Sora's Life in 2025 Tokyo
The persistent buzz of the alarm clock jolted Sora awake, dragging him out of a deep sleep. He blinked at the screen of his phone, squinting to read the time—6:30 AM. Another morning, just like every other. The city outside his window was still dark, with only the faintest glow of early morning light filtering through the blinds. A dull headache throbbed in his temples, a byproduct of another restless night of tossing and turning. His body was exhausted, but his mind was already racing ahead, preparing for another monotonous day.
A groan escaped his lips as he reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. His apartment in Shibuya was modest at best—a small, one-bedroom flat that had seen better days. The space was cluttered with textbooks, electronics, and discarded clothes that he never seemed to have the time to put away. Yet it was his space, his little sanctuary in the midst of Tokyo's chaos.
Sora's daily routine was something of a well-oiled machine. Wake up. Get ready. Eat. Go to school. Repeat. He had it all down to a science. But lately, that rhythm had begun to feel... hollow.
He stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. The mirror reflected a tired, but familiar face—brown hair, dark eyes, and a look that could be described as "fine," but nothing more. Nothing special. Nothing that stood out in a city filled with millions of people. He was just another face in the crowd, lost in the noise.
He ran a comb through his hair absentmindedly before heading back to his kitchen. The apartment's tiny kitchen barely had space for him to move around, but it served its purpose. He pulled out a cup of instant ramen and popped it into the microwave, something he'd gotten used to. No time to cook a proper breakfast when every minute seemed important.
Sora's life wasn't difficult. It was just... boring. Every day felt like a repeat of the last, filled with mundane tasks and expectations. School, homework, trying to be normal like the others. But no matter how much he tried, there was always something gnawing at him—the sense that something was missing.
He sat down at the small table, his eyes flitting over his phone screen. A quick scroll through social media, followed by a glance at the clock. He didn't have much time to waste. His train departs in thirty minutes, and with Tokyo's notorious traffic, he couldn't afford to be late.
Just as he finished his breakfast, the doorbell rang. Kazuki, his best friend, was on the other side, looking more energetic than Sora had felt all week. Kazuki always seemed to have an endless supply of enthusiasm, a trait Sora both admired and envied.
"Yo, Sora!" Kazuki greeted, his voice loud enough to reverberate through the apartment. "You ready to go? Or you gonna make us late again?"
Sora rolled his eyes, already pulling his backpack onto his shoulders. "I'm coming, don't worry."
Kazuki had that infectious energy, the kind that made even the most monotonous mornings feel a little less... suffocating. They had been friends since middle school—Sora, the quiet one, and Kazuki, the life of the party. It wasn't that Sora disliked his friend's exuberance. Far from it. Kazuki's presence was like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stale air of Sora's life. But sometimes, he wished Kazuki would just shut up and let him think.
The train station was crowded, as usual, with a sea of commuters flowing in every direction. Sora kept his head down, following Kazuki through the crowd, his gaze darting from person to person. There was something about the anonymity of Tokyo that Sora liked.
You could walk through the busiest district and never once have anyone really look at you. It was like being invisible, a ghost in the modern world.
They squeezed into the train, the air thick with the hum of tired commuters. Sora's mind wandered again, lost in a spiral of thoughts. He glanced out the window, watching the city's skyline blur past. The train clattered over the tracks, its rhythm comforting in its predictability.
He wondered if things would ever change for him. He had heard older people say that it was all part of growing up—this feeling of being stuck, of life passing you by without any grand moments of excitement or discovery. Was that really it? Was this all there was to look forward to?
The sound of Kazuki's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Hey, you've been pretty quiet today. You sure you're okay?"
Kazuki asked, raising an eyebrow. Sora forced a smile.
"Yeah, just tired. You know how it is."
Kazuki seemed to buy it, nodding enthusiastically.
"Well, we're almost there! Another day of school awaits. Maybe something exciting will happen today!"
Sora didn't share his enthusiasm, but he played along.
"Sure, maybe today will be the day that changes everything."
Kazuki chuckled.
"That's the spirit!"
The train screeched to a halt at their station, and they both stepped out onto the platform. The school was just a short walk away, but the heavy feeling in Sora's chest remained. He didn't even feel like he was really living anymore. It was like he was drifting through life, letting the current take him wherever it wanted. He tried to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the back of his mind.
The day went by in a blur of lessons, textbooks, and the occasional burst of laughter from Kazuki's jokes. Sora barely paid attention. The teachers droned on, the students chatted, and time passed as it always did. It was hard to focus when everything felt so... irrelevant.
After school, Sora returned to his apartment, the silence of his room greeting him as he entered. He dropped his backpack onto the floor, kicked off his shoes, and plopped down on his bed. The faint sound of traffic drifted in from the street below, but it was a distant hum—just another background noise in the city that never stopped.
Sora stared at the ceiling for a while, lost in thought. He thought about the new girl Kazuki had mentioned earlier. She had caught his attention, but he wasn't sure why. There was something about her, something different. She had an air of mystery around her, something that set her apart from the rest. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or the fact that she seemed to not care about fitting in.
Sora wondered what it would be like to be like her. To not care about the endless expectations and responsibilities. To just... live.
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his reverie. He checked the message. It was Kazuki again, asking if he wanted to hang out later.
Sora considered it for a moment before typing back. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in an hour."
But as he sent the message, he felt a deep emptiness inside, like something was missing from his life. He didn't know what it was, but he felt like he had been waiting for something for a long time. Something that was just out of reach.
And as the evening wore on, Sora had no idea that his life, the life he had always known, was about to change forever.
Akiko's Life in 1000 AD Heian-kyō (Kyoto)
The faint light of dawn filtered through the paper-thin walls of Akiko's room, casting delicate shadows that danced on the tatami floor. She awoke slowly, the remnants of sleep clinging to her mind. The air was cool, a subtle reminder of the early autumn chill that had begun to creep into the Heian-kyō mornings. In the dim light, Akiko's slender fingers brushed her dark brown hair away from her face as she sat up in bed.
The room was simple, as was the life she led—no electricity, no modern conveniences, just the quiet hum of daily tasks. A small fire crackled in the corner, the only warmth in the small, modest home her family had built. The smell of burning wood mixed with the earthy aroma of rice and barley that wafted from the kitchen, where her mother was likely preparing the day's meals.
Akiko had always known this life. The life of a noble family in the capital city, Heian-kyō. Her father was a minor court official, well-respected but not wealthy, and her mother was a gentlewoman who often advised Akiko on how to conduct herself with grace. Akiko was expected to marry well, to uphold the honour of her family, and to live her days in service to the aristocracy. But as she brushed the sleep from her eyes and gazed at the dull wooden walls, a sense of dissatisfaction gnawed at her.
Her daily routine was set in stone—practice calligraphy, play the Koto, tend to the garden, and prepare for the eventual marriage that would be arranged for her. Akiko had always done her duty, but she often found herself yearning for something more. She wanted more than just a life of obedience and courtly graces. She wanted action. She wanted adventure.
"Akiko,"
her mother's voice called from the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts.
"Come, help with breakfast."
With a sigh, Akiko stood and straightened her kimono, smoothing the fabric over her slender frame. The ritual of her morning was a familiar one, yet it always felt like an unending chain of duties. She walked across the room, her footsteps soft on the tatami, and entered the kitchen, where her mother was stirring a pot over the fire.
The room was warm, the smell of rice cooking in a wooden pot filling the space. Her mother, dressed in a simple kimono, smiled gently at her as she worked.
"Are you well rested, my daughter?"
"Yes, mother,"
Akiko replied, her voice soft but with an undercurrent of something more—a desire she couldn't quite express. She helped her mother set the table, arranging the bowls and utensils with precision. Yet, her mind wandered to the same thought she had often entertained in recent weeks:
What if I could be more than just a wife?
Her mother, seemingly reading her thoughts, glanced at her.
"You've been distant lately. Are you troubled by something?"
Akiko hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment before she continued arranging the dishes.
"It is nothing, mother. Just… thinking about the future."
Her mother's eyes softened, a knowing look in them.
"I know that life weighs heavy on you, Akiko. But remember, it is the duty of a daughter to uphold the honor of her family. A good marriage will secure your place in the world."
Akiko nodded quietly, but deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to life than just this—more than the quiet life of a noblewoman whose future was already decided by others. Her thoughts drifted again to the forbidden stories she had heard in hushed voices—tales of powerful women who had defied the expectations of their society, women who had taken up the sword, fought in battles, and earned their place in history.
In the midst of her contemplation, there came a knock at the door. Her mother's face immediately hardened with suspicion.
"Who could that be at this hour?"
Akiko followed her mother to the door, and when it opened, a young man in traveling clothes stood there, looking exhausted but determined. He was a messenger, bearing word from her father's office.
"Lady Akiko,"
the young man said, bowing low.
"Your father requests your presence at the palace. There is an important matter he wishes to discuss."
Her heart skipped a beat. The palace was a world of its own, where power and intrigue thrived, where politics played out in whispered conversations. Akiko had been there before, but it was rare for her to be called there on official business. She glanced at her mother, who nodded with a sigh.
"Go, then. Do not keep your father waiting."
Akiko didn't need to be told twice. She quickly grabbed her cloak, which was draped over the back of a chair, and slipped her sandals on. Her mother handed her a small bag containing rice cakes and a flask of water for the journey. Akiko nodded her thanks before stepping out into the crisp morning air.
Heian-kyō was bustling with activity even at this early hour. The streets were filled with merchants, travelers, and courtiers, all going about their business. The air was thick with the sounds of conversation and the clatter of horse hooves on stone.
Akiko's eyes moved across the city's skyline, where the towering palaces and shrines stood as symbols of the power and elegance that defined her world.
The palace was not far, and it didn't take long for Akiko to arrive. She made her way through the sprawling grounds, past the elegant wooden structures and the carefully manicured gardens. The guards at the gates recognized her and allowed her entry without question.
Akiko felt a strange sense of foreboding as she walked deeper into the heart of the palace, where her father's office was located.
The moment she stepped inside, her father, a stern man in his forties with sharp features, looked up from his scrolls.
"Ah, Akiko. You are here."
"Father,"
she greeted him, bowing respectfully.
"I have a task for you,"
he said, his voice clipped.
"A matter of great importance has arisen. I need you to go to the neighboring province and deliver a message to the governor there. It's a delicate situation, and I trust you will handle it with the utmost care."
Akiko's heart raced. This was it—the opportunity she had longed for. A chance to leave the confines of her home, to step outside the walls of the palace, and to prove her worth in a world far beyond the marriage proposals and courtly duties that had always been expected of her.
Her father's gaze softened as he watched her, perhaps seeing something in her eyes that had not been there before.
"You are ready for this, Akiko. I know it."
As she bowed again and left the office, Akiko felt something stirring inside her—a spark of hope, a realization that maybe, just maybe, her life was about to take a different path than the one that had been laid out for her.