CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Magic on Earth
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Hajime’s eyes flew open.
“I-I’m back,” he gasped.
His head hurt as if ants were crawling around in his brain. It was a pain that vanished in the seconds it took him to sit up. Or so he thought. A second later, Hajime was climbing out of bed so he could puke his guts out on the nearby trash bin. It would be a while before he would rise from the floor.
“But…was it real?”
In the cold light of day, Hajime couldn’t help but doubt it just a little. The fact that his spirit had been summoned to another world while his body slept.
“It couldn’t have been a dream…”
From the sound of his captors’ voices, the taste of elderberry tea on his tongue, or the stench of a beast’s carcass on his nose—such details from his dream were too vivid for his imagination to have conjured them up on its own.
“Arienai…my imagination’s good, but it’s not that good…”
Butterflies danced in Hajime’s stomach.
“It wasn’t a dream… It happened…”
Elation blossomed in his chest.
“Meaning…”
While wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth with his shirt, Hajime strode over to the glass door at the other end of his bedroom. He pushed it open and walked out onto his apartment’s balcony with its view of Central Park from across the street.
Then, with the breeze on his face and joy in his heart, Hajime pumped his fists into the air.
“Yatta!”
He basked in the glory of his revelation while the late afternoon sun shone down on him.
“I’m a chosen one!”
“Good for you!” yelled one of Hajime’s older neighbors who was out on the balcony to the left of his. “Now, shut up, asshole! I’m trying to read here!”
With cheeks turning the color of apples, Hajime bowed hurriedly.
“Sumimasen, Kent-san.”
Hajime dove for the safety of his apartment. He shut the door and then leaned against its glass. Then he laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt, and then he laughed some more. When he was done with his fit of hysterics, resolve flashed on Hajime’s face.
“I’ll resign today.”
An hour later, the chiming of the elevator doors woke Hajime from his musing.
He’d been thinking about the contract he’d signed with the Aarders—the name he’d given the otherworlders—and was wondering how they could improve on it so that the experience for other Earthers wouldn’t feel as strange as what he’d gone through. The thought of the small meat doll that had morphed into a toy doll version of him after he’d given it a drop of his blood still caused shivers to climb up Hajime’s spine hours after Rowan had conjured it out of the remains of the carcass of the monster whose blood had given Hajime form.
“Maybe we can make the summoning chamber look like airport immigration.” Hajime knew this was a silly idea while he said it. “Airport immigration is scary too…especially American airports.”
The elevator doors opened to a pristine white space that was once the setting for Hajime’s worst nightmares. Today though, the sight of the studio’s lobby no longer filled him with paralyzing fear.
“You’re late,” said a familiar voice that tickled Hajime’s ears to hear.
A blonde woman with almond-shaped hazel eyes slid into view in front of the elevator. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Sliding over to stand beside Bridget while looking tired as ever was Hajime’s boss.
A bittersweet smile flashed on Hajime’s face. “Bridget-san, Chris-senpai…”
One of Bridget’s long eyebrows arched upward, and as realization dawned on her, she gave Hajime a smile that could light up a room.
“Shit, you’re finally doing it,” she guessed.
Hajime nodded.
After he stepped out of the elevator, Hajime took out the crumpled white envelope from his jacket pocket and offered it to Chris with a bow.
Chris let out a heavy sigh. “Darn it, not you too…”
“Eh?” Hajime glanced up.
To his surprise, both Chris and Bridget were grinning conspiratorially at him.
“I guess great minds do think alike,” Bridget said, laughing afterward.
From her jeans pocket, she produced a folded white envelope.
“Ee~~eh!” Hajime stepped back. “You also, Bridget-san?”
“Not just me.” Bridget cocked her head to the side. “Chris is gone too.”
Again, Chris let out a heavy sigh. Then he too produced a white envelope from his jacket pocket.
“The studio’s big three quitting on the same day…” Chris shook his head. Though his tired face cracked into a grin when he added, “I reckon we’ll all be unemployed together.”
“No, we won’t…” It took him a few seconds, but Hajime’s brain eventually accepted this strange coincidence as good fortune, and he couldn’t help grinning now too. “We’re the chosen ones!”
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Neither Chris nor Bridget understood what Hajime meant, but they’d listened to his suggestion that the three of them gather at his apartment later for what Hajime called the most out-of-this-world business proposal either of them would ever hear.
So, on a night that was like any other for most of New York City, three mortals would attempt something that hadn’t been attempted on Earth since the ancient days when the old gods walked the world. Interestingly, two of these three participants had no clue what they were about to do.
“Y’all forget to pay your electricity bill?” Chris asked.
The tall, fair-skinned, but gaunt-faced former executive producer of a triple-A gaming studio arrived at Hajime’s apartment with a bottle of expensive whiskey in hand.
“No, I always pay on time,” Hajime said as he received the bottle from his former boss.
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Bewilderment flashed on Chris’ face. “So, what’s with all the candles…?”
Hajime watched Chris’ confusion grow as his gaze swept the living room. To be fair, the sight of so many lit candles scattered on the floor was a strange thing to behold in these modern times.
“I asked him the same thing when I got here,” Bridget answered casually.
She lounged on Hajime’s white couch while sipping on her glass of wine like a cat that had made itself at home.
Seeing her looking so relaxed caused Hajime to blush, though it didn’t look like either Bridget or Chris noticed. They seemed too preoccupied by Hajime’s choice of mood lighting.
“What’d he say?” Chris asked.
“He said—”
“—I said it was a surprise!” Hajime cut in, adding, “Chotto matte, my presentation’s almost ready.”
One of Chris’ bushy eyebrows hitched up. “Presentation?”
“I’m guessing all this”—Bridget waved at the candles—“is meant to set the mood for Hajime’s big reveal.”
“You were serious about pitching us?” Chris asked.
“Hai,” Hajime answered distractedly.
He was busy pouring wine into an empty glass.
Chris’ face fell a little. It did seem like he wasn’t interested in talking about new work. Of course, Hajime understood. Any other time, he would’ve joined Chris in drowning their sorrows and frustrations in alcohol while cursing the greedy bastards who’d turned their beloved gaming studio into the sellout it became. However, this night was meant for stranger things, and the Aarders were waiting for new sacrifices…
Hajime shook his head.
Not sacrifices, he thought.
Those were Rowan’s words. Bram’s name for them sounded more pleasant.
Collaborators.
Hajime offered Chris a glass of wine.
The gaunt-faced man shook his head. “I’m gonna need something harder.”
“Iie,” Hajime insisted, pushing the wine glass into Chris’ hands, “we’ll drink whiskey later. Trust me. We’ll need something strong for after.”
One of Chris’ bushy eyebrows hitched up. “After?”
“Just roll with it, Chris,” Bridget said, taking another sip of her wine.
“Ah, fuck it. Why the hell not.” Chris placed the glass to his lips so that it brushed against his mustache. He didn’t drink it right away though, instead asking, “Y’all didn’t put anything in this drink, did you?”
Since he meant it in jest, Chris didn’t notice Hajime’s smile falter. No, Hajime didn’t put anything in Chris’ drink, but that didn’t mean things weren’t about to get weird.
“I-Iie, Chris-senpai,” Hajime chuckled nervously. “It’s not like I’m planning to murder you or anything…”
A second of nervous silence filled the living room—and then all three of them laughed. After all, it was inconceivable that loyal, straight-laced, hardworking Hajime could ever do anything weird to his two friends.
Chris downed half his glass of wine in one gulp. Then, with a mustachioed grin at Hajime, he said, “Well, it’s your show, Romeo.”
“One more minute,” Hajime promised. Then added, “More wine?”
Chris shrugged. “Sure.”
After Hajime refilled his glass, Chris tiptoed past lit candles that leaked beads of wax onto the hardwood floor and made his way over to the couch. Once there, he gently pushed Bridget’s feet out of the way so that he could sit next to her.
That’s when he leaned toward her and asked, “He’s not gonna kill us, is he?”
“I don’t think so, but who knows,” Bridget replied, adding, “We’re all a little crazy from working at Biosoft for so long.”
Chris clinked his glass against Bridget’s glass. “Touché.”
“I can hear you,” Hajime cut in.
He lit one last candle. It was thick, black, and sweating beads of wax just like its brethren lined up around it.
“Yoshi.”
Finished with his prep, Hajime stood up to admire his work.
The candles on the floor formed an intricate pattern; a spiral that looped inward. This seemed like nothing special to Bridget’s and Chris’ eyes, but Hajime had actually recreated the round depression at the heart of the summoning chamber inside the cursed cave…with one alteration. There was no round crevice in the center of his living room. In its place was a wooden board that boasted a symbol Hajime had once seen floating in the air between him, Rowan, and Bram.
“What’s the triskelion for?” Chris asked.
Hajime had indeed carved a triskelion onto a thick wooden board he’d placed in the very middle of the spiral of candles.
“It’s meant to establish a connection,” he replied distractedly.
From how Rowan had explained it to him the night before, the triskelion board was the ‘focus’ meant to establish a connection between the two worlds. If he’d made it in the right proportions she’d detailed, then it would act like a comms buoy that should help Rowan’s sorcery find the object he planned to send over to Aarde.
It was the first of several experiments the trio had planned to discover if trade was possible between the two worlds. For, as Hajime had explained it to the Aarders, “Turning success on Aarde into tangible rewards on Earth is the best way to hook people who don’t normally play video games but have the skills we’ll need to help grow your kingdom.”
“‘Tis worth testing,” Rowan had agreed.
Hajime couldn’t admit any of this to his friends though. At least not yet.
“A connection with what…?” Bridget asked.
Hajime glanced up.
Both his friends were looking back at him with worried faces.
“Hajime,” Bridget’s brow creased, “what’s going on?”
“Something I can’t explain with words… I need to show it to you,” he admitted.
Hajime observed his two friends glancing at each other and wondered what he would do if they decided to leave.
Chris was looking gaunt from stress with work, but he was still a big guy with shoulders nearly as wide as the Aarder prince. He had short-cropped sandy hair and a horseshoe mustache to go with the deep blue eyes of the Texan he was. Sure, Hajime may have a samurai’s spirit, but he was no match against a real-life cowboy in fisticuffs. Not that it would get to that point.
As for Bridget, Hajime had been crushing on the attractive blonde writer since their first week working together more than half a decade ago. There was no way he could hurt her.
“Please, just trust me,” Hajime said as earnestly as he could. “I promise this will be worth it.”
Bridget and Chris glanced skeptically at each other, but eventually, they leaned back against the couch.
“Alright, Bud.” Chris sipped on his wine. “Let’s hear the pitch.”
“But nothing too weird okay?” Bridget insisted.
Hajime smiled but said nothing. There was no way he could promise that. Instead, he walked over to the kitchen to pluck two things lying on the tabletop counter; a can of soda and a bowl filled with red liquid. He then brought these items back to the circle of lit candles and placed the soda can on top of the triskelion he’d carved on his wooden board.
Again, Chris and Bridget exchanged a look while Hajime looked at the smartwatch around his wrist.
“One minute to Eight PM,” he reported. “It’s almost time.”
Hajime poured the bowl’s contents into the grooves of the triskelion. Immediately, an iron scent filled the air.
“Holy shit,” Bridget breathed, “is that…blood?”
“I-It’s just pig’s blood,” Hajime promised.
“How’s that any better?” Chris replied.
The Texan stood up, his hackles clearly rising. However, before he could freak out about Hajime’s morbid show, something happened to keep harsh words from spilling out of his mouth.
‘Ping!’
The alert of Hajime’s smartwatch signaled the beginning of something otherworldly.
There were no glowing lines of blood or telltale sparks of sorcery to signal that the ritual was a success, and yet all three Earthers had their mouths agape.
“Sweet Christmas,” Chris whistled.
The can of soda on Hajime’s board was moving on its own as if something were rattling inside of it.
“See, I had to show you,” Hajime whispered, his anxiety over his friends’ skepticism diminishing slightly.
The can of soda rattled, paused, and then rattled some more as if it were a tin dancer playing to a beat only it could hear. Then, after a long dance sequence, it vanished—plucked out of Hajime’s apartment by an invisible hand.
‘Ba-dump.’
An eerie silence permeated the air.
‘Ba-dump.’
One by one, the candles winked out as if an ill wind was blowing across the living room. Soon, there were no lights left to keep the darkness at bay.
‘Ba-dump.’
“Yatta!” Despite the unnerving darkness, Hajime pumped his fists into the air. “We did it!”
“We?” Bridget repeated, to which Chris added, “What’d ‘we’ do exactly?”
“And turn on the goddamn light already,” Bridget complained.
“Ah, hai,” Hajime said, quickly rising to his feet.
He knew better than to let Bridget’s Irish temper flare up—he’d seen firsthand how badly her team members cried whenever she blasted them for missing deadlines—but he would quickly discover that he couldn’t do anything about her request. The lights wouldn’t turn on. Indeed, it seemed like every piece of technology in Hajime’s living room stopped working.
“Darn it, my phone’s dead too,” Chris reported.
Someone fumbled in the darkness. A second later, the thick blackout curtains covering the living room window were pulled aside. Moonlight filtered into Hajime’s apartment. Only, the moon seemed too bright for this part of the city, which was always lit with bright lights.
“Holy fuck, Hajime,” Bridget breathed.
She’d been the one to open the curtains, so she had the best view of the outside, including Central Park, which, like the entirety of the street below, was covered in darkness.
“Did you do this?” she asked.
“Um, I didn’t know this would happen,” Hajime replied lamely.
It was another New York City blackout, though not like the ones they were used to. There wasn’t a single honk of a car to be heard, though there were a lot of raised voices from below. It wasn’t just a few city blocks that had lost power either. From the view of their window, it seemed like all of Manhattan was silent.
“But what did you do?” Bridget pressed.
Hajime was so distracted by the view that he answered without thinking. “I sent soda to another world…”
Both Bridget’s and Chris’ gaze snapped sideways.
“What?!” Bridget asked incredulously—to which Chris added, “This is what you meant about us needing my whiskey later?”
Hajime nodded.
So, Chris obliged. With the help of the moonlight, he poured all three of them a drink, and only after they’d all downed their glasses did he say, “Alright, Bud, from the beginning…and don’t y’all leave any details out either.”
“Um, so…” Sighing heavily, as if to expel doubt from his body, Hajime asked, “Do either of you know what ‘isekai’ means…?”