An Unfamiliar Ceiling
When I came to, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. If you could even call the top of a tent a ceiling, that is. My whole body felt stiff and sore, as though it had been beaten black and blue. The memories the pain dragged up from the night before rose like a nightmare, tightening my chest until I could barely breathe. The thin, ragged sounds of breathing didn’t feel like my own, which gave the whole situation an eerie, detached quality. I must have inhaled some smoke, because my throat was completely wrecked. I wondered if whoever had kindly rescued me might have left some water nearby.
Rolling my unresponsive body with effort, I scanned the surroundings and spotted a canteen on the small table beside the cot. It wasn’t a ordinary disposable plastic bottle but a sturdy metal one that looked like military issue. Any hesitation about whether it was safe to drink lasted less than a second; the thirst threatening to split my throat took priority. Creaking like an old door, I managed to sit up and drink. The water helped, yet an inexplicable sense of wrongness settled over me.
The field-hospital atmosphere was odd enough, but a far more immediate problem stared me in the face. Since when had my hands been this small? I stared blankly at the flawless, porcelain-white skin and slender arms, then my gaze dropped to the soft mounds pressing against the inside of my oversized shirt.
“……”
Ah. Had I let myself go while pretending to prepare for job interviews? As I poked and prodded at the unexpected flesh, worrying about how to get rid of it, the tent flap flew open. Startled, I yanked my hands away and quickly pulled the blanket over myself, trying to look innocent. The moment my eyes met the beautiful blonde woman in uniform who stepped inside, my jaw dropped.
A foreign actress? Was this some kind of film set?
The blonde strode straight toward my cot.
“Ruwina, are you awake?”
“…Yes?”
It was a language I had never heard before, yet I understood every word. The name she spoke also felt strangely familiar.
“Ruwina… ugh.”
A headache stabbed straight into my brain, and with it came memories—yesterday’s, or perhaps from several days ago. After rolling for Ruwina on a gacha because of a bug—heading to a neighboring country with my sister to watch her competition—getting attacked mid-journey—taking a screenshot of the screen….
“Urk.”
“Ruwina!”
The memories were a chaotic mess. My brain felt like a tangle of unorganized wires. One after another, experiences I could never have lived through flooded in, from the recent past all the way back to faint, submerged recollections buried in the subconscious. It was as if some godlike entity had taken the life of a girl named Ruwina Edelstia and carved every second of it directly into my mind.
The pain brought on severe vertigo. Blood poured from my nose, staining the white sheet a dark crimson. The blonde beauty—Ruwina’s older sister, Line Edelstia—supported my back, gently lowered me onto the cot, and shouted.
“Is anyone outside? Bring the chief physician at once!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Footsteps pounded away as I lost consciousness again.
Several days passed. With Ruwina’s memories now completely settled inside my head, I had more or less adapted—aside from the occasional moment when I grew confused about who I truly was.
This was the planet Galaxia, the primary setting of the Aindium series. Among fans it was jokingly called “the place you reincarnate to.” I never imagined I would experience it myself. And of all people, I had woken up in the body of a high-school-aged girl who happened to be a major character.
If this were a novel or an anime, it would have been thrilling. If it were a VR game, I would have cried tears of joy at still being alive. But this was reality. No matter how many times I pinched my soft cheeks or shouted “Status Window” or “Status,” I never woke up, and no translucent screen appeared. Every morning the same delicate girl’s body greeted me in the mirror.
Thanks to the half-forcibly injected memories, adapting wasn’t as difficult as it could have been. The things that should have been there were gone; the things that shouldn’t have been there had taken their place. I had already reached the stage of quiet resignation.
“Haa.”
I let out a short sigh to clear my head, then gently lifted the curtain on the hospital window.
Whoa—!
Cheers echoed from afar. Beyond the hospital courtyard, the streets were alive with a festival. Colorful national flags fluttered between buildings, and beyond the walls I could see humanoid robots mounted on parade floats gliding slowly past. It was a goodwill tournament hosted by nations that had finally ended their long hostilities and agreed to sign a peace treaty. Because adult competitions would invite political complications, the event had been turned over to students.
True to a world whose series title used the general term for humanoid robots, this tournament was fought while piloting Aindiums. There were speed tracks, shooting contests, tactical demonstrations, and close-quarters bouts, but the true highlight was the Aindium duel itself.
Unlike the bare-handed matches, this was a no-holds-barred blood-and-oil spectacle with no weapon restrictions. It was the very match in which the first-year protagonist of the academy defeated his classmates and upperclassmen, represented the school, and ultimately claimed victory. The production team’s bold decision to open mid-semester with the goodwill tournament—acknowledging the reluctance many felt toward an academy setting—had earned considerable praise. Fans had complained on the boards that the protagonist was too much of a genius, but that was simply how robot-series leads were. Better a first-year champion than a protagonist who got beaten like a dog and dropped out early.
The tournament began tomorrow. Ruwina’s older sister Line had nearly missed it. The era was chaotic enough that gangsters piloted outdated Aindiums, and the original owner of this body had unfortunately been caught in the crossfire. After Line’s eyes rolled back in fury and she annihilated the thugs, she had apparently considered withdrawing from the tournament and returning home. Come to think of it, in the original story Line had only been mentioned by name. The tournament lost its spark because the “strongest” didn’t participate. She was supposed to possess the finest piloting skills of her generation. The writers had probably kept her out because it would have strained plausibility for a first-year protagonist to defeat the top pilot right away. So she had been on her way to compete when the attack forced her back… Wait, wasn’t that Ruwina’s story? It was a fairly important piece of foreshadowing, yet here I was getting spoiled. I had also learned about Ruwina’s true identity whether I wanted to or not.
Fortunately my physical condition wasn’t as bad as expected. Using that as her “little sister,” I had somehow managed to persuade Line to bring me this far.
Well then. Since things had turned out this way, I might as well enjoy the world. Honestly, getting sucked into a beloved story was the ultimate romance, wasn’t it? I was actually going to see Aindiums move with my own eyes. I could hardly wait for tomorrow’s matches.
Bursting with excitement like a child, I reached out the window and waved enthusiastically at the Aindium riding atop the parade float.
Inside the Aind-class Aindium mounted on the parade float, Rendel Zubertain closed his eyes. Safety measures were in place, but just in case, he removed his hands from the controls, folded his arms, and ran the simulation inside his head.
The opponent in front of him staggered after taking a shot to the shoulder from Rendel. The return fire went wide, slicing uselessly through empty air. In that instant Rendel’s Aind drew its longsword, closed the distance in a flash, and struck once. The opponent couldn’t even mount a proper counter; his left arm crumpled, and the follow-up kick sent him flying out of the arena.
Having finished the combat simulation in seconds, Rendel gave a satisfied nod. He wasn’t afraid of losing. No matter who the opponent might be.
When he opened his eyes, an incoming communication waited on his personal channel.
Rendel gave a small laugh at the lively chaos coming through the communicator and turned to look at the street. From four stories up, the avenue below was packed with countless people waving the flags of every participating nation. The most numerous were naturally the banners of the host kingdom—his own Alitus. A swell of patriotic pride rose in his chest at being chosen as one of the kingdom’s representatives. As he gazed around, his eyes caught on a clean white hospital building. For a moment his gaze locked with a girl leaning out of a window at roughly the same height.
Platinum hair that looked as if gold and silver threads had been woven together, and features so lovely they stood out even at this distance. She appeared to be around his own age. The moment the girl—who had been waving vigorously—smiled with her eyes curved in delight—
“…Huk.”
Rendel realized he had forgotten to breathe. He inhaled sharply, rubbed his eyes, and looked back at the hospital window. By then the parade float had advanced and only her hand remained visible, yet he could not look away for a long while. He hadn’t seen her full face, but knowing the vision had been real was enough.
Maybe she would come to watch the matches. If he won the tournament, Rendel decided he would dedicate one of his four victories to that girl. Completely unaware that the person in question would have been horrified by the thought, he began searching for the name of the hospital.
Whoa. A sudden chill ran down my arms. I hugged myself against the inexplicable cold and pulled the blanket tighter. I should go to bed as soon as the sun set. Tomorrow I had a medical check and needed to get Line’s permission to watch the matches; time would be tight, so I had to wake up early. Given our status, a whole crowd of escorts would follow us around, which meant tickets would be hard to come by. Still, I held out hope that they might have reserved a VIP seat for family members of the participants.