Night had fallen over Tsukihara City, casting a soft glow across the rooftops beneath the moon's pale light. The usual hum of urban life had quieted under the weight of the cool evening breeze. Everything felt a little calmer, a little slower. Even the wind seemed to move more gently—except, of course, for the crows.
Their loud cries echoed outside, sharp and jarring, cutting through the stillness of the night like noisy alarms. It was the only real disturbance, but for Marin, it was more than enough.
She had been curled up peacefully in bed, her eyes closed and her breathing steady, doing her best to settle in for the night ahead. School would start again in just a few short hours, and she wanted to be well-rested.
But the crows had other plans.
One particularly shrill caw broke through the silence, and Marin's eyes fluttered open. Her face twisted slightly with sleepy irritation.
"Really?" she mumbled, eyebrows lifting in disbelief.
She sat up slowly, her hair tousled and sticking out in every direction. Rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, she glanced toward the window. The crows were sitting along the branches of the tree right next to her apartment, calling out to each other like it was broad daylight.
"Can't you all go to bed too?" she groaned softly.
Still in her pajamas, Marin shuffled over to the window. She opened it just a crack and picked up a small rock she kept on the ledge—mostly for decoration, but apparently now for emergency bird shooing.
With a light toss, she sent the rock clinking against the trunk of the tree. The crows burst into flight all at once, their wings flapping wildly, filling the air with startled cries that faded as they flew off into the night.
Marin smiled to herself. "There. Much better."
She gave a long stretch, raising her arms high above her head and letting out a soft yawn. Turning away from the window, she scurried over to her desk and flicked on the small night lamp. Its warm light filled the room as she reached for her drink and took a refreshing sip.
"All that noise made me thirsty," she said with a little laugh, setting the glass down.
Her eyes wandered to the photo frame nearby—one she always kept close—and a soft smile settled on her lips.
"Now, please, no more crow concerts tonight," she whispered, her voice playful as she looked back toward the window.
As she settled into the chair at her desk, her eyes drifted toward the small photo frame nestled beside her books and pencil case. She reached for it gently, holding it up with both hands.
The photo was a little old—its corners slightly bent from time—but it always brought her comfort. In it, she stood beaming with cotton candy in hand, cheeks puffed out, while her mom knelt behind her, grinning and holding a sparkler. It had been taken during a summer festival years ago, one of those warm nights filled with lanterns, games, and laughter.
Marin smiled softly. "You always said I had more energy than a firework," she whispered with a chuckle, brushing a thumb along the edge of the frame.
She stared at the image for a moment longer, the warmth in her chest balancing out the chill of the night. Then she set the frame back down, carefully tucking it behind her books so it wouldn't slide off the desk.
Standing up again, she stretched once more with a long, soft yawn. "Okay, okay… back to bed before the birds change their mind."
She reached over and flicked off the lamp, casting the room into gentle shadow. The moonlight through the window now felt calmer, and with the crows finally gone, so was the last bit of chaos.
She nestled beneath her blanket, eyes fluttering shut as the moonlight continued to glow gently through her window. Her breathing steadied, her body finally relaxing into rest.
But then… everything stopped.
At first, it was subtle.
The breeze outside faded. The hum of the city vanished. Even the soft rustling of leaves outside her window ceased entirely. Her ceiling fan, spinning lazily just moments ago, had frozen mid-rotation. It was as if the entire world had been paused.
Marin's eyes opened slowly, blinking into the stillness.
"Huh…?" she murmured, sitting up.
There was something off. Not just quiet—unnaturally quiet. Her room looked the same, but it felt different. Thicker. Like the air itself had forgotten how to move.
She turned toward the window. The tree outside was perfectly still, its branches caught mid-sway as if time had pressed a finger to the world and whispered wait.
Marin sat upright, her heart starting to beat faster.
"…Wait a second," she breathed. "Is this… another one?"
It had only happened once before—a moment of silence so complete, so wrong, that it had never left her mind. Back then, she hadn't known what to call it. But now…
A Time Fracture.
That's what they'd started calling it. And she was in one again.
She slowly climbed out of bed, barefoot against the cool floor, as if any sudden movement might shatter the stillness. The light outside had taken on a strange, silvery sharpness—too real and too still.
And then, just above the silence, a voice.
"…Marin…"
She froze.
The voice was soft, delicate—like a breath carried on wind. It was distorted, distant, but achingly familiar.
Her mother's voice.
"...So proud of you…"
Her breath hitched. She turned toward the sound, heart racing. "M-Mom?"
But there was no one there.
The voice was gone.
Just like the stillness.
Suddenly, the world breathed again.
The leaves rustled. The ceiling fan resumed its slow spin. The red light across the street blinked as if it had never stopped. Everything returned—normal, as if it had never paused at all.
But Marin remained still, staring at the spot where she thought she'd heard her mother's voice.
Her voice trembled just slightly. "…That really was another one…"
She hugged herself gently, then turned and slowly crawled back into bed, her mind still spinning even as the world had moved on. She lay there quietly, eyes open to the moonlight.
And though she eventually drifted off, the echo of her mother's voice followed her gently into sleep—just enough to leave her wondering if time had truly fractured… or if her heart had simply remembered too loudly.
Timeo stepped into the café's guest room, the familiar scent of roasted beans greeting him like a quiet morning ritual. Sunlight poured in through the windows, brushing across the wooden floors and softly lit counter.
Behind it, Renjiro was already up and cleaning, a dish towel in hand and his usual focused look in place. He glanced up as Timeo walked in.
"About time," he said, voice even. "I was starting to think you were going to skip breakfast again."
"I'm on schedule," Timeo replied, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Five minutes earlier than yesterday."
"That's not something to be proud of."
Renjiro gave him a brief once-over, his eyes landing on the headphones around Timeo's neck. "You better not be using those during class."
"I won't," Timeo said. "They're just for walking."
"Hmph. Just don't give the teachers another excuse to talk."
Timeo offered a faint nod in return. Then something seemed to click in his mind.
"Oh—right," he said, setting his bag down on one of the nearby chairs. "I nearly forgot. I picked up something for you while I was in Yamabuki."
Renjiro raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued but guarded. "For me?"
Timeo unzipped his bag and pulled out a sleek, black package with gold script written across the front. He held it up. "Uji Kōhīmame. You mentioned it once. Figured you'd want to try it."
Renjiro took the bag from him with quiet care, examining it for a moment. "This brand's hard to come by outside of Yamabuki," he said, the faintest note of approval in his voice. "Didn't think you were paying attention."
"I do, sometimes," Timeo replied.
Renjiro nodded once, setting the package down behind the counter. "Good timing. I was running low on stock."
"I can tell," Timeo said with a hint of a smirk. "The smell was a little off yesterday."
Renjiro narrowed his eyes slightly but didn't deny it. "You'll get a cup after school. But only if you don't slack off today."
"I'll survive the day, no promises about the enthusiasm."
"That's usually the best I can expect from you."
Timeo slung his bag back over his shoulder.
"Don't forget to turn the sign on your way out," Renjiro added.
"Got it."
And with that, Timeo made his way toward the door, the sound of his steps fading into the calm rhythm of the morning café.
As Timeo reached for the door, Renjiro's voice called out behind him.
"Oh. One more thing."
Timeo paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
Renjiro leaned slightly against the counter, crossing his arms. "Think you can stick around after school today? I want to start showing you a few things. Real work. Might as well make yourself useful around here."
Timeo turned fully, raising a brow. "You're finally handing over café secrets?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Renjiro replied with a faint smirk. "Just the basics—cleaning, grinding, prep. If you can handle that without breaking something, we'll go from there."
Timeo gave a small nod. "Alright. I'll be back after school."
Renjiro reached into the cash drawer beneath the counter and pulled out a folded bill, holding it out to him. "And while you're at it, stop by the bookshop in Yamabuki. Ask for The Modern Barista's Guide. Tell them it's for Renjiro—they'll know."
Timeo stepped forward and took the bill without argument. "You sure you want me picking out books for you?"
"Just don't get distracted and come back with… with one of those… comic books the kids read."
Timeo blinked. "You mean manga?"
Renjiro gestured vaguely. "Yes. That. The ones with all the dramatic stares and spiky hair. No weird space wizards or girls yelling about destiny."
Timeo let out a small snort. "Got it. No manga. Just the barista bible."
"Exactly."
He tucked the money into his pocket, adjusting his bag again. "I'll head out right after class."
"Good. And don't be late."
"I'm never late," Timeo said calmly as he opened the door.
"You're just mysteriously not on time..." Renjiro muttered behind him.
Timeo didn't reply—only gave a slight wave as he stepped out into the morning sun, already folding new plans into the shape of his day.
To be continued...