Everything was still.

Except her.

Miyako Fukanora sat in Kaito’s body, surrounded by a dozen guys who looked like they chewed bricks for breakfast — and not one of them seemed to notice that something was wrong.

Her hands — Kaito’s hands — rested on her knees.
Same spot as before. Same room. Same smell of metal and sweat.

She’d just had a vision — something violent, fast, and way too vivid — and now…

Now it was quiet again.

The gang leader — the guy who just assigned her a flank — kept talking. Something about meeting points and timing and staying sharp. His voice blurred out like background noise.

Because Miyako was focused on one thing.

"Wait..."

"Can I..."

She glanced down at her leg — his leg — the right one.

She thought about moving it. Just a twitch.

Nothing.

Then again — she focused harder.

Just a little shift. Just a flicker.

And then—
The leg moved.

Just a little. But enough.

A full-body jolt of electricity shot through her.

“HOLY. SHIT.”

Inside, her brain screamed. Outside, she somehow managed to keep still — barely.

No one noticed.

No one said anything.

No alarms blared. No one looked over and went, “Hey, that’s not Kaito.”

She was sitting in the middle of a live gang war planning session, wearing someone else’s skin, and now… now she could move?

"Okay. Okay okay okay okay. Stay calm."

Her heart was hammering. Not Kaito’s. Hers. At least, it felt like it.

She moved her fingers next. One at a time. Smooth. Subtle.

Then her left foot.

Then stretched her back, just a little — enough to lean off the pillar behind her.

No one looked.

"They don’t notice. They’re not watching. He moves like this all the time, right? That’s normal for him. That’s good. That’s fine."

But inside?

She was not fine.

Because this wasn’t just a dream. This wasn’t just her watching a movie through someone else’s eyes.

She was here.
She could move.
And that meant...

"That means I can fuck things up."

Her breath hitched in her throat.

For a second, her eyes flicked over to the boy standing on the crate — the gang leader. The same one from that… whatever-the-hell-that-was vision. Laughing, confident, alive.

Alive.

But not for long. Not if that flash had been real.

She didn’t know what to call it yet.
Not a warning.
Not a prophecy.

Just a feeling. A jolt of instinct.

But she pushed it down.

Buried it under all the other loud, messed-up thoughts crowding her brain.

"Just a dream. Still a dream. Nothing is real. This is just... lucid dreaming or whatever."

She looked down at her hands one more time.

Then slowly, quietly, she clenched her fist.

It felt real.