The Story Where I, the Strongest Mercenary, Was Reincarnated as a Bullied Introverted High School Student ~ When I Was Freely Enjoying My School Life, for Some Reason the Girls Around Me Started Glancing at Me~

Chapter 5: Am I Going to Die Again!?

“!?”

I, Miyamoto Ryuji, came to consciousness and found that my neck was being compressed by something like a thin rope. My feet weren’t touching the ground, and I was hanging in the room in a hanged state.

(I can’t breathe…!? No, wait, I should have died in the first place when I got caught up in a missile explosion on the battlefield. There shouldn’t be any “can’t breathe” or anything…)

I was a battle-hardened mercenary. I had overcome any situation with calm composure. Even so, thinking I had died only to find myself dying again was truly beyond what I could have anticipated.

(I don’t understand anything, but surviving this situation is the top priority anyway. The rope is thin, but if I grab it and lift my body up, I should be able to hold on for a while)

However, my thin arms, as if they weren’t my own, were heavy as if already completely exhausted. It didn’t seem like they could support my body weight for long.

Still, with the loosened pressure around my neck, oxygen was sent to my brain for a few seconds. During that time, I looked around, searching for a way to survive this situation.

(There’s nowhere my feet can reach. The desk… my toes can just barely touch its edge. I can’t get on top of it…)

Observing calmly, I saw there was a pen holder on the desk. Scissors were also placed in it. The moment I thought that far, my arms reached their limit and I was back in the hanging state.

(I can’t reach that place even if I stretch my legs… socks… good, I’m wearing them! Then―)

While calmly calculating how many more seconds I could survive, I moved both feet. Understanding that I was on the verge of death, I never panicked or made noise, moving efficiently without any waste to survive. That’s how I had slipped through the jaws of death by a hair’s breadth many times.

I skillfully removed the sock from my right foot using only my foot, then held it between my right toes.

(If I mess up here, it’s over. Don’t panic… aim calmly…)

I gave it a light momentum and swung my right foot, hitting the pen holder with the sock. The scissors I was after spilled onto the desk from the fallen pen holder.

They were still out of reach for my feet. Once again, this time slowly, I covered the scissors with the sock held at my toes. This was to pull them to the edge of the desk where my toes could reach.

(My vision is narrowing… evidence that death by suffocation is approaching. But don’t panic. If I drop the scissors from the desk here, it’s over…)

After pulling the scissors to the very edge of the desk, I discarded the sock from my toes and finally gripped the scissors between my toes. I transferred them to my hands and cut through the thin rope hanging around my neck with all my strength.

Snap! Thud!

“Puha! Cough Hah… hah…”

I took air into my lungs. If I had been even one second later, I would have lost consciousness.

Looking closely, the rope was a LAN cable.

(Good, I’ve avoided death by suffocation for now… but what the hell…? My head hurts like it’s splitting…)

I already had the sensation that my body wasn’t my own. At the same time, a massive amount of memories I didn’t know flooded into my head.

Dojima.

Bullying, blackmail.

Countless instances of verbal abuse and contempt.

As if I had experienced them myself, another person’s life flowed into my brain.

(No good… I can’t maintain consciousness. I don’t even know if this room is safe, but anyway, I need to find a place to hide…)

With my consciousness fading, I crawled across the small room.

And so, hiding under the bed, I lost consciousness once again…

Chapter 6: The Reincarnated Mercenary’s Start

…Was I alive? Was I dead?

This time, praying that my neck wasn’t being strangled, I woke up under the bed.

Hiding instinctively had been an action taken out of caution against being attacked by enemies.

However, now I understood from the memories of this body’s original owner, Fushimi Jinta, that this was ‘my room’.

The memories might have settled while I was unconscious. Perhaps that earlier headache had been the strain of synchronizing two people’s memories to this body. It was unbelievable, but organizing the reality was what I could deduce.

Crawling out from under the bed, I did light stretches with my aching body. In any case, I had been reincarnated into this guy, Fushimi Jinta’s, body and could move it freely.

“Ah~ ah~ cough. Give me 9mm rounds, spit out where your comrades are, enemy spotted to the right front, you piece of shit, see you in hell.”

English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese. I tried speaking in the several languages I had learned while working as a mercenary. There probably wasn’t a Japanese high school student who could speak this many tongues. This meant that the memories of me, Miyamoto Ryuji, as a mercenary had indeed remained along with my personality… though the completely different voice was unsettling…

Fushimi Jinta. I didn’t understand why my soul had possessed the body of this guy, who should have had no connection to me whatsoever. No, perhaps it was triggered by this guy’s wish before hanging himself, which I remembered.

(‘If I’m reborn, I want to become an invincible, strong creature like a dragon’… huh.)

Invincible Dragon. As a mercenary, I had certainly been called that. But if I were truly invincible, I wouldn’t have died from a missile explosion.

(Anyway… now that I know it’s safe, should I cut this damn lame hair?)

Fushimi Jinta’s hair was long and blocked my vision. And more than anything, this hair was the biggest cause of his uncool appearance. The reason for not cutting it short was ‘because Dojima would say it’s cocky and beat me up…’ What a slave mentality that had seeped in.

I didn’t know when I would return this body to Fushimi Jinta, but until then, it was my body. This guy had tried to throw it away anyway, so I’d use it as I pleased to some extent.

I picked up the scissors that had saved my life. Then, going to the washbasin, I used those scissors to cut my hair short with quick snips.

(But for the sake of his sister and mother… huh.)

Even though I had risked my life to protect Japan from missiles, he’d gone and committed suicide. I thought that, but looking at Fushimi Jinta’s memories, this guy had tried his best in his own way to protect his family. At least that part, I could empathize with, having become a mercenary to protect my family in Japan. The suicide was also just the momentum from alcohol, so I’d overlook it.

After finishing cutting my hair, I looked at myself reflected in the washbasin. The mercenary Miyamoto Ryuji, who had taken on Fushimi Jinta’s face, grinned.

“…What do you know? You’ve got a pretty decent face.”

The face that should have been uncool according to Fushimi Jinta’s memories, now possessed the sharpness of a mercenary burning fiercely in the depths of his eyes.