Everything felt foreign.
The smells, the noises, the words he caught—even the looks on the people's faces.
No, in all fairness, it was Konrad who didn't belong.
He stuck out like a sore thumb, and it wasn't because of his Western features, either.
Wearing armour in a modern metropolis was more spectacular than carrying a neon sign. He was also still clutching his bastard sword, and before he realised, a crowd formed around him.
"Kakkoii," someone shouted, holding a smartphone.
Once the shutter clicked, it felt like he missed his chance to run.
All he could do was sheathe his blade and embrace this nightmare.
He had only lost Maple and now teleported.
No, that wasn't it. He had somehow shifted between planes of existence.
"Mite, mite, Guts cosu," a girl's yell cut through the noise.
He wanted a quiet place to gather his thoughts, to rationalise all that had happened, but no dice.
"Baka, that's Kirito, not Guts," another voice argued. Konrad understood a little bit from it.
"Onii-san, is that a real blade? Kowai."
Actually, the more he focused on the words, the more they made sense.
It has been some time—twenty years?—since he had to negotiate with Japanese clients.
Usually, he had a translator, too, but he picked up a lot over time—out of sheer paranoia. He only ever believed what he himself understood. Still, after all those years, he was rather rusty.
And with his brain going into overdrive—
Such an unlikely situation. It took a while to calm down, but he did his best to adapt.
Get out of this place first, he'd figure out the rest after.
It could have been much, much worse, after all.
This wasn't the enemy's camp. He didn't have to fight tens of thousands of nomads or sorcerers.
It was but an innocent little crowd that looked as surprised to see him as he was being there.
Most of them were kids in school uniforms, murmuring with their mouths covered. Okay, some actually looked more mature than Konrad, since he was only eighteen in this body.
But his soul?
It was closer to seventy, and it made him cringe from this situation with every synapse of his brain. And despite all the noise around him, inside his head was quiet. Too quiet.
He was so used to telepathy and his harem bothering him that he'd miss them a lot now.
If only they dropped a hint—but this reality went against everything he knew.
He used to live in this world in his past life, but on his deathbed, Lucifer gave him a chance for another one. The irony was how once he realised reincarnation existed, he got cut off from it.
The eternal cycle, whatever that was.
He might have reborn with his memories intact—more or less—but it came with consequences.
Konrad would always be Konrad from Kasserlane, stuck on that world, with no way out, ever.
So how the hell did he end up back on Earth, and in Tokyo of all places?!
He'd never been there. He'd dream about visiting when he was young, but then Lily happened.
"Ne, ne, what character is this?" one of the girls from earlier tugged his sleeve. "We can't decide."
"Guts would have a lot of cuts and a fake arm, Doi Suru?"
"But Kirito didn't wear armour like this, Baka."
They thought he was a cosplayer of all things.
Well, it made sense. It seemed more likely than meeting with an actual alien. Besides—
Once he looked beyond the crowd, he spotted some other weirdness, too.
Girls dressed as maids offered leaflets. They had cat ears and tails, although not real ones like Lily would shapeshift into. Nobody seemed to bat an eye at them. And there was a—Gundam?!
Or whatever mech was popular those days. He had no idea what year he found himself in.
But he was more and more certain where exactly he ended up.
Akihabara.
Even inside Tokyo, that was a world of its own. Right now, it seemed more magical than the one Konrad had come from, so no wonder people thought he was a cosplayer.
It helped, though only a little.
"Onii-san?" The girls wouldn't leave him alone, though.
And it was one thing to decipher what they were saying, but forming sentences of his own was something else. What was he supposed to say anyway?
That he's a character from a new Isekai fantasy?
It could've worked if only he knew the right words. But his limited knowledge was work-related.
"Uh, Ore Wa—" that was as far as he got.
"Is that a real weapon?" Some policemen showed up.
Right. He was actually armed, and unlike his magic, his bastard sword was very much visible.
"Could we see some ID?" the second cop asked—as if he had any.
Yeah, okay, this situation was bad. Could he cast a spell? An illusion. Make a fake card.
But what would he project it onto? He didn't even know what the Japanese IDs looked like.
"Ah, one moment, Desu," he mumbled, patting himself down to buy some time. He was out of ideas. "It's hard to find it in this costume," he lied—but at least the words came easier now.
Could he use a portal? If his body was still the same, then his magic should've worked, too.
'Don't do that,' a voice argued, and his head snapped up.
That wasn't Japanese, and it didn't come from the crowd, either.
He spun around, desperate to find who talked to him, but only saw a young girl running.
Messy, black hair, blunt bangs, a few freckles on a pointy nose, and a school uniform.
Not someone he recognised, even if the face felt somehow familiar.
"Konrad-kun," she yelled, waving something in her hand. "You lost your Student ID. Thank goodness I caught you before you boarded the train."
Yep, she was definitely talking to him.
"Daredakke?" the other two girls asked, their voices tinged with jealousy.
Konrad wanted to ask the same, but knew better than to blow his only chance.
"Gomen, Gomen. He's a transfer student from Germany. He doesn't speak well," she lied, half out of breath, shoving that ID in the policeman's face. An angel? But how would they know?
"But his sword looks dangerous," the cop pointed out, handing the paper back.
"Sonandesuka? It's a plastic prop, though. Ne?" she said, bumping Konrad's shoulder.
And while he still had no idea what was happening, his brain kicked into gear.
He could've altered the blade's look with a simple illusion spell.
She wouldn't have said that if it were impossible.
He unsheathed his adamantite sword again, but this time it looked dull, like a cheap replica.
As long as the cops didn't touch it, he should have been safe.
"Oh, it looked much cooler the first time," a kid noted, sounding disappointed.
"Hey, it took ages to paint it like that," the stranger yelled back with a pout. "Anyway, Konrad-kun. We have to catch the train, so one last photo, and let's go."
Following a stranger seemed like a bad idea, but the crowd had already opened around her.
She also helped him out for whatever reason. This was his chance.
"Okay, Gomennasai. One last picture," he repeated, posing with the sword for a moment.
It was ridiculous. But after that, he could finally run.