01. The Archer’s Last Shot

As much as it hurt him to admit, Yumino, at the age of 24, was already an adult, and adults have to find their way in life sooner or later.

In Yumino's case, that time had long come. He just refused to accept it.

Many months had passed since he started living alone. He lived in a small apartment that his parents didn't use anymore. That winter was the first one when he felt like he could not escape cold wherever he went, and now, summer was starting to pick up.

He sat down on the floor, as that was the only way to keep himself cool enough to function. He tried saving up for an air conditioner, but he decided to quit his job before reaching that milestone. Naturally, his parents disapproved and refused to help him with anything beyond food.

"Even if I had one, it's not like I could afford using it," he muttered to himself as consolation.

As time passed, his already unimpressive savings were spent on utilities and games, leaving him with only enough for the next couple of bills.

Time was running out, but Yumino was tired of panicking. The man had no problem that would keep him from working, but after a year spent at a black company, he refused to pick up any other job.

He decided to instead focus on archery—a skill he had spent years polishing almost to perfection.

He wanted to make a living doing what he likes. He first tried becoming a gaming streamer, but that fell through quickly when he realized how saturated the market had become.

In short, Yumino hated the idea of being just anyone. He would not accept anything less than being the "main character."

He wanted to leave his name in history. He wanted to mean something to people he didn't even get to meet—a dream most had given up on by his age.

So he bet everything on his bow, but such a niche skill proved difficult to turn into stable income. He tried going to local competitions, but he was never able to make it to the big leagues. Today was another one of those attempts.

By 6am, when the heat became too much for him to sleep, Yumino got up from the floor and started his morning routine that included a quick shower. He took the chance and also shaved his stubble. Outside of archery, he spent most of his time gaming and reading manga, so there was no real reason for Yumino to take care of his looks most of the time.

The competition was scheduled to start at 11 am, but by 7:30 he was ready to leave the house.

"Some training would be nice," he said as if trying to encourage himself to step out.

At an hour when everyone else was walking around in suits, sweating buckets through crowded trains while on their way to the office, Yumino stood out like a sore thumb.

He was dressed in shorts and wore a grey shirt—an uninspired choice that he regretted as soon as he noticed the dark stains that appeared all over his body.

Still, he felt more disgust towards the ones around him—all doing the same boring things at their boring companies.

It took him about an hour to get from his home to the closest archery range. There, he was finally cooled down by a feeling of belonging.

He put on the traditional wear, took out his bow, and stepped onto the range. On there, he showed his first smile of the day.

From the outside, his looks were as average as it gets. Short black hair, average height, and a face easy to forget are what usually got him lost in the crowd, but here, on the archery range, he was in his element. His posture was truly a sight to behold. Too bad nobody was around at that hour on a Monday.

After steadying his breathing, Yumino drew back the string of the bow, fixed his eyes on the target, and shot his first arrow.

A miss.

Yumino let out a deep sigh. He was going to lose another competition.

*****

At 11 am, Yumino was getting ready to take the stage.

"Yo! Good luck out there." An overly friendly member of the staff tried to encourage him, but he only received a forced smile in response.

When his turn came, the man thought about leaving the range. He thought that turning back may bring less shame than repeating the disastrous training session he had that morning.

He took a step back when a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. It was the same staff member from before.

"The targets are that way. Please, be careful!"

"Oh... Yeah... Thank you..."

With every step, his heart was beating faster and faster. He hated it, but a weird feeling of excitement overtook his body. He loved the bow; that was undeniable. Every chance he got at shooting it would bring him joy.

Joy and fear, joy and uncertainty, joy and nostalgia, but the weirdest of all was the combination of joy and sadness. However, nothing came together with the joy this time. He was just excited, even if he couldn't pinpoint the reason.

Maybe I am finally going crazy. He thought.

"Please take your shot whenever you feel ready."

The jury would always say the same thing, and the same series of events would undoubtedly occur. He would take one, maybe two good shots out of the first six, and then his mental fortitude would give out, turning his talent worthless in the face of better-prepared adversaries.

First shot.

"Bullseye."

Second shot.

"Bullseye."

Here goes nothing.

Third shot.

"Bullseye."

That's the farthest he had ever gotten. At the realization, his mind went blank for a second, only to be flooded with thoughts afterwards.

Sixth shot.

"Bullseye."

An amazing performance. Of the 72 total shots, 64 hit dead center. It was hard to believe anyone could fit six arrows at once in such a small space.

"Congratulations, with this score, you can go straight to the nationals."

It was a dream come true. Yumino called his parents and told them about what he had done. They all gathered together that evening and had their first family dinner that did not end with a fight.

Later on, Yumino got home and lay on the cool floor. Life seemed to finally take a right turn for the man.

*****

"Today's heatwave in Tokyo was responsible for the death of six people. The youngest being a male at the age of 24."

What? A heatwave? Isn't that an everyday occurrence?

Yumino muttered to himself in a half-asleep state. He wanted to turn to the other side in search of a cooler part of the floor, but instead of relief, he felt a burning sensation.

The burn woke him up instantly, but when he opened his eyes, he saw something he could hardly explain.

Faces twisting upon each other were staring at him while asking for something.

"Kill him!"

"Take his head!"

"Feed him to the dragon!"

"Aim where we could not!"

"Be our hero!"

Countless thoughts flowed into the man's head. Hate, anger, resentment, and pure pain made him scream at the top of his lungs.

He hated him; he wanted him dead for what he had done. He had taken everything from them. But who was "him"? Who were "them"?

Yumino turned to the faces, trying to pose those questions, but words wouldn't come out. He tried to find an explanation as to why he couldn't speak, but reaching for his own neck only brought him more terror: his hands passed right through instead of touching anything.

Soon after, these same hands started burning up right in front of his eyes. That was the last thing he saw before the rest of his body followed suit.

The pain had stopped, but it was dark. Yumino was scared. Being alive at this point simply didn't make sense.

It's a dream. It must be a dream. I will wake up any second now. All I have to do is relax.

The man tried to calm himself down, thinking about how he had just lived the best day of his life. He thought about the future and how he would have to train hard to keep up with the demands of the next competitions.

He tried to envision the life he would enjoy as a respectable archer in the modern world, leaving problems such as money and family disputes behind.

Were he to have a mouth left, he would have smiled, but by the time he finally let go of the fear that was ravaging him, he had long turned to dust.

The last memory he had was of a familiar voice crying in pain.

"How did this happen? You were so close to living your dream!"

*****

As if waking up from a nightmare, Yumino jumped out of some tall grass.

"Where... Where is this place?" the man asked while looking at the ruins of what appeared to be a white castle.