Archive of Our Own ^beta

For as long as Toya could remember being alive for, he’d been bored. Not the kind of boredom that was temporary, the kind that was easily fixed by a puzzle or a game of sorts. No, it was the kind that wedged itself into his sense of feeling and settled into his mind like a parasite, washing out his contentment and making him see nothing but greys.

He was an incredibly successful classical musician, making a name for himself as the youngest, most prodigious Aoyagi of his family line. He’d accumulated a fortune on top of his family’s wealth, securing a comfy future for the rest of the time he’d live on for.

And yet, he was unbearably empty, alone, cursed to seem unfeeling and unconcerned as a byproduct of years and years of repression. Although he was known for his apparent indifference, his cold demeanor leaving a lasting impression for those who knew of him, every piece of media that emphasized that part of him left a sour taste in his mouth.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that he wasn’t like that. He was capable of feeling, even if it was only hollow pain that carved out its own crevice in his ribcage, and he so desperately wanted to express that. 

But he couldn’t. It’d risk his career, the future that his parents had worked so hard for him to cultivate. And in turn, it’d risk him being ostracized from his family permanently, just as one of his cousins had when he was younger. He didn’t want to be distanced from his family any more than he already had, even if, to some extent, they had been the cause of his pain.

He couldn’t blame them, though. They had done what was best for him, so he should be grateful for all their hard work, and yet…

“Aoyagi. You’re up.”

As he stepped up to the stage, pristine and flawless in his performance suit and bowed, he couldn’t help but feel a harrowing sense of defeat wash over his heart. When he sat down on the piano bench, all autonomous thought left him as he robotically played the pieces he’d mastered. 

As expected, his performance was perfect, he didn’t miss a single beat nor hesitate in the slightest, but it lacked soul. 

And soul was what Toya Aoyagi did not have.

He walked off the stage shortly after he finished his performance, paying no extra mind to the formal applause and intermittent coughs. He took a seat next to his father, disregarding the eyes that continued to linger on him even as he stationed himself so far from the blasted piano. 

His father didn’t look pleased, not that he ever did since Toya’s debut, but it was worse this time than any other. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, narrowed with shame and disappointment. He whispered, his voice gravelly with age. “Your performance was dismal. We’ll discuss this when we get home, Toya.”

Toya shrunk in his seat slightly, feeling like a scolded teenager again. Hot, bitter anger twisted his stomach. He was 22, for goodness’ sake, not a child.

He muttered softly, compliantly, “I know, father. I’ll try to improve for the next one.”

His father hummed curtly in response, “I have another performance to judge later tonight. Get home safely when this is over.”

Toya nodded, watching the next performer, a young woman who looked to be in her late teens, walk up on the stage and sit down on the bench. She pressed a single key experimentally, C4 sharp, Toya’s perfect pitch supplied, the singular note echoing through the suffocatingly silent hall. Then, she played. Toya recognized the piece instantly.

Chopin’s Revolutionary Étude, Opus 10 Number 12.

It was written after the failure of the Polish uprising against Russia in 1831, intoned with rage in despair about the loss when Chopin received news of it alongside Russia capturing Warsaw. This particular opus number was meant to represent the freedom that the people of Poland desired.

It was known for its tempestuous and bold character, and was particularly difficult in terms of displaying it. Yet somehow, this woman was able to capture its essence perfectly. The expressions on her face, the force at which certain keys were pressed, Toya knew that somehow, she was able to feel the piece’s history and share its emotions.

Toya felt a strong envy from his gut rear its ugly head. He couldn’t stand to stay any longer.

Luckily, the seats his father had chosen were further in the back, so his departure was nigh noticed.

The metro station wasn’t far from the performing hall, just a block away from it in fact. Toya bought a ticket and quickly boarded a train that’d arrived just as he entered the platform.

He made sure to take the least amount of space when he sat down, rummaging through his bag for his phone.

He frowned mutely, staring at it. Somehow, within the two seconds he spent scrolling through his socials, there had already been an article about his performance. How people managed to write so fast baffled him.

The Youngest Aoyagi Son's Latest Performance - Flawless or Soulless?

Toya, 21 years old and a world-renowned classical musician, is known for his curt demeanor and his outstanding abilities in the piano and violin. However, in his latest piano performance, many have noticed…

And he decided that he’d stop reading from there; any further and he probably would’ve felt more nauseous than he already did. The article didn’t even get his age right.

He clutched his bag tighter to ground himself, feeling his knuckles turning white as he inadvertently cut some circulation in his hands. He sighed, shoving his phone into the front pocket of his bag and stared out the train’s window.

I don’t need another reminder of how empty I am, he thought sourly as he closed his eyes and dozed off, failing to notice a small blip echoing in his ears.

It was cold. Harsh wind bit at his fingertips and billowed the hems of his pants that covered his ankles. His suit was rumpled, his tie flapping against his left hand.

Toya blearily opened his eyes, his vision unfocused and his brain foggy. He winced, feeling a sharp pain course through his back and joints. The cold air had stiffened his body, even lifting a hand to his face to stabilize his head took an unnecessary amount of effort.

He blinked, clarity hitting him like a truck when he realized that he wasn’t in the metro. In fact, he probably wasn’t in Japan at all. It was the middle of summer, so it should be sweltering hot, not snowing like some frozen-over hell.

“What the hell happened…?” He muttered aloud, vaguely noticing his breath fogging and the tips of his fingers turning blue.

He scanned his surroundings, noting weathered wood making up the floor and the walls with barely any insulation. Clearly, he was stranded in some abandoned shack in the middle of winter, for some reason, and his energy was far too low for him to attempt to preserve his survival. He frowned, surely he couldn’t have been that tired from the event, could he?

Staring off into space for a while, he wondered if anyone would actually notice if he froze to death. 

Sure, he was a well-known musician, but people didn’t bother to know about him past that. His own family hadn’t contacted him—other than his father, but he was only concerned about his job, not his health nor his wellbeing—since the debut of his career, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if they didn’t notice his disappearance either. He never had friends since he was seven, and they lost touch with him long ago.

Even in the end, he’d rather run away from his problems than face him head on. He laughed bitterly, pushing down the semblances of instinctive fear that started to rise in his chest.

Just as he’d hesitantly accepted whatever fate he was doomed for, the door—that was halfway broken, somehow holding up against the snowstorm outside—was blown off its hinges entirely. Startled, Toya scrambled from the door and hit his back against the shelf behind him, wincing from the collision.

A bright, fiery light that contrasted the violent icy wind poured in from the now empty doorway, the sheer intensity of it was so great that Toya could feel its warmth ghost upon his face. Footsteps had made themselves clear that someone was entering the building. 

And when he did, Toya couldn’t help but stare in awe at the man before him. 

He wore a regal white knight uniform with blue and gold accents, with a cape framing his shoulders, crowned with a golden rose brooch as it fluttered in the wind. His flaming orange hair had a singular yellow streak, combed to the side and falling just short of his gold-speckled olive eyes, with the earring dangling on his left ear only accentuating them further. He had a sword sheathed on his belt, with its hilt crowned with a golden insignia that seemed to represent the sun. 

He looked like something straight out of a fantasy novel, standing tall and commanding importance just as a knight would.

What was even more peculiar, though, was the steady flame floating in the knight’s palm. Was it… magic? But that wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be—

Toya coughed, his train of thought interrupted. It felt like his lungs were freezing over, suddenly not able to work properly. His heart stuttered in panic. He fell into another coughing fit, curling in on himself as warm, coppery blood splattered onto his hands that were covering his mouth, staining his white dress shirt.

The rational part of his brain was confused. He studied the blood closely: what kind of 0° weather-induced condition made his body react so weirdly? The question was soon snuffed out as another lungful of blood expelled itself from his chest.

The knight blinked, his eyes widening at the clearly dying man in front of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushed to Toya’s side and waved off the flame in his palm.

Toya’s body convulsed against his will as he hacked out more blood against the frigid floor. His vision started to black out, terror spreading across his veins. He felt a hand supporting his neck.

The last thing he saw before he fully fell unconscious was an orange light glowing softly against his heart.

“Odd clothes…”

“…matter, …needs help and you…”

“He might…”

“…question… better, but…”

Toya tried to open his eyes with monumental effort. The dried, crusted remains of tears glued his eyelids together stubbornly, only tearing apart when he peeled them open with his hand.

He squinted, slowly sitting upright as he tried to refocus his vision. He rubbed his eyes until they were sore, his brain still lagging behind in processing the situation he was in.

He was in a bed, a soft one, with white sheets and curtains with frills surrounding the bed frame. A slight headache throbbed in his temple, a commonality he chose to ignore. He had blood all over his shirt, dried and brown from however much time had passed. He was still in his old suit, it felt itchy and unpleasant against his skin.

He pushed the curtains aside, tensing at the two people—one was a knight he vaguely remembered and the other was a purple haired woman donning a medical uniform, perhaps she was a nurse—who stared at him with  confusion.

The knight blinked at him, “Mafuyu-san, you said he was going to wake up in two days, right?”

The woman, Mafuyu, nodded with mild interest, “Indeed. Due to his condition, I thought that he’d at least take a couple days to recover, not two hours…”

Toya furrowed his brow, “Where am I?”

The knight sighed, crossing his arms as he sat down on the bed next to his own. “You’re currently in Aurelia, the Eastern Kingdom of the Sunrise. I found you in an abandoned shack during an expedition. I had to teleport here as quickly as possible… ‘cause uh… you almost died. But somehow you’re awake earlier than you’re supposed to be.”

Toya blinked dumbly. Teleport? He wanted to ask, instead he blurted out, “I’m sorry, where?”

“Aurelia, Eastern Kingdom of the Sunrise. In the continent of Hephaestiun.”

What was with all of these foreign terms? They sounded European, yet the knight before him was speaking in fluent Japanese.

“Right…”

The knight stared at him silently, his eyes reflecting a semblance of realization at Toya’s unsure reply.

Mafuyu frowned slightly, “I will check your condition to make sure that you’re stable enough to operate on your own. Is that alright with you?”

Toya nodded slowly, half expecting a stethoscope or something of the like, partially because his brain still attached itself to the world he lived in previously. He received a bit of a shock to see bright purple and yellow energy emanating from Mafuyu’s palm as she approached him, gently placing her hand on his head. He shuddered, it felt like someone put multiple ice cubes into his shirt.

Mafuyu stepped back a little, looking a little confused. “That’s strange.” She posed an unsure smile, “It seems like you’re perfectly fine. Somehow, your immune system isn’t trying to harm you nor is it trying to eliminate the mana that’s entered it. It’s just panicking.” She tilted her head, trying to seem friendly, but Toya felt chills going down his spine. “You will be getting random sick spells here and there for the next couple days, so take it easy.”

Toya huffed dryly, “Well, that’s nothing new, really. Thank you…” 

“Asahina Mafuyu.”

“Thank you, Asahina-san.”

Mafuyu shook her head, “No worries. Please, just call me Mafuyu.” She bowed in acknowledgement to Toya, and then to the orange haired knight, before taking her leave.

The knight stared pointedly at Toya, his eyes sweeping over his obviously foreign attire in a judging manner.

“You’re not from this world, are you?”

Toya’s breath caught in his throat, “What?”

The knight scoffed, “Well, it’s obvious. You don’t know where you are, your system is actively seeing mana as a threat, and your attire is… odd at best.” He leaned back, shifting to a more casual posture. “There have been a couple people like you in history, but it’s been a century or two since we’ve had one.”

Toya frowned, remembering the cheap isekai novels he often saw in his trips to the library. Were some of them actually real?

“What’s real?”

Oh. “I was thinking aloud. My apologies.”

The knight nodded, “You’re fine. Everyone does that sometimes.”

How odd. He didn’t pry on what isekai novels were. Not that they were groundbreaking or anything, but Toya was a little intrigued by the knight’s character. 

Soon, what little intrigue he felt was quickly overtaken by a single question weighing on his mind. If he really was in a completely different world…

“Then… what do I do now?”

“Huh?”

“Well, if I really am in a different world, what do I do now? I don’t have any… mana, nor do I have any skills for benefiting this kingdom.”

The knight tilted his head curiously, “What can you do?”

Toya stared at his hands, slightly scarred and bruised from the extraneous strain on them from childhood. “I can play the piano,” he stated flatly, “and the violin. That’s pretty much it.”

“You don’t enjoy playing them, do you?”

Toya furrowed his brow, “No. Not really.” He mumbled, “Not since childhood.”

The knight raised an eyebrow, “That will certainly be a problem. Are you interested in becoming a knight?”

Toya was taken aback by the knight’s quick dismissal of his musical prowess when he noticed his disinterest. Not once had anyone considered his dissatisfaction with classical music, even with his blank performances. Yet the knight before him had casually moved on the minute he confirmed that Toya didn’t want to pursue it. It felt comforting, regardless of how foreign it was. He tilted his head, “A knight?”

“Yeah. A part of the royal guard. ‘S got plenty of benefits. I think you’d fit right in.”

“I’m not athletic in the slightest, though.”

The knight shrugged, “That’s fine. Mafuyu-san mentioned that your system isn’t trying to kill the mana that’s entered it. You probably have potential to be a mage.”

“But I can’t use mana. I don’t know anything about magic at all. I don’t even know how they work in novels.”

“You could start learning. It’s pretty similar to uh… what do starbringers call it again… chysichs and physiestry?”

Toya snorted, “Physics and Chemistry?”

“Yeah, that! Man, I need to work on my history knowledge.”

In truth, Toya wasn’t really interested in involving himself in magic. It was too much for him to even think about, alongside the whole isekai thing and the fact that he almost died. However, he performed especially well in maths and sciences when he was in school, so he could give it a shot. In retrospect, it was only logical that pursuing magic would be the better option for him moving forward.

“…I’ll try. How do I, uhm, apply?”

“Hm? Oh, you’ll have to ask Kamishiro about that. He’s in charge of the Mage Tower and its academy.” He shuddered, an ill expression contorted his face, “I can… try to talk to that guy to see if you can enroll for free. I could just… explain your situation as shortly as possible. Yeah…”

Toya got up, and then bowed to the knight before him.

“Thank you. For— for saving my life, and helping me in moving forward with it,” He rose up after a couple beats, and was met with the knight looking comedically baffled, his ears pink with slight embarrassment. “I never got your name.”

The knight snapped out of his stupor after a moment. “Oh. I’m Shinonome Akito, but you can just call me Akito. You are…?”

“Toya Aoyagi. You can just call me Toya.”

Akito stretched as he stood up, flashing Toya a blinding grin. “All right, Toya. I’ll go visit the purple crackhead and try to get you enrolled today. You’re supposed to stay in the medical wing for a couple days, so get cozy.” 

A small fang caught on Akito’s lower lip, making him look less intimidating and more… endearing, strangely enough. He noticed that the knight was a couple centimeters shorter than him, yet he still had the discipline of a soldier emanating from his shoulders. Toya didn’t know why he was noticing any of those little details, but he figured it was something only his subconscious would know, and not him.

Toya nodded with a newfound sense of determination, one that felt so unfamiliar yet relieving, like a gently lit hearth that was slowly melting his frozen heart. Perhaps, a change in scenery was what he needed after all.

“I will.”