Not Yet Broken

One Month Since Being Isekai’d:

As the rooster crowed, Kei gripped his knee and pushed himself upright. His legs buckled for a second, nearly dropping him. Every step made him wince and inhale sharply. His sleeves clung tighter to his arms, and even his footsteps thudded heavier on the wooden floor. Still, he carried himself out of the barn.

Gerald and Kent took one look at him. Silence clung to the air as they continued to observe. Kei’s brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and eyes burned as he grunted. Their expressions didn’t soften; they simply gave a nod and got to work.

Kei flexed his fingers. Calluses split across his knuckles, his palms lined and dry like sun-baked leather. As they milked the cows, a rider came in.

“I’m looking for Gerald.”

“That’s me,” Gerald said, stepping forward.

The rider didn’t blink. His expression was unflinching. “There are reports of goblins in the area. Armed men are patrolling the road, but there are only so many of us. Be advised—and keep yourselves armed.”

Gerald clicked his tongue. “Alright, fine. Move along and tell the other farms.”

He rushed off, while the others—including Kei—continued milking in silence. Moments later, Gerald returned with a bundle of basic weapons.

“Kent, you’re the strongest lad I’ve got. You’ll get a sword.” He handed out weapons until he came to Kei. “Keisuke, take this dagger. Put it on your belt.”

Kei reached for it, but winced and gritted his teeth as he felt his tendons burn. He dropped the dagger as his grip failed.

“Pick it up, Keisuke,” Gerald said, crossing his arms. His gaze pierced straight through him.

Kei groaned, leaning over slowly to retrieve it. The moment he gripped the hilt again, he clenched his teeth—but held firm, sliding it onto his belt.

“Alright. Get to work, lads. And keep your eyes out,” Gerald said, returning to the cows.

After breakfast, Kei walked out to the massive field he’d tilled by himself. With a bucket of corn seeds in hand, he moved row by row, planting each seed carefully.

His left hand gripped the bucket, arm trembling as he strained to hold it steady. All the while, his eyes swept the perimeter of the farm.

After hours of work, the dinner bell rang. Kei shuffled toward the house, each step dragging. He bent to set the bucket down, breath hitching through clenched teeth.

As he stepped inside, Heidi glanced at him. Her expression softened. Kei sat at his usual spot at the table.

“Thanks for the food,” he said politely.

Gerald looked around the table. “Everyone’s here. Let’s eat.”

Kei reached for his fork. It slipped through his fingers and clattered against the plate. He tried again—same result. He tightened his grasp, and a hot, slicing pain tore through his hand.

Heidi rose, slid the fork into his hand, and gently curled his fingers around it. “Take your time,” she said, tone steady—almost warm.

Kei slowly took in one mouthful of food at a time. Heidi and Helga said nothing. Their gazes lingered on him—eyes heavy, lips pressed into thin lines.

Suddenly, a bell rang out. The men stood immediately. Kei pushed himself up, but his legs buckled. A sharp sting raced up his spine. He staggered left, catching himself on the table with a grunt. He sighed, then slowly trudged to the front door.

He pushed it open and stepped onto the porch. In the distance, he saw torches—a dozen or so. As they drew closer, he saw small, humanoid creatures: dark green with warts on their noses.

“Goblins! Prepare to defend the farm!” Kent shouted, drawing his sword. The other farmhands and Gerald drew theirs.

Kei reached for his dagger and drew it—but it slipped from his hand and hit the porch.

“Dammit!” he yelled.

He stooped down and gripped it, squeezing tight as pain flared. He grunted and winced, pulling off the sheath. He stepped toward the goblins.

Gerald barked, “Keisuke, you’re in no shape to fight. Protect the house!”

Kei gritted his teeth. I can fight too, dammit.

Steel clashed with snarls. Green limbs tumbled to the dirt. Screams pierced the night.

Helga and Heidi peeked out the door.

Suddenly, a larger goblin that had slipped past the others lumbered up. Kei’s eyes widened. “Shit, how’d he get here?”

“Come here, you big bastard!” he yelled, charging. But the goblin didn’t even look at him.

Helga and Heidi barred the door with whatever furniture they could. The goblin raised his club and slammed it against the door with a tremendous thud.

Kei rushed forward—but the dagger slipped again as pain shot through his hand.

“Dammit!” he cursed.

The goblin kept hammering the door as Helga and Heidi screamed inside. The other men were still busy fighting. The door was starting to cave.

Kei spotted a pitchfork to his left. He grabbed it, groaning as he forced his fingers around it. His glare locked onto the goblin.

He charged—not with a battle cry, but with a cry of pain—as he forced himself forward.

The door splintered.

Kei drove the pitchfork into the goblin’s ribs.

A wet gurgle escaped the creature’s throat. It turned to look at Kei—then slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Kei trembled. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the porch.

The men returned quickly. They stared at the goblin and the pitchfork jutting from its side. No one spoke.

Kei had done that—him.

Gerald stepped forward and helped him to his feet.

“My door’s broken, but you saved my wife and daughter. That’s something I can never repay. Thank you, Keisuke.”

Kent came up beside him. “Not bad, noodle boy. Not bad. You’re clueless, but you’ve got guts. I can admire that.”

Kei nodded, voice low. “Just doing my part.”

Everyone returned to the dinner table while a few men began putting up a new door.

“Was anyone hurt?” Helga asked, still trembling. Her eyes darted between them. She blinked rapidly, shoulders shaking.

“Dirk got his knee slashed, and a few of the boys got bludgeoned. No catastrophic injuries.”

Helga sagged in relief. She wiped her face, blinking away tears. “I’ll get my sewing kit.”

Heidi sat beside Kei. “You did a really brave thing, Keisuke. The guys might give you a hard time, but that took guts. Thanks for saving my hide.”

Kei flushed crimson. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Heidi laughed. “Look at you, a blushing mess. You’re no good with compliments, are you?”

“Uh, n… not really.”

She laughed again. “We’ll get you out of your shell eventually, Keisuke. Mark my words.”

Gerald returned with a bottle of clear liquid, slamming it on the table.

“This calls for a drink.”

Helga rolled her eyes while stitching Dirk’s wound. “You’d use the cows coming home as an excuse for a drink,” she said, chuckling.

Gerald laughed and started pouring. He even set a glass in front of Kei.

“This is the best moonshine in these parts. It’s the best ‘cause I made it myself.” He grinned. “Drink up, Keisuke. It’ll help with the pain.”

Wincing as he gripped the glass, Kei threw it back with the rest and nearly dropped it. His face reddened again as Heidi steadied his hand.

“Let’s enjoy it, boys,” Gerald said, pouring until the bottle ran dry—then cracked open another, and another.

Hours later, Kei stumbled back to the barn on numb legs. “Man, I feel great,” he muttered, belching as cows shifted and snorted in protest.

As he lay on his makeshift hay bed, he thought of the goblin he killed.