He woke in the wrong world.
No tatami under his hands. No armor on his chest. No blood in his mouth.
Just denim.
Jeans, damp at the knee where he must've crouched too close to the window.
And rain.
Soft, endless, tapping at the pane like it was trying to whisper something he'd forgotten.
Kazuki blinked.
He was in Daigo's apartment. The old one—the cramped second-story place above the hardware store in Suginami. No AC. One fan that only worked on the lowest setting. The smell of cup noodles and floor wax always stuck in the corners of the air.
It was real.
Too real.
The vinyl floor creaked under his socks as he moved.
The old sofa still had that stupid dent in the middle. His old duffel bag was there by the wall—split at the zipper like always, tape half-peeled.
The fan hummed.
The ramen steam rose in slow spirals from a plastic bowl on the table.
And Daigo?
He was sitting cross-legged with chopsticks dangling from his mouth, staring at a muted anime on the TV like it was teaching him algebra.
"Morning, princess," Daigo mumbled, not looking away. "You sleep through the typhoon or what?"
Kazuki opened his mouth—but nothing came out.
He just stood there.
Alive.
Unscarred.
Twenty-three again.
Daigo turned finally, saw his face, and raised an eyebrow. "You get dumped or something?"
Kazuki sat down hard on the edge of the couch, like his legs forgot how to work. He stared at the bowl of noodles.
The steam looked wrong.
It curled too slow.
Daigo flicked him on the forehead.
"Ow."
"Okay, so you're not a ghost. Good. Eat."
Kazuki touched the rim of the bowl. Warm.
Real.
But part of him was already counting seconds. He didn't know why.
Maybe the dream was waiting to break.
A knock at the door.
Daigo yelled, "It's open!"
It wasn't.
Still, the door creaked open anyway, like it had been unlocked all along.
Reina stepped in with two cans of iced coffee and a wet umbrella under one arm.
She looked younger. Her hair shorter than he remembered. Hoodie too big for her frame.
She didn't say anything right away—just looked at him with this small, crooked smile. The one she always gave him when he looked lost.
"I figured I'd find you here," she said.
Kazuki felt something twist in his chest.
Reina hadn't smiled like that in years.
Hadn't smiled at all.
Not after the gym split. Not after the injury. Not after he stopped answering her calls.
"You forget how to talk, or are you just embarrassed?" she teased, nudging his knee with hers.
Daigo snorted. "He's broken today. Might need a factory reset."
Kazuki laughed.
Actually laughed.
It didn't last long.
But it hit deep.
The TV flickered in the background, muted anime girls chasing something across a rooftop while a canned pop song buzzed from a half-broken speaker. The rain outside had thickened into sheets, tapping rhythm against the windows like a second heartbeat.
Kazuki sat between Daigo and Reina, noodle bowl untouched, steam curling up into the warm, dim air.
He couldn't stop staring at their hands.
How normal they looked. Daigo's scar from breaking a locker door in high school. Reina's chipped thumbnail she always painted over twice. Details his brain shouldn't remember.
But did.
Perfectly.
"So?" Daigo said through a mouthful of noodles. "You finally gonna explain why you look like you saw a ghost?"
Kazuki opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I think…" He stopped. Licked his lips. "I think I'm not supposed to be here."
Daigo snorted. "Damn, really? I mean I get it, but that's a hell of a thing to say to your brother when he just made you lunch."
Reina nudged Kazuki's knee again, gentler this time. "You're always like this after you fight. Quiet. Heavy."
"I didn't fight."
"Yeah, you did," she said. "Just not in the cage."
Kazuki blinked.
She wasn't wrong.
Daigo stood, stretched, grabbed a half-empty bottle of Pocari Sweat from the counter and drank like a man who hadn't seen water in days.
"Remember when we used to sneak onto the roof during typhoon warnings?" he said suddenly.
Kazuki turned. "You mean when you used to convince me we wouldn't die?"
"Tomato, tomahto."
"I got pneumonia, you dumbass."
Daigo grinned. "And it was character building. Look at you now."
Reina stood too, crossing to the window.
"You were different back then," she said.
Kazuki stared at her back. Her reflection in the glass. The soft glow of the TV lighting up her jawline.
"You mean softer?"
"No." She looked over her shoulder. "You were stupid. But not soft. Not like now."
That one stung.
She let it hang.
Then turned fully to him. "You used to chase things like they mattered. Even when they didn't."
He didn't know how to answer that.
Because part of him had stopped chasing.
And part of him was terrified that she'd seen it.
Daigo flopped back on the couch, folded his arms behind his head, and let out a long breath. "Life's a bitch, bro. But you were always the one dumb enough to try and punch through it."
"I didn't always win."
"You weren't supposed to."
Kazuki swallowed. "Then why keep swinging?"
Daigo looked at him without smiling. Just dead on. Clear-eyed.
"Because you never know when one might land."
The rain picked up. The sound grew louder. Almost wrong.
Reina stepped closer. Her fingers grazed his wrist. Cold. Real. Grounding.
"You're going back soon," she said, voice low. "Aren't you?"
Kazuki's throat tightened. He couldn't speak.
"You should."
She smiled again. This time sad.
"There's someone waiting for you."
His breath caught.
"Who?"
"I don't know." She leaned in, close enough to whisper. "But you do."
Daigo held up two fingers in a peace sign. "Hey. Whatever it is—hit hard, swing low, and if it kicks your ass…"
He grinned.
"…kick it back."
Kazuki nodded.
Tried to say something.
But the rain hit louder. Too loud.
Everything shimmered.
Reina touched his hand one last time.
"Don't forget who you were before the loops," she whispered. "You weren't perfect. But you were kind. You were brave. You were loud."
The room broke apart like glass under pressure.
Kazuki blinked.
And the tatami floor hit his palms.
Loop Six began.