10A/N: I know you've been expecting an update for Warlords of Remnant or Ken's new life, but after watching so much Yakuza on Youtube, I decided I can't wait anymore. Just so you know, this fanfic will be one of those 'Person in another world' stories, and it will have a lot of original content. Moreover, this will be done in first-person POV for the most part.
With that out of the way, enjoy.
Chapter I: New life
A lone man lay bleeding on the streets of Nagusa, blood painting the asphalt red from the injuries he had sustained.
Kiryu Kazuma, the legendary Dragon of Dojima, lay dying as a result of a car accident, himself being the victim from trying to save a lone toddler from certain death. The young child went onto the street with the red light on, chasing after a ball that rolled along the pedestrian crossing. Through his mother's startled cry and a car's horn blaring loudly, he managed to rescue him in time as he held him tightly.
Then the car hit, and he briefly lost consciousness.
His eyes opened to see the child covered in blood, yet he was wailing loudly, a sign he was alive and unharmed. Around him, some frantically called for an ambulance, whilst the child's mother quickly rushed to grab her child.
"... Thank... goodness..." Were his last words, before he breathed his last.
IIOII
My eyes felt damned heavy, and I felt as if I slept through a damned hangover. Waking up, I found myself in a rather strange-looking wooden hut of sorts. That's strange, wasn't I in an accident in Nagusa? Why aren't I in the hospital then?
Looking around, it seems the hut was built with functionality in mind; single fireplace, spartan-looking furniture, fish hanging on the eave, deer and bear heads on display, this definitely wasn't what you'd normally see in any home in Japan. Wherever I ended up, this was definitely not somewhere in the big city.
I saw an elderly man tending to a pot heating over the fire, and he looked like a foreigner of sorts, maybe from someplace called Germany, if his features were any indication; grey hair tied in braids, piercing, steely blue eyes, and an overall facial expression of one who had seen his fair share of hardship. Not surprising, considering his rough-looking features and toned body beneath that clothing of his.
I've never seen anyone wearing a thick pelt of fur over his back, though, or his clothing. It resembled something like a shirt and long trousers, yet strangely enough, there was strange-looking embroidery adorning them. It seemed rather tribal in nature, definitely not Japanese-styled, that's for sure. And his face... not to mean any offense, but who paints their face with such strange patterns in this day and age? An actor, maybe? Or someone with a serious condition of long-term chuunibyou? I actually hope it's the former.
"Aye, I see y're awake," Said the man, his words rough and unpolished, "Ya got a nasty hit to the 'ead, but ye're alive at least. So what brings a fine lassie like ya 'ere? No place for a princess like ya."
His words were in a foreign language, yet somehow, I could understand him. What was going on, exactly? And did he call me 'lassie'?
"Lassie?" I asked, then I stopped myself short.
My voice somehow sounded like that of a woman's, and when I looked at myself...
"What the hell...?" I mumbled, dumbstruck at my situation, "Jii-san, do you have a mirror or anything?"
"Hmm? What ya need it fer?" Asked the old man in confusion.
"Just please tell me if you have one," I repeated.
"One moment..." Said the old man as he rummaged through his belongings.
It was not long before he gave me a hand mirror of sorts; the glass seemed marred with dust and smudges, but it was clear enough for me to see my reflection. And once I saw it, I knew something was indeed very wrong.
I had become a woman. Goodness, of all the ridiculous things that could have happened to me, I somehow had my gender changed, and I was looking nothing like my old self.
By the looks of it, a teenage one, maybe somewhere between sixteen to eighteen. My shoulder-length hair was a bright platinum, and was a complete and utter mess. And where I used to have dark brown eyes, now they were an icy blue. Wrapped around my forehead was a small bandage, perhaps an injury sustained before I wound up in the old man's hut.
I remained dumbstruck for a few minutes, my mind taking quite some time to absorb all this as I stared open-mouthed at my reflection, before the old man harrumphing got my attention.
"If yer done gapin' at yer face, why not tell me why yer 'ere of all places?" Asked the old man impatiently.
Why was I here? How should I reply to that question? Whoever this girl was, she must have had some memories of her own before I ended up... inhabiting it. Come on... what was she doing before-
"Argh!"
A sudden wave of pain flashed through my head, as if I was having an aneurysm. I clutched my head, trying to soothe the pain in some way.
"Head still hurts, eh?" Asked the old man, "Hate to sound naggy, but do you honestly remember anythin'?"
I shook my head; my attempt to regain my memories have ended up causing me this damn headache, so I might as well be as honest as possible. No sense alienating who might be my only friend in... wherever I am.
"No, I don't," I said.
"Really?" The old man asked, as if I was somehow hiding something.
I shook my head.
The old man sighed, nodding in acceptance of my answer.
"I s'posse it can't be helped," Said the old man, "By the way, name's Gabriel. Yours?"
Maybe using my real name won't hurt, at least for now.
"Kiryu Kazuma," I said, causing the old man to raise an eyebrow.
"What sorta name's that? Ain't yer typical Alsacian name fer sure," He said.
"Alsacian?" I asked.
"What? Ain't ya from Alsace? Ya certainly look it," Said Gabriel.
"I apologise, but I have no idea what you just said," I replied, genuinely confused by his words, "Where am I? And what is this 'Alsace' place?"
Gabriel rubbed his head in annoyance, and as he sighed, he said, "Y're really hopeless, ain't ya?"
IIOII
The year was 1871 AS(Athilan Standard), according to the calendar, the tenth year of the reign of His Majesty King Sigmar IV von Franz of the House of Eibenförde, the 12th King of Orso.
From what I could gather from old man Gabriel, I was current residing in a small, remote hunting village right in the heart of the Savant Mountains in the Kingdom of Orso. From the map old Man Gabriel gave me of the world I was in, Orso's size was relatively small, at least in comparison to the neighbouring Empire - supposedly the country this woman hailed from. One way to look at it would be comparing the Empire as America to Orso as Germany and France combined, I suppose.
Said Kingdom happened to have heated border disputes with Alsace as of now, and with many opportunistic Alsacian nobles trying to instigate all-out war with the Kingdom so they could annex Orso by less-than honourable means, things have not been safe along the borders, forcing any travelling along the border to hire large, expensive escorts to ensure their own safety. Few ever dared to wander off the heavily patrolled pathways, much less go someplace as isolated as this village. No wonder the old man was so suspicious of me, a foreigner, who somehow ended up here.
Regarding the Imperial nobles, he told me with no small measure of spite how they hired mercenaries to pose as bandits and cause chaos in the countryside, forcing the Royal Army to stretch itself thin trying to pacify the rife banditry. Compounding their troubles were the infighting between the nobles of the Royal Court, who somehow had higher priorities in securing their power base than focusing on the larger threat.
As for King Sigmar, he had remained non-committal to any faction save the one loyal to him, the Royalists, but from what I heard, he has done very little to turn his country's situation around, either because he was powerless against the nobles or that he simply didn't care for his job at all. One would think that ten years would have been enough time for him to do some significant things, but I suppose some Kings can be good-for-nothing slackers.
"You're quite well-informed about these things, old man," I said.
"Well, I hafta go sellin' my goods in town every now and then, 'n exchange fer food and other stuff e'vry now and then, and I go drinkin' at the tavern quite often, plenty o' opportunities to pick up gossip here and there," He explained, "But enough 'bout me, what 'bout you? Ya ain't got no clue where ta go, yeah?"
I nodded in response.
Gabriel sighed again, maybe for the third time now, before saying, "Well, I ain't one fer charity, but ye're in no condition to work either, so I suggest gettin' sleep fer now. Tomorrow, you'll learn how to hunt."
I nodded, and I laid back in bed as I placed the blanket over myself. It wasn't very comfortable, but it'll have to do. Tomorrow's the beginning of my training, so I might as well get sleep wherever possible.
IIOII
"Yer aim's off. Again," Said the old man.
It's been an hour or so since I started training in archery, and quite frankly, this thing's way more difficult than it looks. Not only do I have to draw the bowstring in the correct way, it's quite difficult to pull the string as well. Granted, I'm fairly strong, but it seems my new body's not. Guess I'll have to exercise later; unless I can master the basics of hunting - archery being one of them - the old man won't allow me to leave.
And the reason why? A ferocious bear named Waldmörder had been terrorising the nearby villages for nine years now. Massive with brown fur, he was easily identifiable by its missing right eye and the long vertical scar across it. It had killed no fewer than two hundred hunters all this time, so it's no surprise the hunters are cautious whenever they go to the wilds to hunt for food.
The bow I'm using is a training bow of plain steel, quite difficult to fire with due to how taut the bowstring was. I thought it would be made of wood, but I'm guessing since it's a fantasy world of sorts - not unlike in the stories those fantasy authors churn out, so it's normal for them.
With another arrow missing my mark, the old man called to me and said, "We're stoppin' 'ere for now. Get some rest and put some ointment on those blistered fingers of yours, can't be drawin' bowstrings with fingers like that."
True enough, my fingers were aching with pain, bearing rather large blisters. I obliged and put down the bow, going back into the hut to find the small container of ointment the old man stashed inside. The ointment was a translucent green of sorts, maybe mixed from several greenish herbs. I applied it and waited as I rested my hands. In the meantime, the old man went to preparing our lunch, a simple pot of venison stew with a few vegetables mixed in. I would have helped with the cooking if I could help it, but my fingers were in no condition to hold any utensils.
As the stew was boiling, I decided to ask Gabriel, "Jii-san, why do you hunt Waldmörder?"
The old man was silent, not a single word uttered in response.
I decided to press the issue and said, "The other villagers said you've been hunting that bear for nine years now. That's an exceptionally long time spent pursuing one beast, and with him being as dangerous as they say, no amount of money or satisfaction would be enough to keep up the pursuit for so long. If it is not too difficult to ask, what is your reason for hunting it?"
Again, the old man was silent, refusing to answer my question.
I sighed, and said, "If you don't want to answer, that's fine by me. Just be careful you don't get yourself killed."
Neither of us said anymore since then, the muffled howling of the outside wind and the slow bubbling of boiling stew the only sounds that constituted the monotony of the atmosphere. The pain in my hands had faded somewhat, the ointment doing its trick, though they still hurt.
The old man broke the silence as he said, "Fingers hurt?"
I nodded wordlessly.
"First timers in archery always hafta deal wit' that," He said, "I was no exception; fingers hurt like hell first time I trained, just had ta toughen it out 'till I got used to it."
A small smile crossed my lips.
"The first time's usually difficult to get used to, eh?" I mumbled to myself.
"Ya say somethin'?" Asked Gabriel.
I chuckled slightly at that, saying, "No, it's nothing. Don't mind me."
Gabrel stood up, opening the lid as he inspected the pot's contents, before nodding with satisfaction. Taking a ladle and some other utensils, he scooped out two bowls of stew and passed one to me, before giving me a wooden spoon. The thin stew emitted a fragrant aroma, which immediately whetted my appetite. Wiping my hands, I placed my hands together and bowed my head, giving thanks to the food before I dug in.
It tasted rather gamey, but in this blasted cold, I daresay it was as tasty as a well-made bowl of tonkotsu ramen. The warmth coursed through my body, and I was truly thankful for the food offered to me. Within moments, I finished my portion, and again I gave my thanks for the food, earning a confused look from old man Gabriel. Not being the talkative type, though, he merely grunted and went back to eating.
"Your hands alright?" He asked, to which I nodded.
"Good. Trainin' resumes soon, so make sure yer ready," He said, "I ain't gonna allow no slackin' from you."
"I understand, Jii-san," I replied.
I can't say I'm overly enthusiastic about living a new life, but I suppose one thing to expect from life is that you can never fully expect what would happen next. I wonder though, just how dangerous is Waldmörder that so many skilled hunters were killed by him? Just what should I expect when I actually encounter him? And why is old man Gabriel so determined to hunt him down?
I'll just have to wait and see for that matter, and I hope he doesn't do anything stupid. For my sake and the village's.