What would happen if two-dimensional characters stepped into the three-dimensional world?
Not just one person—more than once, people have imagined such a scene in their minds.
Human beings, every moment, are scattering their imagination and creativity into the world.
From their hands are born countless stories. From their pens are born countless characters.
Joy, sorrow, anger, awe… through stories, people can experience different lives, feel tremors they've never known before. Stories can shake one's emotions, draw one in—
always as an observer.
That feeling may be genuine, but no one truly mistakes a story for reality.
People love stories. They love the characters within them.
But that doesn't mean they could accept those characters walking into reality.
If it were ordinary people, perhaps that would be fine.
But what if those who came into the real world were extraordinary beings with mysterious powers?
If it were kindhearted souls, perhaps that too could be accepted.
But what if they were villains—those who love chaos and evil?
Like Lord Ye who loved dragons—yet, upon seeing a real dragon, was frightened half to death.
Strip away impractical fantasy—if these characters possessed their own thoughts, freed from the shackles of their story, then how should the people of the modern world face them? With what stance? What attitude?
---
Under the deep, starless night, the dazzling, multicolored neon lights lit up the city as though the river of stars in the heavens had fallen upon the earth.
Though it was night, the city radiated vitality.
Under the gleam of the lights, traffic flowed, car horns blared.
The sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians. The sounds of conversation, complaint, and laughter wove together into an unbroken chorus. These people were the lifeblood of the city, as much as the stream of cars and the sea of humanity.
Each of them moved with a purpose, as though swept along by some unseen current—always with that feeling of busyness.
Then, one person looked up. And then another. And then more and more stopped walking, gazing toward the boundless night sky. Some even raised their phones to take pictures.
There was something in the sky.
The people below thought it might be a drone, or perhaps some large bird of prey.
In truth—it was two people.
Defying gravity, a silver-haired woman in a heavy military uniform drifted between the skyscrapers. Like a conductor before an orchestra, she lifted her hand lightly. In the next instant, countless military sabers answered her command, cascading from behind her like a rainstorm.
Her opponent was a red-haired girl—battle suit fitted perfectly to her form, long crimson hair flowing—looking for all the world like someone who had stepped straight out of a manga panel.
The tearing rush of the blades was upon her, their killing edge so sharp it seemed to sting the skin. Even without looking back, she could feel it.
Suddenly she accelerated, the night wind slicing her cheeks and skin like countless fine knives, whipping her hair and the edges of her clothes. She slipped behind an office building just before the sabers could reach her.
The next moment, the glittering blades smashed into the building's walls and floors. Glass shattered. Objects inside were shredded like paper through a shredder.
The military-uniform princess suddenly reached out and caught one saber that hadn't been sent flying, raising it horizontally above her head.
In that instant, the night sky split like torn cloth. A blazing arc of steel flashed down—meeting the princess's saber with a shower of sparks.
Clang!
The clear ring of metal echoed, the flying sparks and sharp gleam of steel lighting the two combatants' faces.
The red-haired girl's brows were knit tight, her expression heavy, her eyes clouded with confusion, frustration, and an unshakable trace of anger.
The silver-haired princess smiled with serene calm, as if everything was in the palm of her hand. That smile, up close, only made the red-haired girl's frustration grow sharper.
Gritting her teeth, she shot out the question.
"Who the hell are you? Why did you bring me here? Where is this place?"
"I quite understand your feelings, Selesia-dono. All who first step onto this stage feel the same unease, the same fear. You are not alone."
Like an actor reciting lines in a play, the military princess laughed softly.
"This is the land of the gods—the realm where the deities dwell and live. Even among the countless worlds as numerous as the stars, this is the absolute center—the origin of all stories."
"Nonsense…"
"You think I'm spouting nonsense? If you wish to confirm it, there are countless chances to do so in this world. As for my reason for bringing you here… until you accept my invitation, forgive me, but I cannot say."
Selesia's grip on her sword tightened abruptly. In the same motion that forced her opponent back, she herself leapt away, opening a wide gap between them.
Her eyes were as sharp as blades—eyes that did not belong to this harmonious world, but to one who had lived through despair and battle. She fixed that gaze on the princess, and on the countless sabers whirling around her, and spoke coldly.
"I told you—I will never stand with you!"
She raised her longsword. The moonlight spilled across its silver-white blade, rippling with cold brilliance.
"Someone who talks with a smirk is not someone worth trusting!"
"Is that so? You've refused my invitation once again. Truly regrettable." The princess lowered her lashes, shaking her head with a smile. "I had thought that someone like you, who fights for the weak, might stand at my side… what a shame."
The moment the words fell, the air grew heavy, the space around them turning into a battlefield without smoke. Killing intent seeped into every breath.
Selesia gripped her sword in both hands, the tip leveled straight at her foe.
Shimmering motes of light gathered in the princess's hands, coalescing into a cavalry officer's saber and a PPSh-41 submachine gun. She rested the gun on her shoulder, the saber across it, striking a pose like a violinist ready to play.
In the next instant, Selesia's toes pushed off the empty air, launching her into a charge at the princess—while the princess drew her saber, and the countless blades around her spun and shot toward Selesia in a deadly storm.
---
Even now, Mizushino Sōta still felt as though he were trapped inside a dream.
That night, all he had done was what he always did—sit down to check online if his favorite anime, Elemental Symphony of Vogelchevalier, had updated.
But then his tablet suddenly blue-screened and spat out a mass of garbled text. Startled, his hand slipped, and the tablet fell to the floor.
The instant it hit the ground, the world around him changed completely—
into a scene straight out of Vogelchevalier.
And there, the show's heroine, Selesia, was piloting the mecha "Vogelchevalier" in battle… against a silver-haired woman in a military uniform he'd never seen before.
Vogelchevalier was destroyed in a single exchange.
Selesia and he had returned together to reality—to his own room.
If Selesia hadn't been right there beside him, he would have thought the whole thing had been nothing but a dream.
Then, that military-uniform princess had pursued them even here—and even extended an invitation for Selesia to become her ally.
Selesia had rejected her flatly, and immediately taken him along in their escape.
DA… DA… DA…
Heaven help him—he was just an ordinary student who liked anime, his physique barely scraping above the passing line.
Following the two combatants who had been clashing in the skies, he ran until they reached a small park. His legs screamed with soreness, and his lungs burned like they were on fire.
But before he could even catch his breath, a black shadow plummeted from the sky like a kite with its string cut, crashing into the lake and throwing up a towering wave.
"Selesia!"
The name burst from his lips in shock.
Mizushino Sōta was deeply worried for her safety. Clenching his teeth, he forced his aching legs to move, running toward where she had fallen.
By the time he reached the lakeshore, he saw her—disheveled, standing on the far bank—and in the air above, facing off against the military princess.
Dozens of sabers hovered loyally at her side, like soldiers awaiting the general's command to charge.
"I am not fond of coercion, Selesia-dono."
High above, the military princess looked down at her like a victor regarding the defeated.
"When the co-performer refuses to cooperate, the performance—meant to end in perfection—gains a flaw. That is a disrespect to the audience who loves our art. But right now, my need for assistance is urgent. I am racing against time. So, though I dislike the dull and overused bargain of 'if I win, you will be at my disposal'… if that's the kind of plot development you're more accustomed to, I can make a small concession."
The tone, the expression—so at ease, so in control—that Selesia felt her anger and frustration knot in her chest.
Yet she said nothing. The power her opponent displayed was enough to make anyone wary—enough to seal any words in the throat.
Her answer was only to raise her sword, face cold—letting her stance speak for her.
There was no hope of victory here… in this place, she knew only Mizushino Sōta, an ordinary boy she'd met only minutes ago. No one here would fight by her side. Not even her closest comrade, Charon, was here.
Her opponent was terrifyingly strong, and she was alone.
Even so, she would not compromise. She would hold her ground until the final moment.
She was ready to burn both jade and common stone together—
yet no follow-up attack came.
Instead, the military princess's gaze slid away from her entirely—away from Selesia—toward something else.
And then… for the first time since Selesia had laid eyes on her, the princess's expression changed.
It was surprise.
It was wariness.
It was weight and gravity.
Emotions mixing together, as complex as the ingredients in a simmering hot pot.
"…Why are they here…?"
Selesia thought she might have heard the princess mutter something under her breath.
Then, the princess withdrew her gaze, looked back to Selesia. The astonishment and wariness were gone, replaced once more with that familiar smile.
"It seems today's impromptu performance must end here. I hope it was a time neither the audience nor the actors will feel was wasted."
"You're running away?" Selesia's eyes narrowed, voice sharp.
"No choice. The time is not yet ripe. Our power is insufficient, the pieces on the board too few. Without enough players, the symphony will be chaotic. Only when all the performers are assembled can the grand movement be played."
She inclined her head slightly, offering a small bow toward Selesia, voice elegant.
"We will meet again, Selesia-dono. I look forward to the day we find common ground—and hope it will come soon."
When her words faded, her figure—and the sabers surrounding her—began to glitch, like disrupted animation.
In the next moment, they scattered into countless motes of light and vanished before Selesia's eyes.
Selesia's whole body was tense, eyes locked on the place the princess had disappeared. Only after a long time, once she was certain the enemy was truly gone, did she let her guard ease.
Exhaling slowly, she felt a surge of sharp doubt. Remembering how the princess had acted just moments ago, she turned her gaze in the direction that woman had been looking before she left.
Why had that woman suddenly withdrawn?
Just what had she seen?
---
The night wind, cool with a hint of damp, stirred the leaves into a whispering rustle.
On a street just outside the park stood a girl with a waterfall of black hair, two thin braids falling naturally on either side of her face. She stood quietly, as if watching something—or waiting for someone.
"Yuna, is there something over there?"
The voice calling to her sounded by her ear. Shimazaki Yuna turned her head slightly, offering the girl beside her an apologetic smile.
"Sorry. I thought I just saw something fly past in the sky, so I was a little distracted… But I must have been mistaken. Sorry to keep you waiting, Van Gogh."
The girl Yuna called "Van Gogh" had short orange hair, and eyes of blue tinged faintly with pink.
She was even smaller in stature than Yuna—only about one meter forty.
Despite her delicate, almost painting-like beauty—like a fantastical little doll—she gave off a gloomy air.
"Eh? Eh? Something flew past in the sky? Sorry, Van Gogh didn't see anything… It must have been a bird… Yuna doesn't need to apologize to someone like Van Gogh. You just have to keep smiling… a bird… a smile… heh heh… a Van Gogh joke…"
Her voice grew quieter and quieter, her head lower and lower. The laugh became darker, carrying a deep self-deprecation.
Yuna's expression didn't change—perhaps already used to Van Gogh's habits. She only lowered her eyes briefly to her own stomach and spoke with a complicated tone.
"The ramen from that shop was more than I expected. I feel like my stomach's bigger now. There's still a bit of a walk to get home—let's walk it off."
Walk it off… what a sinful phrase…
Van Gogh had once lived a life where even one full meal was uncertain. To now be able to savor such contentment—how could she not feel it was a blessing?
Eheheh… to come to such a sinful age… it's really wonderful… Feels like even if I died right now, I'd have no regrets…
"If you like it, we can come back to that shop again. And stop tossing around the idea of dying so casually."
Because of the commotion in the park, more and more people were gathering here out of curiosity. Soon enough, police would arrive to cordon off the area and disperse the crowd.
In that situation, the two girls—Van Gogh and Shimazaki Yuna—walking against the flow of people stood out all the more.