It's Over

As simple as it sounds, my mind echoed the sentiment without cessation, like a drumbeat that would not stop. My whole world had fallen apart right before my eyes and ears, and there was nothing that I could do about it.

It was never meant to be this way, least of all for me. ME! OFF ALL THESE PEOPLE!

I banged a closed fit on the tiled table, briefly gathering the attention of every suit in the room, some looked at me with scorn, and most had that distant pity shining in their eyes. The white marble floors of the room shone too brightly against the bright LEDs that illuminated this small conference hall. I could feel the sweat trickle down my temple, a shaking hand raised to wipe it as each consecutive breath got harder.

Yet at this moment I could hear nothing but the echoing laughter of my dad, his ridicule as he'd iterate how I should have followed him to Texas, just thrown my pride aside and filled his shoes instead of trying to fit my own into the world. I had called him names then, been angry at his limited opinion of me; a protected, padded kid who didn't know how ruthless the world was. He was right. 

Eight months. Eight long months. It'd gone from desperate calls to the lawyers, to begging at every temple, shrine and holy or unholy book that I could find for any resolution to my predicament.

I was put on trial everywhere, the media, in my own offices, at family dinners. Not one believed my innocence, perhaps I'd never given them a reason to. I had whipped them to shape, all of them, even those in this room. That is what made us the reputed brand we were; Warudoshinku LLC, the greatest cultural collaborators in the world. I made them, and all it took was the word of one intern to make everyone forget everything I ever did for them, what I made them all into.

My brows wouldn't cease sweating, and my chest felt tighter, I wondered if it was because I was finally free. My sight would not settle in on any particular person. My vision blurred, at first, I thought it was the sweat pooling into my lashes, but blinking didn’t help. The tightness in my chest pulsed like a clenched fist inside my ribs, refusing to let go. My mouth was dry, and yet I could taste something metallic rising in the back of my throat.

Not angry.

Not proud.

Just afraid.

I slept, I think. For the first time in ages, a long satiated sleep, not worried about what the next day would bring, or how to clear my image. I didn't care any more, not about the firm's financials, the mockery from my father or the scorn of my mother. I could go home now. 

My mind was silent after forever, and I thought I could just revel in this moment of rest. I heard some muffles in the distance, guess silence was too much to ask for. Then a sharp pain in the chest, and then it came again, this time with a distinct cracking sound and an explosion of pain. 

I sat upright almost immediately, sucking in every ounce of air my lungs could hold and snarling at the pain that felt embedded into my chest now. 

Any wrath that I was going to reserve for the inflicter of such an injury, was now replaced by befuddlement. Where in tarnation was I? From the looks of it, it seemed like someone had dragged me to a church, or rather a cathedral. Wooden arches with etchings in a language I'd never seen, yet feeling oddly familiar, a vast central aisle flourished with mosaics depicting four persons, a king, a warrior, what seemed like some sort of hearth keeper and a crone holding scales. Pale rays of coloured light slipped in through tinted glass, angelic statues flanked this central hall, banners bearing a crest of a smiling sun. Not to mention the distinct scent of sulphur.  

Seemed like an incredibly expensive movie set, and I was going to have a word with whoever thought to labour me out as soon as I woke up. Then, I felt it, a hand on my shoulder, slender fingers and smaller than what any human hand should be. 

I turn around in bewilderment to see it, small, green, long pointed nose and yellowed eyes. I recoiled back in fear, my mind and voice acting as one.

"Who are you! What are you! STAY BACK! BACK I SAY!"

The creature hopped many steps back, falling down to its knees, speaking in some strange language I could not quite understand. It was then that a shiver swept down my spine, as the creature seemed to go completely still, not a word or sentence, still prostrated in the same position it was.

I salvage the moment to rise to my feet, taking a frantic look around, spotting only a bird perching up on one of the guardrails above, it seemed suspended... mid-landing, why? What was going on? Was I dreaming, had I finally lost it? Was I going to wake up in a Matsuzawa ward?

"No, you will not be."

I recoiled, turning my gaze sharply from one corner of the room to another, trying desperately to pin down the voice that called to me.

"Don't bother looking for me Acolyte."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" I answered, barely holding back the mounting sense of dread that I began to feel. Was this real? Am I in some sort of twisted afterlife?

"Think of me as someone whose interests lie in you living a very long life. Where better to start anew than a world not your own, hmm?"  I could swear that I heard a hint of laughter in its voice. "See that creature over there, that's a goblin, they're usually found in hordes and groups, but this one found itself in just the wrong place, at the right time, to find you."  This time the laugh came through clearer, an unmistakeably sadistic tone underlying its voice.

But a goblin? Like one of those fantasy novels? Everything felt too odd, too unnatural, but I didn't feel like disturbing the voice, somewhere deep in my psyche, I could feel an immutable fear towards this voice, and if I really was in a new world, then as unfortunate as it is, this voice may be my only guide for now.

"So what now, are you going to ask me to tame it? I've read too many mangas, I know how this goes, I used to be an otaku at one point, you know? Although I did expect a slime. Feel more on-genre." 

"Oh no, Shisoka-sensei, I want you to kill it."