The past is a lie. Life itself always distracts us from our vulnerable condition in the face of adversity. It may surprise many, but loneliness, fear, uncertainty, and helplessness are part of living. We can try to ignore these feelings, or we can take a moment to reflect on our condition. Acknowledging that loneliness and fear are an inevitable byproduct of our existence is terrifying, there's no denying it. Even our most cherished memories are fabrications of our brain to improve our mood; our life is just a sweet joke, an existence so absurd that it flips your reality on an ordinary morning, and youth, a mirage, a cluster of illusions we can never securely grasp. With these absurdities, it's possible to lose yourself in delusions about your very origins.
Those words only lingered in the mind of a single character. A human being (?) bombarded by tons of experiences, both personal and foreign, from the most varied points of view throughout their life: as a protagonist, a supporting character, an extra, an honorable mention, etc. In any other scenario, their monologue would have been enough for an article in some low-circulation online magazine, later cited in a distant future. However, their emotions were unfolding in a setting far beyond their past experiences. A predictable and dire setting, in stark contrast to any hope that whispered in their mind, offering a semblance of relief and serenity.
Born into the comfort close to the 21st century, feelings of strangeness and fear took root in their thoughts. Not only due to the cultural shock and the palpable tragedy of everyday life, but also because of the constant clash with common sense. Yet, while they might have expected to be transported to another world in some eighth-grade fantasy—a generic one with bright lights—the assignment had been delayed by three years and sent to the wrong destination.
If they were to appear in their old, peaceful world—one surrounded by subtle lies and masks—their appearance would immediately turn them into a *riajuu* on par with Hayama. Their blue eyes, silvery-blonde hair, and height would undoubtedly make them stand out as an annoyance. Adding to this is the voice of their youthful body, which doesn't contrast with the age they appear to be, much less with the goals they aim to achieve. Although strange as it may sound, little by little, they began to resemble their past self.
Perhaps their terrible initial condition had something to do with it. Malnourished, injured, ragged, lonely, and hunted—they definitely hit the lottery with such a disastrous starting package: "GACHA SSR-". Be that as it may, their survival instinct (an excessive fear of death) and small strokes of luck softened the lingering consequences of the previous owner of their body. Though now they were distancing themselves from that; their hair regained some of its color, their lost and empty gaze molded into a more familiar face for them, and even the *ahoge* sprouted one morning to their surprise. Even dressed in the stereotypical clothing and armor of this historical era, they wouldn't doubt they could win a cosplay contest with their eyes closed. Perhaps, in the near future, they might even be able to write an essay on modern paper again or walk on the asphalt of their old neighborhood.
Hikigaya Hachiman had no doubt that the setting lent itself to various intriguing scripts and plots for the audience. As an avid reader of all kinds of stories, particularly generic light novels, he could easily guess the different tropes awaiting him as a reincarnated individual: Would he join some kind of heroic tale? Would he have to flee every town or city due to his family's mistakes? Would he save a kingdom where he was the betrayed prince? Was he a failed war experiment now being hunted by the church? Was there a plan to eliminate the oldest houses to prevent the reincarnation of some past hero? Or perhaps he was destined to become the future assistant of a psychopath with recurring dramatic twists? No way—the tendency to complicate the plot with too many variables would only prolong the length of his journey, trapping him in a long and exhausting conflict with no end in sight. In short, it wasn't a valid option, especially considering that the mere cost of socializing already wore him out.
However, finding a way to return falls into another category—one that's difficult to explain in normal terms to his "potential companions." An idea too far-fetched, especially given his current condition. An impossible dream, too distant, yet achievable with this strange force called magic. If this were a different scenario, he would find it inconvenient and cliché to follow the trope of a cheap reincarnation with his memories fluttering around without harmony. Nevertheless, if he wanted to see his sister again, any trap or *deus ex machina* would be welcomed with open arms. Because, let's be honest, reality hadn't favored him directly, like some internet-praised story. He only hoped his fate wouldn't dictate an unbearable plot for coexistence.
Unbeknownst to his understanding, Hachiman lives with the information he gathered from his dark memories. The body he possessed belonged to Neil O'Nylon. Born as the son of executioners in a decaying kingdom, his body carried years of training (and trauma) that fulfilled the dream of his past self.
He's even more privileged if we consider his absolute possession of the body after its sudden death—if you could categorize it that way. Even luckier when you add a retinue of subordinates who help keep him sane (more responsibilities and bonds tying him down). And, to top it all off, he's a user of a power unknown to most (a constant danger if left uncontrolled). A complete package, though insufficient, for his journey of collective survival.
However, his mind dilutes his spirits and sanity with illusions of the past. The Hikigaya Hachiman of old can still remember that secluded room on campus, the taste of canned coffee, the disgusted looks from people, and the meaningful conversations from some distant moment. A sense of tranquility and harmony surrounds him until he looks back at the same desolate wasteland as always. He still doesn't hear the carriages or the howling of dogs; it's not yet time to flee. Perhaps, one morning, it could all just be a bad dream, and he wouldn't hear the sound of metal clashing against metal or the warlike interactions with others. A longed-for peace, like a relief from his hectic lifestyle.
Peace was a concept far removed from his reality, filled with worries and duties. The few moments of light that promised rest never lasted long, whether intermittent or consecutive. His memory, over these years, still hadn't fully accepted the presence of a soul different from the original. The recurring flashbacks, along with sudden fainting spells, were consequences of his still-poor synergy.
The impossibility of speaking to anyone about his conclusions and mundane criticisms, at least directly and at length, led him to prioritize preserving his personality above all else. To stubbornly resist change without measuring his resources—in other words, to refine his twisted and selfish methods at every opportunity.
But, by no means, does that mean running away from the bonds already formed. Not at all. He dedicates himself to protecting his new family in every way he can, even in his state as a fugitive. His instincts as an older brother and his nostalgia prevented him from abandoning his "civilized" habits. The martial aspect, which he didn't trust much even at his best, proved to be his best deterrent against any sudden conflict. At the time, he was terrified by the ease and coldness with which he ended every confrontation. The myth of slow motion became more real than ever.
But it was a necessary burden to survive another day. The less-than-encouraging scenario these days, with winter returning, already darkened the outlook. It couldn't get worse, thought a reflective Hachiman Hikigaya moments before the most unreal encounter possible. Although he struggled to admit it, the scenarios posed by the former *chuuni* were positive, far from the possibility of a foretold death—a destiny with no happy ending at the end of the journey. They didn't account for a story with an abrupt end to his adventure.
Now, facing one of his "sisters" held captive by a young man of similar height, dressed in a completely dark yet strangely familiar suit, his possible actions contradicted his analysis of the situation. His bad luck had rolled the dice against him. The tension weighed heavily on him. His instincts screamed at him to flee as quickly as possible or to eliminate the danger in an instant. However, he also knew he wouldn't forgive himself for abandoning a family member. A muttered "it was only a matter of time" escaped his lips when he heard the news and embarked on the rescue of the youngest addition to the family. He wished he hadn't said that.
To break the silence between them—knowing they wouldn't make progress unless he took the initiative despite his appearance—he asked, drawing from his experience:
"What are you after?"
While remaining on guard, Hachiman released control of his ability. Little by little, the atmosphere would become similar to a frozen desert, though he wasn't sure if the fight would last that long. Perhaps, if he kept the conversation going, they wouldn't notice the anomaly. Just perhaps.
"Are you their leader?"
His delayed response, as the southern wind swirled several times before anyone answered, served to prolong the moment. The characterization of his opponent classified him as a powerful being who only sought to toy with them, but his caution and the time he took to examine him contradicted the idea of a proud and arrogant foe.
"Yes."
"You don't look like a bandit hired by Alpha. Are you a training or mission NPC?"
"What?"
Hikigaya Hachiman's anxiety exploded, giving way to confusion upon hearing terms so distant from the era he was in. It was impossible for such terminology to be used in the current context. Not even the wealthiest nobles used any form of combustion vehicles. It was unheard of and impossible. Even if that were the case, there would still be a long way to go before advancing to a society interconnected on a regional scale. That only left a few answers to explain his behavior. Answers that clashed with the atmosphere that had formed.
"Tell me, Villager A. No, you're not a villager… So, tell me, fugitive NPCs, what are your intentions wandering around these places? Are you looking for something specific?"
Without counting himself, Hachiman doubted that Inori, the girl kidnapped by the stranger, would give any response. Her pale complexion confirmed her state of shock and confusion. Although she wasn't physically restrained or held captive, it seemed the aura emanating from the man left her legs weak and powerless. A predictable development. If she had led him here, it meant she had considered this suspicious person to be someone incapable of harming others—a fact that starkly contrasted with the current encounter. The conversations and attitudes he had projected were enough to, possibly, guide her to their current hideout. However, Inori was also just a girl they had taken in months ago; she hadn't yet hardened or learned to distrust every stranger. Most likely, he had saved her from some recent confrontation. That, and more importantly, was why she had gone out yesterday accompanied by Sakura… This didn't bode well at all.
"Is that important? But if you want to know, I can tell you something if you let her go." Hachiman said with his usual deadpan expressionlessness born of perfecting one of his 108 skills.
"Well, she's already done her job as a guide anyway, so it's normal for her to come back."
"Haa-chan" Shouted the girl, Inori, at the top of her lungs on her way to meet him after being released.
She jumped towards her familiar as soon as her captor stepped aside. Any feelings or words she wanted to express were overshadowed by the tears streaming down her face. Despite this respite, Hachiman did not neglect her gaze towards the unknown individual. This small place, cleared in part by the amount of felled trees, presented an inordinate amount of unevenness and holes; all covered by the white presence of winter.
"If you must know, we are passing through here because we need firewood and some food. We're a wandering caravan looking for a place to settle... It was just a passing intrusion, we'll be leaving anyway..."
His reply elicited no instant rejoinder. The distance separating them was so short that a normal jump in this world would be enough to reach them. Hachiman could not consider fighting an even match under these circumstances. For a moment, he hesitated to reply about his peer's extravagant costume. However, at the words "Maybe they deserve punishment...", "They will be perfect for my plan..." or whatever was the grandiloquent speech recited, like any lowly villain, before being surrounded by the henchmen hidden in the shadows; he did not care about politeness and only one doubt had to be answered at all costs. All in all, he recognized the development of characteristic tropes of forgettable characters and preferred to skip them at all costs
"Wise decision, these are my domain and...".
"I understand, we'll get away as soon as possible...".
However reckless the action, the dejected and annoyed silhouette of the terrifying listener already sent signals of imminent danger from the start. There was no salvation in skipping the entire subsequent confrontation. However, that was not enough to deter the words that would be hurled.
"What a waste, they haven't even told me about their targets. Tch." Annoyance escaped the voice of the flamboyant young man.
"By the way, do you know where the other girl who accompanied Inori is?".
After that question de Hachiman, Cid Kagenou reflected for a few moments. Memories surfaced about his encounter with the girl named Inori and her injured companion, Sakura. He did not recognize them by those names but by something simpler like their hair shades: black and pink. While one of them was badly injured from the fight against Delta, the other kept her distance with a look of absolute helplessness and fear. Their encounter was quite a surprise, even more so considering that Delta was not aggressive towards all living organisms.
To maintain a favorable image in the eyes of those affected, a few words were enough for Delta to escape to who knows where. Then he decided, as a good RPG player, to interrogate them about a possible mission or campaign of a certain civilization. He had no doubts about any chain mission encounter that might arise; although a few casual assignments might help to clear his mind. Once the most important questions had been asked, he set off for his destination with only one of the little ones. The other slept in the hut where he was currently staying. After all, she enjoyed excellent protection. It never hurts to curry favor with a future employer. However, he was unaware of the impact of his sudden change of image and explosive release of power as he glimpsed someone's arrival. The leakage of his power, though it only happened for a few moments, startled his companion all the way.
And, following Cid's thoughts, although this cabin was not the best in terms of scenery, neither did it mean that the terrain was its only advantage. It was far from civilization and had plenty of supplies, as well as strange maps. If she remembered correctly, it was also a matter of time before Alpha and the others arrived after a long time.
They wouldn't attack her, would they? Shadow-like back trembled at the unfamiliarity of her companions' attitude, her "immersive game about a secret organization" stretched to the limit these days, seeing an injured person in her place. Maybe they are looking for him so soon to ask for an explanation, but that would ruin, in terms of awesomeness, his interaction with this Villager A. Just remembering that it was his first interaction with a mission, after long months of confinement by his parents, distracted him from giving a suitable and accurate answer for the moment. His gruff, disinterested voice didn't help.
"The other girl's in a cemetery..."
The coming wind tempered the cold breeze coming into the confrontation. The two realities collided by a sudden decision unthinkable in the right minds. Hachiman took the first step.
"I see, then I have only one option left..."
A gauntlet was thrown in Shadow's direction. He understood so many things in an instant.
"Oh, a test match? This is a more expected development"
"Inori, get out of here... quickly."
"Though it's quite bold, if you consider our roles, would a mini-boss last more than a few minutes against an eminence in the shadows?"
"Oi, oi, this isn't fiction. Levels don't exist"
While one unsheathed a saber with all possible speed, the other simply waved his hand to bring forth a whirring blade. The first exchanges surprised both parties. The ease with which Shadow exchanges the location of his weapon hindered Hachiman's attack; however, that's not to say he returned a few cuts. For his part, Cid didn't understand how his opponent guessed the impact location of his thrusts and slashes; even if he didn't want to kill him at first, he didn't expect such fierce resistance for a low-quality actor. It was as if he knew her fighting style. But that was impossible because he was her first user! Let alone the others; they possessed their variations, crude, very different from his style.
Their combat went on for several minutes, which was unheard of considering the difference in capabilities. Shrapnel and gelatinous pieces were scattered all around them, their frantic exchanges shattered the space around them.
Increasingly closer and shorter encounters changed the landscape into an unrecognizable scenario, superior to any natural disaster that had ever happened in those lands.
For its part, the strategy of the ex-chuuni was bearing its first fruits before the strangeness of Shadow. This change of pace was an advantage for a young man with the skill to sever limbs left and right at the slightest opportunity. Nevertheless, he never attempted it. The caution he exercised never allowed him to take too much risk. After another exchange of cuts, one with the undistinguished garment and the other with a slime deficiency in some parts of his costume, they parted with brevity.
"You have a good technique, who are you?"
"Hikigaya Hachiman, a reincarnated god."
After naming himself, a small current of shame flooded him. He didn't like that title, he never would, but it was necessary. To his dismay, it was normal for the time to announce your name with grandiloquent titles, drawn from your accomplishments (false or otherwise) in any formal confrontation that occurred. However, that was only limited to nobles, and even then, he didn't like it and avoided presenting himself that way, but showing some prestige increased the chances of coming out on top. More so if the enemy in front of him seemed to surpass his abilities.
Using extravagant or strange words, but with a threatening sound, served to stun the enemy and eliminate his tendency to lash out as if it were his only option; that is, it meant going back to negotiations if both sides recognized the stupidity of pursuing such an encounter, whatever the reason. Extinguishing some quaint title of the world's liking was never an option, mainly, nobles or eccentric personalities held that idea and avoided pursuing the duel.
And, with the exchange of blows, Hachiman sensed that perhaps he had been wrong in judging his opponent. His superior technique could never overwhelm him, nor did it succeed in despairing him in the supposition of a more twisted imagination, and his temperament did not match the actions he had supposedly performed... Wait, why did he never ask his opponent's name in the entire conversation? Why did he seem to forget that important aspect? If he kept ignoring those details he might come to the wrong conclusions...
"¿Hikigaya-sempai?"
"¿What the…?"
The thought of fighting came to a standstill in an instant. A feeling of strangeness pervaded Hachiman's actions. The very familiar pronunciation of his name evoked the memory of the other world: a brief moment of reflection and self-criticism of the past. His opponent, likewise, abandoned any attempt at violence. Their gazes searched for answers in themselves and in the environment.
"¡GOTCHA...!"
A girl's voice was suddenly heard and interrupted the encounter. She was plummeting towards an exhausted Hachiman. She was plummeting towards an exhausted Hachiman. However, the reflexes that the reincarnated young man had cultivated up to that moment changed the situation in the blink of an eye. His body reacted unceremoniously to the new threat. With a clean cut, his sword deflected the blow and pierced the flesh. Then, he shook his opponent meters ahead heading for the snow.
"Unbelievable, no one had ever hurt Delta so much in their first encounter, maybe if you're Hikigaya-senpai..."
"She attacked first... I didn't want to..."
After becoming aware of what he had done, he threw his sword as fast and far as possible. Hikigaya was suffering from a sudden shock. His memories of a different reality, distant from the blood and dirt, resurfaced again. Seeing how he Bathed a person, even if it was to protect himself, affected him greatly. Hachiman had separated his cherished memories away from this world bathed in persecution and hunger.
"Relax, it was inevitable. Well, now, Delta, do you understand why you must wait for the others?"."
"Huuuuuuuuurts!"
"Now, now, you'll be good as new in a few moments. Just let me treat you."
The greenish light surrounded the lycanthrope as the wound closed. As the girl moaned from the pain, in one of her movements, she exposed the face of the mysterious subject. The hood was lifted and, remarkably, the faces of both realities matched to Hikigaya's amazement. Hachiman's consternation reached another level as he recognized a remote possibility. His words and reasoning kept interjecting and running over at every instant before yielding a satisfactory result.
"So, we meet again, Bodhisattva-san. I didn't expect you to follow me here. Did General-san also come?"
"I... I'm afraid I haven't seen him... Shadow-chan..."
"Only you would be able to call me that after an exchange of blows."
"It wouldn't be so different from the past, even if you weren't sweeping the floor with me now, sick from training routines."
With a chagrin in his mouth, possibly iron in his blood, Hachiman realized there was still hope. The image of his sister flashed through his mind.
Although the sign he had hoped for was slow in coming, due to the surprise; his situation had taken an unexpected turn. Perhaps there was a way.
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"Princess Iris, again, why am I your practice partner? Do you enjoy bullying a mere second-year student? Isn't that a bad look for the future monarch of the Kingdom of Midgar?
Faced with such a response, the young woman with reddish hair simply smiled and showed the magical researcher a food coupon. Hachiman, as expected, didn't hesitate to accept the royalty's generosity.