Kenji took a long look at his phone screen as he waited for his bagel to settle, chewing slowly as if the mundane motion would keep reality grounded. He knew this scene all too well: morning light filtering through city smog, the low hum of traffic, the unmistakable mix of voices calling out prices at food stalls. It all felt oddly familiar, a little too comfortable, even for someone like him who wasn't particularly interested in shaking up his daily routine.
"So, you're probably wondering how I got here," he murmured to himself, flicking a crumb off his jacket. "Reincarnated, new world, new life, classic isekai setup, right?" His words fell flat, disappearing into the city buzz around him. "Except…no divine summons, no superpowers—well, at least not yet—and no princess begging me to save the kingdom. Just me, Nagazora, and a job at Blue Dragon Couriers."
Kenji leaned back on the bench, letting the words hang in the air. It was funny, really. In his old life, he'd never been anything close to a hero. If anything, he'd been about as ordinary as they came—a standard issue nobody with a forgettable face and an average job. Yet here he was in a world that, by all accounts, was supposed to be extraordinary. He almost laughed at the irony of it.
His eyes drifted to the people around him, each wrapped in their morning rituals. A businessman balanced a coffee cup precariously in one hand while scrolling through his phone in the other. A woman in a worn coat shuffled past with a grocery bag. Students laughed and shoved each other, uniforms slightly rumpled as they headed for the subway.
"Guess it's true that people are people, no matter the world," Kenji mused. He wondered if they ever thought about the bizarre mysteries they lived alongside, or if they were just as numb to it as people had been back home. After all, strange rumors were one thing, but facing the reality of monsters and heroes was another.
He shifted his gaze to the advertisement plastered on the glass panel next to him. It was some grandiose ad for Schicksal's latest charity campaign, with an image of a young woman in pristine armor smiling down at a grateful family. "Your safety, our mission," the ad proclaimed in bold letters.
Kenji raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm sure the Honkai are shaking in their boots," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he took another bite of his bagel. He didn't know what "Honkai" are, exactly, but he'd picked up enough to get the sense that it wasn't something he wanted to get too close to.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen—it was Mr. Ito, his boss at Blue Dragon Couriers. The message was short and to the point: "Pick up groceries for Mrs. Yamamoto on the way. Note: Usual order. Thanks!"
Kenji sighed, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Another day, another delivery," he muttered, finishing off the last of his bagel. He wiped his hands on his pants, tossed the crumpled bagel wrapper into the trash, and stood up, giving one last glance to the bustling crowd around him.
He climbed onto his old, dented scooter, the paint peeling in places and the engine making a familiar, slightly wheezing sound as he turned the key. His gaze drifted up, catching the sight of the early morning sun just peeking over the tops of Nagazora's high-rises, casting a warm, golden glow over the city.
"Not exactly the hero you'd expect, right?" he said to himself with a chuckle. "Just a guy in a delivery uniform, trying not to trip over his own feet every day."
As he pulled away from the bus stop, the city opened up before him in a blur of buildings and people, all framed by the wide, hazy expanse of the morning sky. Despite himself, Kenji felt a strange, fleeting moment of peace as he rode through the city streets. Maybe it was the routine, or maybe it was just the comfort of having somewhere to go, even if it was just another delivery.
His mind wandered as he passed storefronts and cafes, the faint, familiar scent of coffee and pastries drifting through the air. It was easy to get lost in the motions, to forget for a while that he was in some strange new world, to pretend this was all just a part of his old life.
But every so often, something would catch his eye—a Schicksal symbol on a passing van, a billboard warning about "Honkai awareness," or a quick flash of military gear in a display window—and he'd be reminded that this wasn't just any city.
One time, he had asked Mr. Ito about it. Mr. Ito, an older man with a face as crinkled as his jacket, had looked at him like he'd asked the world's dumbest question.
"Kid, if you're smart, you'll keep your head down and worry about your deliveries, not all that Honkai business," he'd said, scratching his head. "Only thing you need to know is that when you hear a siren, you don't ask why. You just move. Got it?"
So Kenji had nodded, taken his next delivery, and tried to forget the conversation. But the truth was, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place here, like a piece from the wrong puzzle forced into a spot it didn't quite fit. And while he didn't mind keeping his head down, there was something about this world—about Nagazora itself—that gnawed at him.
As he approached his next stop, Kenji pulled up at a red light, tapping his fingers on the scooter's handlebars as he glanced around. A man in a nearby car was listening to the radio, his window rolled down just enough for Kenji to catch snippets of the report.
"...Honkai incident reported near Arc Street...authorities are investigating...please avoid the area..."
Kenji frowned, casting a wary glance in the direction of Arc Street, which lay somewhere beyond the city's main shopping district. There was a distant sound of sirens, faint but unmistakable.
"Just another day in Nagazora," he murmured, shaking his head. "Avoiding monster zones. No big deal."
But even as he spoke the words, Kenji felt the faintest prickle of doubt.
---
As he zipped through the bustling city, Kenji watched people go about their morning routines. Street vendors called out the prices of fresh vegetables and street food, and commuters huddled around coffee carts, clutching warm cups against the cool breeze.
Nagazora was a city full of life, but it was the small moments that Kenji liked the most. Passing by a vendor, he saw a little girl excitedly tugging at her mom's hand, pointing at a stand selling colorful sweets. A couple of stray cats stretched lazily in the morning sun, unfazed by the traffic roaring by. All these little scenes reminded him why he liked his work—it gave him a front-row seat to life in the city.
Before long, he reached his first stop, a small market stall where he often picked up groceries for Mrs. Yamamoto, one of Blue Dragon's regulars. The vendor, a stocky middle-aged man with a friendly smile, waved him over.
"Hey, Kenji! Got the usual for you. Groceries for the Yamamoto lady?"
"Yup, that's me," Kenji said with a nod. "Back again, living the dream."
The vendor chuckled. "Dream job, huh?"
Kenji shrugged, flashing a small grin. "Hey, it's honest work. Someone's gotta bring Mrs. Yamamoto her eggs and soy sauce, right? Could be worse."
The vendor handed him the bags, giving him an extra apple on top. "Here, on the house."
Kenji accepted it with a thankful nod. "Much appreciated, my friend. You're single-handedly keeping my vitamin intake in check."
They shared a laugh, and Kenji headed back to his scooter, loading the groceries carefully into the basket. Moments like these reminded him why he liked Nagazora—ordinary people, little acts of kindness. It made everything feel normal, even when he knew, deep down, that this world was anything but.
---
With Mrs. Yamamoto's groceries secured, he revved up his scooter and started weaving through the streets. As he rode, he couldn't help but mentally catalog the faces he saw on his route: the ramen stall guy who always waved as he went by, the group of high school students crossing the street (with that half-asleep look only teenagers could master), and the elderly man who fed the pigeons by the park every morning.
He'd gotten to know these people in small ways over the months. Nagazora might be filled with strange happenings, but these little routines gave him some sense of grounding. He felt…normal here. And normal was nice, if a little monotonous.
At last, he reached Mrs. Yamamoto's building, a humble apartment complex on the quieter side of town. Climbing the stairs, he could already hear her humming behind the door. He knocked lightly, and the door creaked open to reveal a tiny, energetic woman in her seventies, beaming at him.
"Kenji! Always right on time," she said, looking him over with a grandmotherly smile.
He held out the bags with a flourish. "And the groceries are safe and sound, Mrs. Yamamoto. Eggs unscrambled and soy sauce unspilled. The Kenji guarantee."
She laughed, patting his arm as she took the bags. "You're a good kid. Here, I made you a little something. You work too hard."
She handed him a small loaf of freshly baked bread, still warm. Kenji felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the bread in his hands.
"Thank you, Mrs. Yamamoto. This is exactly what I need to keep my superhuman delivery powers intact."
She chuckled, waving as he turned to go. "Take care, Kenji. And remember, you've got people around here who care about you."
He gave her a small salute, turning back to his scooter. "Will do, Mrs. Yamamoto. Have a great day!"
---
The rest of the day unfolded in a series of familiar motions, Kenji riding through bustling streets, delivering packages, pausing here and there to exchange pleasantries with shopkeepers and the occasional passerby. For the most part, it was a normal day, as normal as any could be in a city like Nagazora—almost perfect. But beneath the routine, a strange, nagging feeling trailed him, like a shadow he couldn't shake.
He couldn't quite put a finger on it. Maybe it was the growing whispers he kept hearing, the ones he'd overheard in cafes or caught snippets of from hushed conversations on street corners. The same words seemed to float around everywhere: Honkai, Valkyries, Schicksal.
He knew enough about the world to recognize those terms, even if the details escaped him. Honkai—something dark, something dangerous, an existential threat. And Valkyries—warriors or soldiers trained to fight it. But the rest? That was all a blur of mystery and shadows.
As Kenji made his way to his next delivery, the ME Corporation building loomed ahead, imposing and almost fortress-like. He'd passed it before, but today something was different. It wasn't just the sleek, metallic architecture or the pristine glass windows that gleamed in the afternoon light. It was the people around it.
Uniformed guards patrolled the perimeter, their stances rigid, their eyes sharp as they scanned every person who so much as slowed down near the building. Civilians kept their distance, casting quick, nervous glances as they passed by, some hurrying as if the building itself was an omen of something lurking nearby.
Kenji slowed his scooter, curiosity tugging at him. As he parked and prepared to make his delivery, he caught sight of two men in dark suits standing just out of earshot, speaking in low, urgent tones. He couldn't make out every word, but snippets drifted his way.
"…detected Honkai energy again. The readings are stronger than usual…"
"…no telling when it might…"
Kenji strained to listen, but the men walked off before he could catch the rest. Honkai energy. The words clung to him, unsettling in a way he couldn't quite explain. It was like hearing about something you didn't fully believe in but instinctively knew was dangerous. Honkai energy wasn't just some mysterious force; he could tell it was something people genuinely feared, even if they couldn't see it.
He climbed back onto his scooter. He tried to laugh it off, forcing a grin, but the unease lingered, spreading like a slow chill down his spine.
As he rode off, he cast one last glance at the ME Corporation building. Even from a distance, it radiated an aura of hidden danger, a sense that behind those polished walls, something big was brewing—something that, in another life, he might have been curious about.
But here, now? He had groceries to deliver, packages to drop off, and a simple life to maintain. Curiosity wasn't on his list of priorities, not when he was in a city where even shadows seemed to have secrets.
The day wound down, and as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Kenji decided to take a detour by the river. It was a quiet spot, tucked away from the city's noise and rush, a place he often found himself drawn to at the end of long days.
The air here was calm, filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the faint sound of water lapping against the banks. He parked his scooter, sat down on an old bench near the edge of the river, and took a deep breath.
From this spot, Nagazora looked peaceful, almost surreal. The city lights twinkled in the gathering dusk, casting reflections across the river's surface. The honking of distant cars and the chatter of late-night pedestrians blurred together into a comforting hum. He could almost forget about everything he'd overheard, pretend that this world wasn't hiding threats he didn't fully understand.
But his mind kept drifting back. Honkai. Valkyries. Schicksal. Words he recognized only faintly, as if through a fog. He knew enough to understand their meaning, enough to know that he was in the middle of something much larger than himself, but not enough to feel equipped for it.
"Funny how life turned out," he mused aloud, letting his words drift out over the river. "I mean, I always thought I'd do something bigger, you know? But here I am, riding around town, delivering groceries."
He glanced down at his hands, fingers rough from handling packages and tinkering with his old scooter. They were calloused, sure, but not the hands of a fighter or a warrior. Just the hands of an ordinary guy trying to get by in a city that felt anything but ordinary.
"Guess that's all I'm meant to be," he continued, forcing a smile. "Just another delivery guy. Not a grand hero, not some powerful warrior. Just Kenji." He shook his head, trying to brush off the weight in his chest, the nagging feeling that he was meant for something…more. Not a grand destiny, maybe, but more than just going through the motions of day-to-day life.
"But hey," he said with a small smile, "maybe being 'just Kenji' isn't so bad after all."
As he stood up and dusted off his pants, Kenji let out a quiet laugh, the sound swallowed up by the city noise around him. "Maybe I'll figure it out," he said, voice low, almost a whisper to himself. "Or maybe I'll just keep riding."
He climbed back onto his scooter, feeling the hum of the engine beneath him as he revved it up. The familiar vibration, the routine movements—it was all comforting, grounding him in something real.
Taking one last look at the river and the sparkling lights of Nagazora, he turned his scooter toward home, letting the hum of the engine drown out the thoughts still nagging at the back of his mind.
As he rode through the darkening streets, he couldn't shake the sense that this peaceful night was one of the last he'd have, that something was looming just beyond the horizon.