A mysterious encounter (remade)

The desert's embrace is harsh, its sands a scalding blanket beneath me. I'm sprawled there, the sun a relentless overseer in a sky too blue to be real. It's like waking from one dream only to find myself ensnared in another, but the heat—that's no illusion. It sears through my clothes, promising nothing but an endless march through this golden wasteland.

I push myself up, the grains slipping through my fingers like the remnants of my old life. The Gourmet Galaxy, Chef Romsay, the clatter of dishes—they're all a world away now. Here, there's only the whisper of the wind, carrying the weight of solitude and the sting of sand against my skin.

I start walking because that's what you do when you're lost—you move. I search for a sign, a sliver of hope on the horizon. And as if summoned by my desperation, a shape emerges from the heat haze—a pyramid, ancient and enigmatic, a beacon in this barren expanse.

My feet carry me forward, each step a defiance of the part of me that wants to collapse, to surrender. But I'm Haruto Elric, damn it. I've faced down Chef Romsay's temper and the drudgery of a job that tried to cage my dreams. I won't be broken by a bit of sun and sand.

The pyramid looms closer, and atop it, a figure watches. Not just any figure, but one that seems torn from the pages of mythology—a creature of wings and mystery.

My gaze locks with it, a pair of eyes that seem to cut right through me. They see me, Haruto, the man who's stumbled into this madness. A screech, sharp enough to split the sky, tears through the silence, and she's moving—a streak of raw energy, her form a blur that rends the air itself. It's a display of power that defies belief, her speed reaching beyond the bounds of sound, a sonic boom trailing in her wake. It's terrifying, a dance of chaos that leaves me breathless in its wake.

I'm moving too, instinct taking over where thought has no place. The sand shifts beneath me, and I'm rolling away, feeling the rush of air as she passes overhead. My heart's a drumbeat in my chest, pounding out a rhythm of survival and fear.

She lands with a powerful force, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the desert. I'm thrown backward, the blast nearly knocking the breath out of me. Sand stings my face, and I scramble to my feet, heart pounding. If I'd been hit, I'd be done for—no question about it. The realization hits me like a second blow, cold and stark: she could have killed me.

I catch my breath, and there she is, a figure from a myth. Her wings are like a nightfall, painted with the colors of a dying day—black, purple, magenta. They're vast, commanding, a display of strength that's both a warning and a wonder. And her attire, it's more absence than fabric, bandages hugging her form in a way that speaks of battles fought and scars earned.

This is no game, no anime and no animation. This is real, and it's happening now. My mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of this puzzle. How did I get here? What does she want? And why, why does she look so familiar?

As she circles back, I realize who she is—Tricky, the harpy dragon VTuber. But this is no digital avatar; this is flesh and blood and feathers. The memories come flooding back, hours spent watching her streams, the sound of her voice, the screeches that were her signature. It's surreal, seeing her here, in this place that defies explanation.

Racking my brain for a way to calm her, I remembered the screeches Tricky would make in her streams. Mimicking the sound as best as I could, my attempt at a screech was far from perfect but seemed to have some effect.

"Like this? Is this what you're used to?" I asked, attempting another screech.

Tricky relaxed slightly, cautiously approaching me and letting out another screech of her own.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting the hang of this," I chuckled nervously, trying to match her pitch and tone.

Each time Tricky screeched and moved closer, I responded with my own attempt at a screech. Slowly, we seemed to be communicating, bridging the gap between our worlds.

Just as I was about to greet her properly, a shout shattered the fragile calm. A group of bandits emerged from behind the dunes, their guns aimed squarely at me. For a moment, I was paralyzed, shocked by their sudden appearance and the harsh reality that this world had its dangers too—guns included.

Before I could fully process it, Tricky let out an ear-splitting screech, the sound slicing through the air like a blade. The bandits flinched, their focus momentarily broken. In a blur of feathers and fury, Tricky shot towards an opening in the pyramid, her wings cutting through the heat haze with effortless grace.

I had no time to think. The bandits regained their composure, their eyes locking onto me with deadly intent. Instinct kicked in, and I dove to the side just as a bullet whizzed past where I'd been standing. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat a reminder of how close I was to death.

Rolling to my feet, I grabbed a fistful of sand and hurled it at the nearest bandit's face. He stumbled back, cursing, and I lunged forward, landing a punch that sent him sprawling. Another bandit charged at me, but I ducked under his swing and kicked out his legs, sending him crashing to the ground.

The third bandit raised his gun, but I was faster, closing the distance and knocking the weapon from his hands. We grappled, a chaotic tangle of limbs and adrenaline, until I managed to throw him off balance and send him tumbling into the sand.

Breathing heavily, I looked around. The bandits were down, but not out. I had to move. Tricky's form was already disappearing into the dark entrance of the pyramid, a beacon of hope in this chaotic desert.

Without wasting another second, I sprinted after her, the shouts of the bandits growing fainter as I neared the pyramid's shadow.

With the bandits momentarily dealt with, I turned my attention back to the pyramid. Tricky had disappeared into an opening near the top. Gritting my teeth, I began the arduous climb.

Reaching the summit, I paused to catch my breath. "Damn, that was my workout for today," I muttered, wiping the sweat from my brow. The entrance loomed before me, dark and foreboding. I stepped inside, finding a tunnel that spiraled downwards with long stairs leading the way.

"Oh hell nah, there is no way I'm going all the way back down those stairs again," I said, already out of breath.

Cursing under my breath at the seemingly endless descent, I started down the stairs, my legs protesting with each step. The air grew cooler as I descended, a welcome relief from the desert heat above. After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached the bottom.

The sight that greeted me took my breath away. Beautiful fountains with crystal-clear water sparkled in the dim light, surrounded by piles of gold that gleamed invitingly. White spiders scurried around, their presence unsettling but strangely fitting in this surreal place.

Shaking off my confusion about the spiders, I focused on what mattered most—Tricky.

Tricky suddenly launched at me, her expression fierce and furious as she pinned me to the ground. "WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? ARE YOU A BANDIT OR HATER TOO?!" she demanded, her voice tinged with anger.

My heart raced, but I managed to keep my voice steady. "No, no, I'm not a bandit or a hater," I replied quickly, hoping to calm her down.

"YOU SURE?!!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "OR ELSE I WILL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW."

A chill ran down my spine as a dark purple sphere formed in her palms, crackling with dangerous energy. I swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. I had to convince her that I meant no harm, or I might not make it out of here alive.

"I swear, I'm not here to cause any trouble," I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm despite the fear creeping in. "I don't have any weapons with me, and I have no ill intentions."

Tricky's grip loosened slightly, but her eyes still bore into mine, searching for any sign of deception. The purple sphere in her palms crackled ominously, a stark reminder of the power she wielded.

"I just... I just want to help," I continued, my voice pleading. "I saw you were hurt, and I couldn't just leave you here alone. Please, you have to believe me."

Tricky hesitated, the tension in the air palpable. For a moment, it felt like time stood still as we stared at each other, both unsure of what would happen next. Then, with a heavy sigh, she released me, the dark sphere dissipating into thin air.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice softer now, tinged with exhaustion. "But one wrong move, and you're done for. Got it?"

I nodded, relief flooding through me. "Got it," I replied, grateful for the chance to prove myself. Now, I just had to find a way to earn her trust and help her escape this strange place.

Tricky's command was clear, her voice a mix of authority and discomfort. "Fetch the alcohol from the kitchen, will you?" she said, her arm weakly gesturing down the corridor to her right. "It's just down there."

I followed her pointing hand, my eyes tracing the dimly lit path that veered away from the room's disarray. With a nod, I set off toward the kitchen, my footsteps resonating in the quiet of the hallway, each echo a stark contrast to the earlier tumult.

Arriving at the kitchen, I hesitated, surveying the unfamiliar yet oddly mundane setting. "Which shelf is it on?" I called back to Tricky.

"To your right, above the stove," she responded, her voice strained.

My gaze swept across the kitchen, finding the stove and the shelf above. Reaching up, I grasped the bottle of alcohol. As I did, my eyes roamed, taking in the details of this world. They have these things here too, I thought, the alcohol, the mundane… The only real differences are the magic… and Tricky.

Alcohol in hand, I returned to find Tricky with a collection of bandaids, eyeing me with suspicion. "What took you so long?" she questioned. "You didn't swipe any food, did you?"

"No, it just took a moment to locate it," I assured her, handing over the alcohol.

She accepted the bottle and perched on the fountain's edge, wincing. "This bullet wound is killing me," she muttered. With a magical gesture, the bullet rose from her wound. She tried to bandage her wing, but it proved difficult; her wings were too big.

"Do you need my help?" I offered, my concern evident.

Tricky wavered, torn between pride and need. Finally, she conceded. "Yes," she accepted, and I moved in to aid her.

After tending to her wounds, I stepped back to inspect my handiwork. "All set," I announced, my tone soft but laced with the weariness of the task. "You should rest now, you'll be alright."

I gave her a comforting smile, one filled with assurances of safety and care. Tricky, her wings now neatly bandaged, looked up at me, the pain replaced by a deep fatigue. She nodded weakly, accepting my advice.

"Rest does sound appealing," she agreed, embracing a rare moment of vulnerability.

Her intense stare cut through the dimness. "Your name?" she demanded, seeking honesty.

I hesitated, contemplating the choice before me. Should I cling to my old identity, or embrace the new name I've always desired? I've left that world behind; this is a fresh start.

"I'm Astro," I declared with conviction. "Astro Elric."

Tricky considered me for a moment before nodding. "Astro," she began, her voice weary but firm, "you saw a door halfway down the stairs. There's a spare room behind it. You can rest there. I'm sure you're exhausted as well. I'll be resting too."

Her gaze locked with mine, a stern warning in her eyes. "And if you make a wrong move… I'll turn you to dust."

"Understood," I replied quickly, a trace of amusement in my tone despite her serious warning.

Turning toward the stairs, I inwardly groaned at the thought of climbing them again. But as I ascended, Tricky's voice halted me.

"Astro…" she called out, softer now. "Thank you."

I glanced back, a sincere smile on my face. "

I nudged the door open, the hinges whispering into the hush of the room. Stepping over the threshold, I couldn't help but let the day's events cascade through my mind.

The abruptness of it all—the collision with the truck, the sudden plunge into this new, fantastical world—it was overwhelming. The relentless desert sun had scorched my skin, a stark reminder of the world's harshness I'd stumbled into.

Then there was Tricky, that attacked me. The bandits, the fight, the close call with death, and finally, the quiet moment where I patched her up—it was a lot to process.

"Man, what a day," I muttered to myself, the words lost in the vastness of the room. I let myself fall onto the bed, the mattress embracing me with a comfort I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. My eyelids grew heavy, and as I surrendered to the fatigue, sleep washed over me, a gentle tide pulling me away from the chaos of the day.