With a low, absent hum in his throat, Blake studied his reflection for what had to be the hundredth time that morning.

’Even in my past life... I didn’t stare at myself this much.’

It wasn’t self-consciousness anymore, not in the same way it had been when he first woke up in this body.

Back then, every glance in the mirror felt like confronting a stranger that was smaller, frailer and easier to break.

Now, it was different, he was observing the changes.

"Growing... isn’t really the right word," he muttered, tilting his head slightly.

Eighteen-year-olds weren’t supposed to grow or anything, anyway.

Still, the differences were undeniable.

His skin had lost that sickly, pale tone. There was color there now, although subtle.

His eyes no longer carried those heavy, dark crescents beneath them, the kind that made it look like he hadn’t slept properly in years.

His limbs... yeah, they seemed longer. Not by much, but enough for him to notice when he moved.

He straightened slightly, watching the shift in posture.

’Still short, though.’

He continued being below average in that regard.

He exhaled through his nose, but there was no frustration in it. Just acknowledgment.

"At least I fixed that pathetic posture the old Blake had..."

That part had taken effort.

More than he expected, honestly.

Posture wasn’t just physical, it was muscle memory. The way you carried yourself when you weren’t thinking. Same with walking pace. Same with facial expressions.

He’d had to consciously correct all of it.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Steps measured... and a neutral expression, instead of that permanently withdrawn look.

At first, it had felt forced.

Now... it was starting to stick.

Blake gave himself one last look, then stepped back from the mirror.

"Good enough."

There was no point overanalyzing it any further.

He paused, then shook his head lightly.

"Right."

He turned toward his bed and grabbed his clothes, changing quickly.

A date didn’t have to mean dressing up, especially not this one.

A month ago, he would’ve been tense by now. Overthinking everything. Running through possibilities, outcomes, what-ifs.

Now it just felt normal. Relaxing, even.

Blake picked up his phone and typed out a quick message.

Heading out now.

He grabbed his backpack next, slinging it over one shoulder before adjusting the straps properly. It was heavier than usual, and for good reason.

Inside, neatly packed, were several video games, some newer, some older. and a handful of board games he’d managed to gather.

He hadn’t brought them just to play.

Well... not only to play.

"I’ll just leave most of them there," he murmured to himself as he zipped the bag shut.

It wasn’t like he used them much anyway.

***

The air outside was warm.

Blake made his way to the bus stop without rushing, slipping his hands into his pockets as he waited. When the bus arrived, he climbed on, found a seat by the window, and settled in.

The familiar scenery slid past the glass as the bus moved.

Same streets.

Same buildings.

Same people going about their routines.

Blake rested his head lightly against the window.

’Feels... too normal,’ he thought.

This was just a regular day.

He pressed a hand lightly against his chest.

His heart was beating faster than usual.

Not frantic.

Not anxious.

Just... loud.

Blake let out a quiet breath, a small smile forming.

’Guess I’m still weirder out.’

Bzzt.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

He glanced down.

A reply.

Okay.

Blake stared at it for a second... then huffed out a soft laugh.

’That’s it?’

He shook his head, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Somehow, that was exactly what he expected.

He reached into his bag, pulled out his headphones, and slipped them on. A few taps later, audio filled his ears.

True crime.

Specifically, content covering AFE’s criminals.

’Of course this exists here too...’

He shouldn’t have been surprised.

Listening to this on the way to Myles’ place, the final boss, made him feel a little insane, but he didn’t stop the video.

If anything, he focused more.

He needed information. More than before. Especially about the perforators.

The problem was, lately, the content had shifted.

Less about the people themselves.

More about their abilities.

Their power.

Their methods.

’And how they use advanced tech against AL-TECH...’

The narrator’s voice carried a note of disbelief, almost outrage, as they described it.

Technology meant to help humanity.

Twisted into something else entirely.

Blake’s fingers tightened slightly against his arm.

His thoughts drifted.

To Myles.

His breathing slowed, then deepened.

He had searched before. Tried to find more about UD, but there wasn’t much.

There wouldn’t be much.

The only widely known incident was that destroyed building owned by AL-TECH.

Apart from that there was nothing notable or super interesting about... his crimes. Still, Blake knew Myles was connected to the underworld, somehow.

On the video, the topic shifted.

It was an interview.

A man speaking calmly, firmly, about criminals, about how they shouldn’t be written off entirely. About their potential and future.

Blake frowned slightly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

’Not being too harsh, huh...’

The man’s expression was steady, but there was something underneath it.

Blake tilted his head.

’Still... I guess that kind of attitude works.’

For someone guiding others, especially someone as naive and shy as Asher, he couldn’t deny Alfred Hicth was useful.

He exhaled softly as the bus slowed and then stopped.

Blake stood, pulling his headphones off as he stepped off onto the street.

The walk from the stop to the apartment complex was a little long, as usual.

Blake adjusted his backpack slightly as he approached the entrance, glancing up at the building.

’Here again.’

There was no hesitation as he pressed the intercom, then a brief pause.

Click.

The door unlocked.

Blake stepped inside and made his way up the stairs, his footsteps echoing lightly in the stairwell.

Halfway up, he heard movement above.

By the time he reached the top, Myles was already there, casually standing in front of the door.

Like he’d been waiting without actually waiting.

"Morning," Myles said.

Blake’s pace picked up instinctively for those last few steps.

"Hey!"

He didn’t slow down or overthink it.

He just closed the distance and wrapped his arms around him in a brief, firm hug, one hand coming up to pat his shoulder.

"Missed you," Blake said lightly.

It was a little ridiculous.

They’d seen each other yesterday.

But still, there was no awkwardness in it.

Leaning his head back slightly, Myles looked at Blake straight in the eye.

"We should go inside."

Blake pulled back with a grin.

"Yep."

Blake slipped off his shoes and headed straight to the bedroom like it was already familiar territory.

He dropped his backpack onto the bed, then sat beside it, unzipping it and starting to pull things out.

"So," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "I don’t have that much stuff at home..."

Myles stepped closer, silent as always, watching.

"...but I brought some things for you."

One by one, Blake laid them out.

Games.

Boxes.

Small items.

And even lamp.

Myles reached for it, picking it up.

It was simple, orange and blue, the colors blending in a way that made it stand out without being too loud.

He turned it slightly in his hands.

"...Okay," he said.

That was it, but he didn’t put it back.

Instead, he moved to place it in the room.

Blake immediately perked up, pointing.

"Wait, maybe there? Or, no, actually, yeah, that corner would work better."

Myles adjusted without argument.

They moved quickly after that.

Placing things.

Rearranging slightly.

It didn’t take long.

Soon enough, everything was set.

Blake leaned back slightly, hands on his hips.

"Way better."

Myles looked around, then nodded once.

"Thanks."

Blake’s grin widened.

"Alright. My turn."

Myles turned to him.

"Turn for what?"

Blake tilted his head like it was obvious.

"I brought you stuff. Now I take something from here."

Myles blinked.

"My things aren’t as interesting."

Blake snorted.

’What even counts as an interesting object?’

He shrugged.

"Doesn’t matter. We already exchanged umbrellas, right? Might as well keep it going."

There was a brief pause.

Then, Myles reached for something on his desk.

A watch.

He held it out.

Blake stared at it and didn’t take it immediately.

"That’s way too much."

"I don’t mind," Myles replied.

Blake’s expression twitched, since that wasn’t helpful.

Before he could argue further, Myles added something else.

A pen.

Then, a blanket.

Blake blinked.

"Okay, hold on—"

He let out a laugh, raising a hand.

"That’s enough. Seriously."

Still... he stared down at them, finding himself smiling.

"They all feel like you," Blake said quietly, almost to himself.

He set them down beside him, then flopped backward onto the bed with a soft thud, staring up at the ceiling.

’This is already great,’ he said, letting out a breath. ’And it’s been, what? Not even an hour?’

He turned his head slightly, glancing at Myles.

A small, satisfied smile lingered on his face.

’Today’s gonna be fun.’