Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The alarm on his phone went off, but the sound was completely different. It wasn't the upbeat melody Victor had set to brighten his mornings, but a simple, gentle vibration that felt strangely alien. He opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was that the ceiling above his head wasn't the familiar cracked plaster of his Shadyside bedroom, but a pattern of dark wood, well-maintained and with cracks so old they looked like a map.

He sat up in bed, the weight of a long ponytail falling over his shoulder. He froze. His hair had never been that long. Confused, he brought one hand to his head and the other to his chest. He felt different—lighter—and his shoulders felt narrower. Panic began to swell in his throat as he got out of bed. His feet, which always felt flat and large, were now small and delicate.

He rushed to the bathroom, which was as ancient as the ceiling. There were no modern faucets, just a porcelain sink. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't him.

He was met with a young face, with large, expressive eyes, framed by a long, unruly ponytail. The uniform he was wearing wasn't from his Shadyside school; instead, it was a thick wool sweater and a plaid skirt that felt heavy and old-fashioned. The girl in the mirror was blonde with bright blue eyes and pale, glistening skin. The face that wasn't his looked just as shocked as he felt on the inside.

"What the heck is going on?" he mumbled, and the sound of his own voice, high-pitched and sweet, made him shiver.

He turned to look at the rest of the room. It was decorated with objects he had never seen in Shadyside: an old wooden desk, a stereo in the corner, and a pile of notebooks with the same neat, rounded handwriting he now saw on several papers scattered around the room.

A tap on the door startled him. "Nova, honey, are you ready for school?"

It was a gentle, older woman's voice. Victor felt a wave of fear. Nova, that was this stranger's name, he thought. He couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say or what Nova would have said. Without thinking, he hid behind the bathroom door, as if that would solve anything. He heard the door open and the sound of someone stepping into the room.

"You're very quiet this morning," the woman said. "And you haven't come down for breakfast. Is something wrong?"

Victor remained silent, holding his breath. He looked at his hands again, his nails short and neatly kept, so unlike his own, which were always dirty from working at the music store. The only clue he had to who this girl was was a bracelet with a strange red stone on her right wrist. It felt antique, but the color was vibrant.

The woman sighed softly. "Well, I'll be waiting for you downstairs. Don't be late, the bus won't wait."

Victor heard her footsteps fade away and only dared to come out when the sound of the bedroom door closed. He went back to the mirror, looking at the girl he now was, the girl... Nova. This felt like a nightmare. No, it couldn't be. He pinched his arm—the pain was real.

It wasn't a dream. And he wasn't Victor. For now, he was Nova. And he had to go to school... at least he was already dressed for it.

Chapter Text

The sound that woke her up wasn't the usual one. It wasn't the birds singing or the faint rustle of wind against the window. It was a constant, distant hum, like the pulse of a sleeping machine. She opened her eyes, and the light was different. It was brighter, cleaner, more artificial, lacking the golden tint of the sun that filtered through the trees in Sunnyside, her home.

She was in a strange bed, one with sheets that felt smooth and cold. The room was tidy, with a bookshelf full of comics and action figures. The clothes she was wearing weren't her flannel pajamas but a simple gray t-shirt that was too big and a pair of shorts. She sat up, and the weight of her hair was gone. Her braids, which took hours to tend to, had vanished. She ran a hand over the back of her head and felt a short, somewhat messy haircut.

A silent panic washed over her. She got up and ran to the bathroom, her steps echoing on the wooden floor, a sound she wasn't used to. In the mirror, she wasn't there. She saw a male face with a sharp jawline and dark brown eyes that looked strangely familiar. His hair, now short, was black with red streaks all over the top and was unkempt. Terror settled in her chest.

"What is this?" she asked herself, the sound that came out of her throat deep and low.

She leaned on the sink, her heart pounding. She went back to the room and realized there were no family photos, no objects from her home. Only a phone on the nightstand. She picked it up, and the screen lit up without asking for a passcode. She saw a notes app and a recent message.

"Who are you? What did you do with my life? Please tell me I'm dreaming. You're the one from yesterday, right? And... why is my hair so long?"

The message was unsigned, but the handwriting was that of a child. The text felt familiar. Panic turned into a strange certainty. She looked at her hands: they were bigger, the fingers longer and wider. She felt strong. It was a boy's body.

She ran to the window and pulled back the curtain. And there, below her, the city she had always dreamed of was in full swing. Traffic flowed on a wide street, neon signs flickered, and people walked at a quick pace. It was Shadyside, the city she had only heard stories about and that her family had warned her against.

Everything was really happening. She wasn't Nova. She was a boy from Shadyside—Victor, if she could believe what a drawing on a desk said. And, although fear was there, a sense of freedom settled in her heart. She was miles away from her monotonous life, her family, and their traditions. The discontent she felt transformed into a strange, but sweet, euphoria.

For at least one day, her dream of being in the city had come true.

Chapter Text

The first week was pure chaos.

Victor would wake up in Nova's body and find himself in a life he didn’t understand. The classes in Sunnyside were in a wooden classroom that smelled of incense and old books, and people moved with an exasperating slowness. The girl's grandmother expected him (or, rather, her) to know a local berry pie recipe without even asking. Her friends, so different from his own in Shadyside, wouldn’t stop talking about a "Harvest Festival" that sounded like the most boring event in the world. Victor's patience, accustomed to technology, video games, and a fast pace, was running thin.

Meanwhile, in Shadyside, Nova was living her dream. Her first reaction was a shout of joy upon seeing the number of apps on Victor's phone. In his body, she ran to the trendy cafe, tried on urban-style clothes—for a guy, of course—and felt alive for the first time. But her joy was short-lived. Victor's friends looked at her weirdly, his text messages were incomprehensible, and his part-time job at a music store felt like an impossible mission.

The breaking point came on a Tuesday morning. Victor, as Nova, wrote on Nova's mirror in a moment of pure frustration: "I want my life back!"

When Nova saw it the next day, she also screamed, but this time it was a shriek of desperation. From then on, they decided to communicate.

Victor's first note on Nova's phone was clumsy.

"To the girl living in my body: Hi. I'm Victor. The hair thing, the cafe chaos… that was me. I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on, but we need to talk. I left you a note in the planner, on the page for September 15. Please don't ruin my job."

Nova, reading the message the next day, felt a mix of relief and amusement. She immediately replied.

"To the guy living in my body: I'm Nova. And no, I didn't ruin your job, I just changed the songs you play to something that's actually music. Who uses planners these days? I replied in a note on the app. And yes, the hair thing was me. I didn't cut it, it's a mess. P.S. My grandma got mad because you didn't know the pie recipe. Please don't ruin my reputation."

The exchange became a ritual. Victor used the notes app to leave detailed instructions: where his clothes were, what he liked to eat, and what time his classes started. Nova, in turn, would respond with descriptions of Sunnyside, the names of her friends, and the rules of her household.

And so, little by little, the text messages became more personal. They started leaving notes in the planners and on the phone, as if they were diaries only the other could read. They discussed life, their families' traditions, and how different the world around them was. They stopped being strangers and became a mystery to one another, a window into a life they didn't know existed.

The chaos became a routine. And in the midst of that strange routine, a deep curiosity began to grow, like a seed planted in the soil of two worlds separated by an invisible wall.

Chapter Text

To Nova, Victor's world felt like a high-end video game—bright, chaotic, and full of rules she didn't know. That day, waking up in the boy’s body, she felt excited. It was the freedom she had always imagined. They had been swapping for several weeks now, so she wasn't going to waste the opportunity. She put on a dark t-shirt and ripped jeans and looked in the mirror, feeling a strange satisfaction.

The chaos began the moment she got to school.

Victor's friends, a group of guys who looked like they were straight out of a music magazine, greeted her with a casual pat on the back. "What's up, man?" one of them, named Ray, said. "You were acting weird yesterday. Did you find that song I told you about?"

Nova tilted her head. "What song? I'm sorry, I don't... I don't remember. Do you need help with anything?"

The group looked at each other, confused. "Nah, relax, dude. Don't forget we have our shift today. And no ‘help’ with such a sweet accent, please. You sound like my grandma," Ray joked. Nova blushed, something Victor would never do.

Later, at the comic and music store where Victor worked, disaster struck. The shop, called "Vinyl & Vigilantes," was an eclectic mix of shelves packed with comics and vinyl records—a place Victor loved, but that Nova understood nothing about.

A customer approached the counter. "Hi. Do you have the new edition of The Dragon's Shadow and the latest album from The Wastelanders?"

Nova blinked. What was a dragon's shadow? And a Wastelander? She leaned over and looked through the records. Her gaze, so accustomed to the old labels of her grandmother's family business, couldn't make sense of the place's modern, chaotic aesthetic.

"No... I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling her face turn red. "We... we only have more... traditional music, maybe? Some harvest songs or something?"

The customer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Dude, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

In the afternoon, on her way home, Nova felt the weight of guilt. She had screwed up. In an attempt to fix it, she opened the notes app on Victor's phone.

"To the city boy: I know you're going to read this and probably hate me. To be honest, I'd hate myself, too. I'm sorry for the mess at your job. I offered your customer something about harvest songs. In my defense, he looked like he needed something. Also, your friend told me I sounded like my grandma. I think his name is Ray? I'm sorry. P.S. Your mom just left me a voice message asking if the berry pie is ready. I feel like a spy."

Despite the problems, a smile formed on her face. Through all the chaos, she felt alive. Now she had a way to escape, at least for a day or a few, to get out of Sunnyside.

Chapter Text

Victor woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing. A moment of confusion was swept away by a profound smell of cinnamon and baked bread that filled the room. He opened his eyes, and in the semi-darkness of the morning, he saw Nova's grandmother preparing tea on an old wood stove.

"Nova, honey, the dough is ready. Are you coming?" The grandmother's soft voice made him shiver.

Victor, now in Nova's body, got up from the sofa where he was resting with a heavy feeling. The family business wasn't a flower shop, as he had imagined, but an artisan bakery. The place smelled wonderful, but the idea of kneading something was completely alien to him; he barely knew how to make instant coffee.

He went into the kitchen, and the grandmother handed him a bowl full of fluffy dough. "The secret is patience, Nova. You can't rush the yeast," she said with a smile. Victor tried to imitate the grandmother's movements, but his hands, though small, felt clumsy. The dough stuck to his fingers, and he grew frustrated with each attempt, feeling the elderly woman's gaze on him.

"You're acting strange," the grandmother said, still kneading her own portion. "As if you've forgotten your own name."

Victor froze. How was it possible that this woman noticed? Was it that obvious? He simply smiled and mumbled that he hadn't slept well. The grandmother smiled back, but her eyes held a wisdom that made him uneasy.

In the afternoon, Nova's friends came to visit. They sat on the small front porch, drinking berry cider from a clay jug and talking about local gossip.

"Did you hear that Farmer John's son proposed to the blacksmith's daughter?" one of them asked. "They say it's going to be an old-fashioned wedding."

Victor stared at them, not understanding. A farmer and a blacksmith? In Shadyside, people met in bars and got engaged via text message. The conversation was so different from what he was used to that he felt like he was speaking a foreign language.

At one point, one of the girls noticed that the bracelet Nova wore on her wrist had twisted a little. "Oh, Nova, let me fix that," she said. Victor, who hadn't been paying attention, instinctively pulled his hand away.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said.

The friends looked at each other, confused. The bracelet, which Victor had often seen on the girl's wrist, had special meaning for Nova, as it was a family heirloom, or so the grandmother had told him. It was a sign of connection to her history and traditions.

As evening approached, back in Nova's room, Victor felt a strange melancholy. The bakery, the grandmother, the friends… everything felt so simple, so warm, so real. It was a world that was lost to him, a world without the noise and speed of Shadyside. He sat at Nova's desk and opened the notes app on the girl's phone.

"To the girl in my body: I apologize for the chaos I caused in your life. I feel as out of place here as a Shadyside pie would be in your bakery. Your grandma is amazing, but also a little scary. Your friends... uh... are really nice. And... don't worry, the bracelet is fine, I took care of it. I don't know what it means, but I'll take care of it. Can I ask you something? What is this 'berry elixir' your grandma left me?"

Chapter Text

The day after the disaster at the bakery and the music store, Victor and Nova were forced to accept the truth: their lives were a battlefield. A field they needed to learn to control.

Nova’s phone, which woke up on Victor's body, vibrated with a new notification.

From: Victor

Subject: Survival Guidelines

Okay. Don't hate me. And I'm not a spy. But we need rules. This is getting out of hand. And no, the song you played for Ray was not music. Here is my list. Please read the whole thing:

1. If you're in my body, don't call my friends "old man." Call them "guys" or "dudes." They’re more... laid-back. And don’t get so nervous; they’re good people.

2. At the store, at 'Vinyl & Vigilantes,' don't tell anyone there's "traditional" music. No! The store has a system. If you ask "what's new," just scan the record and check the app. It's really useful. And if you have to recommend something, look for 'Cosmic Echoes' or 'Synthwave.' Clearly, you know nothing about Shadyside music.

3. Try not to act like a "zombie." People here are very direct and loud—don’t freak out. I know things are quieter in Sunnyside, but here this is normal. Just go with the flow and don't clam up. Act a little more "human," please.

P.S.: And stop apologizing already. It feels weird.

Nova read the list with a mixture of frustration and amusement. The irony of having a boy from a city she'd never seen lecturing her on how to behave was absurd. She decided that if she wanted this to work, she'd have to play the game. She picked up the phone and replied.

From: Nova

Subject: RE: Survival Guidelines

I see. Understood. Here’s my list—let’s see if you can keep my family from thinking I’m possessed:

1. If my grandmother asks you for a favor, just nod and say, "I'll do it, Grandma." Don't argue, don't ask questions. Just do it. The berry pie thing was a disaster, by the way. I don't know how you did it, but you ruined it.

2. The bracelet on my wrist isn't just an accessory. It’s an heirloom my grandmother gave me, and it represents our history and tradition. In Sunnyside, the 'musubi' unites us. Don't take it off. It is very important. By the way, what is that "berry elixir" you left in my kitchen?

3. And the people here aren’t zombies; they just have a different sense of fashion. What is important is that you must follow the old customs. Sunnyside is a town of memory. Don't get lost in time.

P.S.: Whatever you put on my phone was worse than the music I have. I swear.

And so, communication became an instruction manual for surviving in the other’s life. The messages grew more frequent and personal, and the rules evolved with each passing day. It was no longer just a to-do list, but a reflection of their personalities. Victor, the organized city boy, reminded Nova of schedules and responsibilities. Nova, the traditional girl, taught Victor to be more patient and to understand the warmth of community.

The strange situation, which had begun with panic and confusion, now felt like an adventure. And with every text and every rule they established, the mystery of the other person grew deeper. They stopped being two strangers and became accomplices. And, for the first time, the idea that this exchange might end one day, without them ever having seen the other person’s face, felt like a terrible possibility.

Chapter Text

The days of confusion were over. Victor, accustomed to the exact schedules of Shadyside, had started to understand the rhythm of Sunnyside. Life here moved to a different beat, one dictated by the sun, the slow rise of the dough, and unhurried talks on the porch. The initial chaos gave way to a routine that, surprisingly, brought him a sense of peace.

That Wednesday, the sun streamed through the old windows of Nova’s grandmother’s bakery. The air smelled of cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and damp earth after the rain. Victor, in Nova’s body, no longer felt clumsy. Following the instructions Nova had left him, he learned to handle the old mixer, to knead the bread with the patience that Grandma so valued, and to wrap the loaves with the care of someone who understood that every loaf was a work of art. The grandmother, seated in a rocking chair, watched him with a smile. She no longer saw her granddaughter acting like a stranger, but someone who was trying to understand the value of tradition.

In the afternoon, the community gathered in the central square. It wasn't a festival, but a preparation for the upcoming "Festival of Unity" that Nova’s friends talked about so much. Children ran around while the elders decorated with garlands of dried flowers and colorful ribbons. It was a simple activity, without the technology or neon lights Victor was used to, but there was a warmth that moved him. Every person had a role: one repaired the wooden benches, another painted a banner. Victor, as Nova, joined a group of women who were braiding the garlands. At first, his hands were nervous, but with the help of a neighbor, he managed to master the movement. The woman told him anecdotes about Sunnyside, its history, and how the town had recovered from a crisis that had left it nearly deserted years ago.

Listening to her, Victor saw Nova’s world through new eyes. It wasn't a community of "zombies," as he'd mentally labeled them at first, but people who treasured their history, their memory, and their connection. Unlike Shadyside, where everyone lived in their own world, in Sunnyside, everyone supported each other. He understood that Nova’s restlessness didn't come from a lack of love for her people, but from the frustration of not being able to explore the world beyond what she knew. He now understood why she had been so protective of her town's history.

That night, Victor sat at Nova's desk with a new sense of gratitude. Curiosity had evolved. He no longer just wanted to know the rules for surviving her life, but the story behind each one.

To the girl living in my body:

The chaos in your life has calmed down, I think. I spent the day at the bakery and the town square. I learned to make bread and braid garlands. Your grandmother is incredible. She told me about the Festival of Unity and the history of the town. I've been here in Sunnyside and it never occurred to me to ask. And yes, the berry elixir is delicious. I'm ready to learn more about your rules... about your customs. I no longer see you as a stranger. I see you as a person with a history. And yes, I mean that.

Chapter Text

Nova woke up with a feeling of new purpose. The excitement from the dream she’d had while gazing out her own bedroom window was now her reality. She moved with greater confidence in Victor’s body, as if she had finally found a place where she belonged.

The day began at school. Unlike the slow, tedious classes in Sunnyside, the pace in Shadyside was fast and demanding, but Nova loved it. She focused on the notes Victor had left her about his studies and, to her surprise, discovered she was excellent at math. With a dedication Victor rarely showed, she solved the problems and helped her classmates with a particularly difficult exercise. The professor approached Victor, taken aback.

"You're on a roll today, Victor," he said. "Keep that rhythm going."

Nova smiled. The teacher's words gave her a boost of confidence she had never felt before.

But the real magic of Shadyside came at night. Ray, Victor’s friend, sent a message: "We've got a local band playing downtown. You should come. It's the kind of 'weird' music you like now." The comment, which referred to the chaos Nova had caused in the vinyl store, made her heart quicken.

She dressed in Victor's clothes and left the house, feeling the night air of Shadyside for the very first time. The city hummed with energy. Neon lights flickered, the cafés and bars were packed, and the sound of music filtered through the windows. The world of her dreams was even more vibrant than she had imagined.

Ray was waiting for her outside the venue. It was a small place, packed with people. The music, a mix of rock and pop, filled the air. The energy was electric. Nova moved with the music, feeling free and untethered for the first time. It was so different from the quiet, ceremonial festivals of Sunnyside. Here, there was no past to defend, only a present to live.

She met Victor’s friends, who welcomed her with a warmth that overcame their initial surprise at their friend's recent changes. They talked about their dreams, their ambitions, and what they wanted to do with their future. These weren't stories of tradition or following in the family's footsteps, but of forging their own path. Nova understood that the freedom of Shadyside wasn't just its rhythm of life, but also its mindset: the freedom to be yourself.

Late that night, back at Victor’s house, Nova collapsed into bed, her body aching from dancing and excitement. She left a note on his phone.

To the guy from Shadyside:

Today was incredible. I helped you with your math homework, and I think the professor likes me now. And then, I went to a concert. It was so... free. The people here are so open. You have a wonderful life, Victor. And I understand why you love it so much. Don't worry, I won't mess it up. Take care.

P.S. What you guys call music, I find fantastic. I'll tell you what I listened to later.

Chapter Text

Nova woke up in her own bed, embraced by the familiar softness of her quilt and the unmistakable scent of rising dough wafting from her grandmother's bakery. She sat up, slightly disoriented, and the dream of neon lights and vibrant Shadyside music faded away. It was the day of the "Festival of Unity" in Sunnyside, an event she had anticipated with resentment her whole life. It was a ritual that had always felt like a chain she wanted to escape. But today, for some reason, she felt different. The gold bracelet with a red jewel in the middle, given to her by her grandmother, which she had feared would be lost in the chaos of Victor’s life, was right there, on her wrist, intact.

She put on her traditional attire and walked out to the town square. The garlands Victor had helped braid now hung everywhere, shimmering with the colors of the dawn. The square was filled with her townspeople. The old, the young, the faces she had seen all her life—and suddenly, she saw them with a fresh perspective. They weren't "ghosts" or "stuck." They were people with stories, with dreams, with a strong community that bound them together.

The festival music filled the air. It wasn't the jarring, modern sounds of Shadyside, but a soft, melancholic melody, played on old wooden instruments. Nova’s friends greeted her with a smile, and her grandmother gave her a hug.

"You look different, Nova," her grandmother said with a smile. "Radiant. As if you've finally found your place."

Nova didn't reply, but she nodded. She joined the traditional dance; her movements, which had once been mechanical, now felt fluid, connected to the music and the people around her. She felt like another piece of the puzzle, a link in the chain of her town's memory.

As dusk settled, Nova's grandmother led her to the center of the square. It was time for the berry elixir ceremony. Her grandmother, in a solemn voice, began to tell the history of Sunnyside, recounting how, years ago, a catastrophe had threatened to wipe the town off the map, and how the community’s love and support had saved it. Nova listened with a new devotion, knowing that Victor had heard this very same story through her. She felt connected to him in a way that made her feel he was right there, by her side.

And when her grandmother offered her the wooden bowl with the berry elixir, Nova drank it with pleasure. It was sweet, slightly tart, and it felt as though the very taste of her town was passing through her. Nova had yearned for the freedom of Shadyside, the chance to escape her past, but suddenly, the past felt like a gift.

Back in her room, Nova lay down on her bed, the bracelet on her wrist, feeling a deep love for her home. For the first time, she realized that what she had craved all her life was right there, with her.

To the guy from Shadyside:

I don't know how you did it, but you made me see my own life. The festival was incredible. I don't know what happened to me, but I realized how much I truly love my home. My grandmother was right—the people here are great. And the 'berry elixir' is the best. Thank you, Victor! Take care of my friends, and I’ll take care of your life.

Chapter Text

The first sign that something was wrong was the silence.

Victor woke up in his own bed, the familiar Shadyside light filtering through the blinds. For a second, he thought he was back in Nova’s body. The duvet on his bed, soft and worn, felt like a luxury. The quiet of his apartment, a stillness only broken by the hum of a refrigerator, was a stark contrast to Nova’s grandmother's bakery, which was always full of the old woman’s voice, the sound of dough being pounded, and the aroma of fresh bread.

He bolted upright. He looked at his hands. They were his hands, with his long fingers and clipped nails, without the tiny dusting of flour he always had when he was in Nova’s body. He touched his hair. The usual cut, without the weight of the ponytail.

He ran to his phone and switched it on. The lock screen showed the wallpaper he had set, not the photo of Nova’s bakery he had last seen. He opened the notes app. The note he had written to her, with the plans for the day, was there. But there was no reply. Her note about the Festival of Unity and the berry elixir was gone, and so was the one she had left the day before.

And suddenly, he felt the emptiness. The sensation of losing something he never truly had spread through his body. The connection, that invisible thread that bound them, had been severed. The exchange was over, as abruptly as it had begun, after they had been switching for nearly a year, two or three times a week.

He slumped onto his bed, phone in hand, an overwhelming sense of loss. In the last few months, his life had been filled with Nova's routines, her friendships, and the warmth of her community. He had helped in the bakery, braided garlands, laughed with her friends, and listened to the wise voice of her grandmother. He had seen the world through someone else's eyes, and now that his own were back in place, everything in Shadyside felt a little less bright.

The noisy streets, the trendy cafés, the vinyl shop... everything he once loved now felt superficial. The only thing tying him to reality was the blurry image of the Sunnyside Festival of Unity, the last scene he had experienced in Nova’s body. She had been so excited. He had felt her joy and her appreciation for her home, and he had shared that moment with her.

And suddenly, the yearning struck: he missed her. It was more than simple curiosity; it was a necessity, an urgency that came from the deepest part of his being.

An inexplicable impulse to see her. To find the girl behind the notes, the girl who had taught him to appreciate life in a forgotten town. Nova’s world had become as real as his own, and now that it had been snatched away, he realized he needed it. He had to go to Sunnyside and find Nova and perhaps, finally, meet her in person.

Chapter Text

The phone in Victor's hand felt empty. He scrolled his finger across the notes screen, again and again, hoping Nova's message would reappear. He had read it the night before, before falling asleep. She had told him about the festival, the joy she felt, the warmth of her home. But now the note was gone—all the notes had disappeared. It was as if she had never existed, as if it were just a dream fading with the daylight.

He tried to recall the faces. The face of Nova’s grandmother, with her wise wrinkles and her smile. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image slipped away, like an old photograph bleached by the sun. The faces of Nova's friends, their laughter and their voices. Nothing. A mental fog, thick and impenetrable, had covered all the details of Sunnyside.

Frustration turned into a sharp pang of pain. It was a pain of loss, not for the place, but for the person. For the girl who had shown him a world he didn't know existed. The longing to feel the warmth of her bakery again, to hear the music of the festival, and to see the way her townspeople moved. But the memories were elusive. The texture of the dough in his hands, the smell of the berries, the melody of the traditional songs... everything had become muddled, like a blurry old film that has lost its color and sound. Only fragments remained. A feeling. And an object.

He looked at his wrist. Nova’s bracelet, a family heirloom from Sunnyside, wasn't there. It was on Nova's body. But Victor could feel it, he could remember the story she had told him—the story of the connection that bound her town. The musubi. It was a knot that was made and unmade, yet always remained. It was a symbol of memory, a relic made by smiths for Sunnyside's founding family. And suddenly, Victor understood.

The memories might be blurry, but the connection was not. Even though the details were fading, the sensation of having known Nova, of having lived her life, and of having loved her town was as real as the beating of his heart. He didn't need a mental map or a photograph. He had his connection with Nova.

Frustration gave way to determination. If fate wanted to erase the memories, he would retrieve them. If his connection with Nova was meant to be a dream, he would make it real. And the first step was to cross the wall that had divided their worlds.

Chapter Text

With the certainty of his heart as his only compass, Victor began his search. His plan was simple and, at the same time, insane: go to Sunnyside. The fog in his memories didn't matter. He had to find the person who had shown him an entirely new world, the person he now, inexplicably, felt he loved.

The first step was to find something tangible. He remembered seeing Nova, in his body, using his old sketchbook to leave him notes. He rushed to his desk and, to his relief, found it open to a page. It wasn't a note, but a drawing. Nova’s delicate hand had captured the central square of Sunnyside with surprising precision. The grandmother's bakery, with its worn sign, the stone bridge crossing a small river, the paths leading to the edge of town. At the bottom of the drawing, Nova had sketched a small map, with street names handwritten. It was the proof he needed to know that everything he had experienced was not a dream.

But the journey wouldn't be easy. The place was on the other side of the city, a place no one from Shadyside ever went. He needed an excuse, and his friends.

He met Ray and his group at the cafeteria. He showed them the sketchbook, pointing to the drawing of the town.

"Guys," Victor said, with a conviction they had never seen in him, "I need a favor. For my Sociology class. I have to go to Sunnyside and do a report on rural communities. It's for a project."

Ray and the others looked at him skeptically. "Sunnyside? The town of ghosts? I don't know, Victor," Ray said. "I've heard time stopped there years ago. Won't it be dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous," Victor insisted, "it's... a place with history. It sounds perfect for my project. And I've been listening to traditional music from there for the store. We could go and look for some copies to sell."

The last excuse worked. Victor's friends, though wary, had a loyalty that surpassed any doubt. With a shrug, Ray stood up. "Fine, Victor. Whatever for your crazy project. Just don't expect there to be cell service there."

And so, that same afternoon, Ray’s small car left Shadyside. The vibrant life of the modern city faded in the rearview mirror. The neon lights dimmed, the apartment buildings grew smaller. The journey had begun. Victor clung to Nova’s notebook, his heart racing. He knew he was heading into the unknown, toward a place that only existed in his memories. But despite all the fear, hope was stronger.

Chapter Text

Ray's small car rolled down the road, moving further and further away from the modernity of Shadyside. Cafés with neon signs gave way to small neighborhood grocery stores. The city's vibrant music was replaced by intermittent static on the radio. Victor, with Nova's sketchbook on his lap, observed the landscape. The sky had turned a soft gray, as if the very light of Sunnyside was different.

"This place is duller than I expected," Ray commented, grimacing. "The GPS says we're about to cross the 'Wall.' It's a bridge, right?"

Victor nodded, although the nickname Ray used—and which Victor himself used to use—now sounded cruel to him. The "invisible line" separating the two districts was an old stone bridge that crossed an almost-dry stream. In the minds of Victor and his friends, it was the border of two worlds. The bridge wasn't just a structure; it was a legend. It was said that if you crossed it, you would enter a place where time stood still, inhabited by ghosts of the past. Before the exchange, Victor had seen the bridge from a distance and ignored it. But now, he felt an inexplicable pull toward it.

As the car approached, the stone structure appeared before them. The stone was covered with moss, and the wooden railing was weathered. To Ray and his friends, it was a symbol of decay.

"Wow, this place really is a graveyard of old cars," one of them said, pointing to an old, rusted truck. "It feels like we stepped back 50 years."

But for Victor, it was different. As they crossed the bridge, he felt a wave of memories. They weren't clear images, but feelings. The smell of damp earth, the warmth of the bakery, the sensation of the breeze on Nova's face as she ran. The air entering through the window didn't feel dirtier, but purer. The "Wall" was not a barrier, but a gateway to a place he had come to appreciate.

Victor's perception before and after his experience clashed violently. Before knowing Nova, Sunnyside was just a shadow of his city. Now, it was a part of him. The yearning he had felt upon losing his memories had manifested in this certainty: the invisible line was not a barrier, but a thread that connected them.

Ray's car stopped at the end of the bridge, and Victor looked at the small wooden sign that marked the entrance to the town: Sunnyside. He was there. But as he looked around, a feeling of coldness washed over him, a contrast to the warmth he had felt crossing. The streets were strangely empty. The light from the streetlamps flickered, and the shops had their curtains drawn. The place looked desolate, as if time truly had stood still, just as his friends had said. But not in the way he had imagined. Victor felt a sharp pang of fear. Something was not right.

Chapter Text

Ray's car stopped at the end of the bridge, its engine silent as if afraid to break the stillness. On the other side of the "line," the air didn't feel pure, but heavy and stagnant. The streets, which in Victor's memory were bustling and full of life, were now strangely silent. There was no children’s laughter, no sound of neighbors conversing, not even a dog barking. It was as if life itself had stopped.

"This is weird," Ray murmured, his voice unusually low. "It looks like a ghost town from a nineties horror movie. Are you sure this is the place for your project?"

Victor didn't reply. His heart was pounding, a mixture of yearning and a growing fear. He got out of the car, Nova's sketchbook in hand, and began to walk. His friends followed, uneasy. He searched for the bakery, the worn sign, the aroma of dough he had come to know. But the bakery windows were broken, the sign's paint was faded, and a thick layer of dust covered everything.

He walked toward the center of town, to the place where he had visualized the "Festival of Unity" through Nova's eyes. The space, which in his mind was filled with garlands and music, was now a vacant lot, covered in dry grass. The old shops surrounding the square were boarded up with wooden planks, their signs discolored. The stone bridge, which looked so vibrant in Nova's drawing, was crumbling in places. It was a dead town, not from old age, but for some much darker reason.

While his friends whispered among themselves, scared and confused, Victor walked to the center of the square. There, in the spot where he had mentally seen Nova dancing, stood a moss-covered stone structure. It was not a place of celebration, but a memorial monument. Victor approached, his hand trembling, and read the bronze plaque:

"In memory of the brave people of Sunnyside, who united to withstand the aftermath of the Great Flood of 2020. Though memories may fade, their spirit will endure."

Victor's world collapsed.

2020. It wasn't possible. The year he had lived in Nova's body couldn't have been more than five years ago. The silence around him was not that of a sleeping community, but one that had vanished. Nova, her grandmother, her friends, the Festival of Unity... everything he had experienced existed only in the past. The body swap had not been between two towns, but between two timelines. Victor had fallen in love with a ghost. The person he was searching for did not exist in his present.

Chapter Text

The date on the bronze plaque hammered in Victor's head, a painful echo resonating with the silence of the town. His friends approached him, their faces a mixture of panic and confusion. "Victor, what does this mean?" Ray asked. "Are we seriously in a ghost town?" But Victor didn't hear them. His mind was racing in circles. 2020. The Great Flood. It couldn't be. He had lived in this town just last week. Nova's grandmother, her friends, the bakery, the festival... it was all too real to be a dream or a lie.

Ignoring his friends’ pleas to leave, Victor clung to the last clear image in his mind: a small stream flowing behind Nova's bakery. From the square, he turned right, following the main street. In the distance, behind some old hedges, he saw the faint light of a lamp on in a house window. The only sign of life he had seen so far.

Victor's heart constricted. Nova's grandmother's house. The house he had taken care of.

With the urgency of a castaway reaching for a lifeline, he rushed to the door. His friends followed, more out of fear of being left alone in the square than out of curiosity. Victor knocked on the wooden door. A few seconds of silence that felt like an eternity, and then the door opened slowly.

An elderly woman, with white hair and a gaze filled with deep sadness, looked at him. It was her. It was Nova's grandmother, but her eyes were vacant, as if time had stolen them. Victor felt a pang of relief and an immense urgency.

"Ma'am," he said, his voice cracking, "It's me, Victor. From Shadyside. Do you know where Nova is?"

The elderly woman looked at him uncomprehendingly, but then her eyes brightened. It wasn't recognition; it was something else. "Ah, it's you. The boy from the city." A small sigh escaped her lips. "Memories are like the river," she said, her voice like the rustle of dry leaves. "They flow, and sometimes they take bits of the bank with them. Sometimes, a piece of one bank joins another."

"Please, ma'am," Victor pleaded. "What happened here? And where is Nova?"

The old woman invited him into her small house, which was neat and clean despite the exterior decay. Inside, there were photographs of a happy family on the walls. One of them, faded by the sun, showed a smiling Nova standing in front of the family bakery, holding a tray of cookies. Victor felt the breath rush out of his lungs. It was the Nova he knew.

The elderly woman sat down, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. "The Great Flood of 2020 was just the beginning," she began. "The river destroyed the line that connected us to the city. And when the government wouldn't repair it, we were left alone. The economic crisis that followed forced most of us to leave. People left, searching for work, for a life. My children, my granddaughter... they didn't make it. I stayed behind to look after this place. To not let the memory go with them."

Victor felt the world spinning around him. "But... I lived here. In Nova's body. She showed me her life, her family. Her bakery."

A sad smile touched the old woman’s face. "Yes. And she lived yours, in the future. Sometimes, the line that separates us—the one of time—becomes blurred. The musubi, the connection, becomes so strong between two people that the past and the future touch. The bonds of Sunnyside’s family to the land are ancient, as old as the earth itself. My granddaughter was always special. And the two of you met in the twilight. In that magical moment between day and night, between the past and the present. She is real, Victor. But she does not exist now. You joined her through memory and connection, not across distance."

Victor was speechless. The truth, although it didn't explain everything, was more devastating than he had imagined. The longing he had felt, the pain of the loss, was now a certainty. The girl he loved was an abyss of time away. He was in love with a ghost.