I wake before dawn again.
Not because of habit this time.
Because something inside me refuses to let the day begin without acknowledgment.
The room is dark, but not empty. Darkness here feels… inhabited. Familiar. Like an old coat I forgot I owned. I sit up slowly, careful not to disturb the quiet, and rest my elbows on my knees.
For a long time, I don't move.
I listen.
To the building's low hum.
To distant footsteps two floors below.
To my own breathing.
Three in.
Two hold.
Five out.
The rhythm steadies me, but today it also does something else—it opens a door I didn't know I'd been leaning against.
I realize something then.
I am not tired of fighting.
I am tired of being prepared to fight.
That difference matters.
***
I leave Sanctum early, earlier than usual.
No escort. No notice. I don't need permission to exist, and today I intend to prove that to myself.
The streets are nearly empty. The city hasn't decided to wake yet. This hour belongs to delivery workers, maintenance crews, and people who don't want to be seen.
I blend in easily.
That still surprises me.
I pass under a transit bridge where someone has painted over yesterday's graffiti. The symbol is gone now—the spiral crossed by a line—but I can still see where it was, faint like a scar.
People erase things when they're afraid of remembering.
I understand that instinct.
I stop at a small shrine tucked between two modern buildings. It's old, overlooked, half-maintained by habit rather than belief. Someone has left flowers. Someone else, coins.
I kneel without thinking.
A thousand years ago, I knelt because it was expected.
Today, I kneel because I want to.
I don't pray.
I just sit.
I let the morning pass through me.
***
By mid-morning, I find myself at the edge of a residential district I've never visited before.
It's quieter here. Smaller buildings. Laundry lines stretching between balconies. The kind of place where power matters less than familiarity.
A child nearly collides with me as he runs past, chasing a floating drone toy.
"Sorry!" he shouts without slowing.
I laugh softly before I can stop myself.
The sound feels… strange. Rusty. Like a door opened after too long.
I sit on a low wall and watch the street come alive.
A Mundane woman waters plants on her balcony. An Ascendant electrician fixes a broken line without using his ability because his hands are steadier that way. An old man feeds birds despite a posted sign telling him not to.
Life happens in defiance of rules.
I wonder when I forgot that.
***
I eat lunch at a place that doesn't have a name displayed.
The owner greets me like a regular even though I'm not one.
"What'll it be?" he asks.
"Something simple," I say.
He nods like that's the right answer.
While I eat, he talks—not to me, not exactly. About rising costs. About his daughter wanting to become an Ascendant evaluator. About how tired he is of rankings.
I listen.
When I finish, I leave exact change on the counter.
He pushes it back.
"On the house," he says. "You look like you needed a quiet meal."
I hesitate.
Then accept.
"Thank you," I say.
He waves me off. "Come back sometime."
I think… I might.
***
The afternoon finds me walking again.
No destination. Just motion.
Arias stirs faintly, like someone waking from a nap.
[You have deviated from predicted behavioral loops.]
"Is that bad?" I ask internally.
[No.]
A pause.
[It is… uncharted.]
I smile.
"Get used to it."
[Acknowledged.]
There's a moment then—small, easy to miss—where I feel something loosen.
Not a seal.
Not power.
Expectation.
The constant readiness to be more than a person fades, just a little.
I breathe easier.
***
Near evening, I return to Sanctum.
Not because I must.
Because I want to.
Yuna is in the courtyard, sparring lightly with Hana. They pause when they see me.
"You disappear and come back looking like that," Yuna says. "Where did you go?"
"Everywhere," I reply.
Hana tilts her head. "You look… lighter."
"I feel heavier," I say. "But in a good way."
She doesn't pretend to understand. She just nods.
Kaizen passes by and eyes me suspiciously.
"You smile once and now I don't trust you," he says.
"Healthy response," I tell him.
Mizuki catches me later, leaning against a railing with her tablet tucked under one arm.
"You didn't trigger any alerts today," she says. "Do you know how rare that is?"
"I'm honored," I reply.
She studies my face.
"This won't last," she says quietly. "The pressure. The watching. They'll come back harder."
"I know," I say.
"And yet," she continues, "you still did this."
"Yes."
She exhales slowly. "Good. You'll need to remember who you are when they try to define you again."
***
Night falls.
I return to my room for the last time today and sit on the bed, hands resting loosely in my lap.
The ceiling cracks greet me like old acquaintances.
Bird.
Wound.
I think about everything that didn't happen today.
No battles.
No revelations.
No names spoken aloud.
And yet, something important did happen.
I existed without permission.
Arias speaks one last time, softer than ever.
[Query: Do you fear what comes next?]
I think about it.
The Court.
The Authority.
The world waiting for me to become something again.
"Yes," I answer honestly. "But not enough to stop."
[Statement: This unit was designed to serve a sovereign.]
A pause.
[You are choosing to be human.]
I lie back and stare at the ceiling.
"Then serve that," I say.
Silence follows.
Not empty.
Complete.
Tomorrow, I will be watched again.
Measured.
Judged.
But tonight, I am just a man lying in a quiet room, unnamed and unclaimed.
And for now—
That is enough.
— × —
End of Side Story — Shinra (A Day, Unnamed)