Haruto was late again.
He ran out of the station with one hand holding a paper bag and the other checking the time on his phone.
"Ten minutes," he muttered, then looked at the bag. "And I still bought coffee for everyone. I am a good man. A very tired good man."
The morning air was cold, and the city around him was already awake. People in suits moved fast along the sidewalks. Delivery bikes passed by. A bus stopped at the crossing. Above all of it, tall buildings stood like they owned the sky.
Haruto did not.
He was just a normal worker.
Not a big man. Not a rich man. Not a genius in some movie.
Just a part-time office worker at a small brokerage company, doing numbers, printing papers, carrying files, and smiling at angry customers who thought a young man in a cheap tie could fix the world.
He pushed open the office door and stepped inside.
The front desk woman looked up first. "You are late."
Haruto held up the coffee bag. "I brought peace offerings."
She stared at him for one second, then sighed. "Put them on the table before Mr. Tanaka sees you."
Haruto grinned. "That sounds like a threat."
"That is because it is."
He laughed softly and walked to the back office. The day had barely started, but the place already smelled like printer ink, stale coffee, and stress.
That was normal.
Haruto liked normal.
At least, most days.
He set the coffee bag down and started pulling out cups. "One for Tanaka. One for Yumi. One for me, because I am also a victim here."
A voice from the corner said, "You are not a victim. You are the reason we are all late."
Haruto turned and saw his coworker, Yumi, staring at him with crossed arms. She was older than him by a few years and always looked like she wanted to complain but was too tired to do it properly.
Haruto gave her a bright smile. "Good morning to you too."
"You were late."
"I was busy serving the people," he said. "I bought coffee."
"You bought cheap coffee."
"It is the thought that counts."
She looked at him for a moment, then took one cup anyway.
Haruto smiled. He liked this kind of life. It was messy, busy, annoying, and simple. Some people dreamed of power. Some dreamed of fame. Haruto mostly dreamed of sleeping more than six hours and maybe eating a proper dinner once in a while.
Still, he was not useless.
He was good with numbers. Good with people. Good at noticing when someone was lying, even in small ways. His boss said he had a "strange talent for reading a room."
Haruto always laughed at that.
He thought it just meant he paid attention.
A few minutes later, the office phone started ringing.
Haruto picked it up.
"Thank you for calling, Kanda Brokerage, this is Haruto speaking."
The voice on the other end was irritated from the start. "Why was my transfer delayed?"
Haruto glanced at the screen in front of him and scanned the details.
A mistake from the bank.
Not their fault.
The man on the phone was already ready to shout, but Haruto spoke before he could.
"I see the issue," Haruto said in a calm voice. "It looks like the bank held the transfer because of a verification delay. I can check with them now. It should be fixed today."
There was a pause.
The caller clearly did not expect a polite answer.
Then the man said, a little less sharply, "Today?"
"Yes, sir. I will call you back within an hour."
Another pause.
Then the man muttered, "Fine."
Haruto smiled after he hung up.
Yumi glanced over. "You are weirdly good at calming angry people."
"I know," Haruto said. "It is my hidden talent."
"That is not a talent."
"It is when I use it."
She shook her head, but there was a small smile on her face.
Haruto leaned back in his chair. He was not rich, and his life was not exciting, but he did not mind. He rented a tiny room near the station. He worked part-time hours because his full-time position had fallen through six months ago. He had been trying to move up ever since.
Not because he loved the company.
Because he wanted to live better than this.
That was all.
No grand dream.
No heroic goal.
Just a simple wish to stop worrying about money every week.
At noon, Haruto was sent to deliver some documents to a client office three blocks away. He took the stairs because the elevator was too slow and he wanted to walk off the sleepiness in his legs.
Outside, the city looked brighter now. People moved through the streets in waves. Office workers, students, delivery men, elderly couples, all passing each other without looking too closely.
Haruto held the folder under one arm and checked the address again.
"Two more streets," he said to himself. "Then I can get lunch. If I survive this day, I deserve fries."
He was halfway across the road when he heard someone shout.
"Watch out!"
Haruto turned his head.
A truck came skidding around the corner.
Too fast.
Too close.
Its brakes screamed.
For one dumb second, Haruto just stared.
Then his body moved on instinct.
He jumped backward, but his foot slipped on the wet road.
The folder flew out of his hand.
A sharp horn blasted through the air.
The world tilted.
He saw the sky.
The road.
The headlights.
Then everything became pain, noise, and dark motion.
And then nothing.
---
Haruto opened his eyes.
Warmth.
Soft light.
A smell like herbs and wood.
He blinked slowly and looked up.
A wooden ceiling.
Not a hospital ceiling.
Not the white lights of a clinic.
Wood.
His head hurt.
He sat up too fast and almost fell back down again.
"Ah—"
He caught himself with one hand and stared at the room around him.
Small bed.
Simple table.
Plain walls.
A cup made of clay.
Dried plants hanging near the window.
This was not his room.
Haruto looked down at himself.
The hands were smaller.
The arms thinner.
The body lighter.
He froze.
Then he touched his own face.
Younger skin.
Very young.
Haruto stayed silent for several seconds.
His heartbeat was loud in his ears.
"This is not good," he muttered.
The door opened at that exact moment.
A girl walked in, holding a bowl in both hands.
She looked around his age, maybe a little younger. Her brown hair was tied loosely, and her clothes were plain and clean. When she saw him sitting up, her eyes widened.
"Oh! You are awake!"
Haruto stared at her.
The girl stopped near the bed, looking at him with clear surprise, as if she had been waiting for this moment and did not quite trust it yet.
"You should not move too much," she said quickly. "You had a high fever."
Haruto looked from her to the room again, then back to her.
"Where am I?" he asked.
The girl blinked, then frowned a little. "You do not remember?"
Haruto shook his head slowly.
Her expression changed. First confusion, then worry. "Really?"
"Yes."
She took a careful step closer, as if he might fall apart if she moved too fast. "You are in my house. My father found you near the forest road and brought you here."
Haruto stared at her.
Forest road.
House.
Father.
He looked down at his hands again.
This was not Earth.
Or at least, not the one he knew.
The girl kept watching him with a cautious face. "You really do not remember your name?"
Haruto paused.
He had one.
The name felt close and distant at the same time.
"Haruto," he said after a moment.
Her face relaxed a little. "Haruto. That is your name?"
"Yes."
She nodded, but she still looked worried. "My name is Liora."
Haruto gave a small nod back. "Nice to meet you."
That made her blink.
The way he said it was too calm for a boy who had just woken up in a strange room with no memory of how he got there.
Liora set the bowl on the table and frowned a little. "You are acting strange."
Haruto looked at her. "I was just hit by a truck, or something similar. I think strange is allowed."
Liora stared.
Then her eyes widened. "A truck?"
Haruto rubbed his forehead. "Never mind. It is not important."
She clearly had no idea what he meant, but instead of asking ten questions at once, she just looked at him with a confused face and said, "You talk in a very odd way."
Haruto gave a weak smile. "People tell me that."
Liora looked at the bowl, then back at him. "Can you stand?"
Haruto tested his body slowly. It felt weak, but not broken.
"I think so."
"Good. Eat first."
She picked up the bowl and held it out to him.
Haruto accepted it, looking inside. A simple soup. Nothing fancy. It smelled warm and plain.
He took one sip.
Not bad.
Not amazing.
But warm.
That was enough.
Liora watched him closely while he ate. She did not speak for a while, as if she was trying to decide whether to ask more questions.
Haruto finished half the bowl, then looked up.
He asked, "How old am I?"
Liora blinked again, then answered carefully, "I think you are around my age. Maybe twelve."
Haruto nearly choked.
"Twelve?"
Now her face changed into real concern. "You do not even know your age?"
Haruto waved one hand. "No, I know. It is just… surprising."
Liora sat on the edge of the chair and bit her lip. "Father said your fever was very bad. Maybe you forgot things because of that."
"That is possible," Haruto said.
He did not know if that was true, but he did know one thing.
This body was not his.
His old life was gone.
The thought should have made him panic, but it did not fully land yet. Everything felt too strange, too new, too unreal.
Liora looked at him and hesitated before asking, "Do you know where you came from?"
Haruto shook his head.
"Do you know your family?"
Again, no.
"Do you know how you got to the forest?"
Haruto looked at her for a moment.
Then he slowly shook his head once more.
Liora's face softened. "Then you really lost a lot."
Haruto looked at her.
She sounded sad for him.
That was unexpected.
He gave a small smile. "You are being kind to a stranger."
Liora shrugged a little, but her ears turned slightly red. "You were sick in my house. It would be rude not to help."
Haruto laughed under his breath. "That is a very honest answer."
She looked down at the bowl and then back at him. "Can you at least remember if you had magic or anything?"
Haruto almost laughed again, but stopped himself.
"Magic?"
Liora nodded, now more serious. "Some people are born with it. Some are not. We do not know about you."
Haruto leaned back slightly.
Magic.
So this really was a different world.
His mind started moving faster now.
New world. Young body. Possible magic. Unknown rules.
This was not normal at all.
And that made it interesting.
He looked at Liora and asked, "What year is it?"
She hesitated, then answered simply, "Year 743 of the Sacred Star Calendar."
Haruto nodded once, storing the information.
He did not react much, but inside, everything was changing.
This was not a dream.
This was not a hospital.
This was not some strange joke.
He had died.
And now he was here.
Liora noticed his silence and looked at him carefully. "You are really calm."
Haruto smiled a little. "I am trying not to scream."
That made her laugh, just a little.
It was the first time her face had relaxed since he woke up.
Haruto looked around the room again.
It was poor, but clean.
A village house, probably.
A simple place.
A safe place, maybe.
For now.