Beyond the Ruin's Shadow

1 / 9
Shin stumbled forward through the tunnel, each step scraping his torn shoes against cold stone. The darkness pressed down around him so heavily it felt like wading through ink. Only the faint crimson glyphs lining the narrow passage kept him oriented, flickering softly like dying embers.His broken leg burned with each movement. Sweat dripped from his chin, mingling with old blood smearing his throat and collar. He forced himself onward, hand brushing against the damp, mossy wall to steady himself.  Finally, after what felt like hours of limping through endless dark, he saw it-a faint slivery glow ahead.
Light…?
He nearly collapsed from relief. His breaths came in ragged sobs as he shuffled faster. The tunnel widened slightly before ending in a crumbling archway, half-swallowed by thick vines.He braced himself against the stone and stepped outside.2 / 9
Morning light flooded over him, so bright his eyes burned instantly. He squinted, tears blurring his vision as warmth caressed his dirt-smeared face. Cool breeze rustled his tangled hair, carrying with it the scents of damp earth, pine, and distant flowers.He fell to his knees in the soft grass just beyond the ruin’s stone threshold. The sun’s rays streamed through the dense forest canopy above, illuminating drifting motes of pollen and mist like scattered golden dust.
“…It’s… beautiful…”His voice cracked with exhaustion and quiet awe. For the first time since he’d been summoned, the air didn’t smell of blood or mould. Instead, it carried a faint sweetness of wild blossoms mixed with dewy moss.He tilted his head back, letting the sun warm his bruised skin. White clouds drifted lazily across a pale blue sky, framed by towering cedar trees whose branches swayed gently in the morning wind.  
Back in Tokyo… I never had time to look at the sky like this…His throat tightened painfully as he remembered sprinting under neon signs to late-night shifts, head always lowered against biting winter winds or suffocating summer hear. Here, the sun felt… real. Soothing. Almost forgiving.  3 / 9He lay down fully on the grass, staring up at the shifting clouds. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths. Petals from a nearby tree drifted down, brushing against his cheek. They were pale pink, almost white, with faint veins of gold running through their centres. He caught one on his cracked palm, staring at its trembling delicacy.
“…Sakura…? No… not cherry blossoms… but close…”He sat up slowly, taking in his reflection on a small puddle nearby. His hair was matted with dried blood and dirt. His blazer hung off his thin frame, sleeves torn, streaked with old mud. Crusted blood clung to his neck and collar. His shoes were cracked open at the sides, soaked with grime and dried moss.He let out a ragged, bitter laugh.“…Great. I look like a corpse crawling out of a sewer… If Airi saw me now, she’d scream and hit me with her kanji workbook,”For a moment, the image of his little sister furiously smacking his head with her textbook almost drew out a genuine smile.  
Almost.His stomach growled quietly in protest, but compared to days of stale air and blood-stink, this forest breeze felt like a royal feast. He forced himself upright, leaning heavily on the rusted sword for sword for support. The blade felt heavy in his grip,4 / 9but its familiar weight grounded him in the unreal brightness of dawn.He pulled out the battered manual from his pocket and flipped it open to the first stance illustration. Left foot back, right foot forward, sword angled diagonally across the body. The page was spotted with mould and old blood stains, but the inked sketches remained legible.
Wincing, he shifted his feet on the forest floor, adjusting his grip around the rough hilt. His arms trembled from exhaustion, but he held the stance for a few breaths, trying to mirror the sketch exactly.His shoulders wobbled under the sword’s weight, and his back burned from the strain. But he forced himself to stay in position, counting each second like holding a difficult yoga pose back home.
“…If this were a manga… this would be the training arc pose before the cool sword fight…” he muttered under his breath.
He chuckled, but it came out as a dry cough instead. Pain rippled up his ribs, making him wince.He shifted to the next stance illustrated – both feet square, sword held out horizontally at chest height. His wrists ached instantly under the unfamiliar grip.I was supposed to become a doctor… not a swordsman…5 / 9The thought echoed hollowly in his chest, but he pushed it aside. Dreams meant nothing here. Only survival did.He lowered the sword, gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his temple despite the morning chill. His legs trembled from fatigue, threatening to collapse at any moment.
But the crisp breeze brushed against his cheeks, cooling burning skin. The earthy scent of pine and distant river spray wrapped around him. Birds chirped overhead – bright, short calls that seemed to fill the forest with living music.For a few fleeting moments, despite pain and exhaustion, he felt… alive.
He sheathed the rusted blade and turned his gaze east. Beyond dense cedar groves, he saw where the forest opened into a wide valley. Pale morning mist still clung to the trees, curling around trunks like drifting ghosts. Farther down, silver lines of rivers wound through emerald plains toward distant hazy mountains.That way there must be peoples… a town, food… somewhere I can figure out how to survive and about this world.His stomach twisted at the thought of real food – fresh rice steaming in a lacquer bowl, grilled fish with soy glaze, miso soup rich with silken tofu. He swallowed hard, feeling his mouth water painfully despite cracked lips.He adjusted his torn blazer around his shoulders and began limping eastward. Every step sent sharp pain up his injured6 / 9leg, but the sight of morning sky and drifting pink petals kept him moving.  
As he pushed past a thick curtain of hanging vines, his ears caught something unusual – voices.He froze instantly, heart hammering. Carefully, he crouched behind a moss-covered boulder and peeked through a gap in the undergrowth.  There, less than fifty meters ahead, an adventurer party moved along a narrow forest path. Four figures trudged in a loose formation, weapons strapped across their backs.
The first was a tall man clad in battered steel plate, a longsword sheathed at his side. His dark hair was tied back in a warrior’s tail, and his Armor bore scratches and dried mud from travel. Beside him walked a woman in deep green robes with golden vine embroidery. A slender staff was strapped across her back, its crystal tip glimmering in the morning sun.Behind them trudged a dwarf, stocky and broad-shouldered in reinforced leather armor. Twin hatchets hung from his belt, handles worn smooth. At the rear marched a young man with short dark hair, carrying a spear slung over his shoulder, his breastplate gleaming dully.
Shin squinted, watching their expressions. The tall swordsman walked with his head held high, scanning the trees with cautious vigilance. The robed woman gestured as she spoke,7 / 9her words too faint to catch fully, but her voice was calm and melodic. The dwarf grunted in reply, scratching his thick beard with gloved fingers. The spear-wielding boy laughed lightly at something the dwarf said, his easy smile flashing white in the morning light.  They look… normal. Human. Not summoned heroes like me. Real people of this world.
His hands shook around the rusted sword. Part of him screamed to stay hidden-what if they turned him in to the king, dragged him back to that throne room to be judged worthless again?But another part whispered desperately:> “They might know where the nearest town is. Where food is.  His stomach cramped painfully, reminding him he’d only eaten stale rice balls in days. His vision blurred slightly, and he rested his forehead against the cold stone of the boulder.
What do I do… approach them… or hide and follow from a distance….?The breeze shifted slightly, carrying with it snatches of their conversation.
“…faster if we cut through…” “…bandit reports near the south ridge…” “…still need to gather wyvern scales…”8 / 9The words faded in and out like drifting smoke. He clenched his jaw, forcing his breathing to quiet.They’re… laughing casually. Like this is just another morning….The sheer normalcy of it ached inside his chest.He closed his eyes briefly, letting the morning sun warm his eyelids. In his mind, he saw Airi again, sitting cross-legged on their futon, stubbornly memorising English vocabulary while nibbling dried plums. He saw his mother’s-tired smile as she stirred miso soup, steam curling around her thin fingers.
I must survive I promised them… I can’t die here…He wiped his eyes with his torn sleeve, smearing dirt and tears across his cheek. Then, tightening his grip on the rusted sword, he took a slow, silent breath.No more hesitation. No more waiting to die.If approaching them means being killed… so, be it. But if there’s even a chance, I can survive… I’ll take it.He stepped out from behind the mossy boulder, sunlight gleaming across his dirt-smeared face and bloodstained uniform. Ahead, the adventurer party continued down the forest path, unaware of the broken boy limping after them, eyes narrowed with quiet, unbreakable resolve.