Kenichi! Kenichi! Are You Okay?!
"Kenichi! Kenichi! Are you okay?!"
...How the hell did it come to this?
Kitagawa Kenichi lay sprawled on the ground in a daze, piecing together the events in his mind.
When he woke up last night, his grandfather's heirloom—an old necklace—had transformed into a sword. He'd experienced something similar before, but it was so absurd he dismissed it as a dream. After breaking his promise and fighting with his childhood friend Hotaru, then getting chewed out by his math teacher and homeroom advisor Yamamoto Baki, his mind had been a wreck all day. He'd ignored the possibility...
That he had truly encountered a monster—and Ichimaru Shiki— that day.
Realizing the truth too late, Kenichi agonized late into the night over whether to message the contact info Shiki had given him last time. What the hell are you, really? What did you mean by all that? He had a million things he wanted to say, but he held back with iron willpower. This wasn't something you hashed out over text. Come morning, he'd go to school and confront him face-to-face.
Kenichi spent the night until dawn organizing his thoughts on what to demand from his "friend" Shiki.
Was it nerves or impatience? He left home earlier than usual and headed to school. He didn't know how it would end, but at least they could talk.
"...Cough!"
Less than ten seconds after crossing paths, he was slammed into the ground.
This wasn't some playground tumble between boys in the hallway or classroom. He'd fallen from the third-floor height of the building onto the sports field... and been hurled with tremendous force.
It was an impact that could have killed him. Yet Kitagawa Kenichi, survivor of the ordeal, gasped for air and staggered to his feet. His body was caked in dirt, but surprisingly intact.
Luckily, no head trauma or broken limbs. Of course, he wasn't unscathed. His whole body tingled, his lungs screamed for oxygen in shock, and his heart pounded like mad.
He wanted to deny the reality before his eyes, calling it a dream. But his survival instinct screamed otherwise.
"Oh? You're moving already?"
If he didn't move now...
"This exceeds expectations."
...he might really die here.
The moment he hauled himself up and gripped his sword, a razor-sharp point closed in. A real blade meant for slicing and stabbing humans.
It was coming.
Kenichi's eyes bulged as he barely traced its path and raised his sword overhead.
Kiiing!
A grating clash of metal. His hands shook violently, pressure pushed the blade toward his throat, and right before his eyes, those sharp, narrowed slits bored into him.
His heart raced in terror. He'd never felt it before, but the monstrous killing intent radiating from the creature before him ignited an instinctive fear of death.
...I'm really gonna die!
To survive, Kenichi thrashed desperately. He knew nothing of swordsmanship. If he had even a moment's breather, he'd ape some technique he'd seen somewhere. But all he could do was frantically parry the slashing strikes raining down.
Crack! Crack!
Shocks hammered his sword arm, his entire body. Amid fears the blade might shatter, he blocked strikes meant to cleave him apart.
To avoid death, he burned with the will to live.
"Haha! Excellent, simply splendid! It's been ages since we clashed blades only—feels invigorating! Good practice for us both, wouldn't you say? Doesn't it just ignite your zest for life?!"
"...I never asked for this kinda 'practice'!"
"Life's like that, isn't it? Who wants hardship and failure?"
Kiiing!
Ichimaru Shiki, blades locked right in his face, grinned his usual sly smile as he spoke.
"Aren't you curious what trials your dear grandfather bequeathed to you?"
"...What the—"
"Congratulations, Kenichi. You've been chosen as the world's protagonist, a hero. You're fated to protect the spirit vein at any cost, inheriting a bloodline hunted by monsters your whole life."
"..."
"You'll need to train hard if you don't want to die right away, hmm?"
Probably the truth. Even from this shady black-curtain-looking guy, Kenichi's gut screamed it was real. The weight of it all was so overwhelming, his grip slackened for a moment.
"Oh dear?"
Shiki raised his sword high with a laughing face.
"You might die, you know?"
Those words snapped Kenichi back, pouring strength into his arms—but it was too late. The guillotine plummeted from above.
With all his might, it struck down.
KABOOOM────!
Kenichi desperately held his sword to block. But the massive shock unlike before pinned his stance to the earth.
Dust billowed in a hazy cloud, blanketing the field like pale fog.
‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧
As the dust settled, the sports field held only a narrow-eyed swordsman and a single sapling.
Kenichi lay fainted, sword raised overhead, embedded in the ground.
"What a mess. At least I don't need to plant a gravestone—small mercies."
Muttering at his friend's pitiful state, he scanned the gouged-up field and slowly nodded.
"Time for cleanup."
Erasing traces like this was child's play with a simple incantation. The real issue was what to do with this passed-out Kenichi...
"Explaining it all sounds tedious. Might as well kidnap him."
Decision made, cleanup was instantaneous. With all battle scars gone, I hoisted the now-pristine Kenichi over my shoulder and headed to the classroom.
I propped him slantwise against the door. To onlookers, the scene would connect seamlessly, perfectly matching the prior moment.
I sheathed my sword into thin air. Time resumed its flow.
Creeeak... Fainted Kenichi began to collapse.
What the hell?
As Kitagawa Kenichi arrived, Ichimaru Shiki immediately stood and approached. Everyone knew they were on friendly terms, but today's vibe was off. Kenichi, whom she'd pegged as a normie, looked battle-ready.
Sawamura Cento watched them curiously.
How long until their gazes clashed?
Creeeak— Suddenly, Kenichi's balance crumbled.
Cento's eyes widened. Knowing Shiki was no ordinary human made the scene hit different.
...No way, can he knock someone out just by staring them down?!
Sawamura Cento's misunderstanding piled on.
Meanwhile, Shiki caught the falling Kenichi and shouted with a grave expression.
"Kenichi! Kenichi! Are you okay?!"
He shook the limp body intermittently, but Kenichi dangled like a corpse, utterly unresponsive.
By then, Hotaru—Kenichi's childhood friend, who'd been staring blankly—rushed to his side.
"...What's the deal, Ichimaru? Why's Kenichi like this?"
"No idea. He just staggered hard and collapsed!"
Gazing seriously at Kenichi, Shiki suddenly touched his forehead and gasped in exaggerated shock.
"Good lord, his forehead's scorching!"
"...What? No way, for real?!"
Hotaru checked the heat herself, her face going blank as if she'd never felt such fever, then her pupils shook with dawning gravity.
"A-Ambulance! He needs a hospital at this rate!"
A fever that high could turn even a simple cold deadly. Taking the corpse-limp Kenichi to the hospital made sense.
But to Sawamura Cento, who'd learned basic spells just yesterday, the scene looked different.
...Wasn't that a heating spell just now?
When Shiki touched the forehead, mana had flared in his hand. A simple spell to heat the contacted object. Cento didn't know the intent, but she vaguely grasped this was Shiki's show.
Just then, Shiki turned, their eyes met.
Still with his narrow-eyed smile, Shiki feigned urgency.
"Class rep! Class is starting soon—mind if I rush him to the nurse and be right back?"
Cento found his blatant acting repulsive but donned a worried mask and nodded.
"Yes, go ahead."
Soon, "paramedics" from the Shihei Estate—disguised as an ambulance crew—arrived at Shiki's call. They loaded the protagonist, Kenichi, into the vehicle.
Kidnapping complete.
"...Gasp!"
Kenichi bolted upright, sucking in air. His last memory was taking a sword strike and cratering into the dirt. He frantically reached for his sword to fight back, but the demon sword had reverted to its necklace form.
"...Ah."
Was it a dream? Relief washed over him briefly, a foolish spark of hope—until he realized this was no familiar place.
Not the school infirmary or a hospital ER. Tatami mats, an air of ancient estate lingering like a relic of the past.
"No way..."
Despite no crime or grudge tying him here, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling filled Kenichi with unease. He staggered up from the futon and crept to the door, pressing his ear against it.
...Good, no signs of life. Empty.
Confident, he slid the door open.
"Oh my, good morning!"
"..."
He came face-to-face with the slyly grinning man.
A nightmare.
Kenichi squeezed his eyes shut.