Full Summary:

Blyke takes a deep breath, forces down the swell of panic, and makes a list of his priorities:

1. Make sure Rei lives

2. Stop the Joker fiasco from happening

3. Try not to die

(Or, getting flung back to the start of Third Year is absolutely terrifying, but it means Blyke can ensure history doesn't repeat itself. Second chances are rare enough, and he's not about to let this one go to waste. With unexpected friends and new threats at every corner, who knows what will await him?)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Profanity

Author's Note: Okay, full disclosure: I respect Uru as a writer, but I've always thought that it would be more conceptually interesting if the plot of UnO got to move beyond just the immediate setting of Wellston. We know so little about the worldbuilding of UnO, after all.

This fic will be filled with my theories regarding the backstories of characters (family, past experiences, etc.), the geography of the world, and the mechanics behind abilities (for instance, "there are severe side effects of ability overuse"). I'll also be focusing heavily on plot, so if you enjoy that, you're in the right place! :3


ar·ri·val

/??rīv?l/

the reaching or attainment of any object or condition; a coming


The second Blyke wakes up, he knows that something is wrong.

He can't exactly explain it, but even through the fog of sleepiness, something feels off. His eyes flutter open and he stares up at the ceiling for a few moments. The first thing that shakes the fuzziness from his mind is the shrill beep beep beep of what is undoubtedly an alarm.

"Isen?" he asks through a yawn, pushing himself into a sitting position and blearily rubbing at his eyes. Isen had vehemently protested his alarm-setting habits when he'd first moved in (something about needing beauty sleep), so the beeping is annoying in more ways than one. "Since when did you have an alarm, you hypocrite?"

When he doesn't get an answer, he looks up, and his heart freezes in his chest. He's not in Isen's room at all. The walls are stripped instead of plain gray, and the placement of the windows have changed. He's on a bed instead of the floor, and damn if it isn't the most comfortable he's been in God knows how long. The floor isn't too bad - he just has to deal with a sore back in the mornings - but sleeping on an actual bed makes him feel like he's floating on a cloud, as cheesy as it sounds.

He buries his face in his hands and breathes in deeply. Then, he mutters a long string of profanities under his breath, because this is his dorm room. The same room that he hasn't set foot in since the Joker fiasco.

If this is someone's idea of a prank, he fucking hates it.

The alarm's pitch increases until it's screeching painfully. Blyke's head begins to pound, and he pushes down the swell of panic long enough to locate where the noise is coming from: his phone. As he reaches for it, he catches sight of the boxes stacked around his bed. A quick glance inside the top box tells him it's filled with unused binders and crisp, clean textbooks.

"It's just a prank, Blyke," he tells himself, aloud, as he taps at the clunky screen. "It's just a really, really elaborate prank." The way his fingers are shaking makes things difficult, and it takes him more tries than he'd like to admit to finally turn off the alarm.

He untangles himself from his sheets, ears ringing, then gets out of bed. When he unlocks his phone to check the time, a cold feeling creeps up his throat. The wallpaper that greets him is him and his sisters instead of him, Remi and Isen. At the top of the screen, green characters display 7:00 AM.

A mantra of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck repeats over and over in his mind, because it's been months since the date had been in September. The first day of school, no less. His phone slips from his grasp and clatters onto the floor, but he's too shocked to react.

There are too many signs. As much as he'd like to ignore them all, he knows he needs to be rational. It certainly doesn't feel rational, sure, but he's acquaintances, maybe friends with Seraphina. If she can bend time to her will, it shouldn't be impossible for something like this to happen. It makes more sense than the alternative, but the idea is so absurd that he doesn't want to say it out loud, doesn't want to admit it to himself.

He swallows hard and concentrates as hard as he can, trying to remember what had happened the day before. To his alarm, he comes up completely empty. He can remember a full day - going to class, hanging up more Safe House posters, fighting off Zeke's sorry ass - and normally, he'd call the memories 'yesterday'. But this time, it doesn't feel right.

It feels like he's missing a day, maybe even days. He can't come up with a reason why he feels this way, but it feels quite certain.

He takes another deep, shuddering breath, and scoops his phone off the floor. The thing's old and bulky, but it's about as sturdy as a brick - it came out unscathed after he'd dropped it three stories. Its screen tells him that his little moment of realization has lasted a little over five minutes, though it feels like it has been much longer.

Stay calm. He has to be calm. He has to think this through, or else he knows he's going to do something rash and dig himself an even deeper hole.

Firstly, there's orientation to attend. He'll just figure everything out after, or something like that. He roots through the boxes until he pulls out a cup of instant ramen, then fills a kettle of water from the washroom's tap. As it boils, he changes into his uniform and brushes his teeth.

Blyke peels back the paper lid of the cup, pours in the boiled water, and sets a three-minute alarm. By the time it goes off, he's more or less managed to convince himself to look on the bright side of things. The chance to redo everything, the chance to change everything for the better…

He can't let an opportunity like this go to waste.

He pulls out a pencil and a piece of lined paper and thinks for a quick moment. Without any difficulty or hesitation, he writes out his priorities in a neat list.

1. Make sure Rei lives

2. Stop the Joker fiasco from happening

3. Try not to die

He's normally a quick eater, but today, he purposefully stalls as he digs into his ramen. He chews slowly, rereading the list over and over again while his stomach twists with nerves. Obviously, there are other important things, like keeping his grades up for his scholarship, but he can do that without the knowledge of the… the future. (Goddamn, none of this feels real, like he's in some sort of shitty scifi movie.)

When the cup is empty and he knows he'll be late if he metaphorically digs his heels in for longer, he straightens his tie, and, with a deep breath, exits the room.


The trip to the Assembly Hall is surreal.

Blyke hadn't thought that anything could beat the sheer weirdness of seeing his filled notebooks blank again, but seeing his living, breathing schoolmates is so much weirder. Seraphina's posture is ramrod straight, and her hair is tied back in a long, high ponytail. Remi and Arlo are arguing. (Or, well, Remi is arguing, complete with large hand gestures, while Arlo is half-smiling, half-smirking, and all amused.) Neither spare him a second glance. It's incredibly jarring coming from Remi, and it takes a few moments for him to remember that they don't become friends, not really, until their roles as Royals put them together.

Remi looks so animated and happy, and Blyke realizes with a sinking feeling that he can't recall the last time he'd seen her like this. This is what she had been like, before her brother's death, before EMBER, before everything. Fuck, what the hell is he doing? He tears his eyes away as his throat tightens.

He needs to make sure none of that happens this time. Remi deserves to be happy more than anyone, and-

"Yo, Angry Bird, who pissed in your cereal?"

Blyke startles hard. Even beyond the fact that there's only one person who would ever call him Angry Bird, the familiarity of the voice sends a wave of relief through him.

"Shut the fuck up, Isen," he hisses, trying not to give himself away even as he's struck by a deep gratitude for his best friend. It's comforting, to know that he has this one constant.

Isen slides forwards and bumps his shoulder against Blyke's. "Oh, come on. Lighten up, man. You look even angrier than usual."

Blyke can't exactly say I travelled through time and I'm trying not to freak out, so he simply shrugs a shoulder as he follows Isen down the hallway. He keeps his eyes mostly on the ground. He doesn't think he can handle seeing everything at the same time.

The orientation presentation starts shortly after he and Isen enter the Assembly Hall. It's standard and straightforward, bordering on generic. He's heard the talk about academic responsibilities and upholding the school reputation dozens of times, but he pays attention anyways.

Isen has no such qualms. He makes sarcastic, whispered comments every time Headmaster pauses, like he normally does. Blyke glares at him for goofing off, like he normally does. The familiarity of the routine is enough for him to momentarily forget about the Very Pressing Issue, if even for a few moments.

When the Royals are called up to speak to the student body, Isen finally quiets down. The speech the three of them give is short and sweet, and once they're done, Headmaster returns to dismiss them all.

"Press Club's first meeting is today," Isen says, as they squeeze past chatting students and through the door. "Wanna hang out after?"

Blyke shakes his head. "I still need to unpack." That, and he needs time to think things over.

"Just throw everything under your bed. It's not that deep," Isen snickers, even as he turns and begins to head off in the other direction. "See you tomorrow, nerd."

Blyke can't help the way the corners of his mouth twitch up, even as he rolls his eyes. He turns the corner and begins to go down the stairs. About halfway through the stairwell, he sees a student with silver hair cornering another student. He can't tell who the second is because of the way the first is positioned, just that he's wearing the male uniform and has dark hair.

When he hears the sound of a blow connecting, his eyes narrow. "What the fuck is going on here?"

The silver-haired student turns around. His posture is lax, disinterested. Still, it's perfectly clear what he had been doing - picking on someone weaker than him.

"And who are you?" the bully sneers.

Annoyance shoots through Blyke, and he's about to answer I'm the fucking Jack when he realizes he had forgotten, again. He doesn't have that notoriety, not here.

(That, and, well, he hasn't been the Jack in a while, anyhow.)

Having eyes on him constantly had been annoying and uncomfortable, but at least people listened to him...mostly.

"Scram," he says, instead of answering the question. "Picking on others just because you happened to be born luckier is pathetic as fuck."

"You think you can just tell me what to do?" The bully shakes the poor student he's holding by the shirt for emphasis, and Blyke is honestly so sick of assholes who go around terrorizing others and abusing their power.

"Yeah," he responds, as he begins to charge up a small beam atop the tip of his index finger. It's meant to be a warning shot, and when he catches the other student awkwardly getting to his feet in the corner of his peripheral vision, he winces.

The situation reminds him too much of the warning shot he had fired at John's head. It isn't his proudest moment. His aim is good, but he hadn't expected John to duck into the direction of the beam instead of away. He can't exactly blame him - it's hard to tell what's happening in the heat of the moment.

But John had called Remi a bitch and slapped her away for trying to help, and fuck, Blyke isn't just going to let that go. He does admit that a punch would have worked fine, though.

When he had tried to apologize, John literally slammed the door in his face. Needless to say, the entire event has left a sour taste in his mouth.

By now, the silver-haired student's skin has turned a dark gray colour. Some kind of augmentation ability, perhaps? Blyke waits until he's close enough to attack without the second student getting caught in the crossfire, then uses his ability to create a pulse of energy.

It's sloppy, far sloppier than he expects, with the way its trajectory is all wonky. It's much weaker than usual as well, like how it had been before he had practiced for hours and gotten the hang of it. It does the job, though, and knocks the bully flat on his ass.

Blyke scowls down at his palm, unpleasantly surprised. Losing months' worth of training is a shit feeling, but as frustrating as it is, there isn't anything he can do about it. Turning the full force of his glare onto the silver-haired student, he repeats, "I said scram."

His words are actually heeded this time, thankfully, so he shifts his attention onto the second student.

"Are you oka-" he begins, before he manages to get a good look at who he's talking to. This student doesn't just remind him of John, he actually is John. He hadn't initially realized, because John looks completely different. Not only is his hair gelled and utterly unrecognizable, his entire demeanour is unrecognizable. "Um, okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Blyke gestures to the nasty-looking bruise that's blooming bright purple over the side of John's face and tries not to sound as weirded out as he feels. A loop of what the fuck is going on repeats in his mind; back before the whole Joker thing went down, he had been aware of John's status as a cripple, but actually seeing it is so fucking weird.

"Nah, it's fine. I'll go to the caf and ask for ice or something. Don't want to bother Doc on the first day, considering I went to the infirmary literally every day last year."

Blyke's eyes go wide with alarm. "Every day?"

"Well, not on weekends, of course." John scratches at the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed. It's the strangest thing - getting brutalized like this shouldn't be something one is ashamed of. And so often, too. It sounds like an awful experience.

Blyke realizes too late that he actually feels empathy for John. He sternly reminds himself about what the fucker had done to Remi and Isen. No fraternizing with the enemy!

Still, he says, "This isn't right at all." This version of John hasn't done anything of the sort, and it's unfair to punish him for what his future self does.

Blyke had expected John to say something along the lines of 'glad you've finally pulled your head out of your ass to see' (which, fair), so when he merely stands there and looks shocked, it's completely unexpected.

There's a strange look in his eyes, something that's both surprised and happy, and Blyke suddenly feels awkward. How is he supposed to react to this?!

"Th-"

"It's fine," Blyke says quickly, then backtracks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off. But you don't have to thank me. This is just basic human decency. It's no biggie." With a sinking feeling, he realizes that this is probably a big deal to John, but he refuses to open that can of worms.

He quickly spins on his heel and takes off before John has a chance to say anything else, calling, "See you around!" over his shoulder as he does so.


Blyke makes it back to his dorm room in record time. He drags a hand through his hair and groans as the sheer weight of the situation hits him all over again. Fuck, he's so in over his head.

This is bigger than just him, or even just Wellston.

He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the pounding of his heart. He unlocks his phone and clicks on his contacts app, then scrolls through the rows of names and numbers until he finds who he's looking for.

With a swipe of his thumb, the dial tone begins to ring. A couple moments pass, and right when he is about to hang up and chicken out, the other side picks up.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, Rei."


End Notes:

Blyke: Okay, don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic

Pre-Joker John: *exists*

Blyke: *panics*