The Undesired Second Chance

Chapter 6: A Midnight Encounter

The rest of the trip passed in a blur, at least to Axel.

He was pretty sure he had been part of a conversation, supplying distracted hums of acknowledgment whenever the topic veered in his direction. At some point Morimoto had been surprised by something, maybe, and of course Gai—he was still reeling about running into Gai of all people—was consistently energetic the entire time. Probably. Axel wasn't really paying attention.

Or maybe he had been, at the time. He certainly couldn't remember any of it now.

The house Morimoto led them to, though Gai and the cart were technically always in the lead, was a simple two-story building with a bit of overgrown yard between it and the road. Axel only noticed those things because he tripped on his way to the front door and again when trying to go up the stairs.

Morimoto had wasted no time showing him to what was presumably going to be his room, at least for the moment, before vanishing back downstairs to help the trio of newbie ninja—genin?—unload the cart.

And there Axel stood, just inside the room as the door swung shut behind him, not really sure how he got there.

His bag slipped from his shoulder, and he let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. He followed shortly after, all but collapsing against the door as the willpower that had kept him upright for the past who-knows-how-long drained away. Exhaustion and disbelief and denial and confusion and deep, suffocating fear swirled in his gut.

Not fear of the ninja themselves, no. Although, thinking back to some of the late series fights Adri had either sent him the videos to or simply sat him down to watch... that would be justifiable. Summoning meteors or flattening villages or the entire whatever nonsense the final battle had been: that's all serious business now. Real threats.

But that wasn't what he was so scared of.

(Mostly.)

Axel stared blankly at the empty room. It was an unfamiliar, empty echo of his apartment back in München: a bare shelf and a desk on one wall, an unmade bed along the other. Numbly, he stood and managed to walk to the bed. Part of him noticed that he no longer had shoes on, just socks—probably took them off when he came in.

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, Axel closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. Keeping it consciously steady and deep and consistent.

He didn't know how he got here. Got to this world.

He didn't know how he could get home.

If he even could.

And that scared him.

With a suddenly shuddering breath, he flopped back on the bed—uncaring that it had no sheets or blankets yet—and draped one arm over his face. Lying like this, blind to his surroundings, he could almost convince himself that he was back in Germany. Or Tokyo. Or even back to earlier in the week, still blissfully unaware.

The window was open slightly, letting in a gentle breeze that tugged at the curtain and stirred the air. It was quiet. Peaceful. A few dogs somewhere outside barked. Axel focused on that.

Calm.

He was calm.

This was... unexpected, to say the least. But he was here, and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Especially if he panicked himself into an early grave.

With each breath, Axel focused on himself: how inhaling pulls and expands, exhaling releases and contracts. Focused on how his bones and muscles and skin felt in the moment, just existing.