Out of the Purple

The classroom was silent.

*Bzzzzzz...*

A low, persistent buzzing noise. It surrounded us, too soft to be annoying, but too loud to be calming. Was it an insect? No, it was too omnipresent.

*Bzzzzzz...*

I could almost believe it to be the buzz of anticipation. On other days, there'd be jokes. Maybe you'd catch a student or two on their phones.

Not today. Today, we were at war.

A man lumbered around the room. Middle aged, glasses and a suit and tie. He looked too clean for an executioner, but sometimes, evil shakes your hand with a smile. Every student he approached almost seemed to shrink in fear, as he tossed papers at them.

But to me, he was my hero. I'd been waiting for this moment my entire life. Soon, my hero stood before me: Mr. Matsumoto, my homeroom teacher, here to free me from high school. He slapped some stapled sheets in front of me, with all the vigour of a man whose wife hadn’t slept with him in years.

Finally, the last exam of my school career! I read the cover:

Mathematics

80 minutes

No Calculator

Student name:

/100

I hadn’t been this excited to turn a page since… two hours ago, when I'd been sitting in front of my English final.

*Bzzzzzz...*

Eh, it was probably the lights.

"Who doesn't have a test?" my teacher asked. Nobody dared raise their hands in front of the Mighty Matsumoto. “You may begin,” he signalled.

I signed my name on the cover: Sato Kugo. Flawless start!

***

As I was quadruple checking my test, Mr. Matsumoto called time. “Everybody, drop your pens and close your exams!”

I bolted as soon as we were allowed to leave, ignoring the rest of my classmates. It's not like I was friends with any of them, anyways. I knew not to trust people. Everyone has their own problems, yet they'll scorn you if they find out you have some, too.

***

I never enjoyed walking home. Stale air, loud cars. The modern, blocky architecture of oppressive high rises and skyscrapers looked like it was designed to suck out your lifeforce. There were ads everywhere. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if an ad interrupted my dreams. One poster did catch my uninterested eye.

Hm? Little Park? They’re touring?

Little Park was a band I’d enjoyed during my NEET era. However, I’d stopped listening to their music almost a year ago.

“What are you going to do now?”

There it was. The voice that had plagued me my whole life.

What do you mean? I thought back. I wasn’t too bothered. Until recently, I had hated the voice; blamed it for my childhood. However, having no friends had led me to appreciate having someone to talk to about whatever I wanted. Then again, it was the voice’s fault I didn’t have any… That thought made me clench my jaw in annoyance.

“Well, now that you’ve graduated, what’s next? Hopefully something fun for a change.”

Something fun? Yeah, buddy, I wish. I've been looking for something fun to do my entire life. I keep telling myself “Surely this is what I want to do with my short time on this Earth!” It isn't. It never is. I'm tired of being disappointed, and honestly, I'm starting to feel like I've been chasing a feeling that's not there.

“You know, you’re very self-pitying for a guy with loving parents and good grades.”

Shut up, Allister. I don't even want to talk to you today-

And just like that, I vanished.

***

I lurched forward, falling to my hands and knees. The bitter taste of puke filled my mouth.

I rubbed the sudden, inexplicable blurriness out of my eyes. Still on all-fours, I got a good look at the pavement. It wasn't the grey asphalt or brick roads that I knew. It was a dirty, cobblestone pathway. I looked up. The pale Tokyo sky had been replaced by a clear blue. Scanning my surroundings, I couldn’t help but ogle at the white and brown, medieval-looking houses. Clearly, I was no longer in Tokyo. So, where was I? Somewhere in Europe? I focused on the people around me. The sea of suits and uniforms had been replaced by clothes I didn’t recognise. Ill-fitted waistcoats, corsets, dresses and strange jackets. All in black and gold. Furthermore, they wore all sorts of accessories: goggles, canes, pocket watches… Swords?! Oh, and I have to mention the impressive assortment of hats. Under those hats, I could see natural blonde, ginger and all shades of brown hair. It looked like I’d stumbled into some gothic-medieval-steampunk cosplay event.

I slowly stood up.

A horseman wearing a long, black trench coat and a white top hat yelled out to the people crowding the streets. “Move!”

Why was he on a horse...?

In fact, something had been seriously bothering me, yet it was only now that I could place my finger on it. You see, through all the gawking I’d been doing… I had yet to see a single car, smartphone or neon street sign.

Allister, what do you make of all this?

I expected a snarky remark reminding me how I'd just told him not to talk to me. Instead, I heard nothing.

Helloooo? Allister? Mr. Twain, are you there?

It wasn’t unheard of for me to call upon him and receive no response, but we had just been talking a minute ago.

Dude, come on, say something. What the hell’s going on here?

Maybe I was dreaming? I reached behind me to make sure my backpack was still there. I sighed in relief. It was. At least I could—

Hold on…

What language had that horseback rider spoken in? I ran through all of the languages I knew. Japanese… English… Mandarin… German… French. No… no… no… no… and no. Yet, somehow, I had understood him perfectly. Hey, come to think of it, I was no longer even thinking in any language I knew!

I spotted a caped, young man sitting on a barrel across the street. He was observing me. Had he been staring this whole time? Either way, he was the first person I had made eye contact with, so I was about to make my situation his problem. I forced myself forward; I couldn't remain shocked all day. I crossed the street and walked up to the man. He appeared to be watching me approach through his darkened goggles. Right as I opened my mouth to speak, he held up a finger.

“You’re an outsider, aren’t you? I can tell by your clothes,” he remarked in a dry, high-pitched voice. I couldn't help but notice his wide mouth.

“Uh, yes. Where-”

“Follow me, my friend,” he said. The man jumped up, revealing himself to be exactly my height. He turned around and disappeared into an alleyway. Now, on normal days, I don’t follow strange men into alleys. But then again, on normal days, I don’t teleport. I hesitated but hurried to catch up. At the end of the alley was a rusty gate. It creaked loudly as the man opened it. We emerged from the alleyway, onto an enclosed public patio. There were several small, white tables with matching chairs in an open area. The patio was bordered by a restaurant to my left and a tall, wooden fence to my right. The men loitering around didn't make use of the chairs, opting instead to sit on the stairs or lean against walls. They all looked affiliated and unfriendly.

“Did you just bring me to a gang hideout?” I hissed to my caped companion. He gave me a proud thumbs up.

Up ahead sat a chubby, yet muscular man, with a ginger beard. He wore brown pants, a yellow button-up shirt, and a brown bowler hat. He tossed a golden coin up and down, which cut through his cigar smoke. He made stared me down. He caught the coin without taking his eyes off me, then launched it straight at us.

I leaped out of the way. My mysterious guide casually caught it with one hand. Then, he saluted me, before wordlessly slinking off, closing the gate behind him.

So, I found myself alone with a bunch of scary looking strangers in a strange land. None of them said or did anything. They simply stared at me, smoking and chewing.

“Hello,” I said, my voice shaking with nerves.

“Good morning,” replied the bearded man. He sounded much friendlier than I'd expected. “What do you need?”

Probably nothing you’re selling, I thought. “I… uh… I just have some questions. Uhm, I don’t know where-”

“Questions? What are you, a city guard?” one of them aggressively interrupted. They all tensed up. Only the bearded man remained unperturbed.

“No! No, I don’t even know what that is. Like, a cop?”

“A what?”

“Never mind. Listen, I just found myself in this place about two minutes ago and I’d like to know where I am,” I explained. “What country is this?”

“You’re in the city of Boneview in Ruhe,” ginger beard informed me.

Now, I know my countries, and Ruhe certainly wasn’t one of them. Did I travel back in time? Was this a European country that no longer existed in my day?

Allister, I think I really am crazy. I just asked myself if I travelled back in time, without a hint of sarcasm.

Welp, still no response from Allister.

“Do you maybe have a map of the world?” I asked the bearded man. To my surprise, he reached into his satchel and pulls out a folded, aging sheet of paper. He held it up, inviting me forward. I hesitantly approached. I reached out to take the map, but he pulled it back and grabbed my outstretched arm. Suddenly, all the other men sprang up and restrained me.

Immediately losing all sense of dignity, I screamed out. “Help!”

The bearded man rose from the stairs. He was a head taller than my 177cm. He placed his fingertips on my face.

“I’m not a city guard! I’m not a city guard!” I yelled, though something told me none of them thought I was. The man ignored my cries. Suddenly, his fingertips began to emit thin, white smoke. The smoke entered my ears, nose and mouth.

I lost consciousness…