The first thing Haruto noticed was the cold, damp sensation against his back. His body ached as if he had been trampled by a freight train. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sky of dull gray, streaked with smoke and the distant cries of battle.
His breathing was shallow. His mind, still tangled between reality and confusion.
Where… am I?
A shadow loomed over him. Haruto turned his head sluggishly, his senses still disoriented. A man clad in battered armor stood above him, his face partially hidden beneath a dented helmet.
"You're finally awake," the knight said, his voice rough but relieved. He tossed something heavy onto Haruto's chest—a sword, its steel gleaming despite the grime coating its surface.
Haruto barely caught it in time, his arms still sluggish. The weight was unfamiliar, nothing like the shinai he had trained with his entire life. He looked at the knight, confused.
"I thought you were done after that cavalry charge," the man continued. "Can you stand?"
Cavalry charge? What the hell was he talking about?
Haruto forced himself to sit up, scanning his surroundings. His breath caught in his throat.
The ground beneath him was nothing like the familiar streets of Tokyo. It was muddy, soaked in blood. Around him, armored soldiers clashed, swords and spears tearing through flesh. Warhorses galloped through the battlefield, trampling the fallen. Arrows rained from the sky, finding their marks in screaming men.
This… this isn't real.
His last memory was clear. He had been walking home after losing the biggest match of his life. The sting of defeat still fresh in his mind. Then the alleyway. The mugger. The gunshot.
So why the hell was he here?
"What about work in the morning? My study?" Haruto muttered, more to himself than to the knight. "What are you talking about?"
The knight frowned. "Study? Work? Are you still dazed? Come on, we need to regroup before the next wave."
The knight grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. Haruto stumbled but managed to stay upright. His body felt strange—stronger, but also heavier. His hands, gripping the sword, felt like they belonged to someone else.
This isn't my body.
Before he could process the thought further, a horn blared across the battlefield. The knight swore under his breath.
"They're coming! Ready yourself!"
Haruto turned toward the sound. A horde of armored soldiers charged toward them, weapons raised. His heart pounded.
This isn't a dream. This is real.
And now, he had to fight.
---
The first enemy came at him with a wild overhead swing. Haruto barely lifted his sword in time. The impact was heavier than anything he had ever felt. His arms buckled, the force nearly knocking him off his feet.
The soldier pressed forward, slamming his shield against Haruto's chest. The air was forced from his lungs. He staggered backward, barely keeping his footing.
The weight of the shield on his left arm dragged him down, slowing him, restricting him. He tried to move like he did in kendo—fast, precise—but the clunky armor and heavy gear made it impossible.
Another enemy lunged at him. He raised his shield instinctively, but the force behind the blow was too much. The impact knocked the shield clean out of his grasp.
It spun through the air, landing several feet away.
Haruto's eyes widened. The image burned into his mind.
The way his shield was knocked away—
—it was just like his last match.
The shinai flying from his hands. The open target. The final strike.
The humiliation. The defeat.
Not again.
Something inside him snapped.
His grip on the sword tightened. His stance shifted. His mind no longer thought of the shield he lost, only the weapon in his hands.
If a shield slowed him down, then he wouldn't use one. He would fight the way he knew best.
The next enemy lunged at him.
This time, Haruto reacted differently.
He sidestepped with precision, his footwork instinctive. His sword lashed out in a blur. A single, clean stroke—Men!
His blade met the enemy's helmet. A sharp impact. A heavy thud. The soldier collapsed instantly.
The battlefield seemed to slow. The knights around him turned, their faces twisted in shock.
Another enemy came at him. Haruto adjusted his grip. Kote!
A swift slash to the wrist, the enemy's weapon flew from his hand. Haruto followed up with another strike—Do!—cutting across his torso.
One after another, they fell before him. His movements were no longer wild swings like the soldiers around him. Every strike was precise, efficient. A warrior's technique.
A familiar rhythm took over his body.
One strike. One kill.
He had never fought with a real blade before, but his mind didn't care. His body, his instincts—they knew what to do. This was kendo. This was his world.
And for the first time in his life…
He wasn't second place.
---
The battle ended with the enemy forces retreating. The soldiers around Haruto panted, their bodies covered in sweat and blood. Yet their eyes were all on him.
He could hear the murmurs.
"Did you see that?"
"What kind of swordsmanship was that?"
"That wasn't how knights fight… but it was terrifyingly effective."
Haruto exhaled, gripping his sword tightly. He was still trying to comprehend everything. The battlefield. The unfamiliar body. The way his instincts had taken over.
A heavy hand clapped his shoulder. The knight from before grinned.
"You're not bad," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "Maybe you'll survive this after all."
Haruto didn't answer. He only stared at his bloodstained blade, his heart still racing.
Who am I in this world?
And more importantly…
How the hell did I get here?
---
End of Chapter 1.