The voyage was about to set course. Hajime used to believe in a form of outer space filled with nothing but white dots in a neverending void. In fairness, it did seem that way when he and his friends waited until dusk went by. Harald must’ve had his reasons, but the grueling itch in his mind as to why began to take over.
“Bruh… what’s taking so long?” he said, refilling his second brandy at the plane’s mini bar section. “I can’t imagine you not being able to just toss us into another galaxy with one hand.”
Harald giggled at his remark that lacked any semblance of respect for even a figurehead like himself. “Frankly, young master, I admire your sharp tongue. Can’t say you’re wrong because I can’t aim well in broad daylight.”
It was a surprise on Hajime’s part. The king made it sound like he needed to throw the Spruce Goose as though he had participated in a national dart competition. Indeed, the universe would probably overwhelm the scope of his human intellect for a lifetime, but he didn’t want the “white dots” idea to come true. Disappointment was unwelcome at this point.
He could only guess Harald wouldn’t wish to disturb the sunshine hour of every Agriman with the dead of night in a snap. The king needed to wait, but it wasn’t out of the question for him to acquire vision rivaling the Hubble telescope. So many headscratchers hung around his thoughts, yet he still asked Farkas for another shot.
“You gotta put more faith in Our ‘Not-So-Majesty,’ dude,” Farkas suggested, preparing his glass for another clink for the three of them. “If I didn’t know any better, you and him have a similar wavelength.”
Hajime sprayed his drink on the counter, trying not to burst into laughter like he had heard the world’s most side-aching joke. “Hell… fucking… no. Okay, maybe a bit, but I take offense to that very much. A king’s a king no matter what, and ain’t none of them ever gonna tell me where to eat or move for long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“Authority’s a bust, man, and let’s just say I never bent over for no pig-in-blue back home. And I know what you’re thinking: why am I here eating peanuts with you ’til we reach Swordland? Because fun often calls for me, and fun is always free.”
Farkas squinted ever so slightly as he poured their third shot. “I see. You don’t seem to be the type who’d start a revolution overnight when we’re not looking, but you still stick to your guns. You’re quite an odd one for that, honestly.”
“Oh, I would, turning everything upside down and shit,” chuckled Hajime, shining one pearly white grin for the journey. “Listen, Farkas, I don’t give a fuck if he’s in my thoughts again right now, but I had two friends who said the same thing. You know what I did?”
“Um, turn them away because they didn’t think like you?”
“No, of course not,” he emphasized. “I hooked them up, kisses and all! They didn’t think I could do it, but fun is unpredictable, too, so mark my words. One day, I’ll give something back to the people, and I call it—”
Hajime knew their conversation would halt from another interruption from the king, but it wasn’t a case of Harald careening toward the screen like a cheap jumpscare. Instead, it showed them a camera view of the starlit night twinkling at every corner of their gaze. Frankly, he never knew Harald had shaky hands, so much for the power of imagination.
He noticed the rising levels of childlike excitement from Paulie, of all people. Farkas could care less besides tossing peanuts and cashews in the air for a quick treat. Nevertheless, the time had come for the Spruce Goose to hurl into space and for his eyes to feast on a myriad of Andromeda wonders.
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Five.
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Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Holy moly, great balls of fire!
Hajime wasn’t sure what potent brand of cannabis Harald possessed when uttering the final launch code, but he delivered it with the same grace in a tone that grew on him faster than he expected. All they could witness was space, space, and more space, thankful that the inhuman acceleration of gravity was more like a joy ride through a cloud.
If he were to rate what he saw beyond the stars, it would make the Beatles write about their tears of joy, knowing that something across the universe could definitely change their world. Farkas and Paulie shared the same idea once they decided to do a karaoke tribute to one particular song, the alcohol in their performance slipping between verses.
They didn’t spare the chorus, either, if Paulie discovering a new language that vaguely sounded English was anything to go by. But Hajime wasn’t one to judge, playing along as the constellations around them got blessed with vibrant gas clouds that stretched into every light year of happiness they would remember dearly. Even the word beautiful would be jealous.
He wouldn’t have cared about what Jai Guru Deva Om meant if not for Farkas bringing up a cacophony of facts in a slurred vein out of nowhere. According to him, the words had their roots in Hinduism, teaching about the victory of great minds over the ignorant. Perhaps one day, he might find himself saying those words alongside his pride, a heavenly balance anyone should strive for.
Their voyage had yet to see its end. The Spruce Goose seemed to be a droplet in an ocean of colors, possessing and caressing their hearts once more. They could say it all shone around them like a million suns, which called them on and on across the universe. The last chorus couldn’t have enhanced the scene any better than the twinkled wonders could. Across the universe, they went, and across the universe, they shall.
image [https://i.imgur.com/dwoPw70.jpeg]
“Gotta hand it to you, man. I’m glad you didn’t pick the boring route for us like teleportation,” said Hajime, sitting in the cockpit with his feet resting on a stool.
Harald giggled at the notion, his face still encompassing half the screen. “I wouldn’t dream of it, young master, even in urgency.”
“Really? What if the horde has already consumed all of Swordland as we speak? Horrific shit to think about, not gonna lie.”
“Well, I’m not omniscient if that’s what you’re wondering. Either way, Feuer’s people are strong, but you’re stronger.”
Hajime scratched the back of his neck, leaning on his recliner to its most obtuse limit. “Gee, thanks. Wait ’til they see me eat dragon teeth for breakfast! With milk, of course.”
“No, young master, that’s not a compliment. It’s a fact. Your mission is more than just helping them against the horde with fancy lightning, and I suggest you don’t do such things once you arrive.”
He raised an eyebrow at the king, even bothering to adjust the recliner back to its default posture. “What are you getting at, man? I’m no fan of vague, ominous warnings.”
“…very well,” sighed Harald, eyes closed with a subtle shake of his head. “I promised to tell you everything throughout your voyage, so listen closely. Whatever you do, don’t level up. I can’t fully explain now, but you can kiss their world goodbye with a zap of your finger.”
Hajime couldn’t find the words to describe the slight race in his heart. It was still vague and ominous, but it made him recall when he watched an anticipated episode of his favorite show, where a sadistic conqueror destroyed an entire planet of humanlike aliens with primate tails. But something didn’t add up, perhaps worthy of another question.
“Tell me, Your Not-So-Majesty,” he began, “if level 1 is enough for me to play hoops with the moon, why did I need to be twenty levels more to even damage the first boss? Unless you’re saying the field is made of adamantium dirt, the physics doesn’t compute.”
“And what if I tell you it is? Will your eyes grow wider upon the revelation? You should by now, young master, that you won’t be dealing with our rule system.”
The screen transitioned into a chaotic dance of static noise until it cleared to show Hajime the most peculiar scene of a different world. Amidst the lush meadows filled with dandelions spreading their seeds into the gentle breeze, two people—one with a katana and dual pistols with the other—readied their resolve against an unmistakable dragon with its mouth aflame.
His friends couldn’t agree more that it was a remarkable scene. The two young warriors had what earthlings would call “health bars” hanging above their heads, as did their foe. Every arching slash and pulsating blast appeared not so different from the “pixie dust” they knew, only that every hit left red marks akin to actual bleeding.
But Hajime could care less about the fight, even when it became an elegant dance of otherwise deadly teamwork at every weak spot. He edged closer to the screen, focusing on the two young warriors alone. Haruto? Tokiwa?