I stood before the dojo.
Its banners bore the image of a goat with a sword. A dojo. A place for mastering the art of swordsmanship.
There was only one problem.
This world wasn't Japanese. What the hell was a dojo doing in what looked suspiciously like medieval France?
Then again, maybe I'm just the fantasy of a writer who sucks at worldbuilding. Guess I'll have to live with that.
I stepped inside.
Empty.
Swords lined the walls, silent and heavy.
"Who the hell are you?"
I jumped. A man sat cross-legged in the center, calmly folding origami.
"I want to become a swordsman!" I shouted.
As a kid, I watched One Piece. Zoro was my idol. I wanted to learn the Oni-Giri too.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Kid, do you even know how to hold a sword?"
"I've got professional-grade hoe skills."
"Jesus Christ, another idiot who thinks he's a genius. What's next? You beat Dark Souls 100%?"
My jaw dropped.
Dark Souls?
How the hell did he know about that?
"W-wait! You reincarnated too?!"
Now it was his turn to stare at me like I'd grown another head.
---
His name was Master Natsuki. A Japanese man, lifelong fantasy nerd.
"When were you born?" he asked.
"2000."
"So you're 25... I was 43 when I came here. Died of a heart attack, just outside a convenience store."
He paused.
"We're the same age now... but we ended up in different timelines. You're the first other Reincarnated I've met."
"So this is... divine intervention?"
"Maybe. I died in July. You?"
"June."
"Damn. That ruins my theory. I thought earlier death meant earlier rebirth, but I guess it's not that simple."
"So... what do we do now?"
"We live. Maybe this is some kind of quest. There's a Trial Tower nearby..."
"Like in a bad Korean webnovel?"
"It's got ten floors. I've heard rumors of bigger ones. We'll need a party to climb it. I tried before, but my disciples ditched me. Ungrateful bastards."
"...So you want to leave this world too?"
"Yes. I've got a wife and kid waiting. For now, I'll train you in the basics — swordsmanship, culture, survival. You're a farmer's son, after all."
---
This place was insane.
I was practicing basic sword drills — using a katana, of course — under Master Natsuki's watchful eye.
"There are four kingdoms in this world," he said. "Goat Kingdom — Bouc. Snake Kingdom — Schlange. Egg Kingdom — Egg. And Hat Kingdom — Sombrero."
"Seriously?"
"They live in harmony. The world's history is vague, like it was written last week. Apparently the goddess Erza wove it together from threads. Myth, obviously."
"Which kingdom are we in?"
"Bouc. The weakest and least developed. Sombrero's rumored to have cannons. We're still playing with swords."
"We should take over Bouc and industrialize it."
"No point. Our goal is to escape."
"Did you even try—"
"Hold your blade straight. This isn't a broom. I tried. But no one can solo the tower."
"Why are you so obsessed with that tower?"
"We're not that close."
"Is there even a system? I'm tired of all this manual labor."
"Apparently the creator didn't want to hand out free XP. You'll need to grind — hard."
---
One week later, I'd learned... five more drills.
Natsuki was a good teacher. Poor, but good. Only thing I ate was tea. Literally ate. Water's scarce.
"Natsuki! This tower's a f*cking nightmare!"
The dojo doors slammed open. A girl burst in — I recognized her from last week.
I was doing handstands in nothing but underwear.
"I seduced one of the city's top fire mages. We didn't even make it past the fifth floor! Oh, and you—"
She looked at me. I expected laughter.
She just stared.
"This your new student?"
"Yes, Jeanne. Why are you here? Where's your Path of Light?"
"I... embarrassed myself, okay? I'm sorry, Master. I want to come back. I left on impulse..."
"Where's Greg, Breg, and Kreg?"
"Arnold burned them."
"Oh, so you found Arnold. I should light a candle. Get up, newbie. We're going to church."
He kicked me, and we headed off in a line.
"So, you're Joseph. I'm Jeanne. Thirteen. Daughter of a fallen knight. Crazy how fast you bonded with Natsuki — I got nowhere in four years."
We stood behind Sensei as he prayed.
The church was wooden, dome-less.
People kissed paintings of archangels like their lives depended on it. Cultural thing, I guess. I'm from Japan — this stuff's alien to me.
"We're done."
Sensei rose, and we followed him out.
"Why do we even need to pray?"
"It's tradition. Souls need peace. Plus, the church rules this country. Best not to piss them off."
So religion runs everything here. I'll have to watch my mouth.
"Do you know anything? Are you from Treeville or something?"
"He lived on a farm. With Klaus."
"Oh, that guy."
"You don't even know him."
"Neither do you."
Natsuki ignored us.
Back at the dojo, things were slow. Just training and more training. Natsuki made money through monthly tournaments. Blew it all over the month. Rinse and repeat.
And tomorrow... I'd be fighting in one.