--"Cardio," for those born at the bottom of the totem pole in society, cardio is the most important concept of our lives. Some in my position don't realize it--and because of that inability to adapt, they end up with their underwear ripped over their ass cracks. For one instance, and honestly, the most important advantage of cardio, escaping from the apex predators of teenage society. I was lucky enough to rarely have this problem as I'm so damn plain that I was practically invisible, but for others, speed and stamina was a necessity to prevent your ass from once again, being brutalized by the savages of school.
Beyond that, if you're someone who has to commute via their own two feet to school every morning like I had to, you'll soon learn that many people are inept at containing their feral mutts. Time and time again, I'd find myself in a standoff with an escapee dog, and time and time again, I'd be out of there and around the corner in the blink of an eye. You know why? Cardio.
You'd be surprised at how much just a little bit of exercise will push you a long way in comparison to the average person out there. All I did was go for a jog along the riverbank each day, never missing a day except for special occasions. Just from that, people thought I was on the track team or something--I even got approached by the coach for the track team at my school. Honestly, I wonder if I would've still been a NEET if I joined...that's besides the point.
Maybe there was a path for him--an alternate route, you could call it. A different path in life for him where he for once decided to step outside of his comfort zone and join the track team. Using his main-character status, it would be feasible for him to carry his school through nations and become a famous track star. From there, he would obtain a scholarship for an elite university, of course, he wouldn't accept any overseas offers--there was no honor greater than representing his country. Oh, that brings him into the next part of this alternate life--after once again showing his cardio prowess in this high-class university, he would then be scouted to represent Japan in the Olympics.
--"Cardio Route", that's what I call it. Instead of becoming a world-famous track athlete on par with champions of greek heroes, I dedicated myself to my online guild in Phantasm Wars III. Was it a fair trade off? Well, I was the number-one paladin player on the server, so you ask me.
"What are you grinning about? It's honestly pretty creepy," Meinhard's voice suddenly met his zoned out eardrums, waving his hand in front of his face.
"Honestly, you smile like a lecherous noble…" Mila commented with a worried look on her face.
"Huh--? Why am I being ganged up on all of a sudden?" Ren yelled out.
After their bickering settled down, the two young men got into position for their contest of speed. There was nothing on the line, but at the same time--everything was on the line. Whoever won here would have bragging rights, never letting the loser live it down. That's why Mila found herself almost frightened at the two boy's sharpened facial expressions, honing in on the goal ahead.
In total concentration, they had puckered their lips, looking like a pair of middle-aged men as they prepared to race for the title of fastest.
"Thh…" Ren let out a sharp, thin breath between his teeth.
"Um...ready? Set, go--!" Mila called out nervously, feeling out of place as she looked at the extremely focused young men.
Every ounce of power transferred to his legs as he sprang forward, sprinting alongside his competitor. At this moment, they weren't friends--only rivals, enemies, even. As rusty as he thought he was, his body felt light as he breezed through the flat land in front of him.
--I've actually got this!
That is what he thought. In reality, the blur that was Meinhard swiftly passed him, creating a dozen meters of distance between the two of them. Before his mind could even process the prospect of second place, the race was already over. There Meinhard sat, on the pale gray rock with a boisterous smile that stabbed Ren directly in the heart.
"How the…'' Ren panted, hunching over as he fought for his breath.
"I guess I'm just physically fit, no?" Meinhard smugly responded.
"That speed--you would beat Olympic athletes!" Ren jabbed his finger towards the young man.
"Do you want to know how I ran that fast then?" Meinhard hopped off of the rock.
"Of course!"
"It's a secret~" Meinhard stuck his tongue out, "so, what's next? Want to try having an arm-wrestling contest?"
"Real funny. I'm not going against someone clearly using hacks," Ren scoffed.
Clearly defeated, whether by unnatural means or not, Ren sat down on the breezy grass. Even as someone not particularly good at life, he had his own pride--and it had just been trampled all over within seconds.
"I'm just messing with you, Ren. If I didn't have my little trick, you would've left me in the dust!" Meinhard smiled, sitting himself beside the sore loser.
"Yeah, yeah," Ren let out a puff of air, causing his bangs to rise slightly.
All of his feelings of shame and embarrassment became sidelined however, noticing the young maid approach them as she carried a brown basket, decorated with a white and pink cloth. It was the universal design, or rather--multi-universal design for a picnic basket. Before he could even confirm the existence of food, his stomach growled at the prospect of it--and he wasn't alone on that one. Meinhard chuckled, bashfully covering his stomach with one hand.
"Don't look at me like that, we're in the same boat," Meinhard spoke out in defense of his yearning stomach.
"I'm not the one acting like a shy teenage girl over a stomach growl. I own that," Ren puffed out his chest with a smirk.
"Do you two always bicker like this? It doesn't exactly seem healthy…" Mila asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.
The two hungering youths watched in anticipation as the maid set the basket down, revealing a sizable feast of a variety of sandwiches.
"I think I've seen heaven…" Ren's mouth fell agape at the sight.
"Right there with you..." Meinhard fell into the same trance.
If there was one thing the two young men from two entirely different worlds had in common, it was a love for food.
It was honestly the one thing that made him ever venture past his own home, let alone his bedroom. At the start of each week, the first thing on Monday mornings he would get his allowance from his mother, earned simply by virtue of existing. Using his fair share of spending cash, he would journey to the nearby convenience store--"Family Hill", and from there, pick from their selection of fresh food on display. Yakisoba pan--of course, each and every time. The steamed, chewy noodles were always heavenly against his taste buds.
"Don't drool so close to the basket!" Mila swiped the basket back.
Ren shook his head quickly as he snapped back into focus, wiping the hunger-formed saliva from the side of his mouth with a glint of embarrassment.
"Now who's acting like a shy girl?" Meinhard teased, grabbing a sandwich from the basket.
"Oh, shut it."
The bread had been slightly toasted to give the whiteness of it a slightly golden texture, crisp and firm, but not hard enough to become a hassle to eat. The lettuce, tomatoes, chicken, and red peppers were reminiscent of the sandwiches his mother packed for him every day when he went to school. It was probably the last string that kept him attached to school before he completely dropped out.
"You know, it looks like you were remembering some fond memories," Meinhard commented with a full mouth.
"Mm...yeah, I guess you could say that," Ren smiled warmly, staring at the sandwich he held.
Mila and Meinhard looked at each other for a moment, it wasn't common to see the loud, eccentric otherworlder to be so melancholic. One look at Mila's face told him of the curiosity she had, likely about his world.
"It's kind of weird…" Ren suddenly said, scratching his cheek with a smile.
"What's weird?" Meinhard took a large bite from his sandwich.
"Nobody really asks me about my world. Even Althaus, who I thought was a pervert for this sort of knowledge...he hasn't asked me a single thing," Ren ran his fingers through the blades of grass.
It was obvious why somebody like Mila who he barely knew wouldn't ask him about his world, but it struck him as odd for the others. His question seemed to bring about an awkward atmosphere, as Meinhard's frivolous aura shifted, lowering his gaze to the ground.
"Ah, forget I asked, I was just kind of curious," Ren gave them a reassuring chuckle, trying to salvage the situation.
"No, it's just, well--I think I can speak for everybody here when I say this: Being dragged into an entirely different world against your will, especially with the type of greeting you received...it isn't right. So, digging up memories of the world you grew up in and loved--it just isn't our place. All I--we--want is for you to live a comfortable life now," Meinhard hid his completely red face, scratching his head frantically as his blonde hair bounced.
Seeing the carefree young chef now at the mercy of bashful emotions was a sight to behold for him. He almost felt like teasing him, but his heart had already been swayed by those heartfelt words. Although, making jokes was his main way of coping with awkward, mushy moments like this.
"I don't--I mean, thank you, Meinhard, Mila," Ren averted his gaze as his cheeks soon tinted with a slight crimson.
There they were--practically three stooges, sitting there with red faces, flushed with irrational embarrassment stemming from uncharacteristic sentimentality. Not that it was a bad thing, this type of heart-to-heart interaction with people is something he seldom experienced.
--It's nice. For some reason, when I'm around them...I don't feel like putting on some fake face. I guess it makes sense for people in this type of era to be more personable?
"How about an equal exchange?" Ren spoke up as an idea popped into his mind.
"Huh?" Meinhard and Mila asked in unison.
"You know, an "equal exchange" since you're all so uncomfortable asking me about my world--if I ask you about your lives, then it would be fair for you to ask me, no? Hence, an equal exchange," Ren raised his index finger as he explained it to them.
"You, urr, you really want to know about me?" Mila asked shyly, fiddling with her silken brown hair.
"Yeah, I don't know, Ren…" Meinhard crossed his arms as he looked down as if concentrating on something.
"Oh, come on--I bet you anything in this world that my life is a helluva lot more shameful than whatever you've got for me--"
Ren stopped himself, noticing the gloomy expression plastered on his friend's face. The look on Mila's face told him he shouldn't press any further either. Once again, it seemed his social ineptitude was unable to properly read the room.