Chapter 1: The Time Weaver’s Mistake

The loom glowed faintly in the dim light of the shrine, its threads shimmering like liquid silver under Akari’s careful touch. Her slender fingers moved deftly, weaving the intricate patterns that kept the tapestry of reality intact. The air around her crackled faintly with energy, heavy with the scent of sakura blossoms carried in from the courtyard. This was no ordinary weaving—it was a sacred duty, passed down through generations of her family, guardians of Yumehara's delicate balance between time and destiny.

Yet tonight, Akari felt an unease creeping into her chest. The threads resisted her, tangling and pulling as if alive. Her mentor’s warning echoed in her mind: “Never rush, Akari. The threads of time must be handled with patience, or they may unravel everything.”

Her heart pounded as she leaned closer, her hand trembling. “Just one more adjustment,” she whispered, her breath catching. She pulled a single golden thread tighter to correct the pattern. The loom pulsed with light—then shuddered violently.

The sacred tapestry writhed like a living creature. A burst of energy flung Akari backward, her vision spinning. When she opened her eyes, the air was still. The loom stood silent, but its threads glowed faintly with an ominous light. Akari’s stomach twisted. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Far away, in a place and time that Akari could not yet imagine, Kaito Nishimura bolted upright in his bed—or rather, what had once been his bed. His surroundings were a blur of unfamiliarity. The soft tatami floor was replaced with cold concrete. Neon lights flickered outside a glass window, bathing the room in an eerie glow.

“What the—?!” Kaito leapt to his feet, his heart pounding. His hand instinctively reached for his sword, but it was gone. His clothes felt strange—light, synthetic, and unlike anything he’d ever worn before.

The city outside buzzed with life, car engines humming, screens flashing with advertisements, and people rushing along sidewalks. A flying drone zipped past his window, blinking with tiny red lights.

“This… isn’t Edo,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of modern life. Panic surged through him as he staggered to the window. Where was he? When was he?

Akari’s heart sank as she stared at the tapestry. A single thread, glowing brighter than the others, stretched unnaturally into the pattern. The loom’s energy was unstable, rippling outward and disrupting the air around her. She had no idea what it meant, but she knew one thing—she had broken something fundamental.

Her mentor, Master Yukiko, appeared at the doorway, her expression grim. “Akari. What have you done?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Akari stammered, bowing her head in shame. “I thought I could fix it…”

Yukiko’s gaze was as sharp as a blade. “The loom connects all of time. One mistake can ripple across centuries. You’ve pulled someone from another era into ours.”

“Pulled someone…?” Akari whispered, her voice trembling. “Who?”

“That is for you to discover—and correct,” Yukiko said. “But be warned, child. The threads of destiny are not so easily mended. There are forces beyond your understanding that will exploit this rift if you do not act quickly.”

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