You were sitting on a cold stone step. Across the street, iron gates loomed. Old. Ornate. Marked with symbols you'd only ever seen in manga panels and fanart.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your phone was gone. Your blanket. Your pillow. Your room.

Just the sky. The street. The gate.

And then—motion.

A figure came jogging out of those gates, school uniform rumpled, white hair almost glowing under the pale winter sun. He skidded to a stop ten feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted with that unmistakable grin.