Returnee from Another World - Chapter 1: Returnee from Another World

Chapter 1: Returnee from Another World

“Am I really back…?”

A familiar scene.

The moment I recognized it as my own room, tears welled up unbidden.

I thought my tears had long since dried up…

In a world where my heart was worn down by despair and disappointment, the longing for home was the only thing keeping me going each day.

Adventurer comrades who took advantage of my inability to understand their language, half-forcing me into a contract to use me as bait for monsters.

A slave trader who deceived me, trying to reduce me to servitude.

In a world where not a single person could be trusted, even the one woman who showed me kindness ultimately betrayed me.

I hated that world.

I loathed its inhabitants, resented the fact that no one came to save me, and despised the god who thrust this fate upon me.

It wasn’t like I was summoned by someone, like in some story.

I never met a god who served as a tutorial guide, nor was I ever tasked by a king to save the world. Nothing like that happened.

When I came to, I was simply standing alone in the wilderness of another world. That’s all there was to it.

The only reason I survived that harsh environment was likely because of abilities that could only be described as cheats.

Why I had such abilities, I don’t know.

I considered the possibility that I might have met a god and forgotten about it.

But if that were the case, there should’ve been some purpose, some role for me to fulfill. Yet I had no clue what that could be.

If someone granted me these abilities, it’s hard to believe they’d do so without any meaning. What exactly did they want me to do? It’s an utter mystery.

What I can say is this: without those abilities, I wouldn’t have survived a single month.

Even if I’d been fortunate enough to reach a human town relatively easily, that world was far too brutal and cruel for someone like me, who’d spent 25 years soaked in the lukewarm bath of civilization.

I faced near-death experiences countless times.

Yet somehow, I survived, relentlessly searching for a way to return.

It took about eight years, traveling to various places, poring over every book I could find. Eventually, I reached a single conclusion: the key to returning lay in magic or alchemy.

The magic and alchemy of that world defied the laws of physics, enabling phenomena unimaginable by modern Japanese science. That’s why I believed the possibility of returning resided there.

At first, I considered a magical approach. But the more I learned about magic, the more I realized returning through it was impossible.

Magic, you see, involves offering mana to spirits, who then work miracles. The general understanding—and likely the correct one—is that spirits cannot produce phenomena they don’t know or understand.

Moreover, the phenomenon that brought me to that world was so vague that replicating it in reverse seemed nearly impossible. For various reasons, I gave up on returning through magic early on.

For the first year, I desperately searched for accounts of summonings or lost wanderers, things of that nature. But no one knew of such things.

If someone in that world had caused it, there might’ve been a chance. But if it was a natural phenomenon, unraveling it as an individual was likely impossible.

*

And then.

I finally arrived at the forbidden book of ancient alchemy, Arugabana.

One passage in Arugabana mentioned the existence of a secret elixir for crossing time.

If time could be rewound…

Of course, there was no guarantee everything would work out perfectly. Even if time rewound, there was a real possibility I’d remain in that world.

And there was another problem.

The materials needed for the elixir were absurdly difficult to obtain.

Petals from the thousand-year grass, which blooms only once every thousand years. The fresh blood of an ancient dragon. The tears of Flapple, a spirit that governs time.

These weren’t the only materials required, but these three were particularly elusive. Even S-rank adventurers in that world would struggle to obtain them.

Yes, without abilities like mine…

The ability to vaguely sense the direction of whatever I envisioned.

A body immune to disease, poison, or status ailments, capable of regenerating minor injuries in a single day.

Physical strength that, while not tied to a leveling system, was clearly unnatural.

The ability to see others’ emotions as colored auras.

And the existence of a dimensional storage space.

Even among the people of that world, with their mysterious magic and alchemy, no one else possessed abilities like these. They were cheats granted solely to me.

Eight years felt like an eternity.

The first year was spent in confusion, just trying to survive.

The second and third years, I resolved to live as an inhabitant of that world, frantically learning its language and script—only to grow disillusioned with everything.

The remaining five years, I minimized contact with others, focusing on self-improvement and searching for a way back.

And finally…

“It’s not a dream, right? Even if it is, please don’t let me wake up.”

I glanced around the room.

It was undeniably the scene etched in the corners of my memory.

The lights were bright, the PC was there.

The carpet and curtains were pristine, without a single stain. The bed looked clean, tempting me to sink into its safe embrace.

All of it was impossible in that other world.

A wave of nostalgia surged within me. This was Earth, unmistakably the room I’d lived in.

But as I slowly recalled various things, I noticed a faint sense of unease.

“Huh?”

I hurriedly powered on the PC to check the date.

—2011/10/13.

The incident that swept me away happened in October 2019, I think. I don’t remember the exact date, but this meant an eight-year time lag.

The elixir I prepared should’ve returned me to roughly the day of the incident, eight years ago. Going further back would’ve required more materials, and the risk of failure would’ve increased with the years.

Even if I gathered more materials, I might’ve secured the ancient dragon’s blood or Flapple’s tears, but the thousand-year grass was questionable. Even when I pictured blooming thousand-year grass, I only found ones that hadn’t flowered. It took three years just to find one in bloom.

Well, in the end, I don’t know why it turned out this way, but instead of returning to the day of the incident eight years ago, I went back another eight years.

As if to confirm this, my body looked noticeably frail, almost pitifully weak.

“Well, getting younger than expected isn’t exactly a problem. If anything, it’s convenient for what lies ahead.”

Yes.

There’s still a problem.

If things stay as they are, when that day comes, I might get caught up in the same incident again. I’ve prepared a barrier to block interference from external mana, but I don’t even know if mana was the cause, so I’m uneasy about whether it’ll work.

Honestly, just having eight years to prepare countermeasures is a pleasant miscalculation. Compared to being thrown into another world alone with nothing, this kind of anomaly is no big deal.

And if this house—or this location—is somehow a factor, moving is an option I can manage with eight years.

I’d need to convince my parents, though…

“Come to think of it, around this time, Mom and Dad were in Hokkaido, weren’t they?”

In the spring of my second year of high school, my father was suddenly transferred to the Hokkaido branch, and my mother went with him.

Leaving their high school son behind to transfer as a couple—what were they thinking? But back then, I was more thrilled about the freedom, enthusiastically waving them off. They’re probably in Hokkaido now, happily being lovey-dovey.

I picked up the cell phone on the desk and pulled up my mother’s number from the contacts.

After barely three rings, a nostalgic voice came through.

“Hello, Shuu?”

“Ah, Mom…”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Something hot welled up from deep in my chest. I swallowed the words that nearly spilled out.

What happened to me.

How much I suffered.

I wanted to tell her everything.

“No, I’m fine. Just wanted to check if you and Dad are doing okay. That’s all.”

“Ufufu… How rare for you to worry about us, Shuu. I’m doing fine. Your father, too, of course. Are you eating properly? You need to eat your vegetables, okay? If you need me, I can come back.”

“No need to worry so much. I’m managing just fine.”

But could I really tell her, even if she’s my mother?

That her son killed many people in another world.

That it was the only way to survive.

That not all of them were likely evil. Some might’ve been people I could’ve reasoned with. But in a world where a moment’s hesitation could mean death, even with my regenerating body, I wasn’t guaranteed immortality.

“I’ll be back in early December. Your father can’t get much time off. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Got it, got it. I’m hanging up now. Talk later.”

“Okay, talk later. Oh, let me put your father—”

There’s no way I could tell her.

Maybe I could tell her while hiding the worst parts?

No, if I’m going to leave out the crucial bits, it’s the same as saying nothing. Even my mother might not believe me if I obscure the important parts. She’d probably just worry her son’s gone crazy.

I ended the call and went downstairs, lying on the living room sofa.

I desperately wanted to sleep.

Despite finally achieving what I longed for, my mood refused to lift. I’d lived solely to return, never once thinking about what I’d do afterward.

What now?

Could someone like me, a killer, really go back to being a normal high schooler?

I’ve heard stories of soldiers returning from war with PTSD. Would that happen to me? Or maybe it’s already happening?

With those troubled thoughts swirling, my consciousness slowly sank into darkness.

*

Ping pong.

The doorbell jolted me awake.

Disturbed from my first peaceful sleep in ages, I instantly grew irritable.

I hate having my sleep interrupted. Or rather, I’ve come to hate it.

In that world, places where I could sleep safely were rare. I had to sleep with constant vigilance against thieves or monsters. A place where I could rest securely was precious.

So, if someone dared disturb my sleep in such a place, I’d silence them with a punch, no questions asked.

Glancing at the clock, it was 11:30 p.m. I’d slept for about three hours.

Groggily, I got up and checked the intercom monitor to see the uninvited guest.

I don’t recall inviting anyone, especially not this late at night.

The figure on the monitor was a girl.

She looked to be in her late teens. Her face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her name immediately. After all, it’s a memory from sixteen years ago. I racked my brain, trying to pull the threads of recollection.

“That’s right… Ayano, wasn’t it?”

It clicked.

Yes, it’s Kato Ayano, my classmate and neighbor. We were close until around our second year of high school, but we gradually drifted apart—a childhood friend.

As my memory returned, things started to make sense. I spoke to Ayano through the intercom.

“Hm? What’s up? If it’s the neighborhood circular, just leave it there.”

“Open the door…”

“You show up out of nowhere and tell me to open the door? Ayano, did you fight with your mom again?”

“Hmph, what’s it to you? It’s none of your business. It’s raining, so let me in already.”

That’s right.

We were pretty close until middle school. Close enough to visit each other’s houses.

Honestly, she’s got a good face and figure, and there was a time I even thought about her becoming my girlfriend. Her personality was a bit much, but as a childhood friend, I found it endearing.

But in high school, she changed.

Especially in our second year, when she started hanging out with a group led by some guy named Sakaki, her behavior got so bad her mom couldn’t handle her. And that’s when I started keeping my distance—that’s the future that happened in the past.

“Your mouth’s as sharp as ever. And that selfish personality, too. Fine, hold on.”

I unlocked the door and opened it.

There stood Kato Ayano, soaked to the bone, glaring at me.

“Shuu, lend me a towel.”

Ayano spoke irritably, her expression sour.

But at that moment, her words didn’t even register.

Because I saw something that shouldn’t exist in this world—the color of her aura.