There should be a cafeteria or, since this was a military academy, a mess hall somewhere. Ioha was vaguely aware of how the influx of people from Sweden made its own imprints on society close to the gate hub. Free, or rather prepaid meals at school were apparently one of them, which meant food was included in the scholarship he earned from work during his yearlong mandatory primer at the gate hub.
He left via an open corner between two of the four grey stone buildings and shook his head at the architectural idiocy around him. Ioha chalked it down to yet another instance of outworlder insanity as he walked a narrow street in search for something to eat. Too many bad influences from his own world, or rather the gate hub. Isekai it was called. Because the small village that sprung up around it had to be named something, and the young morons who first took up residency there were filled with a superbly magnificent naming sense akin to the one of a mental amoeba. Well, it stuck, and it did actually say what the place was all about, and the village had grown to a rather large town by now.
The street became a gravel road which led to a few training fields as well as an oversized half timbered building which would have made any ardent fan of medieval fantasy adventures dance with joy. He could only guess at its actual construction but the non wooden parts were most definitely not granite. It also wasn't medieval, he knew that. Ten years old, tops. No matter what, it proved two things. One, that someone ran out of money when they built this school and two, that the same someone initially forgot that a few hundred students stuck in the middle of nowhere might need a place to eat, something that should have been included in the basic understanding of logistics and mass education.
Ioha pressed his lips together. He still wanted this world more than anything else, but first living in the ever changing chaos that was Isekai and now watching this awful atrocity of school planning taught him that wanting a dream didn't give you the knowledge to live it.
Well, some people apparently learned. Basic understanding of the world including a working knowledge of at least one language was mandatory before you were allowed residency here these days. Ioha guessed a decade of brutal and primitive life had somewhat remedied the idiocy of the first batch of residents, or at least culled the most epically moronic ones.
Afternoon breeze played with his clothes and carried that peculiar smell of both summer and autumn. He allowed the tails of his green blazer to fan out in the wind, looked at his attire and laughed. Tails, it came with honest to gods tails, and it was a green that would make a leprechaun proud. Caught in the wind it failed to hide his very, very red trousers. A masterpiece designed by someone who had spent enough years watching fantasy high school romance anime to be permanently locked inside the institution the school resembled. Ioha growled with perverted satisfaction. Besides, the outworlders he was part of weren't the only ones who needed their brains examined.
As for naming sense, the locals weren't much better. This part of fantasy land went by the name of Wergaist, which was kind of decent until someone took a look at the farms and learned enough language history to realise it meant 'wheat land'. Rather than having nightmares of an entire nation preparing bread everyone agreed to stick to the obsolete Wergaist. Memories of his rather dry teacher back in Isekai brought a smile to Ioha's lips.
Now the very existence of Spellsword Academy should make anyone observant enough guess that Wergaist wasn't some kind of all encompassing and peaceful empire. It wasn't. Wergaist was part of a loosely consolidated federation under the fantastic name of Lai Terem Gaista, which conveniently enough translated into 'federation of lands'. Since both were a mouthful most just called it the federation. Once again Ioha heard the papery voice in his head and that thin smirk of his teacher's wasn't something he'd easily forget.
Loosely consolidated also meant organised groups of people depressingly often had heated and armed discussions concerning land ownership and borders, which was the main reason why four ugly stone buildings where teenagers learned how to kill each other made perfect sense.
And it gave him a chance to become a spellsword.
It wasn't rational, Ioha knew that, which made him one of the morons himself. But at least, all in all, having learned all the titbits made it less likely he'd experience anything fatal when he thoroughly put his foot in his mouth.
When Ioha reached the oversized afterthought of a building he confirmed that it was indeed a mess hall. It just looked like a rustic cafeteria on the inside. Dark hardwood once again dominated the interior, since metal came far scarcer here than back home. A large opening in one wall fed a dispenser desk just like in any cafeteria two hundred years more modern than the general architecture here. Under it a menu sat plastered to the low wall. It offered three items.
You can't be for real! Viking style breakfast, 'dagens lunch' and dinner it proudly announced. How anyone believed that spelling out the Swedish style weekday lunch offer in the local alphabet was a good idea escaped him. OK, not nearly culled enough.
Sun falling lower on the sky meant he was in for an early dinner, and Ioha soon sat down at an empty table with his edible booty on a tray. The chef must have read about the Japanese variant of curry with rice and then proceeded to misunderstand it all. Well, at least it was edible and with a generous helping of almost cold water he could pretend he had a proper meal. He ate in silence and listened to the sounds of hushed conversations in half a dozen languages from tables around him, and since the requirement of 'at least one language' once seemed more than sound enough he could understand half of them. Like with the too sweet smell of what tried to be curry something was off with the conversations, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then slowly, very slowly, it dawned on him. English! There's no way they can run an education facility without a lingua franca or something making up for it. So people here were either at least bilingual or every student received some magical gizmo that allowed them to understand lectures given in the local language. He grinned. Won't need one of those. The local language was one he had mastered fully.
There were students from all four years here. Taking their seats at one table a fourth year spellsword student together with three classmates swaggered in his spellsword uniform. The three wore their school uniforms and behind them a bulky student trailed with a cavalry sabre fastened to his belt. Ioha guessed he was a knightage student.
"Harvali, why the hell did you bring your pigsticker to dinner? Real people use spoons you know," the leader of the spellsword students asked in the main language used around the capital.
Good me! Three languages are better than one. Ioha mentally clapped himself on the back.
"Said by someone who forgot his uniform at home, Derina," came the retort. "or are your eyes lacking so bad you failed to notice the difference?"
"Stop being so stuck up! Live! Laugh!"
The young man called Harvali simply took his seat and the noise from their table quickly died down and Ioha had ample time to digest what he saw and heard. Some students apparently came from weeks away. He hadn't expected anyone from the capital region.
Then another commotion, this time at the entrance, brought him out of his thoughts. There a quartet of freshman students with all shiny and new uniforms entered accompanied by loud laughter and it was all too obvious how three of them tried to woo the fourth. She parried their verbal attempts and despite being rather flat chested she radiated feminine charm enhanced by a mass of gorgeous brown hair that cascaded across her shoulders. Almost against his will Ioha allowed himself to be drawn into her aura. His eyes followed her as the group headed for the stack of trays. He'd never seen her before in his life, but there was something very familiar about the way she moved…
"Ai? Nakagawa Ai?"
The girl froze and turned. "Do I know you?"
He barely had time to stare at her before a familiar feeling made itself reminded and he covered his ears with his hands before they flared red. "I believe you do," he began in Swedish. "At least I hope you do," he finished in Japanese." He very, very, very much knew her, or at least the Japanese version of her. Five years studying together. Five years crushing on her. Five years never once daring to show what he felt.
"Johan? Is that you?" She had green eyes here, not brown.
He nodded. "It's Ioha here, but yes, it's me." Realisation that he ogled her struck him and Ioha took a sudden interest in his feet. She had changed as much as he. Petite Japanese woman with tidy hair and smiling face had become a tall European looking girl with hair anything but tidy. She still smiled though, and moved her hand like he remembered, and tilted her head, and… Maybe she hadn't changed all that much.
"That's so cool!" Ai swirled and grabbed one of her new won friends. "Look, I have one of my old friends here! Happy!" And then she danced a little on her toes. And let out a bubbly laughter. No, she hadn't changed. The same Ai he once fell in love with. Same still.
Another whiff of too sweet curry intruded from the closest table. Ioha used it as an excuse, waved in the air as if that would make the smell go away and looked up at her. "How come you're here?" Yeah, genius question! She's in the same school uniform you wear for crap's sake! "Like what program?" he added in an attempt to salvage his stupidity. His voice broke.
"Strategy and logistics. Healer."
So, a strong aptitude for magic. Healer, not medic, the kind that made injuries and other ailments vanish in ways that defied all reason. If she decided to live here permanently she'd either become very rich or very dead. Military healers were priority targets from what Ioha had learned during his one year primer. "Brave choice," he said in an attempt to probe a little.
She locked eyes with him. She smells differently though, he noted. Then she placed her chin in her left hand and pretended to lean on a table. "Naeh!" Ai laughed again. "Not doing army. I'll become an adventurer. How cool isn't that!"
Adventurer. Are you out of your… Then he remembered the absurd amount of Asian comics (manga, manhwa?) and anime she consumed. Oh dear. She's one of those, and I never knew, he added, conveniently forgetting how he left a promising corporate career behind him in Sweden to pursue a dream of magical fencing. "Sooo, you…" He shovelled a spoonful of faux curry into his mouth. It tasted better than it smelled, and right now it gave him an excuse to collect his thoughts. "Um, u ow. Av u…"
"Ew! Chew and swallow, Johan, Ioha."
Ah, that bad habit of his to talk with food in his mouth. "Ovvy," he said and finished his mouthful. It slithered down his throat, still too sweet for his tastes, but far better than the assault on his nostrils. "No plans for a stable income?" Another idiot question!
Ai shrugged. "Not a problem for four years." She took a few steps to where he could see as much as possible of her without his table being in the way. There she spun full circle, and Ioha sighed with relief that the woollen skirt was far too heavy to flare out in any anime fan service fashion. "Am I still cute to you?" Ai had come to a full stop and stood staring at him. "Or do you prefer the old me?"
So she knew all this time? Her skirt might not have done any flaring, but his face certainly did. Flared red. As in tomato red. "Still cute," he croaked. After that he packed his mouth with food. This had to be the right way. Eating first meant not answering a question that needed an immediate response. I don't think she dislikes me, but that's a far cry from…
"I'm not in love with you, not even a crush, but I'm interested," she interrupted him. "I want to find out. OK with you?" Her face didn't mirror her brazen words. Right now she looked like a scared teenaged girl.
So, rather a lot of interest. Damn! I should have asked her out years ago. "Sure," Ioha said and all of a sudden her willingness to almost always join him on their shared shenanigans during their university years made a lot more sense.
"There you have it," Ai declared to the friends she had arrived with and who had watched the spectacle with widening eyes. "I'm taken. No space for you." She flashed them a toothy grin and whatever anxiety she held moments earlier vanished at once.
Ioha bent over his plate to hide his grinning face but even he could hear how loudly he snorted. His shoulders shook and he admitted defeat and leaned back into his backrest. Mirth mixed with relief and he laughed like he hadn't for years. "So I just needed to travel from one world to another to be together with you?" he said and wiped tears from his eyes.
She pulled out the chair next to his and sat down. "I'm worth it," she shot back. "Don't you agree?"
There it was again, the bravado he admired. "You're worth it," Ioha agreed. Life at school just upgraded from good to great. "Well worth it," he added and reached out for her hands.
She pulled them back out of his reach. "No touching. Not until I'm sure."
He'd waited for five years, seven now. He could wait some more. "How come I didn't see you during the primer?" Ioha said in an attempt to change the subject. She's got freckles in this world.
Before she could answer her friends returned from a detour to the dispenser desk, One of them brought Ai's tray and Ioha was once again attacked by the smell of failed curry. The three boys were obviously ardent admirers of Ai, but unless outworlders themselves they were truly the fifteen they looked. Somewhat shamefaced memories from his own true teens rushed over Ioha and he grinned. If Ai looked fifteen she was fifteen. Obscure questions like the difference between subjective and objective age simply didn't occur to a hormone packed boy in his mid teens. In many ways a simpler life, one that a mere ten years once and for all sent into a rose tinted box labelled 'nostalgic memories'. One of the three boys patted a friend on his back – clearly an invitation to sit down, and like obedient puppets given a command two of them immediately took a seat each.
So that's the leader, huh. Ioha looked up and met his eyes. In return he got a disapproving frown. Well, guess I stole their cute trophy. "Ioha", he said.
Sand coloured, well kept hair moved across his shoulders as the boy took the seat directly across Ioha's with slow, deliberate movements. Around them students perked up and watched the show unfolding. "Anthony Clevasti," the friend said and bowed slightly in his seat, a nod rather than a bow.
Two names, so he's a noble. "Ioha," he repeated. In this world he had no second name, and explaining the contextual background for 'Johan Welander' was pointless. Ioha received the expected smirk and shrugged. Nobility was a big thing here. No reason to argue his egalitarian beliefs – he could have stayed in Sweden if it was that important. Something itched in the back of Ioha's mind. Clevasti, the local lord?
"Dad's attached to the embassy." Ai tried to reconnect with Ioha's earlier question. "But there's a reason he's stationed in Gothenburg."
"Uhum?" Ioha hadn't heard this part despite five years worth of lectures and pub crawling spent with her.
With a grimace Ai downed her first mouthful of curry. She grimaced with distaste. "A very distant cousin," she said and pointed at her plate with a spoon. "Very distant."
Ioha guffawed. "Yeah. If you don't smell it it's better."
She grinned but ignored his comment. "He's not really a part of the delegation in Sweden. He's doing tricultural work here, but he still spends most of the time in Gothenburg." Her spoon moved in the air as if waving spoons explained the repercussions of people using magic gates between this world and their home. Strangely enough that did indeed explain a lot though.
Spent her primer outside of Isekai? "And Lord Clevasti is the liaison from here?" Ioha asked to verify what he suspected.
"Marquess Clevasti." That came from across the table.
Ioha sent the boy a glare. Arrogant arse! If so at least an educated one. So he's gated to outworld, or at least learned of the European aristocratic system. Nobility here were more like some kind of hybrid between aristocracy and the old daimyo system in Japan. Officially there was no hierarchical titular system to speak of. You either were a lord of you weren't. Gothenburg rather than Nagoya if he gated out, Ioha guessed. The idea of a duke automatically having higher status than a baron didn't exist before outworlders seeped into this world together with their culture, but of course different lords wielded vastly different amounts of power. You just had to learn by heart. Marquess. Well, makes sense. So I guess the power of baron before the gates opened, but now this is definitely a border area. "But he's the liaison?" Ioha asked.
"Marquess Clevasti," the boy repeated.
Only known him for a few minutes, but I already dislike the jerk. "Doesn't answer my question."
"You should show proper respect."
Damn he's hung up on our aristocracy! "Swedish citizen here. I don't give a damn," Ioha said and pulled the outworlder card. "I'll do that crap if I take up permanent residency here."
"You still…"
"He said Swedish citizen," Ai interrupted. Her voice had gone very cold. "You don't know his background. Ioha's a sage, just like me."
He chuckled. A sage. Well, maybe a masters degree qualified as a sage here. Back home you'd need at least a doctorate, but home was a place that spewed out people with academic titles. This, a very different world. Eighteen years worth of full time education was an absurd luxury here, and maybe the remaining three from masters to PhD didn't amount to all that much in the big picture. The locals, even in this school, came with five years of basic education, and they were the elite. A total of nine years in school made you count as very well educated.
"How would you know what he…"
"That's Lady Nakagawa for you, and we studied together. I know."
Ioha all but jumped in his chair. He'd never heard Ai sound that cold. Sure, she was Japanese nobility of sorts; he didn't know exactly how, but she'd never used that as an argument. Not that it mattered in Sweden in the first place. You looked like an arse if you highlighted your aristocratic background there.
"Lady Nakagawa," the boy said, rose and gave her a full bow. "I hope you'll still consider my marriage proposal favourably."
Oh, so that's it.
"Already taken. Just told you." Ai turned to Ioha. "His father is the liaison," she confirmed belatedly and shot Anthony a short nod.
Ioha bit his lip. Am I her boyfriend or her excuse to keep mister jerk at a distance? Then he grinned again. Boyfriend! What's the point of caution now? "That makes me taken as well," he said.
Both Ai's and the lordling's face turned red, but for very different reasons. Ai looked shyer than he'd expected and that filled him with a warm feeling in his chest. How the boy ran red with rage fuelled Ioha's ego as well, but that was the pleasure of watching a jerk taken down a peg. With just a minor tinge of regret Ioha decided against any more bear baiting, and the tension quickly petered out. There would likely be a price to pay later, but right now he just wanted to enjoy the surprising development between Ai and himself.
***
They spent that evening laughing, catching up and sharing memories from Earth. They even made room for an hour of barefoot fighting in one of the barns – back home they'd shared more than pub crawling outside of university studies, and most of it had been martial arts. She was still very good, even though she, just like him, had yet to become fully accustomed to a larger body. After that he made his way to the temporary dormitory that served as his home for the coming two nights.