Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 1 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

They cheered for him alone.

Every voice rang with joy as it blessed his name. Every face thronging the palace courtyard beamed with unreserved happiness. Every gaze was fixed on him, the young boy looking down on them from the balcony.

Not so long ago, their nation had teetered on the brink of destruction. Now the world knew them as proud rulers of the central continent of Soleil. It was all thanks to him—he who stood by their king through thick and thin, who held firm in times of hardship and despair, who guided their armies to victory in countless battles.

He raised one hand in acknowledgment and retreated from the balcony. Behind him, the roar of the crowd continued unabated. The city would not sleep tonight, nor in the nights to come. War-torn castle walls and ruined houses still wanted for repair, but rebuilding would come later. Now was a time for celebration, for now they were conquerors, the first nation in history to bring all of Soleil beneath their banner. The festivities would last for many days yet.

The boy made his way back inside the palace, along the passage linking balcony and throne room. A springy carpet of deep red cloth ran the length of the corridor, hemmed in on either side by spotless walls of white stone. As he walked on in silence, a young man appeared to block his path.

“Do you truly mean to leave?” the young man asked. His sadness was written on his face.

The boy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’d love to stay, but you know how it is. Home is home.”

Of all the people of Soleil, he was surely the first and last permitted to address this young man—his king—so casually. Anybody else would have been harshly punished for their impertinence, if not executed outright. But he and the king were fast friends, so his familiarity prompted a smile rather than a rebuke.

“I had hoped you might come to call this land home. You are a hero to my people, after all. I could furnish you with a suitable title, and you could live out your days in the peace and prosperity you helped build. Would you still turn me down?”

“All the more reason to leave,” the boy replied. “Your nation loves its politics. It’s statesmen your age of peace will need, not generals. Better to send me on my way now than put up with a jobless has-been mooching off your coffers.”

The king’s elegant brow furrowed with sorrow. “You will not be persuaded, then?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I see.”

They had crawled through the muck together. They had shared uncommon shame and disgrace. Through all the king’s trials, this boy had stayed stubbornly by his side, believing in him and his crumbling nation to the last. They were comrades-in-arms, friends, brothers, and they knew each other’s hearts inside and out. It was that very friendship that told him now the boy’s mind would not be changed.

He shook his head in resignation. “Take this, then,” he said, tossing an object through the air. The boy caught it and scrutinized it warily. It was a plain piece of stiff white paper, like a blank bookmark. The king grinned like a child up to mischief. “Or else I’ll insist you stay.”

The boy laughed. “No, I’ll take it. What is it, though? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You’ll find out when the time is right. Although I can’t imagine you’ll have need of it in your world, from what you’ve told me of the place.”

His piece said, the king turned away and set off down the hall. The boy watched him go. After a few steps, the king stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“Consider this my goodbye. You know my opinions on tearful farewells, I trust.” He paused for a moment, as though mourning their parting. “I don’t intend to see you off. Be well.”

“You too,” the boy replied. “It’s been fun.”

“That it has, my friend. That it has.”

And so a tale of heroes came to an end.

“...and that’s when I woke up.”

With an intense gleam in his eyes, Hiro Oguro finished his story. He was a perfectly ordinary second-year high school student. This year, he would turn seventeen.

“Uh...cool. Sounds great, man.”

His friend Fukutaro was giving him some serious side-eye. Fukutaro and Hiro were both second-years and had known each other since they were little, but they couldn’t have looked more different. With his naturally tall and muscular physique, Fukutaro was twice Hiro’s size.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Hiro asked.

“Believe what? You had a dream, dude. I get crazy dreams all the time.”

“I guess...” His friend had a point. Hiro decided to change the subject before things got awkward. “So anyway, your mom told me you got an acceptance letter?”

Fukutaro grimaced, muttering something about “sticking her nose into other people’s business” before shrugging in defeat. “Can’t believe they’re sendin’ those out to second-years.”

“Is it really that weird?” Hiro asked. “I mean, you’re the judo club’s star member.”

“It’s all comin’ too soon, man. University’s so far away, it doesn’t even feel like a real place.” Fukutaro scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable. He fixed Hiro with a meaningful look. “You’re the one we should be worrying about, anyhow. You gotten back into clubs yet?”

“You know what the doctor says. No strenuous physical activity.”

Fukutaro’s gaze softened. “C’mon, man, it’s been three years already. It’s about time they let you go for a jog. Didn’t you have a checkup yesterday?”

Hiro’s medical checkups dated back to a bizarre incident three years earlier. Until the day it had happened, he’d by all accounts been in good health. When his mother had come to wake him that morning, however, she’d screamed at what she’d found: her son lying in bed, naked and horribly gaunt. That in itself might not have been so bad, but he was inexplicably covered in injuries and smeared with dirt, and his short hair had somehow grown down to his shoulders.

He was immediately rushed to hospital, where he underwent a thorough medical examination. Among other things, the doctors had found that Hiro was suffering from dislocated shoulders, torn muscles, and various fractured bones. His lacerations showed signs of having been treated, but their crude stitches ensured they would leave permanent scars. The discovery that several were infected put the nail in the coffin: he was not to go home any time soon.

On top of everything else, Hiro had no memory whatsoever of how he had come by his injuries. This proved unfortunate for his worried parents, as the hospital came to suspect he was a victim of child abuse and contacted the police, who in turn called them in for questioning. The mental toll of being accused of causing their own son’s condition must have been incalculable.

“Yeah, but...it sounds like I still need a bit more time.”

While his memories had never returned, Hiro had eventually made a perfect physical recovery. He had long since received the all-clear for strenuous exercise. He was avoiding clubs for another reason entirely: for the past three years, he’d been experiencing residual side effects that not even his doctor knew about. Reluctant to worry his family and friends, he had chosen to step back from physical activities.

“Right. Sorry. Dumb of me to ask.” Fukutaro fell silent for a few seconds. For a moment, Hiro worried that he was beating himself up, but when his friend next opened his mouth, he was back to his normal cheerful self.

“I gotta tell you, man, I barely even recognized you at first. Damn near gave me a heart attack. You looked like you’d been stuck in the jungle for a decade with that mop on your head.”

“It was down to my waist, yeah. I remember. My mom said the same thing.”

“Plus you were weirdly muscular too. How’d you get that ripped in one night?”

“It’s my signature skill.” Hiro grinned. “I powerlevel while I’m sleeping.”

“You wish!” With a bark of laughter, Fukutaro jabbed his friend playfully on the shoulder. Or at least, he tried to.

As Fukutaro’s fist approached, something stirred in Hiro’s chest. Before he even registered he was moving, he slid his leg sideways to neatly dodge the punch, then launched himself forward, inside the reach of Fukutaro’s arms.

“Well...uh...” Fukutaro stammered, his shock plain to see. “Looks like those crazy reflexes of yours are still workin’ all right.” His eyes were fixed on Hiro’s upraised fist, hovering millimeters from his chin.

“Oh, crap! Sorry!” Flustered, Hiro took a step back...and as he did, he noticed something strange. Fukutaro was frozen in place, sweat beading on his forehead, face locked in wide-eyed surprise.

“Huh? What now?” Hiro shot him an exasperated smile. Not even children would try to pull this one nowadays. He waved his hand in front of Fukutaro’s face, but his friend didn’t move a muscle. “Cut it out. We’ll be late to class.” He gave Fukutaro an exasperated shake, with no result. “How long are you gonna stand there like an idiot? Come on, this is embarrassing.”

Hiro glanced around to check if anyone was staring and beheld a sight as incomprehensible as it was bizarre.

The world had stopped.

Whatever was affecting Fukutaro, he was far from the only one. The pedestrians around them had halted in their tracks, as had the crows pecking at garbage bags in front of houses and the cat hissing at an elementary schooler by the roadside. Even the sun shining proudly down on them stood stock-still in the heavens, along with the white clouds drifting across the blue sky. Every element of the everyday scene hung frozen in time.

“What the hell?”

Hiro’s jaw hung slack as he struggled to process what he was seeing. Clinging to a faint hope, he approached a nearby schoolgirl.

“Umm...” He opened his mouth hesitantly. “This is all just a prank, right?”

He knew how clichéd the question sounded, but nothing else came to mind. The schoolgirl didn’t respond, as he knew in his heart she wouldn’t. Thinking about it rationally, no one would set up a prank on this scale just to spook one unremarkable high schooler.

“Even if they did, how would they pull it off?” Over and over, he looked around, hoping for something to change, but the world remained stubbornly frozen. He gave a strained chuckle. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

White noise filled his head. His legs turned to jelly. The pounding in his chest grew gradually more panicked. He desperately needed to do something, anything, but what was there to do? Tears sprang to his eyes as a wave of fear swept over him.

What would you do if you were in my place?

His soul cried for help to his comrade-in-arms.

What would you say to see me in this sorry state?

Would he have been ready with an encouraging smile, or a disdainful rebuke?

I don’t get it. Who am I talking to? What am I even thinking?

Hiro’s vision grew dim, as though he were falling into slumber.

(Lean on me in times of doubt, as I shall lean on you. For we are brothers, are we not?)

From the distant past, his comrade’s words returned, carrying a young man’s voice and likeness with them in vivid color.

(At times I played the elder, at times the younger, but we were always family.)

The only family he had on the other side.

(Should you need succor, should you need aid, there is no shame in seeking it in me.)

But how can I, when you don’t exist in this world?

He had given up everything he’d worked for, thrown away all he’d gained, and fled back home to his own world. In the back of his mind, he wondered—did he even have the right to ask for help?

(Come, my friend. My brother. Though many trials await you, none may sever the bond we share.)

As Hiro fell away into darkness, he could have sworn a familiar young man appeared before his eyes.