Is becoming a swordsman cool?
Of course it is. With a blade in hand, you can do anything. You can slash through monsters, whisper the name of a technique like "Swaying Breeze" as your sword dances through the air, and finish off enemies with one final strike.
Then you say something cool, something that shakes their soul:
"I don't draw my blade to threaten—I draw it to end things."
My name is Ryuto Hasegawa—just an ordinary businessman. I'm 31 years old, single, and alone in this world.
But in my teenage years, I was different. I entered school competitions, especially kendo, the art of the sword. I trained relentlessly, chasing the feeling of doing something extraordinary—just like the heroes I read about in books.
The second thug charged at me, fist pulled back, ready to crush me.
I raised the pipe just in time and slammed it down hard on his forearm. A sickening crack echoed in the alley as he screamed, dropping his arm in pain.
Without hesitation, I spun and struck his ribs with a powerful blow, making him stagger.
Then I swung again, this time aiming for his neck. He reeled backward, almost collapsing.
I turned to face the last thug, ready to finish this nightmare.
But before I could move, sharp bang, bang cracked through the air.
I froze and glanced over my shoulder—police. They were shouting orders, guns drawn, lights flashing wildly in the darkness.
But then I realized the terrible truth.
In the chaos, the police had mistaken me for one of the criminals.
I was still holding the steel pipe—looking like a threat.
"Drop your weapon!" they yelled, but I couldn't explain. I just stared, helpless.
The shots rang out.
Pain exploded in my side. My vision blurred. Confusion flooded me—why me? Why now?
My knees gave way, and the world tilted.
Everything went black.
And then... I woke up.
Not in the way you'd expect—not with my eyes, not with breath.
It felt like I was drifting. Weightless. Disconnected. Floating in an endless void.
I couldn't move my body—not that I even knew if I had one anymore—but I could feel. A strange sensation… like my soul was being pulled through water, slow and silent.
What is this place?
Darkness surrounded me, but it wasn't empty. It was… alive. Whispering. Beckoning. A void that stretched on forever, yet felt tight around me.
Where am I going?
What's happening to me?
Time didn't seem to exist here. Seconds, minutes, hours—it all blended into a single, surreal moment.
Then, just as suddenly, I felt something shift.
A tug.
A force dragging me toward something—somewhere.
And deep inside, a quiet voice stirred.
"Welcome, Ryuto Hasegawa."
The voice echoed—calm, ageless, impossible to place. It wasn't spoken aloud. It rang directly inside my mind.
Suddenly, the swirling void around me shifted.
Black and white light twisted together, spinning and blending like paint on water. The darkness turned fluid, wrapping around me gently, as if preparing me for something… more.
Then the voice returned.
"Do you wish to explore a world of magic and monsters?"
I blinked—or at least thought I did.
"…What do you mean?" I asked, uncertain. My words felt like thoughts, floating freely.
The voice responded, warm yet powerful:
"I offer you a second chance. A life where your dreams can take shape. A world of swords and sorcery, of monsters and mysteries. A place where your story is no longer ordinary… but extraordinary."
"Will you accept it?"
"What's the catch?" I asked cautiously.
There was a pause—then the voice replied calmly:
"Nothing. I offer you a second chance at life. The life you've always dreamed of. You want to pursue swordsmanship, right?"
"Yes," I said, surprised at how honest the voice sounded.
"Then I shall bestow upon you a skill."
"A… skill?" I repeated, curiosity piqued.
"Yes. A skill that grants you access to all forms of swordsmanship across the world. You can learn existing styles, create your own techniques, or even combine different sword arts to forge something entirely new."
I blinked, imagining the possibilities.
I closed my eyes, thinking for a moment.
Could I really leave everything behind? Was this the path I wanted?
The voice spoke again, gentle and patient:
"Is that a yes?"
Before I could answer, I felt it—a warm hand resting gently on my head.
Comforting. Steady. Human.
I slowly opened my eyes.
Blinding light surrounded me, soft and golden, but through it… I could see a figure.
An old man.
His presence radiated elegance and wisdom. He wore flowing robes that shimmered like moonlight. I couldn't make out his face—only that it was calm, kind, and somehow familiar.
Like someone I'd known long ago… or someone meant to guide me now.
The warm hand lingered on my head for a moment longer.
Then, the light around me flared—soft at first, then blinding, wrapping my entire being in its glow.
I felt weightless again. Not drifting, but rising.
The old man's voice echoed one last time as the light surged around me:
> "You will be reborn in the body of a young noble—a child of House Valencrest."
> "The boy was frail, his body weakened by illness... his life on the brink. But fate has opened a door. His soul faded—yet his body remains intact. And his mother still prays for a miracle."
> "You will be that miracle."
The light collapsed inward, and I felt my consciousness pulled, compressed, and hurled forward—
Then, stillness.
I awoke in darkness. Everything felt… heavy.
My chest rose with shallow breaths. My arms were thin, fragile. The body was young—no older than seven or eight.
I'm alive? No… I'm in someone else's body.
Faint voices whispered nearby. One was soft, trembling—full of warmth and worry.
A woman's voice.
"Please… just open your eyes," she murmured.
My heart ached. That must be… his mother. Now my mother.
She doesn't know her son's soul is gone.
Or that someone else now resides within his body.
But maybe… just maybe, I can give her the son she never got to raise to full strength.
High above, beyond the mortal realm...
The old man watched as Ryuto's soul settled into its new vessel. A long sigh escaped his lips—part exhaustion, part relief.
"It's your turn now," he murmured, turning to someone beside him. "Daughter. You shall guide him from here on out."
A cheerful voice responded with playful energy:
"Don't worry, old man! Leave it to me!!"
The old man's brow twitched.
"Who are you calling an old man?" he grumbled.
He reached out and pinched her cheek.
"Ow—wahh! A-ahhh—ackkkk!!" she yelped, flailing her arms. "Sowwy!!" she tried to say, but her words came out squished and barely understandable through puffed-up cheeks.
He finally let go, sighing again—but this time, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Just… don't mess this up. He's been given a rare chance. Guide him well."
The girl straightened, still rubbing her sore cheek, but her tone shifted to something a bit more serious—soft, but confident.
"I will."
The old man stared down in silence as Ryuto's soul merged with the child's body.
A deep sigh escaped him.
"It's your fault he died, you know."
His daughter froze mid-stretch. She scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously.
"Ehhh… I didn't mean to! I just… nudged fate a little. I was trying to delay the thug's bullet so it'd miss! B-But I sneezed while casting the timing spell…"
She trailed off, shrinking under his unimpressed gaze.
"Let's just forget about that, okay? What matters is—he's here now! And I'm going to help him become the greatest swordsman ever!"
Her mood flipped like a switch, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
The old man sighed again—but this time, there was amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah, I know. You've always been watching him from above."
She froze. Her cheerful grin slipped.
"Do you really like him that much?" he asked, voice tinged with teasing. "You know he's more sword-crazy than even you were back in your prime."
She flinched, blushing hard. Her fingers nervously poked each other as she looked away.
"W-Well… maybe just a little… I mean—he's different. He never gave up, even in a dull world with no magic. He dreamed of swords even when he had none."
The old man cast a lingering gaze down at the mortal world.
He watched Ryuto—now inhabiting the fragile body of the Valencrest child—take slow, uncertain steps into his new life.
Behind him, the daughter tilted her head, concerned.
"Um… what about the child's illness?" she asked. "Is he really going to be okay?"
The old man didn't look back. His voice was calm and steady.
"I've already cleansed the illness from his body. I also boosted his physical foundation—enhanced vitality, accelerated growth rate, and improved adaptability."
He finally turned toward her, eyes glowing faintly.
"But the effects will take time—days, maybe weeks. He'll start off weak, but his body will gradually catch up to his potential. Until then, he'll have to be careful."
The girl nodded slowly, then smiled.
"He'll manage. He's tougher than he looks."
As the celestial light dimmed and the mortal world settled, the girl turned to leave with a bright smile.
"See you, Father."
The old man nodded slowly, still gazing down.
"Guide him well, my daughter," he said. "And don't let him die again."
She spun mid-step and gave a cheeky wink.
"Of course! I have to keep him alive—he's gonna be my future husband, after all!"
The old man froze.
"Wha—COUGH—WHAT!?" he choked, nearly falling over. "YOUR WHAT!?"
But she was already gone, giggling as she vanished in a flash of light.