… normal.

The realization settled slowly.

Was my mind adapting to the strain of my power?

Or—

Was it because Kamijou Touma had touched my head with his right hand?

The thought lingered as exhaustion finally claimed me.

Lost in my own world, I drifted into sleep.