The bell rang, signaling the end of another uneventful day. The sounds of footsteps, lockers clanging, and classmates shouting their plans for the evening filled the hallway. For most students, this was the part of the day where they'd start to unwind. But for him, it was just another blur, another round of faces he'd never quite fit into, another day in the gray haze of high school mediocrity.
Taro Shimizu wasn't a nobody, not exactly. He wasn't bullied, but he wasn't popular either. He was the kind of student who blended in with the walls, the one who got good grades but never stood out. He wasn't exceptional at anything. No talent, no friends, just a life ticking along without much excitement. He hated it. He could go an entire day without anyone acknowledging his existence, and honestly, it didn't bother him. He didn't know how to connect with people anyway, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
He walked through the crowded halls with his usual blank expression, avoiding eye contact with anyone. As he passed by a group of girls giggling in the hallway, he caught snippets of their conversation about the upcoming school dance. He knew he wouldn't be invited. Not that he cared. He just kept his head down, pushed his glasses up his nose, and moved on.
"Hey, Taro!" one of the girls called out from behind him.
He flinched, not expecting it. He turned, half-embarrassed, half-relieved it wasn't someone trying to pick a fight. "Uh, yeah?"
One of the girls, the one with the bright pink hair, smiled at him. "You coming to the science club meeting after school? We need someone who knows how to work the projector. You good with tech, right?"
He stared at her for a moment, feeling the weight of her gaze, and then shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there."
She smiled again. "Great! See you then!"
And just like that, the moment was over. She turned and walked away, leaving Taro standing there, feeling strangely disconnected. The words felt hollow. He didn't belong in the science club, not really. Not when there were others who could do it better. He sighed and continued walking.
The rest of the day was a blur. He sat through classes, mind wandering, tuning out the droning lectures. He hated the monotony of it all, the feeling that his life was slipping by without ever being noticed or appreciated. All he wanted was something to change, something to break the cycle of insignificance. But change never came, not in a place like this. He was destined to be forgotten, just another face in the crowd.
It wasn't until after school, when he was on his way home, that something finally broke through his apathy.
The sky was beginning to turn a dull orange as he walked through the city streets, the faint chill of early evening creeping in. He was on his usual route, minding his own business, when he heard a scream. It was faint, a desperate cry, but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks. His gaze darted down the street and he saw her.
A small girl, no older than six, stood frozen in the middle of the train tracks. She was waving her arms frantically, eyes wide with panic. She had dropped something, something small and shiny that had fallen just out of reach, and now she was trapped, her tiny feet planted firmly in the path of an oncoming train.
The sight froze him in place. He could feel the dread creeping up his spine, his heart pounding in his chest. He hesitated for a moment, the fear sinking in. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't someone who did things. He was a guy who faded into the background of everyone else's lives.
But something in him stirred. A flicker of guilt, of desperation. He couldn't just walk away. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't try. Even if it was reckless. Even if it was stupid. He had to act.
With a single, impulsive thought, he ran.
His legs moved faster than he thought possible, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he sprinted toward the girl. The train's whistle screamed in the distance, the shrill sound slicing through the air, announcing the impending disaster. He could feel the wind picking up, the rush of air against his face, but his focus was locked on the girl. He was almost there. Just a little more.
He wasn't fast enough. As he closed the distance, the train's massive form loomed larger, its terrifying speed closing the gap in an instant. His heart thundered in his chest, and his breath caught in his throat. It was too late.
The girl's face was still frozen in fear, her hand reaching out for the object she'd dropped, unaware of the impending danger. Taro reached out, desperate, his hand stretching toward her.
And then everything shattered.
The world became a blur of sound and motion. The screech of the train's brakes. The rush of air. The deafening crash as the train collided with him.
For a split second, there was nothing, just a crushing, weightless sensation, followed by a violent, searing pain. It was almost like he was floating, detached from his body. He could hear the world around him, people shouting, the shriek of metal against metal, but it all felt so far away. Distant. Faint.
A final flash of regret passed through his mind. He hadn't been able to save her. He hadn't been enough. But then, as the world began to fade into nothingness, there was a strange, peaceful calm. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing ceased. And then, there was only silence.
The next thing he knew, he was no longer in the world he'd known.
Taro blinked, disoriented, the sounds of distant chatter reaching his ears. His mind was foggy, his senses overwhelmed by a strange, cold atmosphere. He could smell something rich and unfamiliar, like incense or some exotic perfume, and the air was thick with a sense of opulence. He lay on something soft, plush, but heavy, as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was no longer in the streets of his city.
The room around him was vast and richly decorated, but it was nothing like the classrooms, the cramped corridors of his school, or his small apartment. The walls were adorned with tapestries in deep reds and purples, and the furniture looked elegant, almost out of a medieval fantasy. The floors were covered in carpets so intricate that they almost seemed like art.
"What... where am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and unsteady.
His body felt... different. The air felt heavier, as if he had suddenly grown larger, stronger somehow. He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a strange weight around his chest and limbs, like armor or fine silk. His hand shot to his face, and his heart skipped a beat when he felt something sharp and unfamiliar, a crown, perhaps, or some ornate piece of jewelry that didn't belong to him.
That's when it hit him.
He wasn't Taro anymore. He wasn't in his world anymore.
The door to the room creaked open, and voices filled the space. He could hear them clearly now. They were speaking in a language that felt both foreign and familiar, a regal tone that sent a chill down his spine.
"Your Highness," one of them called, and Taro's breath caught in his throat. "Prince Alexius. The council awaits your presence."
He froze. The name echoed in his head like a nightmare. "Prince... Alexius?"
Before he could process the name, the door swung open fully, and a figure entered—a servant, garbed in fine livery, bowing low before him.
"Your Highness," the servant said with a tone of reverence. "It's time for you to meet with your father and siblings. There are matters of great importance that require your attention."
Taro's mind reeled. Prince Alexius? Was he dreaming? Or had he somehow... been reborn as someone else?
His heart pounded, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. He wasn't just in some fantasy world. He was someone else, someone with a title, with responsibilities.
But what did it mean? What kind of prince would he be? And more importantly, what was waiting for him in this strange, cold palace?
The servant's next words echoed ominously in his mind.
"Your Highness... the war is coming. Your family needs you."
And with those words, the door closed behind him.
Taro, or rather, Prince Alexius, was left alone, heart pounding, and suddenly very aware of the heavy crown on his head.