Two young men made their way through the bustling streets, passing civilians of all ages as they headed toward their destination.
One of them walked with quiet authority, clad in a pristine white-and-blue knight uniform—the unmistakable garb of the Kingdom of Lugunica's Sword Saint, Reinhard van Astrea.
The other was… less famous, to say the least.
A black-haired young man wearing a strange synthetic jumpsuit, his slanted eyes focused intently on a glowing rectangular device in his hands. His thumbs moved rapidly across the screen like a man possessed.
"Someone tell my teacher I can't go to school tomorrow. I have to save a princess," he tweeted, attaching a selfie of himself walking through the medieval streets of Lugunica.
As expected, his followers instantly flooded the comments:
"Alright Mario."
"Bro it's 2 a.m., what kind of anime convention is still open this late?"
"Are you actually isekai'd? Blink if yes."
"No pic hoax."
"He literally sent the pic."
"Simp"
The young man chuckled, amused by their reactions, then glanced up from his screen to take in his surroundings.
The two young men now found themselves walking through a less prosperous part of the city. The air felt heavier here—thicker, damp with the scent of mildew and sweat. A faint musk clung to everything, like the streets themselves hadn't been washed in weeks.
But the atmosphere was nothing compared to the sight of the street.
People—dozens of them—lined the sides of the road. Dirty, bruised, slumped against walls or curled on scraps of cloth. Flies hovered around them, undisturbed. Some were clearly injured. Others looked barely alive, their bodies thin, eyes dull from hunger and hopelessness.
The black-haired young man slowed his steps.
He had seen things like this before—clips online, short documentaries of war-torn children in parts of Europe or the Middle East.
But that had always been through a screen, a world away.
A swipe up. A scroll past. Easy to disassociate. Easy to forget.
It's not my country, he used to think.
But now… seeing it up close, breathing the same air, walking among them—it felt different.
Real.
Something tugged at his chest. A dull, quiet ache.
Guilt, maybe. Or helplessness.
Whatever it was, it was enough to make him lower his phone and just look.
"What a sad sight," Subaru murmured under his breath.
But Reinhard heard him.
"Yes," the Sword Saint replied quietly. "After the recent civil war, many were forced to flee their homes and migrate here. And with the kingdom's current state… even more end up in places like this."
"Isn't there any help from the kingdom? Like… food stamps, or shelters, or something?" Subaru asked, a faint hope in his voice.
"There is," Reinhard nodded, "but it's nowhere near enough. Resources are limited, and bureaucracy slows everything down. The aid barely scratches the surface."
Subaru fell silent, eyes scanning the street once more.
He wanted to feel angry. Sad. Even outraged.
But all he felt was powerless.
There's nothing I can do for them, he told himself. Not right now.
He tightened his grip on his phone, pushing the feeling down.
There was something else—someone else—he had to save first.
And standing around, lamenting the unfairness of the world, wouldn't help anyone.
"…Let's keep moving," he said at last, his voice low.
Reinhard nodded without a word, and they continued on.
"I think we need a plan," Subaru said as he walked. "I mean, we can't just charge in and hope everything goes well… can we?"
He glanced up at Reinhard, though if he was being honest, as long as they actually ran into the assassin, Reinhard could absolutely handle it. Elsa was dangerous, sure—but compared to the Sword Saint?
It wouldn't even be a fair fight.
The real problem was if they ran into her.
In canon, Elsa was bold—sometimes even suicidal in the way she threw herself into fights. But was she stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with Reinhard Van Astrea?
Probably not. I mean, she did challenge him in canon but I think it was more of her doubling down since people already saw her, and they are already fighting so might as well. Y'know?
But now, she could easily recognize the threat and just flee the moment she saw him. And if that happened... things would spiral fast.
Because then it wouldn't just be Elsa.
It would be Meili. Capella.
And the rest of that assassin network working under the Archbishop of Lust.
Subaru shuddered.
Yeah, no thanks. I'm not dealing with all that until I know how to actually protect myself.
One disaster at a time.
"What do you suggest?" Reinhard asked, glancing sideways at Subaru.
"Hmmm," Subaru hummed, stroking his chin as if deep in thought.
In truth, he already knew the plan. Years of reading fanfiction had prepared him for almost any scenario like this. The perfect route had already been imagined, written, and optimized—he just had to follow it.
"I think we should ambush them," Subaru said confidently. "I'll be the bait, obviously. I'll act like I'm some rival buyer—someone who wants the stolen insignia and is willing to outbid whoever the thief originally made a deal with."
Reinhard listened intently as Subaru continued.
"You, on the other hand, will need to wait somewhere close—far enough to stay out of sight, but not so far that it takes too long to reach us," Subaru explained. "And when the assassin shows up—or if things start going sideways—I'll give you a signal, and you jump in and handle the rest." He finished with a self-satisfied nod, like he'd just crafted a masterclass strategy.
In reality, he'd read that exact plan in a fic few years ago.
But hey—if it worked, it worked.
"I see," Reinhard nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds like a solid plan for this situation. I'm impressed you were able to come up with it so quickly."
"Ahaha, right?" Subaru laughed, trying to play it cool. "Even I was surprised by what I'm capable of."
He resisted the urge to look away.
No way he was going to admit that he shamelessly stole the idea from a fanfic.
Somewhere out there, a bored teenager writing AU scenarios had just unknowingly saved a royal candidate from assassination.
"But there's one thing we need to figure out first," Reinhard said, snapping Subaru out of his thoughts. "What exactly is the signal you'll use?"
Subaru paused, then shrugged. "What about 'AAAAA!!!'? That's loud enough, right?"
Reinhard tilted his head. "It would work… but it sounds exactly like a distress call. The assassin might catch on that you're trying to get help."
"Hmm… good point," Subaru admitted, then suddenly perked up. "Okay, how about—'MUSTAAAAARD!'"
Reinhard blinked. "What's a mustard?"
"Exactly!" Subaru grinned. "You don't know what it is, so people in this world won't either. It'll just sound like random nonsense—perfect for catching you off guard without tipping anyone else off."
He gave a smug little wink. "Once again, my otherworldly knowledge comes in clutch."
Reinhard smiled, clearly amused. "Very well. 'Mustard' it is."
The of them continue their walk to their destination, soon they will reach it and the event will start to unravel.
"Oh, One more thing" Subaru suddenly stopped
"Can we do a selfie?"
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"Subaru? Subaru?!"
In a modest house lit by warm lamplight, a pair of parents stood side by side, concern written all over their faces. The mother clutched her phone tightly, raising her voice in frustration and fear.
Their son had been gone far too long—just to grab some snacks from the convenience store—and there was still no sign of him returning.
They checked his tweet for any updates.
And what they saw only made things worse.
A photo—clearly taken by Subaru—showed him surrounded by what looked like people in incredibly realistic furry costumes. So realistic, in fact, that they both hesitated.
"Are those... costumes?" his father asked, squinting at the screen.
The mother didn't respond. She wasn't sure either.
But of course, it couldn't be real… right?
They had named their son Subaru because they both loved the stars. It was the name of their favorite constellation—simple, meaningful.
They never could've imagined that, years later, someone would make an anime with a main character who shared his exact name.
And not just the name—the resemblance was uncanny.
Sure, their Subaru had only been nine years old when the show first aired, and the character in the anime was seventeen. But even then, they could see it. The messy black hair, the way he scowled when confused, the overly dramatic way he talked when he was excited or emotional—it was all too similar.
Years passed, and the three of them watched the show together as a family.
Even with its dark, sometimes gruesome moments, they genuinely enjoyed it. The themes of perseverance and growth struck a chord with all of them.
The main character—thrown into a cruel world and forced to start over again and again—never gave up. No matter how bad things got, he kept moving forward. It was inspiring.
So inspiring, in fact, that their Subaru gradually started talking like him.
Dramatic pauses. Over-the-top speeches. The occasional exaggerated pose.
And then season 2 came out.
That's when things started to get really unsettling.
Because in that season, the show finally introduced the main character's parents.
And they looked exactly like them.
Not just a passing resemblance—exactly the same.
Same names. Same hairstyles. Same mannerisms, voices, even the way they dressed. It was like watching 2D versions of themselves come to life on screen.
The first time they saw it, they just sat in stunned silence. It was surreal. Unnerving.
Almost like someone had watched them from afar and animated their lives without asking.
But, you know… they let it slide.
It was just a show.
So what if the characters looked like them? A lot of people looked a lot like a lot of people. It was just one of those weird coincidences. Nothing to overthink.
Their son felt the same way. He shrugged it off like they did, chalking it up to a strange fluke.
In fact, he leaned into it—joking with his friends about getting Isekai'd, throwing around references like he was the protagonist himself.
He even went so far as to buy the main character's tracksuit—the iconic black-and-white outfit that got transported into another world along with him.
They all laughed about it.
It was a joke.
It was a coincidence.
It wasn't real.
But now?
Now they were staring at a tweet from their son… standing in broad daylight, in a place that definitely wasn't their town.
Surrounded by people who didn't look human.
And suddenly, the thought hit them like a truck:
What if it wasn't just a joke? What if it was never a coincidence?
What if their son actually got Isekai'd?
No.
There was no way… right?
Their phone buzzed again—another tweet from their son.
It was a selfie. He was standing in front of an old wooden door, worn with age and slightly crooked on its hinges. A door that looked far too familiar to the Natsuki parents.
The caption read:
"Alright guys. Moment of truth. Wish me luck."
They stared at the screen in silence.
Tonight had already been too strange, too heavy, too unreal. But now?
Now it felt like they were watching their son walk into something they couldn't follow. They couldn't protect him from.
It had been a long night for the Natsuki family.
And it's not over yet.
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