With a disruptive boom and a sharp clatter, they crashed into a stack of barrels, all of which contained vegetables like onions, potatoes, and ginger that spilled out as they toppled over. Pain—physical, insufferable pain. That’s what they felt after collapsing to the unknown floor in a mysterious new place. What happened to the truck? The street? As Kenji lay a devastated mess, he groaned from the aching all over his body, too weak to get up. And from what he could tell, Misumi was in the same state, sore to the point of paralysis as a spilled barrel teetered back and forth next to her, squeaking softly.

“W-What…What is this place?” he asked, wincing his eyes to looked around. “Where are we? This doesn’t look familiar.”

The floors were made of stone and the walls were brick; meanwhile, the ceiling had thick wooden rafters with strings of garlic, chilis, and red onions dangling toward the ground. High and slender windows indicated they were in a cellar of some kind, and the strong odors of vegetables and alcohol caused him to wince.

“This doesn’t feel right…”

“What doesn’t?” Misumi asked.

“Are you serious? Did you hit your head or something? We were standing in the street, but now we’re…here. Wherever here is.”

It took a few seconds, but the oddness of the situation struck Misumi like a freight train, and from her supine position on the floor, she sat up and frantically looked around. The panicked looked in her eyes was only highlighted by the bruises on her face.

“This is a joke, right?” she buzzed. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t where we’re supposed to be right now…”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be dead.”

As Kenji staggered to his feet, he grimaced at a sharp pain in his face, obviously the aftereffects of his fight with Yuuto and the others, yet he managed to shrug it off and focus on his new surroundings instead. It was undeniable at that point—they were in a cellar. On the far end of the room was a dead fireplace full of old ashes, and various cooking utensils surrounded it, all rusted, along with a brick oven that hadn’t been used in ages. There was also a corner loaded with bizarre items: swords, staves, crazy-looking books that would fit right in with an anime about wizards, and vials full of vulgar liquids.

He limped closer and grabbed a rusty dagger from one of the shelves, studying it with narrow eyes as he noticed the symbol on its hilt—a ballroom mask like someone might wear to a masquerade. What exactly did it represent?

Misumi joined him in the corner and picked up one of the staves, which was crystal white with a twisted tree-root end. Like a movie prop, it was realistic down to the tiniest detail.

“What do you think?” Kenji asked, brandishing the dagger and taking a stance like an assassin on the brink of fierce battle. “Pretty cool, right?”

It was slight, but Misumi managed to giggle, “For a dork, yes.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me a dork too?”

“Just this once,” she answered with the faintest smile.

As they continued to wander over different parts of the room, poking at the fireplace and its ashes, kicking around the vegetables they spilled, eyeing crates of supplies stacked high to ceiling, Kenji got the idea of looking out the cellar windows, and he packed two crates on top of one another to reach the proper height. Then, he grabbed the sill with both hands and pulled himself up. What he saw took his breath away.

There was a cobblestone street lined with colorful Dutch-style buildings glued together, having sharp, arched rooftops covered in tiles. People of another time roamed the street, some with swords sheathed at their sides, while other people were tunics and often cloaks draped over the shoulders. A horse and carriage passed by, as did a group of armored individuals stride on their russet stallions. Several trees lined the road as well, adding more color to an already vibrant world.

“This can’t be happening,” Kenji insisted. “Quick, climb up here and look at this.”

Seconds later, Misumi joined him on the crates, struggling to balance on the minimal space next to him, but as she laid eyes on the city beyond the window, she gasped. “Where the crap are we? Kenji, I have homework to do tonight.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Really? I think this is too serious for us to think about our stupid homework.”

He hopped down from the crates as she remained, watching the people outside with a curious but anxious look in her eyes. That place definitely wasn’t in Tokya. Hell, it probably wasn’t even in Japan.

“Let’s go see what’s upstairs,” Kenji asserted. “Maybe we can find out what’s going on. I’m sure someone around here knows.”

Misumi shot her terrified gaze back to him, “You mean you actually wanna talk to these people? They might try to kill us or something! We’re trespassing, you know!”

“Well, it’s not like we have any better ideas…do we?”

Her face drooped. “I guess not, but still…”

“C’mon, then. I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying in this basement all day. Something weird is happening, and we need to find out what, how, and why.”

Hesitantly, she climbed down from crates, and, though nervous for who they might find on the floor above, Kenji and Misumi climbed the cellar stairs together, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet, and they tarried at the summit. A wooden door stared back at them, ominous in the shadows. Beneath it, a strip of pale light was seen, like the room beyond was lit naturally and without electricity.

“Welp,” Kenji gulped, reaching for doorknob. “Here goes nothing…”

Incredibly, what they found beyond the door was not terrifying or even halfway scary; instead, they were dumbfounded to discover a lively tavern loaded with carousing, armor-wearing, staff-wielding, cloak-skulking individuals who belonged in a world of dragons and magic. There were people of all ages, young and old, and they laughed amongst the round tables, the spilling alcohol, as if every one of them was retiring from a hard day’s work. Their raucous voices filled the air more than the smell of ale, and as Kenji eyed them all, Misumi partially ducked behind him.

“These people look pretty serious,” she said.

“Yeah, but they’re having a good time. That’s a good sign, right?”

The tavern had two floors, each of which was full of drinking patrons. Wooden walls and high rafters, shelving of alcoholic drinks behind the bar, rugged travelers coming and going, cute waitresses and a burly bartender with dark skin, a bald head, and a beard—it was exactly like something out of an RPG. Trying to act natural, both Kenji and Misumi wandered deeper into the masses, sifting through the tables and between boisterous groups.

At one table, there gathered a team of adventurers that new each other quite well. The largest man had a claymore sheathed behind his back, while a much smaller, hooded girl had a bow behind hers. Two others had daggers and a short sword, while the last wore robes and carried a staff. Whoever they were, they had obviously seen combat on more than one occasion, since the behemoth among them—who possessed the claymore—passed Kenji and Misumi a quirked eyebrow as he looked them up and down. Compared to everyone else, their school uniforms were totally out of place.

“Just keep walking,” gulped Kenji, whispering to himself. “Grizzly bears don’t usually hunt creatures our size. We’re fine. That’s right—we’re fine. Nothing to see here.”

Misumi clung to him and hissed, “Quiet! You’ll just get their attention!”

At that point, every adventurer at the table was staring with deadly eyes, judging their every move. Even so, Kenji and Misumi kept walking, changing their direction and heading for the bar. Surely, the bartender would be accepting of strangely-dressed guests…right?

Both of them were underage and had no money, so ordering a drink was out of the question, and when Kenji reached the bar, he leaned forward on it next to a bald pile of muscles with a bushy moustache. The heaping mound of testosterone scowled at him, swallowed an entire tankard of ale in one gulp, then grunted, holding a wicked pair of eyes.

“E-Excuse me,” he stuttered out, red in the face. The bartender was busy cleaning a glass with an old rag, laughing with someone who must have been an old friend. Kenji cleared his throat and spoke louder: “E-Excuse me. Can you help us? We’re kind of lost…”

Suddenly, the leg’s a chair squealed across the floor from elsewhere in the bar, causing every voice to fizzle out until silence overcame the room. Meanwhile, the bartender and several other people nearby stared at Kenji and Misumi, while the rest of them eyed the claymore bearing giant from before. His voice was deep and sturdy like an older brother’s.

“Hey kid…” he said as Kenji glanced back. “Did somebody ‘round here beat you up? Who was it? Boys get into fights—I get that. But you ain’t got the look of a fighter, and that girl with you is covered in bruises.” He crossed his arms, his masculine face turning solemn. “We don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.”

All eyes on Kenji, he barely managed to stutter out, “W-Well, it’s not that simple…”

“Why not?”

His breaths were trembling. “S-She was attacked by these other kids from our school. When I found her, they surrounded us…so I…fought back…”

“Your school?” asked the smaller, hooded girl at the table. “So you’re a mage, then?”

Kenji just stammered a bunch of half-words.

“Doesn’t look like a mage to me,” added the bartender. His voice was also quite deep, but it came out like rich, smooth waves of velvet. “Looks kinda like a merchant’s kid.”

The claymore-bearing giant asked, “A merchant? Nah, he doesn’t have the social skills. And the girl’s too timid.”

Indeed, Misumi was terrified by all the attention they had gotten, as everyone in the tavern stopped to watch and listen. There was no more drinking, no more laughing, just humorless eyes searching for an answer.

In the silence, the goliath of man paced from his group’s table, moving slowly toward the bar. His boots thudded on the wooden floor like a king’s footsteps; the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. When at last he stood before Kenji and Misumi, towering over them, his serious eyes malformed into a smirk. He prompted:

“So you’re lookin’ for help, eh? The name’s Desmond. And if you two need somethin’—I’m you’re guy. I’ll always help a stranger in need, so why don’t you start by telling me where I can find the people who beat up the young lady.” He cracked his knuckles one by one, itching to throw a punch. “I’ll teach ‘em a thing or two.”

“Hey,” buzzed the tiny hooded girl with a bow. She jolted up, standing on her chair. “Count me in, too. I’d kill to whoop some ass right about now.”

The bartender set his glass down and also had something to add: “Best make it three, then. I like to keep the peace around here, so we better take care of those goons while we have a chance. By the way—call me Flanigan.”

Before Kenji even knew what was happening, the entire tavern exploded with an uproar of people throwing their hats in the ring. Not only were they ready to fight, they were excited about it, and the energy they created was…astounding. Refreshing, even. Regardless, he had to tell them what was really going on, and that he still had no idea where he was.

“T-That’s nice, but…” he started. “…we’re not from around here. We don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”

The crowd died down to let his speak.

“One minute, Misumi and I were standing in the street. The next, we were hit by a truck and thrown into the cellar. Is this somewhere in Tokyo? Like a renaissance fair or something?”

“What are you talkin’ about, kid?” Desmond asked with a twisted face. “Tokyo? Rena-what-now? This is Duncaster, second largest city this side of the Emerald Sea. You got amnesia or somethin’?”

Though it was hard to believe, the reality smacked Kenji like a gust of wind, and he realized that not only were they not in Tokyo—they weren’t in Japan. And from the looks of things, they may not have been on earth. Somehow, after getting hit by the truck, he and Misumi wound up in a different world altogether. However, before he could talk with her about the situation, Desmond chuckled, wrapped an arm around his neck, and began walking back toward the table.

“C’mon. Let’s chat and get you straight in the head before we go beatin’ up on any hoodlums, alright?” He nodded toward the tiny hooded girl. “Sinopa.”

On cue, she darted from her seat like a swift fox and took Misumi by the arm, guiding her behind Desmond and Kenji. “You too, quiet girl!” she squeaked. “Don’t be a stranger!”

And as the bar erupted once more, welcoming the guests with a loud cheer, Kenji’s face turned beet red. He had no idea what was going on, and didn’t know a single one of those people, yet they treated he and Misumi like friends.

He asked, “This is just a tavern, right? Why is everyone so gung-ho about this?”

Desmond respired. “This ain’t a tavern, kiddo—it’s a guildhall. Welcome to The Rat’s Ass: Home to the Lost, Lonely, and Tired. We’ve got nothin’ to lose and nothin’ to hide. So sit back, drink with us a while, and let’s talk it out. We’ll help you with whatever you need.”

 

******

 

For some reason, people at The Rat’s Ass had ‘classes’ like any character of a standard RPG, and they ranged from those endowed with physical prowess to those gifted with stealth or magic. Desmond, for example, was a Warrior, and his weapon of choice was the two-handed claymore. Meanwhile, Sinopa was the Hunter; she was quick and had near-perfect aim—not to mention a tiny body, making her the obvious choice for reconnaissance missions. Two others—a chipper girl with blood-red hair named Floris and a hardy young man named Grant—appeared nimbler, and both were Rogues with different subclasses. Floris was a Thief, while Grant was a Spellknife. Lastly, and perhaps the most interesting character of all, was Sapphire—a Cleric whose sole purpose was to heal the wounds of her allies, though her shrill personality was so abrasive it might cause more damage than any enemies they encountered.

For over an hour, their conversation went everywhere as questions were asked by everyone present, and the entire situation just got stranger and stranger to Kenji and Misumi, who next to each other at the table.

“So, lemme get this straight,” Floris uttered. She had both elbows on the table, fingers clasped together, and her crimson hair was short, just barely reaching to her shoulders. Her eyes were narrow. “You died, then wound up in the butthole of Rat’s Ass? Seriously? Did the other world just crap you out or something?”

“I don’t know…” Kenji muttered.

“Ha,” scoffed Sapphire. Her long hair was deep blue, flowing like a river. She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, if you can’t remember what happened yourself, how can you expect us to help? We have better things to do, you know.”

However, Desmond quelled her irritating mockery. “Relax. If you had better things to do, you wouldn’t be sitting around the guildhall with us.” He brought his attention back to Kenji and Misumi. “So it’s safe to say we ain’t beatin’ up those bullies anytime soon, right?”

“It looks that way,” Kenji answered.

Misumi nodded along with him.

From underneath her green hood, Sinopa growled like a woodland creature. “That really pisses me off. Right when I thought I was gonna kick some butt, too…Dez—can we please go hunt down some bad guys or something? Oh, and let’s make sure they’ve got a high Awareness stat. I need to practice my camouflage.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about these two?” Desmond replied.

“Of course I am. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry and train at the same time.”

“Sheesh, learn to take it easy every now and then, will ya?”

Sinopa crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “No can do, Cap.”

Suddenly, the polite but not-so-talkative Grant piped up, “Well, if you ask me, I think you two should head to the Cathedral. They had diviners there that might be able to help. They’ll also be able to assign you a class—assuming you want to be adventurers, that is.”

Floris added, “Mhmm. If anyone can help you guys, they can. They’ve got more knowledge than a library stuffed in their heads, so I’m sure they’ll know something.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “In fact, why don’t I take you there? If you become Adventurers, you can even join our guild!”

“Now, now,” calmed Desmond. “I’m pretty sure they’re more interested in finding a way home instead of joining The Rat’s Ass.”

As the guild’s raucous ambience carried on throughout the chamber, Kenji glanced at Misumi and wondered what she was thinking. Everything was happening so fast. The people, the guild, the new world—where were they supposed to begin? How would they get home? Could they get home? In her eyes lay fear, but also a sliver of relief since they had managed to make friends of the people around them instead of enemies.

After a few moments, Misumi nodded her approval.

“Okay.” Kenji turned back to Floris and spoke. “We’d like to visit the Cathedral, but…I can’t make any promises about the joining the guild. Desmond is right. I think we just wanna figure out what’s going on and find a way home.”