The Genre Always Wins

Remember when I said things wouldn't get less awkward? I was right. I'm always right about the worst things.

Morning arrived like a sledgehammer to my consciousness. I tried to roll over and immediately regretted every life choice that had led me to this moment. My muscles screamed in a chorus of pain; a symphony of suffering conducted by yesterday's impromptu heroics.

"Unnngh," I eloquently observed to my ceiling.

The alarm continued its shrill cry of academic obligation. I slapped at my phone with all the coordination of a newborn giraffe, finally silencing it on the fifth attempt.

Sitting up was an odyssey. Getting dressed was my personal Everest. By the time I managed to button my uniform shirt, I'd invented at least three new curse words.

"Nature's reminder," I muttered, stretching my aching shoulders. "Pain is just weakness leaving the body, along with my dignity and will to live."

My father's home gym philosophy had betrayed me. All those carefully cultivated muscles from hours of working out in our converted spare room had served their purpose in the moment of crisis but were now exacting their revenge. My triceps felt like they'd been replaced with hot coals. My quadriceps had apparently filed for divorce from the rest of my body.

Breakfast was a sombre affair of toast and regret. As I chewed mechanically, I contemplated the day ahead. Would the sisters recognise me as their mysterious saviour? The cap and sunglasses had been a pathetic disguise at best. And then there was the awkward matter of having seen them in their...undergarments. Even thinking about it sent heat crawling up my neck.

"Get it together, Andie," I told my reflection in the toaster. My reflection, predictably, had no helpful advice to offer.

The walk to the train station was a masterclass in physical discomfort. Each step reminded me that the human body contains approximately six hundred muscles, all of which could hurt simultaneously.

I was so focused on my own misery that I almost missed them: Miyuki and Mochi, walking about twenty metres ahead of me. They moved slowly; heads bent together in intense conversation. Something about their posture, the tight set of their shoulders, sent a pang through my chest that had nothing to do with muscle strain.

As a cyclist sped past, ringing his bell sharply, Mochi visibly flinched and pressed closer to her sister. Miyuki's arm went around her protectively, her eyes scanning the area with a hypervigilant intensity before they resumed walking, now even closer together.

I couldn't face them. Not today, possibly not ever. Speeding up despite my protesting legs, I swung wide to overtake them without being noticed. They were so absorbed in their conversation they didn't even look up as I passed.

The train was mercifully on time, and I snagged a seat by the window, watching the urban landscape blur into streaks of grey and green. Would today be the day the universe finally cut me some slack?

Spoiler alert: no.

Paradise Heights loomed before me, all glass and architectural ambition. Students streamed through the gates, many already gossiping animatedly. I caught fragments as I passed:

"—break-in—"

"—sisters from Class 1-A—"

"—some kind of hero—"

Great. Just great.

The classroom was a buzzing hive of speculation when I arrived. Hina Aoki, our class president, was struggling to maintain order while clearly itching to hear the details herself. Mei Sakamoto and Riko Yamaguchi hovered around the Kimochi sisters' empty desks, practically vibrating with anticipation. Near them, Yui Kawaguchi was diligently taking notes, as if preparing an official class report on the incident.

I slipped into my seat, trying to become one with the furniture.

"Andie!" Kazuki Nishida appeared beside me; eyes wide with excitement. "Did you hear about the Kimochi house?"

"Vaguely," I mumbled, arranging my face into what I hoped was neutral interest.

"It's wild! Burglars broke in, and some mysterious guy fought them off!" Kazuki exclaimed. "Sora and I were discussing it on the way here, the whole neighbourhood's talking about it."

Sora Nakagawa nodded enthusiastically from behind Kazuki. "They're saying he was like a ninja or something."

"Really," I said. Not a question.

"Yeah, and you live right across from them, right?" Yuto Matsuda chimed in, leaning over his desk. "Did you see anything?"

Hiroko Ueda leaned forward from her desk behind mine. "You must have heard something at least." Her voice had that breathless quality it always got when addressing me directly. I pretended not to notice how she'd subtly fixed her hair before speaking.

All eyes swivelled to me. Perfect. I could feel Daiki Abe's suspicious stare drilling into the back of my head from the studious corner.

"Uh," my brain scrambled for an excuse, "I was...wearing noise-cancelling headphones. Didn't hear a thing until the police sirens."

Sakura Kobayashi joined us, her cheeks slightly pink as she adjusted her glasses. "That sounds... convenient," she said with a small smile that suggested she didn't entirely believe me.

Miyako Yukihana, who had materialised with supernatural timing beside Airi Yamamoto, narrowed her eyes. "That's weird, because you weren't online last night either. We waited for you to join the... thing we had planned."

I noticed her careful phrasing: Rina Suzuki and Haruka Endo were hovering nearby, and Miyako was deliberately avoiding mentioning our scheduled raid in whatever online game she'd become obsessed with this month.

"I was..." I floundered, "...studying. Wanted to get ahead."

"Studying." Miyako's tone could have dehydrated an ocean. "On the first day of school."

"I'm very dedicated to academic excellence."

From across the room, Daiki snorted loudly. "Since when?" he muttered to Kaito Ishii, just loud enough for me to hear but not loud enough to risk provoking the delinquents who had started filing in.

"Hmm." Miyako looked unconvinced but was distracted by the classroom door opening.

The sisters entered, and the room erupted like a volcano of feminine curiosity. They were instantly surrounded by a swarm of classmates, all talking at once:

"Are you okay?" Sakura asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"We heard what happened!" Ayumi Mori exclaimed, notebook already in hand.

"Was it scary?" Nao Fujita pressed, leaning forward intently.

I watched as Miyuki raised her hands for quiet, looking exhausted but composed. Behind her, Mochi stood half-hidden, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched slightly. Her fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her uniform jacket, a nervous gesture I'd never seen her make in all our years growing up together.

I noticed how Miyuki positioned herself slightly in front of Mochi, creating a buffer between her sister and the crowd. It was subtle but deliberate, like a bodyguard's stance.

"We're fine," Miyuki said. "Just a little shaken up."

"Tell us everything!" demanded Saki Watanabe, one of the popular girls. "Was it terrifying?"

Miyuki hesitated, then nodded. "At first, yes. These two men broke in while we were home alone with our mother. They had a knife and were threatening us."

A collective gasp rippled through the audience. I noticed how Mochi's breathing quickened at the memory, her eyes taking on that distant, unfocused look I'd seen during the actual incident. Miyuki shifted slightly, positioning herself between her sister and the crowd, a subtle protective gesture that made my chest ache.

"But then," Mochi spoke up, her voice soft but steady, "someone came to help us."

"Who was it?" several voices asked at once, including Rio Kondo and Yuma Ikeda, who rarely showed interest in anything outside their popular circle.

"We don't know," Miyuki admitted. "He kept his face hidden, wore sunglasses and a cap. But he was amazing. Like something from an action movie."

Mochi nodded, though I noticed her hands trembling slightly. "He knocked both guys down with just a baseball bat and this toy gun that shot gel pellets."

"So cool!" Hiroko exclaimed, eyes shining.

"A real-life hero!" Ayaka Nishimura clasped her hands together dramatically.

"Was he hot?"

This last question came from Nana Shimizu, one of the sporty girls. Miyuki actually blushed.

"We couldn't see his face," she repeated. "But his build was..." she gestured vaguely, "impressive."

I sank lower in my chair, wishing for spontaneous invisibility. From the corner of my eye, I saw Airi giving me a speculative look that was far too perceptive for comfort.

"The way he moved," Mochi added, seeming to momentarily forget her usual wariness around male classmates, "so confident and strong. If we ever found out who he was..."

"What?" Keita Noguchi prompted, looking amused by the drama.

The sisters exchanged a look, then Miyuki declared, "We'd probably propose to him on the spot."

The classroom exploded with reactions: squeals, gasps, and at least one dramatic "No way!" from Tatsuya Fujimoto, who seemed scandalised by such forward female behaviour.

"Both of you?" Hitomi Yamada asked, wide-eyed.

Mochi nodded. "Japan may not recognise polygamy officially, but in our hearts? We'd share."

I choked on air, triggering a coughing fit that thankfully went unnoticed amid the continuing commotion. Kaito absently patted me on the back, too engrossed in the story to realise he was helping his academic rival.

"He had this presence," Miyuki continued, warming to her subject. "Medium height, athletic build. Strong arms but not bulky, like a swimmer or martial artist."

Ryota Tachibana and his jock friends perked up at this, exchanging looks that clearly said "sounds like one of us."

"And his voice," Mochi sighed. "Deep and commanding, even though he only said a few words."

This was bad. This was very, very bad. They were basically describing me with a thesaurus. I glanced at Shohei Ogawa, who was measuring himself against the description with obvious satisfaction. If only he knew.

"Small hands though," Miyuki added thoughtfully. "Delicate almost. Like a pianist's."

Wait, what? I glanced at my distinctly average-sized hands in confusion.

"And he had this distinctive limp," Mochi said. "Left leg, I think."

I didn't have a limp. Were they...deliberately throwing people off the scent? But why would they do that unless they... knew?

Miyako, who had been watching me throughout this exchange, sidled closer. Airi followed, while Haruka, Rina, and Aoi had moved to join the crowd around the sisters.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Andie-kun," Miyako murmured. "Something wrong?"

"Stomach," I muttered, clutching my midsection. "Last night's curry is disagreeing with me."

"Funny," she said. "You never mentioned curry before."

Airi tilted her head. "And yet you mentioned having study notes from last night. Curious."

These two were too perceptive for my comfort. Something told me they'd figured out my secret hero identity, but were keeping it to themselves.

For now.

"It was very spicy," I improvised wildly. "Gotta go!"

I bolted for the door just as our homeroom teacher, Keiko Amakata, strode in. I froze instinctively, caught in the act of escape.

"Going somewhere, Andie-kun?" she inquired, one eyebrow raised.

Amakata-sensei was, like all teachers at Paradise Heights, female. The school had implemented a controversial "female-led education" philosophy, claiming research showed students responded better to female authority figures. The more cynical among us suspected it had more to do with the school's founder having five daughters and zero sons, but who was I to question educational policy?

She was also, like every female teacher at this institution, inexplicably well-endowed. The school uniform design philosophy apparently extended to staff attire as well, creating an environment that seemed deliberately engineered to distract hormonal young adults.

"Bathroom emergency," I said, trying to look appropriately distressed. "Very urgent."

She sighed. "Make it quick, Andie-kun. We have important—"

Her words died as a faint humming filled the room. In the centre of the classroom floor, a glowing circle had appeared, pulsing with azure light. It started small, maybe half a metre across, but was visibly expanding.

"What in the world?" Amakata-sensei took a step back.

The circle grew larger, intricate symbols etching themselves along its circumference. Desks began to vibrate as they made contact with the glowing boundary. I saw Shinji Kato, usually the target of Kenji Tanaka's bullying, freeze in absolute terror, while beside him, Ryo Sato and Hiroshi Nakamura actually moved protectively in front of him; delinquents they might be, but even they recognised when a situation transcended normal social hierarchies.

My brain, unhelpfully, supplied exactly what was happening.

"It's an isekai circle," I blurted out.

"A what?" Taro Yamada asked, backing away from the glowing phenomenon.

"A summoning circle," I clarified, already backing toward the door. "Like in fantasy stories when people get transported to another world."

Several students laughed nervously, but their laughter died as the circle continued to grow, now encompassing nearly half the classroom.

Daiki, whose seat was closest to the circle, scrambled backward with a yelp of surprise. Shinji, whose desk had been enveloped, suddenly vanished with a surprised yelp.

Panic erupted. Students scrambled away from the expanding circle, pressing against the walls. Emi Okada and Yuna Hasegawa, usually composed and studious, were clutching each other in terror. Asuka Tanaka and Miku Sato tried to leap over desks to escape the advancing light. Ren Sasaki, normally so cool and detached, was shoving other students aside in his panic.

Amakata-sensei shouted for order, but another student, Ayaka Nishimura, disappeared, then another, Masato Inoue.

"The door!" Kurenai Shiranui screamed. "Get to the door!"

I was already there, hand on the handle. The circle was expanding faster now, swallowing desks and students at an alarming rate. Hitomi lunged forward, yanking the door open, and I squeezed through the gap just as the circle reached the threshold.

Behind me, the door slammed shut with supernatural force. I heard the lock engage with a final-sounding click.

For a moment, I stood frozen in the empty hallway, heart hammering against my ribs. Through the door's small window, I watched in horror as the circle consumed the entire classroom. One by one, my classmates vanished in flashes of light: Naoki Hayashi and Kenta Miura, Aoi Saito and Haruka Endo clinging to each other, Shota Fujita still clutching his textbook, and finally the sisters.

I saw the exact moment when the circle reached Miyuki and Mochi. Mochi's eyes went wide with panic, her body seeming to lock up entirely, the same frozen response I'd witnessed during the home invasion. Miyuki, despite her own visible fear, instinctively wrapped her arms around her sister, pulling Mochi's face against her shoulder as if to shield her from whatever was happening. Their bodies tensed in identical patterns of terror before the light consumed them both.

Then the circle itself winked out, leaving an empty classroom.

"No," I whispered. "No way."

This couldn't be happening. This was the stuff of fiction, not real life. I pinched my arm hard, hoping to wake from whatever bizarre dream I'd stumbled into.

The pain was real. This was real.

My first instinct was to find help, but who would believe me? "Excuse me, my entire class just got teleported to another dimension" wasn't exactly a credible statement.

My second instinct was to run home and hide under my bed until this all went away. This seemed marginally more practical.

As I sprinted through the eerily empty school corridors, a chilling thought struck me: Naomi-san. The sisters' mother was alone at home, potentially in danger.

I changed direction, heading for the exit. If these circles were appearing at school, they might be appearing elsewhere too. I had to warn her.

The streets were strangely deserted as I ran the familiar route home. No cars, no pedestrians, just an unsettling silence broken only by my laboured breathing.

The Kimochi house looked normal from the outside, no glowing circles, no signs of interdimensional distress. I pounded on the front door, praying she was home and not already vanished.

"Naomi-san!" I called. "It's Andie from across the street! There's an emergency!"

The door opened, revealing Naomi-san's concerned face. Like her daughters, there was no mistaking her genetic blessings; even in a simple house dress, she cut an imposing figure.

"Andie-kun?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Shouldn't you be at school? What's wrong?" Her eyes softened when they met mine, a warmth there that had never faded, even when her daughters had pulled away. That familiar look, the one that had made me feel like I still had family after my parents died, sent a pang through my chest.

"Something strange is happening," I gasped, struggling to phrase the impossible. "At school, there was this glowing circle, and everyone disappeared, and I think they've been transported to another world, and it sounds crazy but—"

I broke off as the floor beneath my feet began to glow. A familiar azure circle was forming, centred precisely where I stood.

"No!" I jumped back, nearly colliding with Naomi-san. "It's happening here too!"

She stared in bewilderment at the expanding circle. "What is that thing?"

"Don't touch it!" I warned, backing away. "If you do, you'll disappear like the others!"

But the circle was growing faster than I could retreat. It caught the edge of Naomi-san's slipper, and she vanished mid-gasp, leaving me alone on her doorstep as the circle continued to pursue me.

I ran.

Across the street, into my house, slamming the door behind me. But I wasn't safe; a new circle was already forming in my entryway, pulsing with hungry light.

"You have got to be kidding me," I growled, diving into the living room.

Another circle greeted me there.

The kitchen?

Circle.

Bathroom?

Circle.

My private home gym?

Circle, right in the middle of the weight bench.

Bedroom?

Circle.

I was being herded like a rabbit in a snare, the house becoming a maze of glowing traps. I scrambled up the stairs, nearly falling as my aching muscles protested the sudden exertion.

"This isn't fair!" I shouted at the universe as I dodged another expanding circle on the landing. "You can't just rewrite reality like this! There are rules!"

The universe, predictably, did not apologise.

I dove into my bedroom, slammed the door, and leaned against it, panting. A circle immediately began forming beneath my feet.

"Oh, come on!"

With a groan of frustration, I clambered onto my bed, then up onto my desk, knocking over a stack of textbooks in the process. The circle expanded relentlessly, swallowing the floor, then the bed, creeping toward the desk.

The window was my only escape. I wrenched it open and surveyed the drop: two storeys, onto the lawn. Not ideal, but better than interdimensional kidnapping.

As the circle touched the desk legs, I swung myself out the window and dropped, landing with a painful thud that sent fresh waves of agony through my already abused muscles.

Rolling to my feet, I limped around to the front of the house. Circles were appearing in the yard now, blooming like neon flowers wherever I stepped.

"You can't run from an isekai plot!" I yelled at the sky, dodging another circle. "Is that it? Is that the message here?"

After twenty minutes of this absurd dance, in and out of the house, around the yard, through neighbours' properties, I finally collapsed on my front step, utterly spent. Sweat plastered my uniform to my skin, and my lungs burned with each breath.

A circle began forming beneath me, and I didn't move. What was the point? The genre always wins in the end.

As the azure light engulfed my lower body, I gazed forlornly at my house, at the window of the room where my prized collection of limited-edition figurines sat in their display case, safely hidden from judging eyes in my private sanctuary.

"Of all the things to miss," I muttered, "it had to be the embarrassing ones."

The circle climbed higher, past my waist, reaching for my chest. I wondered if Miyako and Airi would miss our gaming sessions, if Kazuki and his crew would find a replacement for their team, if the Kimochi sisters would ever know it was me who saved them.

The world around me began to fade, reality tunnelling into a pinpoint of light.

"If this is some cosmic author's idea of character development," I said to the dissolving universe, "they could have at least let me pack a change of underwear. Because nothing says 'hero's journey' like dimensional travel in day-old boxers."