2025-12-17 19:53:12Yukio had nothing to do but stare.
The boy before him was in no category his mind could comprehend. He looked maybe twelve or thirteen at the most, dressed like a boy who had raided a treasure chest for fun. A dented gold crown, flowing velvet clothes shimmering with threads of gold and silver, a necklace so big it would've been embarrassing for a rapper, and rings blazing on each finger.
And yet, here he was. Smiling like the punchline of a joke known only to him.
Michibiki, who had been so promptly flustered before, now bowed respectfully, her forehead close to the ground.
What's happening here? Yukio asked himself, uncertainty and distrust boiling like storm clouds in his mind. He glanced between Michibiki's hunched form and the boy, who floated about three inches off the ground as though gravity were nothing more than a recommendation.
"How do you know my name?"
Yukio finally asked, voice slicing with both confusion and wariness.
The smile on the boy's face widened, wider than was possible. He touched one finger to the horizon with a flourish, his crown bobbling in transit.
"Glad you asked!"
He announced, voice grandstanding, sing-songy, as though he'd been inhaling his breath the entire day in anticipation of this moment.
"I'm Fukui, the God of Fortune. Nice to meetcha!"
He outstretched a diminutive hand, holding the obvious expectation of a handshake to be offered by Yukio.
Yukio blinked. Blinked again. Then he made a slow step back, palms raised.
"Wait… you're saying you're a god?"
Fukui puffed out his chest, placing his fists on his hips with as much bravado as an Saturday morning cartoon character.
"Exactly! I'm the same god who washed you in all that good fortune tonight."
His voice dropped, ever so slightly, to something more contemplative.
"But, uh… your light had been brighter than I expected. And then, vanished. Flickered out."
Yukio remained silent in dumbfounded amazement. His incredulity wasn't even strong enough to be offended yet. He waved vaguely, words tumbling out fast and unbelieving.
"Then I get a fortune. Then I get hit by a truck. Then I wake up in heaven and I run into. what I imagine was a cosplayer. Now I'm being told the god of my good fortune is dressed as my little brother for Halloween. What is this, some kind of joke show from the cosmos?"
Michibiki gasped, her serene facade shattering into outrage.
"Dare you insult Lord Fukui? You don't even warrant!"
"Pfft, ha! HAHAHA!"
Fukui doubled up in the air, clutching his stomach, his laughter ringing out like a hundred bells.
"A cosplayer! Michibiki, a cosplayer!"
He wiped at an eye, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yukio, buddy, you're killing me!"
Michibiki's face flushed red with outrage as she stammered in protest.
"Lord Fukui, I…I…"
"It's fine, it's fine."
Fukui waved her off with a lazy sweep of his wrist, still grinning.
"Relax, Michibiki."
She re-wrapped herself, bowing again, dignity reconstructed in fragments.
"Excuse me, Lord Fukui. I lost my temper."
"Yeah, yeah, no biggie."
The boy flipped in mid air to look at Yukio again, the grin giving way to something more conspiratorial.
"Now… about you."
Yukio's eyebrow rose.
"About me?"
Fukui rubbed the back of his neck, no longer divine, all at once more like a teenager who'd smashed in a window with a baseball.
"So, uh… you recall that luck I gave you?"
"…Yes?"
Yukio delivered his words slowly, suspicion dripping from the word.
"Well, see."
Fukui scrunched up his face, his voice airy but culpable.
"I thought that because you hit it big at the casino, you no longer needed it. So I, uh… took it back."
".Took it back."
Yukio's voice was flat.
"Yeah. Except that I might have. accidentally stolen all your good fortune. Which, y'know, left you with nothing but bad fortune."
He shrugged self consciously, his smile re-emerging like this was no big deal.
"And, uh… and then you got hit by that truck. Sorry, buddy."
He'd spoken so casually, so cheerfully, it was almost hilarious. Almost.
Yukio's face froze, every muscle trembling. One unhinged guffaw ripped from his lips. Then another. Within moments, his shoulders were shaking, his laughter silent, jagged, teetering on the brink of madness and rage.
"Are you serious?"
His tone was low, growling, threatening.
Then the dam broke. He lunged, fury blazing in his eyes.
"YOU LITTLE PSYCHO!"
But before he could lay a hand on him, Michibiki's arm flicked out. A crystalline wall erupted between them, translucent and glowing. Yukio's fists slammed into it with a muffled thud, the impact reverberating painfully up his arms.
He pressed his forehead against the barrier, eyes burning holes through it. Through Fukui.
The boy didn't flinch. He simply let out a long, weary sigh, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
"I get it. You're mad. Totally understandable. But hey, look on the bright side."
Yukio's teeth ground together audibly.
"…What bright side?"
"At least your money wasn't wasted!"
Fukui pointed out cheerfully, wagging a finger.
"You transferred it all to your parents before the accident, right? So… silver lining!"
Yukio's fists pounded the barrier again. His voice was a low growl.
Fukui ignored the murderous glare and shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.
"Anyway, here's the deal. Instead of heaven, I've got another offer for you."
That made Yukio pause. His fury didn't vanish, but curiosity cracked through it.
"…Another offer?"
"Yep."
Fukui clapped his hands, floating closer.
"How about going to another world?"
The words hung in the void like a spark waiting to ignite.
"Another… world?"
Yukio repeated, tone flat.
Fukui's grin widened.
"Right! A whole different universe. One where things are a lot more exciting than, oh, say, spending all of eternity lounging in heaven. Think of it: fairy tale worlds, creatures that only exist in books, races, cultures, adventures! Doesn't that sound a whole lot better than floating around playing harps all day?"
Yukio's eyes had narrowed.
"What's the catch?"
Fukui cocked his head.
"Catch? Pfft. No catch! Well…"
His smile didn't falter, but his voice turned mock serious.
"Fine, fine, maybe a little one. Humans and demons have been at war for, oh... about 300 years. So if you want to leave, you'd be, y'know. starting life on the human side. Which is, uh, a bit unlucky for you."
"Sure,"
Yukio growled, rubbing his face with his hand.
"But hey!"
Fukui fell in mid-air, his crown slipping rakishly.
"No problem. If you take it, I'll give you a special gift. Something that'll give you a fighting chance to not only survive, but live. Because that's what I do. I'm the God of Fortune, remember?"
With a wave of his fingers, the barrier vanished, melting into thin air. Yukio stepped forward involuntarily, glowering up at the boy floating smugly above him.
"Just say the word, Yukio."
Fukui's grin was playful, almost daring.
"Put your faith in me, and I'll make it worth your while."
The challenge echoed in the empty expanse, heavy with promise and mischief.
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Chapter 12: Echoes of Home, A Final Embrace
The world went black.The last thing Yukio felt was the cool, gritty press of dirt against his cheek, the metallic tang of blood on his tongue, and that faint, stubborn thrum of triumph in his chest.He didn't lose. He didn't lose.That half delirious, half defiant thought alone held him fixed to existence till all was lost.---Then came silence. Not peaceful, but just absolute, so deep it seemed to swallow even the idea of sound. The dark bled into gray, then blossomed into blinding white.When Yukio opened his eyes, he was no longer on the battlefield. The fire, the blood, the pain. all gone.No ground, no sky, no smell.Just light. Suffocatingly endless light.He stood or so he thought, in a void so vast it hurt to look at: no up, no down, only weightless stillness.He raised a trembling hand to his chest.No pain, no scars, not even the faintest trace of fatigue.Whole again."…Did I die again?"He muttered; his voice was startlingly loud in the nothingness."Well, that's not fai
Chapter 11: After the Dust Settles
Smoke lay over the clearing like a wounded sky. The stench of charred wood, burned leather, and goblin blood saturated the clearing. Flames still gnawed at the shattered tents, but even their crackling seemed small against the sound rising from the trees.A roar.Low and deep, so deep that it crawled under Yukio's skin and set every muscle on edge.Then came the footsteps.Thud.The earth shuddered.Thud.Dust rained from the splintered beams around them.Yukio's heart climbed into his throat before he could stop it.Beside him, Michibiki was all focus, without a trace of her usual smug grin. She knelt and pressed her palms against his chest. A soft green glow flared between her fingers, seeping into his skin."Light of Nature: Heal,"She murmured.Warmth spread through his ribs, knitting bone and easing the ache that had crushed the air out of him minutes before. Each breath came more easily now, though it still burned. He blinked against the brightness, flexing his fingers as streng
Chapter 10: A Bloody Hand
The crude gate loomed ahead, casting jagged shadows that cut across the forest floor. Made of sharpened logs lashed together with crude rope, it was a monument to savagery, crowned with skulls mounted like trophies. Some were cracked, others half-rotted, their toothy grins mocking any who dared approach. The air here felt heavy, foul with the stench of rot and smoke.Two hobgoblins stood guard at the entrance. Each was a hulking slab of muscle and malice, taller than Yukio by a head. Sweat glistened across their leathery green skin, tusks jutting from snarling mouths. Their massive axes leaned against the gate, but even in their lax stances, they radiated the promise of violence.Michibiki crouched low behind a tree trunk, her silver hair catching stray streaks of sunlight as her keen eyes studied the enemy. Her calm presence only made the atmosphere feel more oppressive; where Yukio's heartbeat thundered in his ears, her breathing remained slow, even, controlled."We need to find a w
Chapter 9: All-In, A High-Roller's Bet
The morning sunlight spilled into the room of the Gilded Griffon Inn like liquid gold, turning the simple wooden walls into something warm and alive. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of light, and the chorus of sparrows outside created a melody that pulled Yukio slowly from the depths of sleep.At first, there was nothing. He stared at the ceiling beams: the kind of rustic, hand-hewn woodwork that he had previously seen only in fantasy video games. Then the memories of the previous day returned-the hunt, the goblins, the single shared bed. A grin tugged at his lips.He stretched. Or tried to. Something heavy pinned him down.Yukio blinked as he tilted his head. His heart skipped a beat.Michibiki was asleep on his chest.Her silver-white hair cascaded over him like a silken curtain, shimmering faintly in the sunlight. She breathed evenly, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his tunic, the faint warmth of her body bleeding into him. Her slender hand clutched his shirt tightl
Chapter 8: The Unstable Hand
The air was heavy with an acidic stench that made Yukio's throat burn with every breath. The closer they crept toward the field of slimes, the worse it became. Each step landed on spongy, damp earth that gave beneath their boots like rotten fruit. He swallowed, forcing himself not to gag.Yukio crouched behind a massive oak, pressing his back against its rough bark. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his sword. The sheer number of enemies had his heart beating like a drum.Michibiki leaned close, her expression serene despite the situation. "Don't worry," she whispered, her voice as calm as a summer breeze. "I'll give you a hand."Yukio barely nodded before a small sun appeared in her palm. It blazed orange and gold, casting shadows across her sharp features. She flicked her wrist with casual grace, and the fireball streaked across the clearing like a comet. It struck the nearest slime, which hissed and writhed before bursting into white, sparkling particles that drifted
Chapter 7: The First Hunt
The heavy wooden door of the weapons and equipment shop swung open with a low groan, a worn out brass bell jingling overhead to announce their arrival.A wave of smells rolled over Yukio the moment he stepped inside, oiled leather, cold steel, faint ash, and the copper tang of a forge that never truly cooled. His nose wrinkled. Compared to the lively bustle of the guild hall, this shop carried a weighty quiet, the kind reserved for places where every strike of a hammer meant life or death.Everywhere he looked, the shop was a cathedral to war. Gleaming longswords hung in neat rows, their polished blades catching light from broad windows and scattering it like tiny suns. Broad, kite-shaped shields leaned in orderly ranks, some plain steel, others painted with noble crests or animal insignias. Armor sets, chainmail, scale, and half-plate armor stood upright on wooden mannequins like silent soldiers waiting to be called into battle.The craftsmanship was unlike anything Yukio had seen in
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