The alarm blared at 5:00 AM, an aggressive assault on the fragile peace of sleep. My muscles, already faintly protesting yesterday's lighter workout, coiled with dread. This wasn't just waking up for the gym anymore. This was... 'Chizuru's 1-Year Odyssey to Strength'.
"Commencing Daily Regimen Protocol," the AI's voice, audible only to me from the device on the bedside table, stated crisply. A holographic display, visible in the dim light of the room, pulsed with the day's tasks: "Push-ups: 0/100. Sit-ups: 0/100. Squats: 0/100. Run: 0/10km."
My body screamed no. My old gym-rat brain, however, recognized the call to arms. This wasn't about vanity anymore. This was about discipline. About conquering the impossible. And maybe, just maybe, gaining the strength to face whatever else this crazy reality threw at me.
Dragging myself out of bed felt like peeling myself off velcro. Every muscle fiber sang a low, angry tune. But I pulled on workout clothes – the new, slightly-less-alien leggings and sports bra. The AI guided me through a brief, necessary warm-up, focusing on mobility for muscles I already knew were going to hate me.
Then, the main event. One hundred push-ups. On my knees for now, form over ego, but still. Every single rep was a struggle. My arms trembled, my shoulders burned. The AI counted them, the holographic tally increasing with each rep. It felt endless.
Sit-ups were marginally better, engaging different muscles, but the sheer volume was punishing. By the time I got to the squats, my legs felt like lead. My form started to break down, and the AI's voice, while calm, offered corrections. "Maintain back rigidity. Engage core. Depth insufficient." It was like having a drill sergeant in my head.
Sweat poured off me. My breath hitched in ragged gasps. This wasn't a casual pump; this was breaking myself down and forcing myself to rebuild, day after agonizing day. It was brutal, and for the first time since waking up in this body, the physical challenge felt genuinely overwhelming. My old body had been conditioned for this kind of volume, but this one was starting from a different baseline, despite the 'enhanced aptitude'.
Finally, the counts hit 100 for all three. I collapsed onto the mat, panting, the world swimming slightly. The AI's display updated: "Regimen Phase 1 Complete. Proceed to Aerobic Phase."
Right. The 10km run. Before school.
Getting my running shoes on felt like a monumental effort. Stepping outside into the cool pre-dawn air was a shock. The AI device in my hand tracked my route and distance. Running in this body was... different. Lighter, yes, but the mechanics felt unfamiliar. My stride was shorter, my centre of gravity shifted. It felt like learning to run again, while simultaneously running a marathon on tired legs.
My lungs burned, my legs ached with a deeper, more pervasive pain than the squats. But I pushed. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, the steady beep of the AI tracking my distance. This pain was real. It was a reminder that this body, this life, had real physical limits, even with boosts. And pushing those limits felt strangely vital. It was the only part of this bizarre reality that made visceral sense.
I stumbled back to the apartment just as the sky was starting to lighten, collapsing inside the door, dripping sweat, heart hammering. "Phase 2 Complete," the AI announced neutrally. "Daily Regimen logged."
Too exhausted for anything but a quick shower and dressing, I barely registered the awkwardness of the uniform or the make-up routine. School felt like a distant, slightly blurry destination.
The walk to school was a blur of aching muscles and quiet exhaustion. The vibrant energy of the courtyard from yesterday seemed muted by my fatigue. I spotted Hori and Nami in their usual spot, looking far too awake and cheerful.
"Hey, Chizuru!" Nami called out, waving enthusiastically. "You look like you wrestled a bear!"
I managed a weak smile and shuffled over. "Morning, Nami, Hori. Just... had a tough morning."
Hori's golden eyes scanned me, her expression unreadable, but she nodded slowly. "Training?" she asked, her voice quiet but direct.
"Yeah," I admitted, sinking onto the bench next to them, ignoring the slight stiffness in my hips. "Trying a new... program."
Nami leaned closer, pushing her sunglasses up. "Ooh, what kind? Building up those muscles? You already look pretty fit."
"Just... something challenging," I deflected, not wanting to explain the AI, the quest, or the Saitama-level madness. "Trying to get stronger."
"Stronger, huh?" Nami's grin widened, and there was that sharp, knowing look again. "Good plan. This world's got some tricky currents. Gotta be ready to navigate 'em."
Hori remained silent, but her gaze seemed to linger on me, thoughtful. It felt like they both saw more than they let on. Were they used to people having 'programs' or 'navigating tricky currents'? Coming from their worlds, maybe they were.
The first bell rang, and the familiar flow towards the building began. Walking up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain today.
Classes were a struggle. My brain felt foggy with exhaustion. I caught myself zoning out, my thoughts drifting between the burning in my legs and the sheer impossibility of Hori and Nami sitting just a few rows ahead. Shizuka-sensei entered the classroom for homeroom, her presence as calmly enigmatic as yesterday. As she spoke, something in her lesson about perseverance and facing challenges felt directed right at me. Her eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, and I had the distinct impression she knew exactly how rough my morning had been. It sent a chill down my spine. How much did she know?
Lunch was less about conversation and more about quietly eating, conserving energy. Hori drew in a small notebook, intricate, almost fantastical-looking details emerging under her pencil. Nami chatted animatedly about some scheme she was hatching to get extra allowance money, her eyes gleaming with mercantile ambition. Their mundane high school behaviour was constantly juxtaposed with the subtle hints of their extraordinary origins, and my own equally extraordinary predicament.
The afternoon classes blurred into each other. My muscles screamed silently with every movement. The walk home felt longer than the run.
Back in the apartment, the first thing I did was collapse onto the mat, then pull out the AI device. "AI," I gasped, "That was... brutal. Every day?"
"Affirmative," the AI responded. "Consistency is the key to achieving the 'Odyssey to Strength' objective. Your physiological response today indicates initial stress but within expected parameters for your enhanced biology. Recovery protocols are available."
I ignored the recovery protocols for a moment, focusing on the AI. "Do... do Hori and Nami know? About this stuff? About... other worlds?"
"Their origins are external to this narrative's primary framework, as are yours," the AI stated. "Whether they retain specific memories or awareness of their original contexts is unconfirmed. Their behavior is consistent with integration into this reality, albeit with unique behavioral profiles."
"Unique behavioral profiles" was an understatement. Nami trying to hustle kids out of lunch money felt very in character. Hori's quiet intensity and drawing felt right too. But they were here.
I spent the evening alternating between trying to do homework (a Herculean task for my exhausted brain) and doing some light stretching, guided by the AI. Every muscle twinged. Dinner tasted dull. The reality of the quest, the commitment, settled deep in my bones, heavier than any weight I'd lifted in my old life.
As I got ready for bed, the AI's display flickered on again, visible from where I sat on the edge of the mattress. It wasn't displaying the workout tally this time.
"Anomaly detected," the AI stated, its voice losing its usual calm neutrality for the first time, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in tone that nonetheless set my teeth on edge.
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What kind of anomaly?" I asked, grabbing the AI device, the previous day's terror returning in a rush. Was it more crossovers? Was something breaking?
"Energy signature consistent with Subject 'Kazuya Kinoshita'," the AI replied, the holographic display showing a flickering point on a rudimentary map overlaying the room. "Location: Approximating three hundred meters from your current position. Trajectory: Converging."
Kazuya Kinoshita? Here? Now? He wasn't supposed to be at this school! Not for two years! The AI said he was at a different high school! This timeline was already messed up with Hori and Nami, but Kazuya showing up now? This wasn't just an anomaly; it felt like the universe itself was having a seizure. Three hundred meters... that was close. Too close. He was getting nearer. What did 'converging' mean? Was he coming here? To the apartment building?
My breath hitched. My mind raced, replaying every cringe moment I could remember from the early manga chapters involving Chizuru and Kazuya. That awkward first rental date... the beach trip... the bridge confession... None of that was supposed to happen for two years!
"AI," I whispered, my voice barely a breath, my eyes fixed on the flickering point on the map, watching it get closer. "Why is he...?"
"Unknown," the AI responded, its tone still slightly off, registering the unprecedented nature of the event. "Subject Kinoshita's presence at this location and time is a critical deviation from established narrative parameters."
A critical deviation. My new, impossible life, already reeling from body swaps and dimension-hopping classmates, was about to collide head-on with the main plot points I knew about. And I wasn't ready. Not as Chizuru. Not as the guy inside Chizuru. Not after this brutal day.
The flickering point on the map was now less than two hundred meters away, the 'Trajectory: Converging' note more insistent.
"AI," I choked out, scrambling backwards slightly on the bed, the physical exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new panic. "What do I do?"
The AI's digital face remained still, its voice regaining its usual calm, but the implications behind its words were anything but reassuring. "Subject Kinoshita's proximity is increasing. Recommended action is dependent on desired outcome. Options include evasion, confrontation, or observation. Time to impact..." The AI paused, calculating. "...Approximately five minutes."
Five minutes. Five minutes until the pathetic, central character of this entire messed-up story might show up on my doorstep. Five minutes until everything I thought I knew about this world's timeline was completely shattered. Five minutes...
What the hell was I supposed to do in five minutes?