Taro stood in front of the mirror, squinting at his reflection.
The room around him was absurdly luxurious, with high vaulted ceilings, intricate carvings on the walls, and a bed so large it could comfortably fit a family of four.
Yet here he was, focusing on his own disheveled face, trying to ignore the grandeur.
His patchy beard, now more noticeable in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows, looked as though it was actively conspiring against him.
"Alright, Mikami," he muttered to himself. "Time to look like less of a caveman."
He reached for the straight razor lying on the countertop.
It was ornate, with a silver handle etched with delicate swirls.
Definitely not something he was used to seeing in his dingy Tokyo apartment. He paused for a moment, turning it over in his hand.
"Fancy razor in a mansion. Living the high life now," he joked, but his tone was flat. He leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting his jawline.
"This beard…" He rubbed at the scraggly hair, sighing. "More like a 'beard-ish.' If it were a houseplant, it'd be one of those dying succulents no one knows how to revive."
Carefully, he brought the blade to his skin and began shaving.
It wasn't as hard as he'd expected, though he did nick himself once or twice. Each time, the wind swirling faintly around the room seemed to shift, almost scolding him.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Taro muttered. "Careful hands. Thanks for the reminder."
By the time he was done, his jawline was smooth again, though it still didn't scream "heroic."
He turned his attention to his hair, now an unruly mess after his battle with the storm. Thick and jet black, it had always been impossible to manage.
"This hairline, though," he said, running his fingers through it. The corners were creeping up ever so slightly, not enough to be obvious but enough for him to notice. "I swear it's retreating faster than I did in high school PE class."
He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the glowing crest on his hand.
A faint breeze rustled the curtains, and an idea struck him.
"Alright, magic wind powers," he said, holding up his hand dramatically. "Do your thing."
He closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air.
The wind stirred, responding to his will. With a flick of his wrist, a soft breeze combed through his hair, untangling the worst of the knots.
"Ha! Look at that!" he said, grinning. He gestured again, and the wind ruffled his hair into something resembling a style. Not great, but passable.
"Who needs hair gel when you've got the power of an ancient goddess?"
Satisfied, he stepped back from the mirror and surveyed himself. No beard, marginally tamed hair, and the same tired eyes staring back at him.
"Well, Taro," he said, patting his cheeks lightly, "you're still a mess, but at least now you're a mess with magic wind powers. Progress."
The smell of food wafted through the air as Taro made his way down the grand staircase.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since… well, before being dragged into another world.
The mansion was just as over-the-top as the room he'd woken up in.
Marble floors gleamed beneath his feet, and ornate tapestries depicting swirling winds and rolling clouds adorned the walls.
Every now and then, a breeze would drift past him, carrying the scent of flowers or rain.
"This place is like a five-star hotel had a baby with a weather channel," he muttered, running a hand along the banister.
He followed the smell to a dining room that was just as ridiculous as everything else — long table, high-backed chairs, and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.
Sitting at the head of the table was Aeris, looking as composed as ever.
Her silver hair shimmered in the light, and her robes seemed to flow even though there was no wind in the room. She glanced up as Taro entered, her emerald eyes assessing him.
"You're late," she said, her tone neutral.
Taro scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, grooming takes time. Gotta make sure I'm hero material, you know?"
Her lips twitched, just slightly. "I see. And have you succeeded?"
He shrugged, sliding into a chair near the middle of the table. "Eh, I'd say I'm a solid six out of ten. Maybe seven if you squint."
Aeris raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She gestured toward the food spread out before them — plates of bread, fruit, and something that looked suspiciously like eggs.
Taro didn't need any further invitation. He grabbed a slice of bread, biting into it eagerly. "Oh man," he said around a mouthful, "this is way better than instant ramen."
Aeris watched him with a mixture of curiosity and mild disapproval. "You speak often of this… ramen. Is it a delicacy in your world?"
Taro nearly choked on his bread. "Delicacy? Hardly. It's more like the thing you eat when you've got ten yen left and no self-respect."
Aeris tilted her head, considering this. "I see. Then perhaps the food here will be an improvement for you."
"You have no idea," Taro said, reaching for a piece of fruit. "This is the kind of breakfast you dream about after a week of convenience store meals."
For a while, they ate in silence. Taro couldn't help but glance at Aeris every now and then, still not entirely sure what to make of her.
She was intimidating, sure, but there was something else — an air of sadness, maybe, hidden behind her stern exterior.
"So," he said finally, breaking the quiet. "What's next on the agenda? Another trial? More godly life lessons?"
Aeris set down her cup of tea, fixing him with a serious look. "The first trial was merely the beginning. You have proven that you can wield the power of the wind, but mastering it will require much more than a single victory."
Taro nodded slowly, though he couldn't help but feel a pang of dread. "Right. So… training montage, then?"
Aeris's brow furrowed slightly. "I do not know what that means."
"Never mind," Taro said, waving a hand. "Just tell me what I need to do."
"For now," Aeris said, "you must learn to listen. The wind is a living force, and it will not bend to brute strength alone. You must understand its nature, its moods, its rhythms."
Taro leaned back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread. "Sounds like you're saying I need to make friends with it."
"In a sense," Aeris replied. "Though it is less a friendship and more a partnership."
Taro smirked. "Partnership, huh? Sounds like you and the wind go way back."
Aeris's expression softened, just slightly. "I have known it longer than you can imagine. It is a part of me, as it will become a part of you."
Taro nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he understood. "Alright. Guess I'd better start learning how to chat with the wind."
Aeris inclined her head. "That would be wise."
As he finished his breakfast, Taro couldn't help but feel a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty. He had no idea what the future held, but one thing was clear — he wasn't in Tokyo anymore.
And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.