Player 2

Chouji woke up wishing he was dead.

His body was a cacophany of aches and pains, each and every internal organ shouting its grievances. His eyes were especially hurt; even though the blinds were drawn and he couldn’t tell what time it was, his corneas getting stabbed by the overhead fluorescent light of his hospital room. 

Oh right.

Hospital.

Through foggy memories, Chouji recalled abstract concepts which formed into concrete ideas the more he pondered them. Truck… Lowson… Girl… Jump… Something about doing the right thing, sacrifice, or something like that.

Then he remembered his brother. 

Daisuke was standing there in front of the Lowson. Chowing down on some generic convenience store chips. It practically happened mid-conversation. But Chouji’s body acted before his brain could do its job and tell him what a stupid decision it was. Laying there in a hospital gown and god knows how many gauzes, bandages, and casts almost made him regret that decision to jump out of the truck.

But even if it was stupid, it was the right thing to do.

He never got around to telling Daisuke that his crush on that girl who almost got hit by the truck, Fukako, had faded over time. Sure, there was still some attraction there. She was still beautiful. But gone were the days of puppy-dog love, of plotting and scheming of ways to get her attention and confess to her. 

Chouji slowly inhaled the sterile, chemical smell of hospital air and listened to the muffled beeps of the machines recording his vitals. He had nearly forgotten how much Daisuke had helped him back then. No matter how insane or outlandish the plan was, his big brother would always help him out. 

Guilt coursed through his veins alongside IV fluid. Daisuke was probably worrying about him. And his parents too. Chouji hated that feeling, of making others worry about him. Of being a burden to others. But lying in that cot, he knew for certain he had done the right thing. He had no idea he had it in him. It was almost like one of those isekai anime, where the shy, nerdy protagonist sacrifices his life to save someone about to be killed by a truck. 

Actually, it was exactly like that. Chouji would have chuckled if it didn’t bring him immense pain. So he just managed a smile. If things had gone differently, maybe he’d be whisked off to some fantasy world where he could be a powerful sorcerer and lay waste to goblins and fall in love with elves. What wishful thinking.

There were footsteps outside the room, just in the hallway. He hoped it was Daisuke, but his steps were much heavier. These steps were surprisingly gentle, almost like the person walking wasn’t supposed to be here. Maybe it was a nurse.

“You got this,” said a voice outside. “You got this! Just go in and… and you got this!”

It was a tight whisper, barely audible through the door. The voice was high-pitched and it was hard to tell if it belonged to a man or a woman. Chouji guessed it was a man’s. A male nurse, then. Nothing wrong with that. Chouji was very open-minded and accepting.

Then he saw the curved blade of a scythe inch forward at the foot of his bed. Some deep, primal instinct told Chouji to pretend he was a sleep and he obeyed it. Perhaps he was mistaken. After all, he wasn’t wearing his glasses right now. Everything was just a bit blurry. 

With the utmost care, he cracked open one eye just enough to catch a glimpse. The long, silver half-crescent glimmered in the dull white of the room. It sat atop a shadow black pole, which was wielded by a lithe figure in shadow black robes. His face was obscured by a billowing hood.

So it was a male nurse who was into farming. It never hurts to have a hobby. And it was only when Chouji’s eye meandered over to the door that he started getting nervous.

The door was closed.

His ears were one of the few parts of his body that weren’t damaged. Well, weren’t damaged greatly. Either way, he should’ve been able to hear the door being opened, or even seen it. Despite hearing the footsteps of this person and his voice, he somehow opened and closed the door absolutely silently without him seeing it. It’s almost like he phased through it entirely.

Chouji’s eye wandered back to this figure in black, who was now raising his scythe.

Maybe it wasn’t a nurse.

~⚔~

“Ugh, I’m so boooooooored! I wish I was dead.”

Gina side-eyed me. She had gotten really got at doing that.

“What, so soon? Do you really miss waiting in line in Hell so much?”

I shrugged. We had just woken up and had a small breakfast, and already we were back on the road. Who knew fantasy stuff required so much physical activity? Not that I was complaining. I’m an athlete, physical activity was my thing. Walking was just so tedious, though. Sure, the scenery was pretty nice. But as I had just said, I was getting bored. Really bored.

“Have you tried grinding some monsters?” she asked. I blushed, remembering the debacle last night.

“Stop saying that.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting the cultural differences between us. The point is you should go out into the forest. Monsters are guaranteed to come. And when they come, all you have to is beat them off.” My blush deepened even further. Was she doing this on purpose?

“As much as I would like that to happen,” I said, “I’ve tried, but to no avail.”

“Really? Even with all these goblins? There’s supposed to be a huge den nearby.”

“That’s the thing. I’ve seen a bunch of goblins in the bushes, but whenever they approach, they scramble away.” I hefted my staff onto my shoulder. “It’s a shame, really. I still haven’t gotten a chance to try this bad boy out.”

Gina rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe that ugly thing is what you wanted a staff. You could’ve asked for anything since Basil is so talented,” she said.

“Talented as he is, any other design would’ve taken longer. Something as simple as this means we can get to killing the Demon King as fast as possible.” I gave my staff a few experimental swings as we kept walking.

While I was doing that, she looked at me with what I could have sworn was admiration. But she looked away just as quickly.

“I think the goblins still remember you from when you first arrived,” she said.

“They’re still insulted that I thought they were elves?”

“I mean you attacking them with that branch, remember? It was totally out of turn order. That really rattled them, so they’re staying away from you now.”

“Is turn order really that big of a deal? Like a time-honored custom or something?”

“It’s more like they didn’t know it could happen at all. Fights have always been turn-based around here, so when someone shows up and does things as if the laws of nature don’t apply, of course they would be disturbed by that. What if someone randomly started flying on Earth? Or phased through a closed door? You’d be terrified of them.”

I nodded. She did have a point there. 

“And you also shocked them with your might,” Gina continued. “I was shocked myself. Most Players enter this world with less than average stats, especially in strength and agility. Seeing a newbie catch one of their kind off-guard and bash their brains is not something they would expect. Maybe your aspect is might.”

I ignored that last bit about aspects or whatever (I didn’t want to get dragged into another vocabulary lesson) as I flexed my bicep in the morning sun. 

“What can I say? It pays to be athletic. I knew all that physical training would pay off someday. Just not like this.”

“Do you mind if I check your stats? I want to see what we’re working with here.”

I scratched my head. “Uh, sure. But how…?”

“It’s on your magical tablet device.”

My face scrunched in confusion until I realized what she meant.

“Oh. My phone.”

“Yes,” she intoned. “Your ‘foun’ as you call it. There should be an app on it, something health related.”

I pulled it out of my pocket and swiped through. I had missed it when I first went through my phone upon arrival in this world, but the icon for my health app was a slightly different shade of red than before. When I tapped it, I was shown the typical screen of BPM and steps taken (4,134 since waking up) it also showed me different stats, all of them three letters and all of them unfamiliar to me. AGI, STR, INT, and some others. Should I tell my doctor I have these?

I held my phone up to Gina, who whistled. 

“That is an impressively high strength and agility for someone as low a level as you. Maybe this is the advantage we need to take him down.”

I shoved it back into my pocket. Her words brought me reassurance, but just the same they brought me anxiety. I doubt I could accomplish any substantive stat increases in the next few days. But that’s okay. I’ve been training my body from a very young age. Not for demon-killing, just baseball. Hopefully the skills are transferable.

“But I have to admit, your intelligence stat is quite lacking,” Gina said.

“Excuse m—”

“Oh look! The city gates. We’ve arrived.”