Daily life in another world 「Isekai no Nichijou」

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There are people in this world, who are raised being told how to walk, how to smile, how to cry.

Taught how to bow your head. how to scream. They learn how to lie, how to hide.

Somewhere along their lives they lose bits and pieces of themselves. And they cannot bring themselves to pick up the pieces, or maybe they never noticed the cracks to begin with.

Then, they share bonds with friends. Grow close to lovers. Partner with colleagues. They walk into daylight as they have always had every single day, living, laughing… but loving? No.

Perhaps it became twisted along the way. Or they never cared since the start. Maybe they haven't received enough of it when growing up. They become their own nightmare as they live giving, working, and sacrificing without ever receiving back.

>> Sin. Corruption. Temptation. Apathy.

The bonds they make are not ropes, but attached strings that go only one way. Flimsy, situational, that can be cut with a moment's thought.

People are seen only by the value they can bring. Prestige, Power, Price. Merely a discardable consumable to take apart and drink and nothing more.

>> One trusts, and expects to be repaid in kind. Whilst the other prowls and licks their lips.

Maybe the other side was bought and deceived. Maybe there was a misunderstanding, an accident. Or perhaps, in a sick sense of humor, it is mildly amusing to them to witness the shock and anguish.

Broken trust… Or maybe it never was, because there never was trust there to begin with.

>> Disappointment. Terror. Sorrow. Grief. Anger. Contempt. Loathing.

And once the bridge is broken, it can never be the same way again even if rebuilt. One side loses the ability to open themselves, the other side becomes even less able to simply care for others.

Tell me, o' traveler from afar.

Have you ever tasted…

…The acrid and bitter flavor of betrayal?

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——— –– –– -- - -

。。。

［The next day.］

"Uuuuuu….. You're the only one who understands me… *sob*"

I tightly hugged a random dog I had found and cried on it in a stupor of sadness. Crying with snot coming out of my nose and burying my face on its side whilst prone on the ground.

It was stinky and dirty, its fur was rough and not fluffy at all. It squirmed and tried to get away from me but my grip was too strong for it.

"...It's so unfair, I didn't do anything wrong, why did that happen? I can't understand… *sob* why?... why?... why?..."

A pitiful whine came out of it.

"...*sob* People don't make any sense… *sob* If they had just told me I'd… I don't know… I hate lies… If everyone was straightforward… It would be nice… *sob*"

I buried my face into its fur, smothering my cries and my tail curled around it.

For hours I was like that, and I fell asleep somewhere in the middle. When I woke up I was feeling marginally better and confused where and when I was. And the dog(?) I thought I found in my hazy memories was nowhere to be found.

For the rest of the day I sort of felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed of myself. I only ever cried like that once before… okay maybe more since coming to this world, but back then the single and only time I had ever bawled my eyes out to a pet was when my sibling took a pack of batteries I had without explanation. It wasn't a very big deal but I was little and it was one of the few things that belonged truly to me.

Back then I had run to my parents to complain, to get justice. But they didn't care about it and didn't see anything wrong, they told me I was overreacting. I was, but little old me felt betrayed.

With every human being in the house having turned their backs on me I hid in a corner of the garden and just sat down on the ground crying. Our dog came to me curiously and simply sat there beside me.

That simple gesture, even if the canine didn't understand what was going on, had made me break into even more tears. And at that moment I had felt as if they were my only ally in the world.

It was a deeply strange relapse.

Other than that one event, I never was the type to cry or scream. I used to stub my toe and receive sports balls to the face without even reacting to the pain. Now it seems as if I have become much more… sensitive. For lack of a better term.

The thought keeps my head simmering, and the day passes with me aimlessly dragging my feet while feeling uncomfortably aware of my own body.

——— –– –– -- - -

Magic that entangles with vines.

Magic that targets dust.

Magic that severs.

Magic that harms.

Magic… that can be lethal. In the right circumstances.

I knew, implicitly, internally, that one day, maybe, there would be a time where the necessity of using my hard earned spells against other people.

I had naively thought to myself. "Well, if it's against people that deserve it it is fine." And left it at that.

Oh…

Oh how wrong I was.

There couldn't have been more than 500 people in that camp. Maybe there were more scattered around throughout the country, but that is such a small number in my head that I can't think of why they call themselves an army.

Maybe to appear bigger than what they actually are?

I don't know.

I try to distract myself. Think of something else, I fail.

When that man laid his hands on me. I twisted my whole body, and kicked him as hard as I could on his leg.

I had never kicked someone like that in my entire life before.

The feeling of something snapping and bending under my foot is a thing I don't think I will forget anytime soon.

It's one thing to safely practice and spar like I did with Gaviel. Holding back and being careful in a safe environment. But to attack with the intent to harm without holding back, without any restraint because the consequences are too painful to even think about…

The biggest thing I ever hurt was a roach. That doesn't even begin to compare to that.

…Despite it all. I still feel sorry for doing that to him. And I regret leaving those two friends I made behind.

I've told myself multiple times that they aren't. Hobask made no effort whatsoever to obscure his rude and prickly nature. Pedle always seemed to stand a little too close for comfort despite me always taking a little step away from him when he did.

I just wanted—

I just wanted to believe I had made some friends. That's all.

Or maybe that's what I craved to believe, deluding myself of the signs flashing in my face.

They smiled, but always glanced at my staff like I was brandishing a knife at them.

The people at the camp. All humans, all with shadows over their eyes with the weight of something over their heads. The rumors and the whispers I constantly heard and ignored. They were of curiosity, but most importantly they were of a thinly veiled disgust.

Asking why something like me was walking into their camp. Looking at me as if I was a mere animal.

I realized, belatedly, what it meant.

I made myself an ignorant fool. A dense idiot. For the sake of a false glimmer of hope. And got burned for it.

So I grabbed my things and ran.

Perhaps I will grow to regret it, or perhaps I will look back and laugh at it.

…

This isn't the first time I acted like an uningenious fool. We can all look back into our past and think "If I were there I would have done better, chosen better."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

But in the heat of the moment, we don't have the time to see the whole story, time to carefully analyse and pick the best path available. It's easy to say that from an outside perspective.

If I were there, back when I first decided to accompany Hobask and Pedle and protect them from any harm that may happen to them. I would've hit myself in the back of the head with my own staff, hard.

I didn't know, didn't want to know, didn't want to look at. That ugly and dark side of the world I know so well from past experiences. Maybe they were different, maybe people have different values here, maybe it was normal.

Weapon shipments? Liberation army? All the scrutiny and suspicion?

I unconsciously knew that I wasn't welcome and it hurt. Because this was the first time I had ever approached someone on my own volition to chat with, and they turned out to be the worst of all possibilities of people I could find. Criminal, rude, immoral, possibly even murderers.

And yet even then. I shared meals and stories with them. During those peaceful moments they did not seem like anything bad or evil… just people.

I can't help myself but foolishly hope that deep down they have their own righteous, if flawed, motives to do what they do. That before they became what they are today they were once innocent too.

It doesn't excuse their sins, their actions, their dehumanization of their victims and fitting them into a simple box of "enemies", believing that they deserve it and leaving at that. Abandoning empathy. Getting stained with greed.

I just hoped… that they could be redeemable. Because I grew attached to them in the short time we spent together.

。。。

Beating myself up from my past actions made me involuntarily remember some things.

I didn't want to, because there are things that everyone wishes they could forget. But I did anyway. Memories I wanted to bury… but when you bury something it doesn't disappear, it only makes it grow roots and more difficult to dig up.

I have been thinking a lot lately. About life. About regrets. And the differences of how I was as a person back then, and how I am today.

In my childhood I grew up without anyone to confide in, other than my immediate family. Friends… I thought I had those, but they either disappeared or never were friends to begin with.

Despite it all I think I lived a pretty normal and adjusted life.

…maybe. I only had fictional media and books to compare and relate to. So "Normal" to me was subjective.

I had always been a quiet person, when I was a child I struggled to make friends and talking with people I didn't know needed a monumental effort I never overcame.

This led to me being ostracised at school. I didn't approach anyone, and in turn nobody ever approached the odd and silent kid.

Despite me never having bothered anyone, because of my apparent seclusion I stood out. And as they say, the odd nail gets hammered down. At first, it was simple, idle curiosity. They asked what I was doing, I answered with nothing, because I literally wasn't doing anything. They asked why I was so quiet and alone, and I replied with "I don't know", as I truly didn't have an answer to that. As a kid there was nothing interesting for me to talk about— a trend that continued even after I became a young adult —and loneliness was literally a word that had yet to enter my vocabulary.

Then came the mocking, and yet innocently malicious voices of the children. Because I was an interesting and yet boring thing.

"He's stupid, he looks like he has got something wrong with his head." They said out loud.

I proved them wrong, I was smart, and passed assignments and tests with minimal effort. Studying was barely a chore to me, I often slept in class because I became bored of the teachers. At one point they stopped bothering waking me up since I always answered correctly and seemed to listen to their lectures even while sleeping.

That, however, didn't abate them. "He's afraid, let's scare him and prank him. He's smart but he is weak."

At first, I really was. Or maybe I didn't even understand that the way I was being treated was wrong. I was either ignored or the center of ill intentioned attention. My hair was pulled when I rested my head to sleep on those tiny classroom desks. If I lended my school supplies when people asked I rarely ever got them back or undamaged. During recess I always searched for a secluded corner without anyone nearby to avoid people and took a nap alone until the bell rang. And I thought it was all "normal".

One day, I don't remember why or how. I lashed out.

School wasn't fun, wasn't nice, wasn't good. Months upon months of frustration built up. I didn't even know frustration was a word back then.

Someone had made a joke at my expense, I didn't understand what was so funny about it and was standing there dumbly as they laughed at me.

Someone pushed, I fell on my face.

It hurt.

And one thing I knew for certain, is that I didn't like the feeling of being hurt. These people were unpleasant and for once I felt like I had enough of it.

I threw the first punch.

Offended, or maybe confused on how the meek kid could fight back, they threw the second punch.

One thing led to another, but I was just one person and they were more.

I got dragged and locked into one of the bathroom stalls. I kicked and screamed and cried incoherently in outrage. They threw water over the door, I didn't know if it was from the sink or from somewhere else, I never came back to ask that question and frankly I didn't want to know.

Somehow, in a fit of hysteria, and a lot of kicking, the door of the bathroom stall broke.

There's something to be said that a cornered animal is the most dangerous one.

After that the teachers finally found us and the rest was a strange blur of tear filled vision and letting the adults talk until it was all over.

"He hates us." Was the final verdict. From then onwards I never got approached again, people only talked to me because I quickly did all the work in group projects, but otherwise I didn't bother to pay attention to them, and they didn't pay attention to me.

Children are cruel.

。。。

It is with a shuddering breath and swallowed tears that I smother down the urge to curl up and think about nothing. To drown my own emotions in a sea of manufactured silence.

I've already relived that trauma enough times. I didn't want to go through the whole song and dance another time.

After calming down, I fell into silence. And then in that silence I begin to think about the past weeks and more specifically: My behaviour.

Perhaps because I was still filled with an innocent vision of wonder and blinded by the awe of a new and unknown world… Having the freedom to simply go anywhere I wish to and explore is a new and exhilarating feeling that always permeates me as I think of the complete lack of burdens on my shoulders. (Burdens that I haven't placed myself that is.)

Maybe I was just lonely, it had been several months of empty, silent travel alone in the wilderness. My heart ached the first few weeks, cellphones don't exist in this era and sending letters isn't an option to a secluded and secret village in the middle of The Dark Forest. There isn't a convenient way to contact Daivette in a place so far away from them.

With time, I got used to the feeling of silent longing, barely a noise in the back of my head. But I underestimated how much it affected me.

Or maybe… Despite knowing the dangers of the world, I was still walking with the mind that nothing could possibly go wrong.

I scoff at myself.

Oh… how wrong that turned out.

I have always known about evil… But I had never truly experienced it. I've heard tales of people being assaulted, mugged, robbed. Cautionary tales and documented history of bloody, unforgiving wars and conflicts. Saw depictions of the world's most dark and repulsive sides.

Malice, lies, deceit… I know those. Understand them. Suffered from them.

To the point of murder though?... To the point of treating me as abhuman, drugging me for reasons that I can speculate of but shudder to think about, flipping hospitality to violent hostility in the flip of a switch?

And then when I saw a blade pulled and pointed at me, a blade that wasn't wielded by someone I could trust and knew that it was all safe in the end like when I sparred with Gaviel. I was scared in a new way I didn't know I thought was possible.

Being subject to the intent of someone else that wishes to harm you, maybe even violate you. is vastly, utterly different from the intent of a beast that is protecting its territory or hungry for food. When a person desires to kill you, for no better reason than to inflict injury and possibly even death, it is on a fundamentally different magnitude of meaning.

It was scary, not only in the sense of being worried for one's own life, but that of a deep, horrifying realization that all I thought I believed was wrong. There is no vindication, no revenge, no satisfaction to be found or sought out.

'This man wants to kill me.' It was the singular thing in my head at that moment. And it terrified me more than the giant monsters of the Dark Forest.

Even with all that preparation, even with all the training I did in Daivette exactly for this sort of situation. At that moment when someone placed a hand on my shoulder, when I heard the things Haldir was speaking of, I froze in disbelief. In terror. And in betrayal.

All I wanted was to get to know new and interesting people. Their likes, dislikes, culture, thoughts, knowledge, everything and anything. To get a taste of this new and vibrant world that is so foreign to me and yet so familiar.

Now… not so much. Not anymore.

I shake that train of thought out of my head.

In one way or another, I was once again wandering to the west.

…

Many people have a destination in mind.

To die. To marry and have children. To hone their skills. To achieve great heights in a chosen career. To be a hero. To travel and explore long lost and unknown roads. To brave the unknown. To taste every experience. To challenge themselves and the world.

They choose, or someone else chooses a path for them. Be it by their families, peers, or the society they are born in. And then they go to achieve their ambitions with great fervor.

Others simply go through the motions. Following the footsteps of their predecessors and seeing where it leads them. They walk the same old road that has served countless others, playing a game of chess where the pieces have already been set by someone else.

And then, there are those that don't want to choose, or never got the chance to choose.

For them, there is no road. No lighthouse. No footsteps to follow.

Only the dark forest. Unknown, oppressive, and filled with hidden pitfalls. Awaits them.

I walked through that dark forest, once.

But back then, I had one friend that stood beside me, family that cared, people who helped me. When I fell, I was brought back up. When I was led astray, they illuminated the path for me.

The pathless way forward.

It is scary. I am a coward.

And I am brave— I must be. I must be because behind me there are too many regrets to count if I don't.

Even though in front of me there are more doubts than I can see.

And around me uncertainty surrounds me.

Forward I go. Yet again.

To new places. New people.

Whatever the future may have, I resolve myself that even if I am left with nothing but sorrow as I travel. Along the path flowers still bloom. And the possibility of something better at the end of the road makes the journey worth it.

——— –– –– -- - -

。。。

［Around a week later.］

It's been around a week since I escaped. The first three or two days went by in a blur so I am unsure.

I recovered from that disaster surprisingly quickly… or maybe not. I don't know.

If someone asked, I would say that I am still sad about it. Being double-crossed like that. But I wouldn't be able to place it on a scale from 1 to 10. I know I am feeling… something. Something that aches, burns, but fades as soon as I try to focus on it, leaving me in an odd state of emptiness and confusion.

I expected to be holding a life-long grudge or something. I want to rage and blame them for it, at least that's what I think I want. But I'm simply… not feeling anything in particular.

I have had long, long days with just myself to let my thoughts stir. Walking straight in a direction alone for hours on end, even if I tried to avoid it there was no way to not think about it.

My feelings on the matter… are still there, conflicting. But now they're faded, either because I got over it or because I unconsciously don't want to let it go.

Maybe I'm being too sensitive, I barely knew them after all.

Still.

I can't change how I feel.

This cycle of feeling bad, worse and then looping back around to neutral kept repeating for as long as I was on the road.—

—"Oh?"

I hadn't even noticed I was on a road.

'Where does this lead to?' A spark of curiosity briefly makes me forget my earlier thoughts.

With a pep on my step I walk forward in the direction of the mysterious road.

'I feel like I have gone on a long, winding, and confusing loop.'

I'm once again approaching my destination… I don't know what it is but it can't be worse than last time right?

The Liberation… revolution… whatever army. Feels like an episode I had already passed by. Yes, the packed bundle of remorse and troubled feelings of being betrayed like that is still there. Am I angry? Absolutely. But I'm not about to charge back where I came from in a violent crusade against those that wronged me in revenge.

If anything, somehow, I feel sorry for them.

Maybe I shouldn't, maybe I ought to be more merciless. And deliver unto them my righteous wrath. They should be definitely stopped from doing what they are doing, but if I'm involved I would be doing it more out of altruístic motives rather than personal vendetta.

I could hate them. Maybe I do, just a little. But hatred and anger are both things I prefer to not waste time with. I'm slow to anger and quicker to forgive.

I worry about the town they said they would strike at. Himmrest. But I have no idea where that is.

It has been a few days where I got to process everything. I just thought I would have way more resentment against them.

'This emotional rollercoaster is completely out of character for me.'

I chuckle at myself. "What am I? Pfft, a brooding teenager?... Haha!" The odd image makes me laugh out loud and…

"Ha!… Ha….?"

The thought pings off my head and heads into a direction that crashes everything I had been thinking about. My face freezes, twitches and twists into a horrified expression.

"...Oh my fucking god am I going through PUBERTY?!"

I am, technically, going through my young phase of life again. Maybe it's the hormones?

"Oh heavens— am I going to have to suffer through the legendary monthly bloodbath???"

I am also, after all, in a female body now. It doesn't come up often since I got used to it with surprisingly little dysphoria— and one of these days I'm going to need to address why, but I'm happy and comfortable so there's nothing to complain about— but yes, even though I'm from an apparent fantasy species the babymaker is undoubtedly there.

"GYAHHH!!!! NO WAY! WHAT THE HELL??" I scratch both sides of my scalp and scream out loud. "It's one thing to have highly informative media in the shape of manga and anime, but actually having to go through it?? I didn't have these organs before! And I never had to know— as in know know about it. I just do, because it was often used as a gag! And!— And!— Argh!"

'I should've asked someone in Daivette—' I aggressively shake my head 'No way! When could it ever come up? No way I was ever going to approach anyone to ask… T-to ask a-about that!'

My hair pulling pauses momentarily.

'Wait— do elves even have periods to begin with?...'

For a few minutes my thoughts go down that rabbit hole.

"NEVERMIND ALL THAT—" I cry. "WHAT DO I DOOOO???" My voice echoes in the skies.

…

——— –– –– -- - -