A Piece of Peace

"Who's Hector..?"

The fruit seller blinked at Akira.

"And where's his house?" he followed up. The burly lady scoffed, hands on her hips.

"You're Hector..." she quipped, punching Akira's shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I..."

"Stop playing games now, lad. Go to the tavern and get drunk on ale, you need a good sleep. And congratulations on your win!"

Akira smiled timidly, wincing at his futile efforts to gain a little information about the man everybody thinks he is.

He slowly walked over to a bench with a deep exhale. 

Akira recalled how the pottery merchant laughed at him when he explained how he had hit his head during the race mishap. And how the old tavernkeeper almost whacked him with a stick, thinking Akira was pranking her. 

He looked at everyone who passed by, spacing out now and then as he pondered his predicament.

"Seriously, can't anyone just tell me where my house is? I mean Hector's..." He lamented. "What do I do?"

Akira hung his head, clutching his hair with both hands.

"Hey, big brother."

Akira looked up. A doe-eyed boy, around nine to ten years old, stood before him.

"Are you looking for Hector's house?" the kid asked flatly.

"Uh. Yeah."

"Why can't you remember your house?"

"I... uh... hit my head really bad in the race."

Half-lidded, the boy snorted. "Follow me."

Akira cautiously watched the boy lead him, who casually walked with both arms behind his head, humming a random tune.

They abruptly stopped by a store with an assortment of goodies, breads, and sweets on display. Akira watched the kid dart from one item to another, almost drooling.

He blinked at the boy as he pointed at a twirling lollipop as big as a man's hand.

"Buy me that one."

Akira clicked his tongue. "This little twerp."

Good heavens, a wily merchant gave him money from the bets he collected from Akira's chariot race.

Placing two copper coins on the counter, the giddy merchant reached for the sweet and gave it to the boy, who excitedly wrapped his hands around the stick. He then stared at a corner, as if expecting someone.

"Wait here." the boy said.

Akira saw him run towards a corner where a little girl peeked. Her eyes gleamed warmly as the boy unwrapped the treat which she nibbled eagerly.

The boy watched the little girl with a wide grin as a dark shadow loomed over him. He flinched in panic as Akira whipped something from behind.

Another lollipop. A bag of bread. And three bottles of juice.

---

On a small park bench, the three indulged in the snack like hungry pigeons.

"Thanks big brother..." the boy said, mouth half-full.

"Don't worry, you're good," Akira replied. "What's your name?"

The boy blinked at him and sighed. "You did hit your head badly, didn't you? I'm Caius, and this is my sister, Marcellina."

Akira nodded. A moment of silence lingered between them as they watched the clouds fleet lazily.

"You always treated us with candies, but you're stingy." The boy scoffed. "You're awfully nice today."

"Well, I needed some good company." Akira shrugged it off.

The boy pointed at something, and Akira's gaze narrowed on a mill, peacefully churning water from a river.

"Do you see that? You built that for Father." the boy said proudly. "Some villagers thought you were crazy. Then, they thought you were sent by the gods. Now, our horses didn't have to run the mill."

Akira smirked lightly.

"Sent by the gods eh?"  He thought. But given what happened to him, it's not too difficult to believe gods did exist.

Then, a sudden gloom unraveled around them.

"Some people told us you died in the race. We were very worried."

Akira's eyes widened when he turned to the kid, eyes brimming with tears.

For some reason, guilt riddled him with being in Hector's body, but not the Hector the people loved.

Akira's hand hovered hesitantly on the boy's head. Then, he pulled back.

"Hey, hey now... I'm still here." Akira grinned.

The boy held back his tears and grinned back.

---

The knob of Hector's door clicked subtly, revealing a small space. Akira lit up a gas lamp, instantly illuminating his surroundings.

Hector's home was not as tidy as expected, as if struck by a whirlwind. Papers littered his desk, and a corkboard stood quietly, loaded with pinned sketches. He found scribblings and layouts of a water mill, a bicycle model, and even a horse-powered battery.

Dusty bookshelves enclosed Akira, with prized tomes ranging from alchemy to practical engineering.

"Look at that. Was Hector a Da Vinci or something?" Akira quipped as he flipped through random papers.

At the far end of Hector's workdesk sat open envelopes. It was a weird situation that he could somehow understand a language written in a different script.

"Not a crime if I read one, right? Technically mine."

Reaching into an envelope, he pulled a thrice-folded paper out and unfolded it. A puff of sweet scent wafted to him, reminding him of scented letters his high-school peers used to send to their crushes.

"Dear Julia..."

His eyebrows raised as he read its contents. Hector proudly talked about the water mill project he built for a friend, and rambled on about other science and engineering that sounded too complex for human ears at the time.

"Heh. What a nerd." Akira snickered at Hector's cheesy swooning over the lady.

However, as he neared the end of the letter, a frown slowly crept on his face.

"Lately, I have trouble breathing properly, and I've been feeling unusually tired even after a light walk."

Akira's eyes panned down further.

"I used to hear my parents talk about an inborn heart condition. But when I asked them about it, they would dote on me so I wouldn't ask further.

As I grew, I came to realize and to accept that I am probably on borrowed time. So I did my best to make use of my stronger days, building things, helping the neighborhood, and hopefully, to personally get in touch with you soon."

Akira's hands firmly gripped the letter with a deep sigh.

"Man, that was harsh..." he said, cursing under his breath.

He placed the letter back on Hector's desk. He stared at it for a bit, then turned towards the door.

"Ah, well. I'll get myself a bite. Haven't eaten anything all day."

With that, Akira strode and left, leaving the silence of Hector's study in the dark.

---

Akira strolled down the town, watching keenly as the night lights flickered across town like fireflies in a grove.

Along the way, an old man waved at him, exchanging pleasantries. And children. He awkwardly passed by a few ladies, whispering to each other as they swooned at him.

At the tavern, he settled on a small table and ordered his first proper meal of the day. He glanced around, enjoying the jovial atmosphere of the town stranger to him, but one he oddly knew by heart.

"I guess I could live just like this... Good enough for a reset," he mutters with a smirk.

A few minutes later, food arrived. A large bowl of hearty beef stew, a big loaf of bread, and a mug of ale. He drooled a little as the aroma wafted to him, reminding him of how hungry he was at this point.

Akira dove into his bowl. A few spoonfuls into his dinner, the tavern door squeaked, followed by loud steps of boots.

A group of four men, dressed like rogues, settled quietly on a corner table close to him. They exchanged glances, wary of anyone tailing.

In the conversation that followed, a few muttered words suddenly registered in his ears, enough to send a cautious one into high alert.

"Midnight."

"Convoy"

"Target"

"Third Flame"

Akira's eyes widened. His breath caught. Coins clinked inside a bag that dropped onto the table, and the men who took it didn't waste another second.

As soon as they stepped out of the tavern, Akira's senses went into overdrive.

"Goddamit, what now..." He thought. He gripped his spoon as he trembled.

Someone was plotting against the princess.

For a brief moment they spent, she had been nice, albeit cold.

Akira remembered himself. Now, he had this second life; a chance to live a quiet life in a peaceful town. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in politics. If he goes to stick his nose into this business, there's no turning back.

The racer boy he saved flashed in his mind.

"If you had a chance, would you do it again?"

He froze. Even as he knew that the question was irrelevant.

Cursing his luck, he chugged the ale in one go and slammed the mug on the table. With a frustrated groan, he strode towards the door.

The tavern's jolly atmosphere paused as the patrons turned their heads toward Akira, racing past them like a ghost on a mission.

Armed with a sword, and with a horse he borrowed from a kind neighbor, he gallops into the night, leaving behind the new life he could have lived in peace.