Gale ran through the rain-soaked streets, one arm shielding his face while the other pressed against his chest, as if holding himself together. The city was dark, cold, and empty, but he ran as if something was chasing him.
"It's my fault," he muttered.
Again.
Louder.
"It's all my fault."
His voice cracked before he even realized he was crying.
He slammed through the front door of his house and locked it behind him, breath ragged and heavy. The mirror in the hallway caught him off guard. His hair clung flat to his face, clothes soaked through like he'd been dragged from a pool. His eyes were red and swollen, his jaw tight, lips trembling, a stranger staring back at him.
"I just want it to stop," he whispered.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor.
"I don't care how," he begged quietly. "Disappear. Die. Just… please."
The house was silent. His parents were gone for the night.
Gale rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, rainwater dripping from his hair onto the floor.
"Please," he murmured, barely audible. "I don't want to exist anymore."
He pulled his MP3 player from his pocket, hands shaking, as he plugged in the earphones. Music filled his ears, familiar and comforting, but his thoughts were louder.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and he knocked out.
————-
A loud crack tore through Gale's ears.
He didn't wake up — he was thrown.
Sand slammed into his face as his body skidded across the ground, scraping and scratching his body. He gasped, coughing, vision spinning.
"What the hell?!"
He tried to push himself up, limbs heavy, mind fogged.
This has to be a dream.
An explosion roared to his left.
"GET DOWN, BOY! MOVE!"
The voice was real and serious, protective.
Pain flared in Gale's chest, sharp and sudden, forcing the air from his lungs. Cold followed it deep, biting, unnatural, though at the same time… natural.
Something's wrong, he realized. Something's definitely wrong.
"STAY BEHIND ME — FOCUS!" the voice shouted again.
Gale forced his head up.
A man stood not far from him, dressed like something straight out of history, blade in hand, locked in combat with a creature Gale couldn't process fast enough. A wyrm. Small compared to movies, but real. Way too real.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" Gale screamed.
"NO IDEA!" the man yelled back. "BUT IT DOESN'T END EASY, SCALES'ER TOUGH!"
The wyrm slipped past the man's guard.
It turned.
Straight toward Gale.
His chest burned. His breath fogged the air. The cold inside him surged, wild and panicked.
"HELP!" Gale screamed.
The man lunged — too far away.
Gale raised his hand on instinct, eyes squeezing shut.
It's over.
Nothing happened.
No pain.
No darkness.
Just cold.
Gale opened his eyes.
The wyrm was frozen mid-lunge.
A massive shard of ice impaled its body, erupting from within, piercing its rock-tough scales.
Silence fell.
Gale staggered back, staring at his shaking hand.
The man stood frozen as well.
"…Did you do that?" he asked.
Gale swallowed, teeth chattering.
"I… I don't know."
Gale got a good look at the man.
He looked like a ronin dressed in an all-black kimono, an all-black scabbard. His right arm looked almost robotic, and his face had some sort of high-tech look with black long hair flowing out if his sandogasa. His accent was reminiscent of a Japanese one though with an odd dialect.
The man stared back.
"Your clothes are far out-dated; that style was used about 300 years ago."
Gale, with a confused look on his face, said,
"Huh? What do you mean?"
The man started with an intense gaze, making Gale slightly uncomfortable.
Gale looked away shivering, teeth chattering, staring back at the jagged ice shard sticking out of the wyrm. His hand still trembled.
"I… I don't know what just happened," he muttered, voice barely audible over the wind sweeping sand across the dunes. He looked around, trying to make sense of the horizon. Something felt… wrong.
The man crouched nearby, rubbing his hands together. "…Wait. This isn't… right. This can't be real."
Gale blinked. "…You mean… it's not?"
The man straightened, eyes scanning the dunes. Then he glanced at Gale's damp clothes. "…Your outfit… really old-school. Are you doing a sort of play or festival?"
Gale looked down at himself, confusion written all over his face. "What? Why?"
The man shrugged, exhaling sharply. "…Just… looks different from anything I've seen. At least out in public. Weird fabrics, patterns… it's almost too authentic." He paused, eyes narrowing at the horizon. "…And the sand, the sky… we're definitely not on a desert place I've seen."
Gale looked lost.
"Those stars are odd" the man muttered, still scouting around. "Look at this sand. Look at those dunes. Look at the sky. None of this's anywhere I've ever been. The sand is nothing like that in the Gobi and Sahara. Could this be America, maybe?"
Gale sank slightly into the sand, shivering. "No, it isn't," he nervously said. "We're somewhere else. Great." He forced a shaky laugh. "That's helpful."
The man crouched, running a hand along the ground. His fingers brushed against the sand. Almost instinctively, he pushed. The grains shifted unnaturally at his touch, shooting up in a short, jagged arc. He yelped.
"…Huh? What the—?!"
Gale blinked at the sudden column of sand. "Did… did you just do that?"
The man shook his head frantically. "I… I don't know! I just pushed it… and it… moved!" He jabbed his hand again, a larger spray erupting forward. "…Okay. That's not normal. Right? That's… that's not normal!"
Gale took a step closer, still shivering, curiosity creeping over fear. "…Maybe… maybe it's like what just happened with the wyrm?"
The man froze. "…You mean that ice thing? You did that?"
Gale waved a hand vaguely. "…I think so? I didn't even try."
The man ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. "…We're screwed."
Gale looked up at the stars. "…We're… somewhere new, different. At night. And… we're… alive."
The man exhaled sharply, squinting at the clear starry night sky. "…And whatever just happened, I don't even know if it's safe. But… maybe we can figure it out? If we don't die first."
Gale looked at him, still trembling. "…Yeah. Maybe."
For the first time since he landed, Gale felt a flicker of something. Not safety. Not comfort. Just confusion.
And somehow, that felt like enough for now.
"Hey, Mister!" Gale nervously said. "Wha-t-t's your name?"
The man stared at him blankly.
"Akio… Akio Kuriorata. Yours?"
"Gale… Gale Smith."