Today was the day of the trip. As always, Aiko woke up early
She sat up, back straight, eyes scanning the room. Her duffel bag was already packed, shoes lined up neatly by the door, water bottle filled and chilled in the mini-fridge. Her school uniform hung on the back of her chair, perfectly pressed. Nothing out of place. Just how she liked it.
She dressed quickly, tied her hair back, and double-checked her checklist—again. Snacks, first-aid kit, extra batteries, a change of clothes, mosquito repellent. Everything had its place.
Outside, the sky was still painted in deep blue shadows, the first hints of sunrise stretching across the horizon. Most of the city was still asleep. But not Aiko.
She liked mornings like this. Quiet.
Today was supposed to be simple: a weekend camping trip with her class in the mountains. Nature hikes. Team-building exercises. Forced small talk. She didn't care for any of it—but she didn't complain, either. It was just another task to complete.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and locked the door behind her.
She didn't know it yet, but she would never see her home again.
…
The morning air was still cool, the street outside silent save for the faint hum of cicadas. She walked to the corner convenience store, just as planned—her bus wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes, and she had time to grab something to drink. Something sugary to keep her energy up.
Inside, she moved with purpose, heading straight for the refrigerated aisle. Her fingers paused on a bright blue can of peach soda. She didn't even like peach—but it was cheap, cold, and convenient.
She stepped outside, cracked it open, and took a slow sip.
And that's when the world unraveled.
The street around her pulsed—once, like a living thing—and then bent inward. Her stomach dropped. The can fell from her hand, clattering to the pavement as her vision darkened at the edges. Her legs gave out. She didn't even have time to brace herself before everything went black.
…
When Aiko opened her eyes, her knees were buried in warm sand.
Her fingers twitched first, curling instinctively into the grainy surface as if to anchor herself. The breeze carried salt and humidity. Birds shrieked in the trees. The sky above was too blue—almost unnatural.
She sat up slowly, her movements careful. Her school uniform clung to her skin, the white blouse already streaked with dirt, the navy skirt ruffled and dusted with sand.
Her heart was calm.
This wasn't Japan.
In the same instant she blinked, the air shimmered around her—and three figures appeared nearby, collapsing onto the sand as if spat out by the same force.
The first hit the ground with a grunt—massive, half-naked except for furs and leather. A broad-shouldered Viking, blond hair tangled, a heavy axe clenched in one fist. He rose like a wild animal, nostrils flaring.
The second landed with unsettling poise. Slim, clean-shaven, dressed in a regal coat lined with velvet and gold trim. His boots were spotless. One hand adjusted a pristine glove; the other rested on a silver rapier. He looked around, eyes cool and Calm.
The third landed flat on his back, groaning. Round spectacles askew, waistcoat wrinkled, he clutched a pocket watch and stumbled upright. A man from the early 1900s, by Aiko's best guess, muttering in English as though waking from a drunken dream.
They had all appeared at the same time.
All of them strangers.
All of them out of place.
Aiko exhaled through her nose.
Unbelievable.
She adjusted the strap of her backpack—still secure, thank god—before speaking.
"Where are we?"
Her voice was flat. Cold. The same tone she used when idiots in class asked her for answers they should have known themselves.
The Viking turned toward her, eyes narrowing.
"Not Helheim," he grunted. "Not Midgard either. What is this place?"
The nobleman smirked, clearly amused despite the circumstances.
"If this is hell," he said, eyes dragging over the hem of Aiko's skirt, "then I must have sinned less than I thought."
The gentleman stammered beside them. "I—I was just leaving the gentlemen's club—what on earth is going on? This must be a hallucination, surely—"