The stench hit first—always the stench. Blood, sweat, and something else Akai couldn't name but had learned to associate with impending doom.
Ah. This feeling again.
His heart hammered against his ribs like it was trying to escape the prison of his chest. Cold sweat traced lines down his spine despite the warmth of the afternoon sun.
"You can just call me Akai," he managed to say, forcing his voice to remain steady even as his instincts screamed that something—something—was terribly wrong.
The girl before him looked up with eyes that had seen too much for someone so young. Hollow. Empty. The kind of eyes that reflected his own when he caught his reflection in shop windows.
"I... I am Feliri. Just Feliri. No last name for someone like me."
Ah, damn it. Akai's chest tightened. Why does she have to say it like that? Like she's already accepted that the world has no place for her?
"Don't worry, little girl. Or should I just call you Feliri?" He tried for a smile. Probably looked more like a grimace.
The moment stretched between them, fragile as spun glass.
Then—
GRRRWWWLLL.
Feliri's stomach betrayed her with the kind of comedic timing that would have been hilarious if it weren't so utterly tragic. Her face disappeared behind her small hands, shame radiating from every inch of her hunched shoulders.
Oh. Oh no.
Akai felt something crack inside his chest—not painfully, but like a dam giving way to water that had been held back too long.
"Okay, Fel." His voice came out gentler than he'd intended. "Let's go eat something."
"Let's go!" Feliri's transformation was instantaneous—from ashamed child to excited cat in the space of a heartbeat.
The restaurant they found looked like someone had taken his memories of Chinese and Japanese establishments and filtered them through a fantasy world's aesthetic sensibilities.
This world really is similar to mine, Akai thought as they entered. Or rather, to the world I came from. Because let's be real—nothing about my situation is normal. Getting transported to another world, mysterious powers, the constant feeling that death is lurking around every corner...
I really am the protagonist of some cruel story, aren't I?
The interior was beautiful—genuinely beautiful in a way that made Akai's throat tight. Polished wood, paper lanterns casting warm light, musicians playing instruments that sounded like home but weren't quite right.
Stop it, he told himself. Don't get nostalgic. Nostalgia is a luxury you can't afford.
A server approached with a polite gesture toward an empty table. They sat. Menus appeared.
Akai stared at the menu, his brain short-circuiting.
'Raimen.' It says 'raimen.' Not ramen. Raimen.
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest—the kind of laugh that bordered on hysteria.
Of course. Of COURSE it's spelled differently. Because why would anything in this world be straightforward? Why would I get even the small comfort of familiar food with familiar spelling?
"What are you ordering, Feliri?"
The girl looked at the menu like it was written in ancient runes. Which, for someone who probably couldn't read well—or at all—it might as well have been.
"I don't know what I should order."
Right. Of course she doesn't know. When was the last time she ate at a place like this? When was the last time she ate at all?
Guilt twisted in Akai's gut like a knife.
"Excuse me," he called to the waiter. "Could you recommend something good for her?"
The waiter nodded professionally and departed.
Please let this be okay, Akai prayed to whatever gods might be listening. Please let this one meal be okay. Let her have this one good thing.
The food arrived.
Akai's raimen was... perfect. Objectively, artistically, spiritually perfect.
Glistening fat droplets caught the light like tiny jewels. Bamboo shoots gleamed. Seaweed performed its slow descent through the broth. Spring onions floated like small green boats on a savory sea. Three slices of pork lay arranged with the precision of a master painter.
Beautiful, Akai thought. In a world that keeps trying to kill me, this bowl of noodles is beautiful.
He grabbed his chopsticks and drove them into the bowl with zero elegance, twisting aggressively, broth splashing onto the table.
The first bite was—
Oh.
Oh no.
It's delicious.
Emotions hit him like a truck. Gratitude. Relief. The overwhelming urge to cry over soup.
Get it together, he scolded himself. You're crying over noodles. Actual tears over actual noodles. What is wrong with you?
Everything. Everything was wrong with him. But for this one moment, something was right.
Feliri ate with the focused intensity of someone who didn't know when their next meal would come. Watching her made Akai's chest ache.
I'm going to protect her, he decided. I don't care how hard it is. I don't care what I have to do. She deserves to eat good food and smile without flinching.
Outside, the evening air was cool against his flushed cheeks.
"Hey, Feliri, how was the food? Good, right?"
"Yeah, it was so good! I'd like to come back and eat more..."
I'll bring you back, Akai promised silently. I'll bring you back a hundred times if I can.
"Same. It tasted wonderful."
Now comes the hard part.
"Feliri," his voice shifted, taking on that serious tone he hated. "Where can I find weapons in this city?"
Her face fell slightly. "I don't know where to find a good weapon shop..."
Of course she doesn't. Why would she? When would she have ever needed to know?
"What weapon will you use?" she asked, turning curious eyes on him.
Akai opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
What do I say? That I have no idea what I'm doing? That I'm terrified I'll pick the wrong weapon and die because of it? That every choice feels like it has cosmic weight?
"...I don't know what weapon I can use. It's been so long since I've moved my body enough to swing a weapon. Haha!"
The laugh came out hollow.
Feliri laughed too, but hers sounded genuine. Light. Like she was actually having fun.
When did she start smiling like that?
Akai looked at her—really looked—and saw something that made his heart skip.
She was happy.
This girl who had introduced herself as someone without even a family name—she was happy.
Don't get attached, warned the practical part of his brain. Everyone you get attached to becomes a target. Everyone you care about becomes leverage.
Shut up, Akai told it. I'm already attached. Deal with it.
The weapon shop was run by a wolf-man whose smile was equal parts professional and predatory.
"Can I see some weapons?"
"Follow me, sir! I have many types!" The wolf launched into a litany of available armaments with the enthusiasm of a used car salesman.
"Greatswords, longswords, shortswords, bastard swords, rapiers, daggers, lances, spears, spiked chains, morning stars, maces, katanas! Name your weapon and your price, sir! Multiple grades available!"
Too many choices, Akai's brain screamed. Way too many choices. How am I supposed to pick? What if I pick wrong? What if I die because I chose the wrong weapon?
His eyes drifted to a katana hanging on the wall.
Beautiful. Elegant. Probably requires years of training I don't have.
Then to a rapier—custom-made, with delicate craftsmanship.
Also beautiful. Also probably requires training I don't have.
Think practically. You need something versatile. Something that can keep enemies at range. Something that—
"I'll take a top-grade longsword," he heard himself say. "And a top-grade dagger for her."
Did I just... decide that? Just like that?
They were led to a back room where a female dwarf worked at her anvil. Golden hair. Scars mapping her arms like a warrior's resume. The ring of hammer on metal filled the space with rhythmic certainty.
The wolf spoke in a language Akai understood but Feliri clearly didn't.
Dwarven, he recognized. Thank whatever gods exist that I somehow know multiple languages in this world.
"Rich customer, eh?" the dwarf woman replied in the same tongue. "At least someone can afford swords I craft with proper dwarven skill!"
They laughed together—the easy laugh of merchants who'd found a mark.
They're talking about me like I'm not here, Akai realized. And they have no idea I understand every word.
The knowledge sat heavy in his stomach. Another secret. Another thing to keep track of.
How many secrets can one person carry before they collapse under the weight?
The dwarf unlocked a reinforced door with unnecessary dramatic flair—smashing her hammer against it in a complex pattern.
Show-off, Akai thought, but couldn't help being impressed.
Inside, weapons gleamed with the promise of violence.
"Choose any longsword. Same price for all in this grade."
Akai's hand moved almost without conscious thought to a blade with a crimson hue. Red crystal in the handle. Golden etchings along the blade that seemed to pulse with contained energy.
This one, something inside him whispered. This one will keep you alive. Maybe.
Feliri selected daggers of blue and brown—colors that somehow suited her perfectly.
"Those look good on you," Akai said, and meant it.
Her smile was small but genuine. It made him think of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
I'm going to protect that smile, he promised himself. Even if it kills me.
The dwarf approached, eyeing his selection with professional interest.
"That sword has an ability—increases aura flow through the blade, making it stronger while consuming less from the user. You have a good eye, kid."
I have no idea what I'm doing, Akai thought. I chose on instinct and apparently got lucky. How long can luck last?
"Thank you for the information."
"280 gold coins total."
Akai paid without haggling. Money meant nothing compared to survival.
They returned to the abandoned house—their temporary refuge that felt more like home than anywhere else in this world.
They talked. About nothing. About everything. The kind of rambling conversation that happens when two people who've been lonely find unexpected companionship.
This is nice, Akai thought as sleep began to pull at him. This is really nice.
Too bad it can't last.
Dawn came with cruel clarity.
Akai woke before the sun fully rose, his decision already made.
I can't drag her into this. Whatever's coming—and something is always coming—I can't let her be part of it.
He strapped the longsword to his hip. Counted out 55 gold coins. Wrote a note with hands that trembled despite his attempts to keep them steady.
Dear Feliri,
I'm sorry to leave like this. I never wanted to put you in danger.
The path I'm taking is uncertain, and the world ahead feels vast and unforgiving. I'll be just a struggler, trying to survive, carrying the weight of every step forward.
Please be careful with that dagger—it's more than just a weapon. It's a piece of me that you carry now.
I've left 55 gold coins for you. A small token to help when times get hard.
Promise me you'll find happiness, Feliri. Even if I'm far away, I hope your days are bright with the light I've seen beginning to kindle in you.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is selfish. This is cruel. But keeping you with me would be crueler.
—Akai
He left before he could change his mind.
Each step away from the abandoned house felt like walking through mud. His chest ached. His throat burned.
This is the right choice, he told himself. This is the only choice.
So why does it feel like I'm making the worst mistake of my life?
Evening shadows stretched long across the floor when Feliri woke.
The house was empty.
The silence had weight—the crushing, suffocating weight of abandonment.
She found the note. The coins.
Her hands shook as she read his words.
Then the tears came—hot, bitter, endless.
"Why?" Her voice cracked, breaking on the word. "Why do people always leave me like this?"
The litany spilled out like blood from a wound: "Mom... Dad... and now you too..."
She clutched the dagger to her chest—this thing that was supposed to be more than a weapon, supposed to be a piece of him.
Liar, she thought. Liar, liar, liar.
If it's really a piece of you, why does it feel like nothing at all?
The coins scattered across the floor as her hands lost strength.
55 gold pieces. The price of her company. The cost of being left behind.
Not enough, something inside her whispered. Never enough.
Somewhere in the city, Akai walked with a sword at his hip and acid in his throat.
This is the right choice, he repeated like a mantra. This is the right choice.
Behind him, a girl cried in an abandoned house, clutching a dagger and the ruins of trust.
Above them both, the sun continued its indifferent arc across the sky.
Cruel, Akai thought. This world is cruel.
And I'm just another person making it worse.
The weight of the sword at his hip felt heavier with every step.
I'm sorry, Feliri.
I'm sorry I'm too much of a coward to stay.
I'm sorry I'm exactly like everyone else who left you behind.
The path ahead stretched uncertain and dark.
Behind him, he left another tragedy in a world that seemed to collect them like rain collects in puddles.
This is the right choice, he told himself one more time.
The lie tasted like ashes.