As of April 22, 2022, this chapter has been rewritten

Prime Minister’s residence, 3:50

“T-That can’t be...”

Panicked hushes and murmurs with a dash of tears and groans perpetuated among the hastily worn suits and public clothing of the Japanese government heads gathered together for an emergency meeting that was supposed to discuss a response to a perceived attack. However, the picture shown on the big, flat-screen mounted onto the wall at the other end of the long room tells a different story. Surrounding the familiar silhouette of the Japanese archipelago were unfamiliar contours of never-before-seen landscapes. Less than an hour ago, the lines that draw out the Korean Peninsula, Sakhalin, Taiwan, and the features of the Asian mainland to the east were suddenly replaced by these alien geographical locations, as if the radars themselves had malfunctioned. However, this story was not an isolated incident; all capable radars across the archipelago tell of the same event.

One of the suited men seated amongst the row of Japanese gentlemen continued talking.

“Moving forward, multiple and independent on-the-ground observations compiled by the JMA (Japan Meteorological Agency) have confirmed the impossible: the horizon is 5.54km out and the stars in the sky are completely different from those found in our star charts.”

The display on the screen then changed to two pictures of a starry night meant to be compared with one another. The left picture had a subtitle that said “Supposed Sky as of 3:28,” while the one on the right had “Actual Sky as of 3:28”.

The reception was more or less the same, with hushes, whispers, and exasperated expressions with undeniable hints of anxiety and worry. None of the people present, not even those that were well-informed in the realm of astronomy, recognize the alien positions and characteristics of the stars seemingly jumbled together in random placements. As far as they were concerned, this was not their night sky.

The suited man that was talking, the head of the JMA, turned to his fellow officials.

“I think these are definitive proof that we are not under attack and that the hiccups in communications and early detection apparatuses were brought about by something else.”

The officials all turned their gazes to the joint chief of staff, expecting a reply from the man which would either put them on the warpath or doom them to an uncertain fate. The joint chief of staff slowly turned his gaze away from the screen with a worried expression, one that was more disturbed than when he initially surmised that it was an attack.

“...I can say with confidence that none of these things are possible with any sort of weapon, current or imaginable.”

The officials erupted into a flurry, debating amongst themselves in a panic as their understanding struggled to explain what was happening. The room was once more filled with upstart noise and hot air.

“Perhaps a coordinated cyberattack on all fronts by someone? A terrorist cell or North Korea, maybe?”

“That’s already ruled out, though! The JMA has already confirmed that the sky above us itself has changed! We can go outside and check for ourselves if you want!”

“Do you understand what that could possibly mean? Especially with the other nations practically unreachable... meaning they’re gone?!”

“I-I don’t want to imagine that if anything...”

Everyone started reaching an unsavory, unpalatable consensus: they were now isolated at some point in space, their allies nowhere to be found, and a globalization-dependent economy entirely cut off from its innumerable lifelines.

It was a chill-inducing, horrifying prospect–one that was getting more real and undeniable by the millisecond.

The Japanese officials were paralyzed in a never-ending cycle of throwing ideas back and forth, inwardly denying the reality they did not want to face. For them, this reality meant a slow, painful death for a proud nation with a colorful people and history, a fate that, despite their power as elected government officials of a powerful state, they are completely powerless to steer away from. As the big wigs of Japan continued to hurl what-ifs at one another, the 78-year-old man sitting at the other end of the table raised his voice in a manner that betrayed his supposed frailty.

“That is enough!”

The resounding masculine voice of the man, Prime Minister Hideaki Takamori, elected head of government of the state of Japan, resounded across the long room, effectively silencing the substanceless exchange of the government officials. He then promptly curled his right hand into a fist to try and hold back his frustration, a worrying emotion to have for someone his age.

“I have decided not to listen to useless talks, and as the head of this government, I bid you heed my words.”

The officials swallowed in shame as their heads hung low in dejection. Perhaps it wasn’t fruitful to beat around the bush after all.

“Now, ruling out an external attack, this seems more like a typical case of... isekai.”

A peculiar, unexpected word came out of Takamori’s mouth, which earned the attention and subsequent cringe of the officials. A term that they’ve only ever associated with otaku culture and fantasy works of all kinds–isekai. In English, it means “another world”, and what Takamori suggests to have happened is in line with what they were observing, although it still meant that a horrible fate awaits Japan.

“Can we have the display for the radars again, please?”

At Takamori’s request, the display on the screen was returned to that of the radar contours earlier.

“There we go. Alright, so with the normal, breathable atmospheric conditions we have, as made obvious by us still breathing, and with the seas remaining largely unchanged at a glance, it would seem that this new world we found ourselves in is similar to Earth.”

The officials scratched their heads in doubt, still struggling to accept Takamori’s suggestion that they were in a new world. The JMA head poked his head out of the row of suits to look at the prime minister directly.

“Yes, that appears to be the case, although we will continue gathering more data along with our sister organizations to clear this matter.”

Takamori nodded in agreement. He then raised his left hand to point towards the screen.

“Those landmasses close to our western periphery... We need to scout them out immediately, if not for resource gathering expeditions, then maybe civilization.”

The room once again erupted into a heated discussion regarding Takamori’s remarks. If there were to be civilizations in this different world, they would basically be aliens to them and were likely to be hostile. As such, there was some opposition to the idea.

“Prime minister, you do understand what consequences contacting alien civilizations would entail, right?”

Takamori shook his head.

“I know, but our goal is to identify potential resource hotspots that will help keep our nation afloat. To do that, we must survey these locations.”

The officials started sweating at Takamori’s insistence, their fears valid and grounded in understandable conjecture.

“And if we find civilization and they’re hostile?”

Cornered and out of answers, Takamori scratched his head as he slowly opened his mouth to talk.

“We won’t know till we check, but as it stands, we won’t last a week under our current circumstances.”

A collective sigh floated all across the room. While Takamori’s statement wasn’t necessarily accurate, it was very close to the truth: Japan isn’t going to last. As the officials each held both of their hands together in prayer, hoping that the situation would reverse itself, some of them began accepting their ugly reality.

“Well then, I think a nationwide state of emergency is warranted, yes?”

Takamori said out loud flatly.

The row of heads on both of his flanks all simultaneously turned to look at him with puzzled, stressed, and aggravated faces. The last thing they needed was a population in complete panic. Some of the officials began speaking up, their hands quivering as they imagined Tokyo being besieged by the relentless clamoring of scared and angry citizens.

“Prime minister... I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“With all due respect, I believe we should be avoiding a general panic.”

Takamori leaned forward, his visibly tired eyes seemingly burning with impatience.

“With a situation on this unprecedented scale, it is a herculean, perhaps even impossible, task to try and prevent general panic from breaking out. There is no hope in covering up the new horizon nor the new sky, for we are not gods. The people have to know that we are taking this seriously!”

While they agreed with the prime minister’s points, the officials leaned on caution, disagreeing with Takamori’s hastiness. What if the situation were to reverse and everything goes back to normal?

“I agree, but prime minister, we currently don’t have much to go around regarding what has happened. We need more information before doing something so drastic.”

Takamori looked down as he digested the official’s statement. For a few seconds, he caressed the aged wrinkles along his jawline, groaning for every moment he spent begrudgingly accepting the cards they'd been dealt.

“Fine. But then that goes with the survey of our nearby surroundings. We must find definitive proof to confirm what we’ve been fearing.”

He then turned his steely gaze towards the head of the JMA, who subconsciously twitched when their eyes met.

“Continue with your data gathering. We must know by 9 AM!”

Yes, he replied in a speedy reply, followed by a deep bow that almost saw his forehead colliding with the white, hard surface of the table. Takamori then turned his gaze to the faces on his left, his eyes singling out the contour of a woman among the row of men.

“Minister Okada!”

The black-haired, mid-40s woman straightened her back at the prime minister’s barking of her name. As the Minister of Defense, she needed to present a stern personality that reflects the nature of her work.

“Yes, prime minister?”

“Are our patrol assets ready for departure?”

Maintaining the same poker face in front of the intimidating tone of Takamori, she responded with equal flatness.

“As always, prime minister.”

“Good, they will need to be dispatched for reconnaissance. We can discuss the particulars later.”

The meeting continued as the ministers and agency heads began pitching action plans on what they will do next regarding their unexpected circumstances.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 8:15

To their surprise, slivers of light began leaking out of the much farther horizon to the east, as a familiar, comfortable warmth radiated from the bright luminescent mass that slowly rose above the oceans. Wherever they now were in the universe, a similar star to their sun also rose from the east, a comforting fact of life to the people of the land of the rising sun.

As a new day dawned on their pressing predicament, a white man, a foreigner to the Japanese, bided his time waiting in one of the conference rooms in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His Caucasian skin complemented his natural light gray irises and striking blonde hair, the stereotypical Westerner. However, just like his Japanese counterparts, his face was riddled with anxiety and unease, and the ceaseless tapping of his fingers on the wooden table reflected not only his impatience but also his mild temper. The horizontal tricolor flag of white, azure, and scarlet pinned on his lapel highlighted the nation he represented.

At long last, the monochromatic door to the conference room opened, and in came two Japanese Foreign Affairs representatives in suits as sharp as his. Standing up from his seat to welcome them, his tall stature towering over his Asian counterparts allowed him to look down on them as they shook hands physically. However, if reality is indeed how it currently is, the only position from which he could look down on his Japanese counterparts was his height, for the Russian position was anything but strong.

Sitting down opposite him, one of the Japanese men opened the conversation in English.

“First of all, on behalf of the government of Japan, I would like to apologize for our aircraft’s accidental intrusion into your airspace.”

He, along with his companion, lowered their heads in apology.

“I will acknowledge, but in turn, allow me to offer an apology on behalf of the Russian government for the incident in Iturup. It was a regrettable mistake on our part.”

The Russian man, too, lowered his head in a show of remorse. Knowing that their position was that of a precarious one, incidents that have a possibility of escalating diplomatic tensions were an unwelcome and frustrating prospect. He also knew that he had to assume that his Japanese counterparts knew this.

After the Russian man apologized, the Japanese then raised their heads, their facial expressions showing diplomatic warmth and hospitality.

“We will accept your apology. Now, may we inquire regarding your concern, Ambassador Voronin?”

Vyacheslav Voronin, Ambassador of Russia to Japan, decided on being straightforward with his concerns.

“As you may know by now, my embassy could no longer contact any of our diplomatic missions abroad, including the government in Moscow. We’ve also received complaints from some Russian citizens that they could no longer contact their families back home. Only those in Iturúp and Kunashír remain, who then have told us that they’ve only been able to confirm that Khabomai and Shikotan are still accounted for. May I inquire as to what the Japanese government knows regarding these anomalous circumstances?”

As the other Japanese man finished writing down what Voronin said, the other looked at him with a now neutral expression before replying.

“Unfortunately, the Japanese government is yet to issue any official statements regarding this pressing predicament, but what we are permitted to share with our foreign counterparts is that we too could not contact any of our diplomatic missions abroad. Rest assured, we are currently working on shedding light on the mysteries surrounding this anomaly.”

A slight pout surfaced on Voronin’s face as his eyes darted towards the table, having expected nothing less from what he got.

“Alright. I really hope this situation ends.”

He then slowly swiveled the chair to the left, turning his face and eyes directly to the receiving end of the sunlight emerging from beyond the blinders. Even from the narrow slits, he could notice that the horizon was much farther away than he was used to.

“If God is indeed merciful...”

Voronin said, still staring at the horizon. The Japanese Foreign Affairs representative shook off his own diplomatic facade, revealing stressed wrinkles all over his face as he sighed.

“We will need all the divine help we can get...”

In a different room, that same time

“We are telling you that we are hiding nothing. We are still trying to find out on our end what’s going on.”

In another meeting room elsewhere, a less diplomatic exchange was taking place. Two Japanese Foreign Affairs representatives were in hot seats as the other side stood tall with their remarks. Their words were backed by firepower that more than equals Japan’s own arsenal. One of the men on the other side, wearing a sharp military uniform with an intimidating show of three shining stars on his collar, continued pressing for answers from the Japanese representatives.

“This is an emergency that facilitates a necessity for cooperation between our nations. I believe that–”

Cutting his remarks off was the sound of the door opening and swinging. The people present in the room turned their attention to the door, where an Asian man in a suit stood. Seeing who it was, the Japanese representatives immediately rose from their chairs and bowed to the man.

“Minister Agano!”

The Caucasian row of faces on the other side of the table followed, standing up as they maintained their attention on Agano Kenzo, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Agano briefly turned to his subordinates before facing the other party.

“I’ll handle this.”

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Bowing for a second time, the two Japanese representatives then proceeded to quickly make themselves scarce. Minister Agano then walked up to the table, extending his right hand in greeting to the man in the center, the only one that was not in a military uniform.

“Ambassador Woods.”

Ambassador Francis Woods, the highest diplomatic representative of the United States to Japan, returned the gesture by extending his own right hand and shaking Agano’s.

“Minister.”

Agano then shook the hands of the military men flanking Ambassador Woods before all of them took their seats on opposite sides of the table. The brown-haired man with the sharpest look, Lt. General Kenneth Houston, continued from where he left off.

“As I was saying, I believe that there should be greater cooperation between our nations in this time of... ridiculous uncertainty.”

Despite his calm look, Agano could feel the distrust and pressure emanating from the Lt. General’s demeanor. What was supposed to be a respectable suggestion for mutual, beneficial teamwork sounded more like a demand for more information, pressed out of a man who’s aware that they were currently not in their best position. Agano subtly darted his eyes, scanning the faces of his American counterparts for the same message. As it stands, if Prime Minister Takamori were to be correct in his supposition that Japan had indeed found itself at the other end of the isekai stick, then the United States Armed Forces assets and personnel on their soil would be a massive problem for both sides. Seeing the faces of Woods and the other military officers, their serious glares signaled to Agano that they knew this fact.

“I believe we are currently doing that, Lt. General. Japan is currently sharing what it knows with the United States, and as disappointing as it may be, what we gave you is all we know.”

The American side let out a collective sigh in dismay, burdened by the possibility that this was the reality that they were going to face. Ambassador Woods recovered first, reclining slightly backward as he slowly started to accept their unsavory fate.

“If that’s that, then I guess we’ll have to keep our channels open for developments. If the situation does not improve, then we’ll have to discuss the major serious issues, preferably within the day.”

Woods looked down as he scratched the back of his head, mirroring the downward glances of the senior military officials next to him. Just before they could disperse, the door to the room once again opened, and in came a Japanese woman in office dress.

“Minister Agano, the mission we sent northeast is about to make contact with one of the suspected civilizations.”

Somewhere northwest of Tsushima, 8:25

It was already well into the day, and the alien sun had already risen far above the longer horizon. A blue sky spanned the entirety of half of the visual hemisphere, with a vast ocean of deep azure occupying the latter half, its white, billowing waves rolled as it submitted to the weak disturbances in the wind. The alien world that Japan had found itself was not so alien from Earth. However, the strikingly white, metallic vessel plowing through the serene waters of the unknown ocean was by contrast exotic to this world. On either side of the sailless vessel was an inscription written in the unfamiliar script of the Latin alphabet: “Japan Coast Guard.”

“Dammit... We’re still not back.”

Standing on the deck next to the railings of the patrol vessel Yashima, diplomat Tanaka Noboru exhaled a hearty sigh. Despite it being an alien world, he could still breathe fine, and preliminary tests from laboratories even tell them that there was nothing harmful in the air. He wondered if this was really just an unrealistic copy of their Earth, rather than a unique world that was different from their expectations. To Tanaka, one fact supported this assumption.

“An Edo Japan look-alike... What in the goddamn hell is this world even?”

He looked off far to the northwest where their ship was headed, squinting his eyes as the blue light from the sky overwhelmed his pupils.

His thoughts returned to a few hours ago when he and some Foreign Affairs lackeys were hastily chosen to represent Japan on a diplomatic mission to make first contact with a civilization inhabiting a landmass several hundred kilometers northwest of the island of Tsushima. According to photographs taken by the Maritime Self Defense Force’s patrol planes, there were towns and cities on the landmass, but they were all surprised when the pictures depicted a mishmash of architecture reminiscent of the late Edo to the early Meiji. After the crew had reported that what populated these settlements were humans, or at least very close to what homo sapiens individuals look like, the government had decided to make contact with them. With them betting on the hope that the coincidence of their Japan-like appearance also applies to the spoken language, Tanaka felt that this was a hopeless shot in the dark.

“This better fucking work...”

“Swearing is not diplomatic, Tanaka-san.”

His aide approached him, chiding him for his foul mouth. Then, he revealed to him why he had approached him.

“The Coast Guard personnel told us that we should be seeing them soon.”

Hearing this, Tanaka turned his attention back to the northwestern horizon, scanning for abnormalities standing out from the blurry outline of the point where the sea meets the sky. Scrutinizing every point his eyes could make out, Tanaka eventually caught sight of an emerging difference. Not long after, the simple silhouette turned into one with color and shape, that of half-furled sails flying on the masts of a wooden ship. As soon as the figure of its bow could be discerned, he saw that it was facing away from them. At this point, the people on board the sailship could also see them.

With the prospect of contact with an unknown, alien civilization close at hand, Tanaka’s hands started to quiver.

“Let’s get their attention, just in case they haven’t noticed us yet.”

Tanaka then turned towards the bridge, where he met the gaze of the ship’s captain. After giving him a simple nod and his resolute stare, the ship’s captain returned the nod before turning to one of his crew.

“Get on the blinker!”

One of the Coast Guard personnel ran up to the Yashima’s blinker, turning its powerful light on before pointing its flashing end towards the direction of the sailship. The personnel then began flashing a series of long and short blinks, repeatedly transmitting a message in Morse code to an alien sailship whose sailors probably won’t understand it. In any case, the flashing of lights wasn’t meant to send a message, but rather to try and get their attention with it.

The Yashima patrol vessel continued to advance in speed as its crew continued to send gibberish signals through its blinker. Tanaka, his aide, and the other personnel on the bridge continued to monitor the sailship’s reactions through their own binoculars. Trying his best to maintain his stable posture to keep the binoculars thoroughly pointed towards the sailship, Tanaka was about to give in from the strain when he noticed the ant-like silhouettes of the ship’s crew moving about as the ship’s sails unfurled even more. Before long, the ship’s hull begins to swivel, its illustrious, painted bow slowly turning to face their direction.

“Looks like they’ve noticed us.”

Tanaka remarked as he lowered the binoculars to look at the now smaller sailship off in the distance.

He examined the approaching antiquated vessel; the rapidity of its growth likely owes more to the speed of their ship than that of the sailship. He and many of his fellow Earthlings were not expecting a relic from the late age of sail to be their first contact with an alien civilization, which from years of media exposure molded their expectations to that of shiny, bewildering, flying saucers baffling their sense of how things work. In a lame, unfunny, yet unique twist found only in writing and such, it’s likely that these alien people will be the ones gawking at their shiny, bewildering, Coast Guard vessel that baffles their sense of how things work. It does make sense, for in their eyes, they were the aliens.

The Yashima slowed down to a crawl as the distance between the two vessels crept within single-digit kilometers of each other. From where Tanaka stood, he could already make out the figures of the alien people with his own, naked eyes–and they could not be any less otherworldly. They had fairly sunkissed skin underneath their various ragged covering and clothing, and they didn’t seem to possess any features they would not expect from a human. As the two vessels inched closer to each other, he could now make out their faces: shocked, confused, gawking, and above all, suspicious. Many of those on the sail ship's deck rushed to the bow section, crowding at the edge to get a closer look at their beautiful, white ship angelically standing out from the eternal blue.

He found comfort that even if they were from different worlds, their facial expressions and mannerisms were still intelligible.

If only their spoken tongue were the same.

At around a kilometer from each other, the sailing ship began to turn, swinging its bow slightly to starboard. Mirroring the gesture, the Yashima’s crew had its pivot to the starboard. Many more sailors lumped onto the port side of the bow, pointing their fingers and squinting their now visible eyes at the Japanese vessel. Tanaka knew that he needed to make contact but was wary of the possible hostile intentions of the alien people. With what little information and time they had, it was basically a gamble, and at stake was the entire nation of Japan. Cursing his luck that he had to be the one to cast their lot, Tanaka then proceeded to get their attention.

Standing at the edge of the railings on the port side of the bow section, he waved his arms as high and as obvious as he could, trying to make himself be noticed.

“Oi!!!”

Tanaka shouted.

His gamble showed results almost immediately. Those on the sailing ship reacted to his gesture, and after some moments of confusion looking at each other, they started waving back to Tanaka.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe we’re waving hellos to literal aliens.”

His aide snickered from behind him.

Tanaka then changed his gestures, shifting his arms forward to repeatedly curl them backward, signaling to beckon the sailing ship to come closer. The sailors responded by copying his gesture while some ran to the ship’s rigging to unfurl back the sails. Satisfied with this response, he turned back to the bridge and shouted to the captain.

“Can you get us closer?”

A response came in the sense of inertia as the ship began to accelerate.

The two seagoing vessels, bringing with them representatives of beings from different worlds, crept closer and closer. After several minutes of eyeing each other from their respective ships, they were finally virtually next to each other, lined up in parallel. The people on the two ships looked at each other, eyeing the others’ seemingly irreconcilable peculiarities and differences, but also noticing the strange familiarity between themselves. At long last, both of them could see each other for what they were: humans with emotions and assumptions. Despite the extreme difference in their vessels and apparel, they still saw familiar faces of anxiety, suspicion, hesitation, and curiosity in each other.

Being a diplomat, it was Tanaka’s duty to bridge together both of their peoples and their worlds. Their material, tangible vessels had given them the ability to get close to one another, their human curiosity fueling the drive to make it possible. Their part in this scene was over, and now the one that will permanently connect the two worlds, our main star, was about to emerge. Tanaka knew that his role had come, and his words shall be the ones to cement this moment in history.

But then, the world threw him a ball he could never have caught.

“Vessel of unknown origin! Identify yourselves, where you come from, and your destination! This is just a routine inspection to combat illicit piratical acts!”

A burly man standing on the deck of the sailing ship shouted in a gibberish language. Barring the yell, the man’s physique, still visibly well-built underneath the dark blue, gaudy overcoat he wore, allowed him to stand out from the rest of the sailors. His unintelligible words lingered in the Japanese’s minds, just as much as his intimidating, sun kissed face gave them feelings of caution.

“Fuck...”

Tanaka murmured to his aide, his head lowered in shattered expectations. Alien communication, even with familiar faces, is just as difficult as they expected.

Standing behind his aide were several middle-aged men in varied civilian clothing as if they’ve come to enjoy the hot sunlight shining down on them. Tanaka looked up and eyed them, recognizing that they were already hard at thought processing something.

“Thank you for coming with us, professors. Did what they say make any sense?”

“Our pleasure to be here, but I’m afraid we’re all at a loss on what language they’re speaking. The most we can infer is that they appear to be issuing some sort of command.”

Tanaka scratched the back of his head before turning back to the array of now-suspicious faces looking at him from the other vessel. Now that they were this close, he was able to spot multiple black cylindrical objects arrayed around the deck. All logic pointed to the conclusion that these were cannons, the old muzzle-loading kind, their hollow bores bared directly against the belly of the Yashima. The stakes couldn’t be any higher, for now, they know with a high degree of confidence that the other party was armed.

Unfortunately for Tanaka and his fellows, they did not know what sort of command was issued to them, let alone whether or not they should follow it. He did not have many options, but just like his lackluster breakfast earlier this morning, none of the alternatives were easy to swallow. Seeing the impatience in full display on the sailors’ faces, Tanaka swiftly settled on his native tongue to speak to them, probably as a personal gesture of honesty, which he hoped the other party might realize.

“Good morning, gentlemen! I’m afraid we can’t understand what you’re saying, for we ourselves are not from these parts!”

Tanaka yelled, primarily because of the still spacious distance in between them.

His reply earned unexpected results. The sailors looked at one another, talking amongst themselves in hushed chatter soft enough to be concealed underneath the sloshing of ocean waves. Their reaction was baffling; Tanaka felt it within him that it was a different kind of confusion. Unfortunately for him and his companions, the behaviors of their counterparts yielded no more clues for what was going to happen next.

Then, the burly sailor from a while ago yelled again, still wearing his intimidating disposition.

“How is it that you can speak the mother tongue, foreigners? Identify yourselves this instant!”

Wait, what the fuck?!

While the sailor’s yell was still being processed in their heads, their reflexive eureka moment joy had the Japanese looking at one another. Tanaka’s baffled yet overjoyed eyes met with those from the professors and his aides. For a good second, they stood there in silence, perfectly aware of what had happened yet finding it difficult to believe. One of the professors was the first to break the staring contest.

“That was without a doubt Japanese. It had imperfections, variations, and some influences from the language they used a while ago, but it was intelligibly Japanese!”

The other professor added his own remarks.

“It’s very old modern Japanese. I advise you to use very formal speech and minimize Western loanwords.”

With that in mind, Tanaka turned back, facing the path ahead that now seemed clearer than ever. Accepting his role in how this story unfolds, he spoke up.

“Our sincerest apologies, gentlemen! We know not of the mother tongue you speak of, but allow me to say that I am speaking in my native tongue. We have come from the country of Japan. May we inquire regarding the banner under which you identify yourself with?”

The burly sailor then cackled, his deep, hearty laugh echoing unobstructed throughout the open ocean. The Japanese were confused by this response, but before they could begin pondering on what to make of it, the sailor spoke once more.

“Japan”? I’ve never heard of such a country, although if anything, it sounds an awful lot like a certain mythical place. Whatever! You men have found yourselves near the waters of the proud Kingdom of Fenn! State your business and destination so that we might send you on your way!”

Finally, they had a name: the kingdom of Fenn. Judging from how well armed they were and how they aired their disposition, Tanaka and his aides concluded amongst themselves that they were working for the Fennese state. Additionally, they didn’t seem to be tense and hostile either. After some internal deliberation on whether to maintain his honesty, Tanaka chose to be frank.

“Our destination is your kingdom, my good sir! I am an official diplomatic representative of my nation, and we would like to reach out, in good faith, to the kingdom of Fenn.”

“An envoy, huh? That can be arranged. We just need to confirm some things before we could allow you to enter our waters further.”

“My sincerest thanks, good sir!”

Tanaka then turned to his aide, his facial muscles tense and its creases rife with sweat. Then, a huge puff of air exited his mouth, followed by an exasperated sigh. The others with him joined his concert as their gamble, at long last, paid off.

The long road to keeping Japan afloat has only just begun.

Far north of Myhark, 7:40

“Keep following the trail, men!”

Midori yelled, reiterating the command he had given them a while back. Standing on the deck of the carrack he’s been given command of, he strokes his thick, blonde beard, keeping it still against the occasional breeze. Above his and his men’s heads were the carrack’s sails, its canvas painted a calm green with the traditional motif for the goddess Astarte imposed over it, identifying them as a naval vessel of Qua-Toyne’s maritime forces.

They haven’t been issued any special orders, having the only ship been deployed as part of some mundane, routine patrol. However, the urgency in their actions and expressions begged to differ. Midori looked up, his line of sight veering past the rigging of his carrack and higher towards the bright, blue sky. There, in between the occasional lone puff of water vapor, were a pair of unnaturally straight, white lines drawn across the heavens. The Qua-Toynian carrack, steered by its crew, made itself parallel to the lines drawn above.

As for why they were following these lines, Midori himself was conflicted.

He remembers what they were doing about half an hour ago.

Half an hour ago, they were on patrol some several dozen leagues north of the city of Myhark. His men were mostly lax in their duties, as there was little traffic to expect towards the far north, for most of them would be following the coastline of the Philades continent to the north to make the crossing to Rodenius near Altaras. For some time now, the Lourians have been beating the drums of war next door, but if they were to expect an attack from the sea, it would be limited to the coast. In essence, the only things they’d anticipate to find in such a remote area are unruly sea creatures and the occasional brave sailors who’d hunt them down for a living.

Half an hour ago, he too was just lazing about, standing watch over some of his men playing a card game they had learned from the traders back in Myhark. His first mate was about to nail the game and probably win the other guy’s share of rum for the week when he heard a buzzing sound.

It was akin to that of an insect flying next to his ear, but it was far louder. He looked around and saw the equally perplexed faces of his men. Before long, the buzzing had gotten so loud that it sounded as if it were approaching them. He and his men subconsciously turned their heads up, and before they knew it, a strange white bird had zoomed past the towering masts of their carrack.

Its appearance startled them, but it was so fast that it only revealed itself for a moment before disappearing behind the sails of their ship. Midori and his men ran through the deck towards the direction it flew, arriving at one end of their ship. There, they saw it rapidly shrinking into the sky, its unnatural, unwavering wings getting shorter by the moment. The buzzing followed suit, its volume no longer as ear-piercing as before.

Besides its exotic appearance, which defied their internal images of flying objects such as wyverns and birds, it left behind two trails of white behind its wings, leaving them to linger in the sky above them. However, Midori and his crew had similar hunches. They felt that what they had just seen was no ordinary large bird. Its incessant buzzing still rang in their heads, even though it had already disappeared from view. It gave them a sense of terror and confusion, born from the difficulty of not knowing what they were dealing with.

While Midori had wanted to dismiss it as some apparition, the fact that everyone else saw it gave credence to its reality. However, what really convinced him to take it seriously was the direction from where it appeared. Following the trail, their navigator had deduced that it had come from the south, with a high possibility that it had come from the vicinity of Myhark itself.

He remembers the sweat pouring down his back, soaking everything, down to the top of his undergarments. If the unknown bird had come from Myhark, something dire must have happened there, probably necessitating their presence. However, with the nature of their patrols, they were the only ones in that patch of ocean, so it was likely that they were the only ones that had seen where it was going.

Before anything else, he had his communications officer inquire the status of the city through the manacomms, before transmitting a report of what they had seen back to their headquarters in Myhark arsenal.

Then, he was faced with a dilemma: do they return to Myhark with the assumption that they needed help, or do they follow the bird?

He then opened his eyes, his choice from half an hour ago still bearing no fruit. They were following the trail left behind by the bird, but it appeared that it was slowly dissipating away. If they were to be ordered to turn back, they’d probably lose track of the bird completely.

Then...

“Captain!”

The hoarse voice of his communications officer perturbed the soundless atmosphere. Midori turned to see him and went straight to the point.

“What did they say?”

“The bird did fly over the city, but it did not do anything and just left. They’ve reported the incident to the capital and are following up on orders, but they’ve told us that we should continue following it and ascertain its origin.”

A grin subconsciously appeared on Midori’s face as he felt relieved by his decision’s outcome. The fact that nothing had happened to Myhark also took some weight off his chest, and he sighed deeply before turning to face north–where the bird had disappeared off to.

“Now, what insidious tree has this bird made its nest upon?”

Hot on the trail of the mysterious avian that grazed them and Myhark’s skies, the Qua-Toynian carrack continued on its pursuit.