Hiroshi Takeda's existence was a tragedy, a day-by-day catastrophe staged with disastrous exactness. He was twenty-one and a university student whose existence as a student teetered on the brink of disaster. His fellow students had dubbed him "Disaster Hiro," a name well earned by a succession of legendary blunders, among them setting off the fire alarm for the entire campus when attempting to warm up stale curry and getting stuck in the janitor's closet for an entire lecture by mistake.
It was a name Hiroshi despised, but it fit him like a broken, worn shoe—unpleasant but inevitable.
This particular day began as all others had: with an alarm clock that seemed to mock him as it shrieked its merciless tune. With a complaint, Hiroshi rolled over and buried his hand on the snooze button, only to have the clock slump off his tipsily messy bedside table and onto the floor. He grimaced, hauling himself up and pushing a hand through his messy black hair. Sunlight filled the small window of his apartment, lighting up a war zone of mangled notes, abandoned ramen bowls, and a laundry mountain he'd vowed to tackle three days earlier. "Another day of genius," he grumbled nastily, grabbing the cleanest shirt available in sight—a faded white rag in rumpled folds—and dashing out the door.
The uphill walk to the campus was depressing for some thirty seconds. That's when an escaped chicken—an outlaw bird from the local wet market—a made Hiroshi feel he was Satan himself. It flapped and growled in fury, wide wings spread out, charging towards him down the road.
"Are you kidding me?!" Hiroshi bellowed, sidestepping the feathered projectile and almost running into a stray dog on the way. Passersby snickered, others taking out their mobile phones to film his absurd struggle. Hiroshi burst into his classroom, winded, shirt half-tugged out of pants, and dignity completely destroyed.
Mayumi Fujimoto, Hiroshi's childhood friend and constant source of sarcasm, greeted him with her signature smirk. She was already seated, her neatly organized notebook a stark contrast to Hiroshi's crumpled mess.
"Rough morning?" she asked, handing him a bottle of water without waiting for an answer.
"You could say that," Hiroshi muttered, sinking into his chair. "I got attacked by a chicken. Again."
Perhaps it's karma," Mayumi joked, smiling at Hiroshi with shining brown eyes. "You most likely broke a mirror or swore at a shrine some previous life."
Hiroshi groaned, hiding his face in his hands as Professor Takahashi started lecturing on calculus.
The rest of the day was a blur of monotony and minor disasters. Hiroshi's part-time job at the local convenience store provided little relief. His boss, Mr. Tanaka, a stoic man with an uncanny knack for appearing at the worst possible moments, assigned Hiroshi to restock the shelves.
"Don't wreck the shop this time," Tanaka told Hiroshi sternly, giving him a box of canned goods.
"No promise," Hiroshi muttered to himself.
Hiroshi was in typical fashion, having knocked over a whole stand of instant noodles in a matter of minutes. Tanaka's frustrated sigh was ringing in his ears as Hiroshi rapidly cleaned up the spill.
By the time Hiroshi returned home at last, the sun had already set below the horizon, leaving behind a reddish-orange and purple hue across the sky. Exhausted but grumpy, he emerged onto his balcony, taking comfort in the stars. The city thrummed beneath him, a din of sound that dissipated into the distance as Hiroshi gazed out upon the black expanse of night.
His sketchbook rested against the railing, open and full of drawings of fantasy worlds and brave men. Hiroshi became lost in these fantasy worlds, a peaceful refuge from his troubled life. He drew a castle with his finger, envisioning what it would be like to live there—wonderful, significant, and far away from the grip of bad luck.
As if in response to his unspoken desire, an otherworldly light started rising from the ground beneath him. Hiroshi blinked, his heart racing with a single beat as mysterious symbols flickered into being, written in shining light.
"What the.?" he exclaimed, recoiling.
Just in time to do anything else, the light-emitting symbols detonated, and a huge energy fountain shot upwards, surrounding him in a vortex of light and energy.
Hiroshi's scream was swallowed by the roar of magic as the world around him dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors. In a flash, the ordinary college student was gone—plunged into an adventure he could never have imagined.