The glow of the monitor screen was the only source of light in the dimly lit bedroom. A faint hum from the computer's cooling fan filled the otherwise silent air, punctuated only by the occasional click of a mouse.
Souta Fujimura yawned, stretching his arms as he leaned back in his chair. He had spent the past few hours rewatching Fate/Zero for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn't just an anime to him—it was the anime, the kind that stirred something deep in his soul. The tragic heroism, the philosophical clashes, the grandeur of the Holy Grail War—everything about it fascinated him. He often imagined himself in that world, not as some overpowered protagonist, but as a strategist, someone who could change the tide of battle with wit rather than brute strength.
"Man, if I had a Servant, I'd probably end up getting something lame like Caster…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. It was already past three in the morning. Not that it was unusual for him. His nocturnal habits had long since become routine, much to the dismay of his parents.
Souta was, in many ways, an average Japanese high school student. His grades were decent—not outstanding, but good enough to avoid lectures from his teachers. He had a small circle of friends who shared his interests in anime, games, and light novels, though he wasn't particularly popular. He preferred the solitude of his room, diving into fictional worlds where anything was possible.
Life was predictable, safe, and perhaps a little boring. School, anime, part-time work at a convenience store, rinse, and repeat. Not that he minded. Stability had its own comforts. Yet, deep down, there was always that lingering thought—what if life were just a bit more exciting?
His family was equally ordinary. His father, Daiki Fujimura, was a salaryman, always leaving early in the morning and coming home late, exhausted from another day at the office. They didn't talk much—his father wasn't unkind, just distant, forever trapped in the cycle of corporate life. His mother, Ayane Fujimura, was more present, managing the household and working part-time at a local bakery. She was warm and caring but often exasperated with Souta's messy room and late-night habits.
Then there was his little sister, Mio. At twelve years old, she was an energetic ball of mischief, always poking fun at her "lazy big brother" while stealing bites of his snacks. Despite their constant teasing, Souta cared for her deeply and often helped her with homework when she struggled. Their relationship was one of casual sibling rivalry, filled with playful banter and occasional moments of genuine warmth.
Dinner at the Fujimura house was usually a simple affair, with Ayane doing most of the talking while Daiki responded with tired nods and Mio excitedly recounted her school adventures. Souta mostly listened, occasionally adding a comment before retreating to his room, eager to return to his latest anime binge or game session. It was a routine, a rhythm of life that never changed.
With a sigh, he closed his laptop and climbed into bed. The room was silent except for the occasional creak from the wooden floorboards. The familiar scent of his slightly unwashed blanket filled his nose as he buried his face into the pillow.
"Tomorrow's another normal day…" he murmured before sleep overtook him.
Or so he thought.
A sensation of weightlessness enveloped him. At first, he thought he was dreaming—floating in an endless abyss, surrounded by nothingness. No sound, no light, just an infinite expanse of void. His body felt strange, as if he had no physical form, merely existing as a consciousness adrift in the dark.
"…What the hell…?" His voice echoed unnaturally, dissipating into the emptiness.
Panic surged through him. He tried to move, to struggle, but there was nothing to move. His limbs—if he even had them—felt unresponsive, as if he were submerged in a sea without end. The void was suffocating yet paradoxically infinite, pressing against him from all directions while offering no point of reference.
Then, a flicker. A faint glow shimmered in the distance, pulsating like a dying ember. It was small—almost insignificant—but in this overwhelming darkness, it was the only thing that existed apart from himself.
Instinctively, he reached out, or at least he willed himself to. The glow responded, expanding slightly, as if acknowledging his presence.
Where am I? The question wasn't just directed at the void—it was a desperate plea for clarity.
As if in answer, the glow pulsed once more, and suddenly, Souta felt something shift. A pull, as if unseen hands were dragging him toward the light. The darkness trembled, and in that moment, a single, chilling thought crossed his mind.
This…this isn't a dream, is it?
And then, before he could process anything further, the light engulfed him.