[Ancient Swordsman in the Apocalypse]
"An unfamiliar ceiling."
Having muttered that quietly, an immense sense of self satisfaction arose deep within him from ticking one off his bucket list.
"Right, Truck-kun. So it happened."
He'd just arrived in this unfamiliar world, but it felt as if he'd always lived here. Memories that felt like his own roamed his mind, and he's wide awake from parsing the information of sixteen whole years.
'Deep breathes. Deep, deep, so deep.... breathes... exhales.... inhales....'
His attempt at calming down his excited chuuni mind was met with him sensing an unfamiliar power within him.
'I'll be an [Ancient Swordsman] if I learn to control this power, right?'
The dream he'd had just now came to the forefront of his thoughts. A dream of a bitter past, filled with feelings he can still feel burning.
---.
"Harukin, you are no mage. You can never be one."
With those words, horror unknown to his eleven year old self inundated his mind. The army recruiter's indifferent gaze, his tired expression that says it's a bother to even talk to him...
His parents abandoned him on birth. So many Patrons and Matrons abandoned him as time went on, sending him throughout the country from one orphanage to another. This time, he's abandoned by his own dreams of a brighter future.
Harukin was sure. His underdeveloped instincts screamed at the unfairness, but he's sure. He'll never forget this day.
He'll prove them all. Prove them wrong.
A fire, cold, ever-burning in the background of his mind, got kindled that day. A deep desire to prove himself. To stand above all the others.
---.
Thud thud!
"Harukin! Come on out already! You knew this day would come, didn't you, you ingrate? You're not an adult, so get out right this instant, or I'm calling the police!"
A shrill voice came from the door, souring his mood.
He'd been here for a mere six months, but this bitch that calls herself the Matron of the Helping Hands Orphan Home, did all she could to turn his life as miserable as possible.
He's already facing abandonment issues, having difficulty connecting to his peers, self doubt, depression and so much more. And this bitch dared to ruin him even further.
'Isn't there a [Curse Sword Technique] among the [Sword Arts]?'
Even while he's thinking those thoughts, he diligently folded his sheets, fixed the bed, wore his shirt and pants, pulled out his suitcase, then left under the screaming of the Matron.
The pitying gazes of the younger children, afraid of facing the same fate as him, accompanied him as he went through the corridors and then through the door.
The Matron seemed fit to sneer at him one last time, feeling superior at living a better life than a jobless young adult with no skills that she'd just kicked out with the limited power she held over him.
"Ha! Good riddance! Don't come back! There's no place for you here. If you want to die, do it outside, you worthless scum."
Anger boiled inside him, but Harukin is used to such behaviour.
He knows the reason, of course, but now that he has memories of another life, in another world more liberal than this one, he's finding just how shitty a position he's in.
Black hair. Black eyes. Pale skin. Pointy teeth. Long ears.
He's so similar to the Vampires that it's a wonder he's not just killed at stake one of the days.
'First off, I need a place to train myself. Then a job. A week should do.'
With that in mind, I searched around the neighbourhood.
Wherever he went, people sent scornful looks over his way. It's a relatively small neighbourhood, so he didn't bother rising to their bait.
'The Tierlund District should do.'
He pulled a hood over his head, to cover his ears and hair. Glass is a costly commodity here, he didn't have anything to cover his eyes.
As long as he escaped this place, he'd be just another face in a crowd, easily forgettable.
With those thoughts in mind, he went to the stables, where the kind Traveling Merchant is waiting for him.
"Yo, Young Master! C'mere."
An old, aged face greeted him. She wore finely tailored suit, a hat held in his hands, which he waved in the air to attract his attention.
In this world, sixteen is considered the age of majority, so legally speaking, the orphanages need to protect him no more. Legally speaking, that is. Morally, it's questionable but that didn't stop the infuriating matron from picking a bone with him. After all, who'd back him, an orphan? His past history painted a dark picture, so he's spared the physical abuse, but it's still annoying to deal with.
"Celeste. Good to see you. Still, I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Young Master'? What's this, a rebellion?"
He greeted the old woman in a suit with a smile and what he thought was a joke. He wasn't the sociable kind, so he didn't know if it's funny, but seeing the smirk on her face, he's satisfied she found amusement at his words - Or himself, he wasn't sure.
"Well, with looks like yours, I doubt anybody would object to it. Get on inside, the horses can't wait any longer."
With an exasperated sigh, he climbed inside the carriage, the old lady following him shortly.
He'd asked her why she was wearing a suit when she's a woman, and while he now knew better than to sound sexist due to his new -- or old -- memories, that conversation is how he'd found company and help from the kind stranger.
'For shits and giggles.' - was her answer, and he laughed at her incredibly straight face and serious eyes.
"Did you bring everything? That bitch didn't try anything else, did she?"
The crude language didn't bother him one bit, and he found the honesty nice.
"No. I doubt Clement would give up easy, though. We might get ambushed."
"Tch. Well, don't you worry, my hires would handle them if they dare."
Nodding at her assurance, he leaned back into the carriage.
As a relatively successful merchant in trade for a long time, Celeste has long since upgraded her carriage from the basic ones found in the market. The seats are comfy, and offer a nice cold feeling from the enchanted strings that went into sewing the fabrics. With enchantments specifically targeting comfort, he's not bothered by the usual worries of long distance carriage travel, such as frequent swaying and bumps and such.
"Say, is there a Swordsmanship guild in Tierlund district?"
"Swordsmanship, you say?"
She looked at him up and down.
Scrawny body. Underdeveloped height. Typical of an orphan.
"Just give up, boy. I'll introduce you to an acquaintance. He's looking for a child to inherit his business. Consider yourself lucky and don't reach for stars you can't grasp."
Her sincere advice warmed his heart. There's hardly anyone in his life that took care, real care, of him. So it's nice experiencing it. If it wasn't for his new memories, he might've been moved to tears.
"Inherit? I thought you found me work at a restaurant? I was wondering about that. What's this about?"
His query was met with a 'Just wait for it', and the carriage devolved into silence for a while.
Harukin's curiosity won out in the end, and he asked as many questions as he could about his new living circumstances, her knowledge, experiences, and all sorts of stuff.
Hours passed in conversation, and before long, the carriage stopped at a rather small restaurant.
It has a wooden, aged appearance, but rather than look old, it looked regal and proud instead. Like it has a history to it.
:The Old Morning:
The plaque at the top succintly delivered what kind of establishment it is, complementing its atmosphere.
"We're here. Get going now, I'm busy. Can't entertain you all day long, can I?"
The spoiled modern boy in him wanted her to introduce him to his job, but the toughened boy that grew up in multiple orphanages was just grateful at all the help he got. She didn't have to get him in the morning and give him a lift, but she did. She engaged him in a conversation to ease his nerves. She gave him a way to live. For all that, he's just grateful.
"Cold much? I know you're a softie inside, though. It's too late to change the tune. Goodbyes won't get easier even if you suddenly act cold and distant, old hag."
"Tch. Talk about being ungrateful. Well, take care, then. I'll check up once in a while."
He didn't bother telling her his thanks. He did that when she offered him a job, and now, he'll show her his thanks by his own actions. She likely didn't expect much anyway, so showing how well he's doing now must at least give her satisfaction.
After watching the carriage drive off, he mustered the courage and entered the two story building.
A new chapter of his life. In many a sense. Feelings bubbled in his gut doing strange things to him.
'Ah shit, here we go again.'
The reference encouraged him, and he found courage for an adventure of a second life.
