Transmigration

Spotlights on. I held my electric guitar, my hands dancing on the strings. The audience’s cheers filled my heart with excitement. They loved me, I knew it for sure, and this feeling was the best thing in the world.

Himura Natsuo was a twenty years old young man with the passion for rock ‘n roll. He had always dreamt of becoming a global rockstar and had started playing the guitar at a young age to achieve his dream. When he was in high school, he formed a band that had quite success in rock clubs and was active up until now.

But, as time went by, things changed.

Natsuo and his band were together in a pub for a drink. The atmosphere was lively, until Ryusei, the vocalist, put his glass on the table with a stern expression.

"Natsuo, we have to tell you something." His tone was gloomy.

"Sure. Why are you so depressed all of a sudden?"

They were back from a successful live concert: they performed at their best and people cheered for them; what could have possibly happened to make him so sad?

Ryusei looked at the other two guys and took a deep breath.

"We talked about it together and we would like to disband."

Natsuo stared blankly at his three friends. What? They were joking, right? They have been together since high school, it was impossible that they were serious.

Natsuo snapped his tongue. "If it’s a joke, it’s not funny."

Shouta, the bassist, lowered his gaze.

"It’s not a joke. We knew you wouldn’t agree, so we decided on our own."

Natsuo blinked twice, out of words.

"Are you serious? I’m the leader of this group, I would like you to involve me in these sorts of decisions" he said dryly.

"See? You’re a narcissist, talking with you it’s impossible. You just wouldn’t listen" replied Taiga, the drummer.

Natsuo was furious. A narcissist? Was it so unreasonable wanting to have a say in the matter being the group’s leader?

"That’s not true. I would have listened if only you talked about it."

Taiga rolled his eyes. "Right, just as you never listened to our problems. You’re too full of yourself to care about us."

Ryusei glared at Taiga.

"We’re sorry, Natsuo. We know how much you care about the band, but we can’t go on like this. We have to study for our future, we no longer have time for this hobby. I think you should stop dreaming too and focus on university." Ryusei forced a smile. "I’m telling you this for your own good" he added.

Natsuo gritted his teeth. "Right, for my own good" he mumbled. He stood up, took his guitar and walked toward the exit of the pub.

The others tried to call him back, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t feel anything, but his anger. Rock was everything for him, it wasn’t just a hobby. He had learnt how to play all of the band’s instruments to teach his friends, he had learnt how to write music to produce their own songs. What else was he supposed to do?

He got out of the pub and his clothes were soaked by the rain. All of his hard work was crushed in a few moments, with a few words. His only friends stabbed him in the back and now he was alone.

"I should stop dreaming, uh?" he repeated with bitterness.

Natsuo walked through the pedestrian crossing, but didn’t notice that the traffic light was red. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a clacson.

He looked up and his eyes were blinded by some headlights; a truck was coming in his direction. He instinctively put his arms in front of his face to protect himself, then…

The sound of the impact was loud and he fell on the ground, his whole body aching.

Blood, lights, voices, raindrops… Everything was mixed together in a cacophony of feelings.

Natsuo’s vision was getting blurry.

Ah… I would really like to shine on stage, like a true rockstar… He thought, then everything went dark.

***

Natsuo opened his eyes. His vision was still blurry, the only thing he could distinguish was a clear blue ceiling.

“It must be the hospital…”

He put an arm in front of his eyes to protect them from the bright light and sat up from what he thought was the hospital bed.

A cobbled street stretched out before his gaze, surrounded by a fresh green lawn. On the road's sides there were cottages made of wattle and daub, they had brown roofs and were decorated with wisteria plants.

Natsuo raised an eyebrow. Where was he? Wasn’t he hit by a truck just a moment ago? He lowered his gaze to check his body’s condition: it was perfectly fine. How was it possible?

I’m definitely dreaming. He thought, then slapped himself to wake up.

It hurt. He massaged the sore spot, astonished.

Perhaps he could ask someone where he was, but the street was empty. After some time, two women in western medieval dresses started walking in the same street. They were holding a basket full of food: they were probably coming back from the market. They glanced at Natsuo with confused and scared expressions and, when he tried to approach them, they avoided him.

What’s wrong with them? He thought, but he couldn’t blame them; maybe even he had made a strange expression seeing their thousand-year-old fashion.

He walked towards the direction where the two women came from and turned the corner. His eyes widened: what was happening?

In front of him there was a circular square with plenty of market stalls. A lot of people walked around, all dressed in western medieval clothes.

Did I end up at a cosplay event or something? But how?

Natsuo put a hand in his pocket to take his smartphone and check his location, but his hand grasped the air.

What? His smartphone wasn’t there. He checked all the nooks and crannies of his clothes, but nothing.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a notification and a banner appeared in front of his eyes.

Congratulations, you developed the Rockstar System. Click here to see more info.

Natsuo stared at the floating banner, flabbergasted. Seriously… What the hell was happening?

He instinctively put his hands on the electric guitar hanging on his back. Luckily, it was still there.

He observed the people dressed in those ancient clothes, the cottages and the floating banner and, suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind: could it be that, perhaps, he had transmigrated in another world?