1

The young man walks through the night, his figure blending into the dark. Black pants, black shirt, black hood, black mask. And pale skin and piercing blue eyes. It’s already past midnight, and there are dark bags beneath his eyes.

He walks inside the bright convenience store. The middle-aged clerk at the counter looks surprised to see him, and greets him kindly, somewhat worried.

“Ace? What are you doing here? You’re not working, and students should be asleep at this hour anyway.”

“I’m a customer.” Although he meant to play it off with a laugh, the hours Ace has spent working all day have eroded his communication skills, and it came out far harsher than he intended. He continues to explain why he’s out so late, which he hadn’t intended to, as a sort of apology. “It’s embarrassing, but I stayed up too late and now I’m having trouble sleeping. So I decided to get a snack, or something.” His voice was still harsher than he wanted. The man sighs.

“Working that hard, staying up this late, midnight snacks, none of it is good for you. Don’t make it a habit. Go on then, and then head right back to bed.” Ace smiles beneath his mask.

“Yes sir.” The door opens behind Ace, and he instinctively turns to face it.

A shifty man covering his face with a mask and sunglasses walks in. He’s bent over himself, his hands undulating inside the large pocket of his hoodie. He isn’t the strangest person Ace has ever seen walk inside, and he isn’t hurting anyone, so Ace goes back to his midnight snack. He walks around the store aimlessly, hoping he’ll be able to decide on something spontaneously once he sees it. Eventually, a small sweet catches his eye, and he takes it to the counter.

The shifty man is already standing there, squirming around and breathing heavily even as the manager tries to talk to him. Ace walks up behind him to get in line. However, he quickly realizes that this situation will not resolve itself anytime soon. He takes one small step closer to shore up his courage.

“Do you need help?” Again Ace’s voice was harsher than he meant it to be.

The shifty man turns to face the new voice. When he does, Ace realizes that he took much too big a step, and is now much too close to this man. As Ace tries to take a step back, his eyes meet the man’s behind the sunglasses.

Even more so with the man hunched over, Ace towers over him. And his blue eyes are so piercing. So clear it’s as if he can see through your very soul. The man squirms even more under Ace’s gaze.

The man suddenly pulls a kitchen knife from his pocket. He stabs it deep into Ace’s side. As this fully sinks into both Ace and his attacker, the man panics. He pulls the knife out of Ace roughly, his hands trembling. He drops the knife and runs away.

Ace, meanwhile, is still trying to make sense of getting stabbed. He puts his hand over the gash in his abdomen, then looks at the blood staining it. He starts to understand his situation. He stumbles, slumps over, and falls onto his side. A puddle of blood begins to collect around him.

The manager, stunned this whole time, snaps back to focus and rushes to Ace. He kneels down next to him, unsure of what to do. He pulls out his phone and begins to call an ambulance.

“Ace, can you hear me?! Are you still awake?! Stay with me! The ambulance will be here soon! Ah, yes, hello, we have an emergency—”

As the call begins, Ace stops listening. He stops thinking altogether. There isn’t a thought that passes through his mind. All that does are the sensations all around him. The blinding pain in his stomach, the smell of blood, the red puddle growing around him, the faint murmurs above him. That’s all there is in his world. Until finally, Ace begins to think his final thoughts.

“Did I live a proper life? Are you proud of me? You don’t need to worry about me anymore, Mom. So please…”

When Ace next opens his eyes, he stands in a blindingly white space. If there are walls, or a ceiling, or even a floor, he cannot tell where they are. His face is drenched with tears he does not remember shedding, and the pain in his stomach is no less intense. However, it soothes very quickly when he attempts to touch it once more, only to find the injury is gone entirely. When he looks around the room, he can see four white figures. Strangely, although they are the same color as the space, Ace knows they are there, and feels that he sees them rather than any other sense. Also in the space is an old man dressed in white tending to a potted plant. The old man opens his mouth and begins to speak.

“Shimizu Ace. Age 17. Student.” Although the old man moves as though talking, the voice booms out from elsewhere, as though the old man were just a puppet. “You were a young competitor, taking the trading card game world by storm. They hailed you as a prodigy. They were sure you would one day soon win a major tournament, and forever leave your mark on their community after that. And yet, at your tender age, you were not yet a champion. And now, young one, you will never get the chance to become one. I have come to make you an offer, young one, and I bade you to take it. I shall transport your body, healthier than it was even before your untimely demise, to another world of my creation. Survive there, young one, and live out the life you were not allowed.”

Ace says nothing in response. He’s too confused to come to a clear decision. But in his heart, he knows he wants to live to compete another day. He wants to be a champion. And the world made of pure white begins to ripple.

Ace awakens in a large hall, all his pain and exhaustion gone. It is grand and fanciful, and far from modern. He sees four others around him, two boys and two girls around his age. Only one, one of the boys, is still unconscious. The other boy kneels near him, shaking him.

“Jin! Get up already, Jin!” But the unconscious boy does not stir. A short and round old man in fancy robes and with a crown on his head addresses the five youths, even with one still unconscious.

“O Heroes, I am King Edmund, King of Conastralis.The prophecy tells of a great evil that will soon come to our land. As such, we have summoned you Heroes here. Come quickly, allow us to learn your powers so we may begin our preparations for the troubles to come.”

Nobody steps forward. They’re all too shocked and suspicious of what’s happening. They stand there in silence, nothing happening. With nobody else trying to take initiative, Ace steps forward. The king looks pleased with him, and happily leads him over to a large black mirror.

“Now then, Hero, place your hand upon the Looking Glass.”

Ace supposes that he means the mirror, and so he touches the dark glass. Words begin to light up the mirror. At the top is his name “Ace Shimizu,” and below it are a list of words nobody can quite make sense of: “Deck, Hand, Playmat, Pack Opening.” The king looks at the words thoughtfully, but clearly lost entirely.

“These Skills… I’ve never heard of them before. Hero, might you have a better idea on what they might do?” Ace lowers his mask and tries his best to explain.

“Let’s see… In our world, there are games called trading card games. I competed at them at a high level, and these are all words that can be connected to the genre. But I don’t know why they’re here, or what they mean.” One of the other Heroes, one of the girls, with lightly tanned skin, bright make-up, and poorly dyed blonde hair, pipes up at the mention.

“Card games? Like those stupid games those lame nerds play? Just another weird loser!” She laughs, obviously hateful towards Ace. The king’s demeanor shifts ever so slightly.

“So that’s how it is. If that is your character, and your Skills are all in support of that lifestyle, without even a Blessing to help you, then I suppose I must ask that you leave the castle. Of course, abandoning you would be improper, and we shall support you until you’ve settled into the city.”

Ace looks back at the other Heroes. The other girl looks shocked and terrified after what was just said, and the other boy has returned to ignoring everything but the unconscious one. Ace does not care enough to try to stay. He turns towards a large set of doors and begins to leave.

“Whatever. Suit yourselves.” The harshness in his voice returns.

Ace leaves the castle and sees the city from that vantage point. It’s picturesque, the quintessential fantasy city, as though right out of the pages of a novel. Ace looks down at it with hope for the future, then with a grimace. He begins to think aloud to himself, a scornful quality to his voice.

“The only thing I know how to do is play card games… 1993… How many centuries will I have to wait?”