The Dream Code: Yume no Kodo [Light Novel] Vol. 1 – Page 3

The Dream Code – Volume 1 – Chapter 1: Nihon Dream

Page 3

The Grand Hall shimmered. Not with the steady, managed glow of the City of the Good’s internal lighting, but with an unstable, potent energy that vibrated through the very stone of the chamber. Master Genryu stood at the center of the vast circular arrangement of mirrors, his right hand outstretched, the crimson stone of his ring pulsing with an almost blinding intensity. It wasn’t just a light; it was a resonant frequency, a hum that Mitsu could feel not just in his ears, but deep within his bones. The mirrors, which moments before had reflected the serene, ancient chamber, now warped and distorted, their surfaces swirling with ethereal colors and indistinct, shifting images – glimpses of places and times that seemed alien and fleeting.

“The ring,” Master Genryu’s voice was strained, laced with an effort that belied his usual calm, “is the anchor. It grounds our temporal displacement. It allows us to choose a destination, a specific point in the river of time.” He gritted his teeth slightly, the effort of channeling such power evident. The crimson light from his ring flared, lancing out like a concentrated beam to touch each mirror in the circle. As it made contact, each reflective surface seemed to ripple, then solidify into a vortex of pure, swirling light. The air grew thick with an almost electric charge, and Mitsu instinctively took a step back, awestruck and a little afraid.

The visions within the mirrors coalesced, sharpening into a distinct scene: a bustling, vibrant city under a bright, impossibly clear sky. Tall buildings, unlike the scarred remnants of Mitsu’s world, reached towards the heavens. People moved in crowds, their clothing a riot of colors and styles that spoke of an era of prosperity and peace. It was Tokyo, 2025. A world teeming with life, utterly unaware of the devastation that is not distant.

“This is your destination, Mitsu,” Master Genryu said, his voice gaining a new, resonant quality as the ring’s power surged. “The year 2025. You will enter the life of Kanzaki Tahiru. His body will be your vessel, his memories, your foundation. Remember, his life is now your burden, and his existence, your opportunity.”

The central vortex intensified, a maelstrom of light and energy that began to draw Mitsu in. He felt an irresistible pull, a sensation of being unraveled and rewoven all at once. He looked back at Master Genryu, his young face a mask of awe and determination. The elder offered a small, knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the immense task ahead.

Then, with a surge that felt like being plunged into an icy ocean, Mitsu was gone.

^{Chapter 1 – Nihon Dream [The Dream Code]}

He awoke with a gasp, his lungs burning as if he’d been holding his breath for an eternity. His eyes snapped open, focusing on a plain, white ceiling. Not the muted, functional ceilings of the City of the Good, but a simple, unadorned expanse that felt… unfamiliar. A dull ache throbbed behind his temples. His hands lay on a simple futon, bare and strangely proportioned. He lifted one, flexing his fingers. They felt too large, too rough. These were not the hands of a fifteen-year-old boy.

Panic began to bubble in his chest. Where was he? The air was still, lacking the gentle hum of the air purifier. The light filtering in from a nearby window was muted, suggesting a cloudy day or perhaps early morning. He tried to sit up, and the movement felt sluggish, his limbs heavy, not with fatigue, but with a strange, alien weight.

His gaze swept across the room. It was small, sparsely furnished. A desk cluttered with papers and a laptop sat in one corner. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with novels and reference materials. A faint scent of instant coffee and old paper hung in the air. This wasn’t his room. This wasn’t the City of the Good.

He swung his legs over the side of the futon, his feet touching cool, worn floorboards. He stood, his height startling him. He was taller than he remembered being, his frame broader. He caught sight of himself in the mirrored surface of the dark laptop screen. A man’s face stared back – a face he didn’t recognize, yet one that felt… disturbingly his own. The eyes were tired, framed by faint lines that spoke of age and perhaps worry. The jaw was set, a hint of shyness in the hesitant set of the mouth. This was Kanzaki Tahiru. He was 37 years old.