1 Meet at the Horizon

It has been raining for seven days, the seven days since Mizuki crawled into self-seclusion, reducing herself to nothing more than a social outcast. Outside, the Heavens rain mercilessly upon the city of Tokyo, lightning striking through the pitch-black sky and thunder growling more sinisterly than a beast. It's no different, really. Mizuki's at the foot of her couch, curled into a ball with a blanket draped over her petite frame.

'I wonder what I've done to get me here.' A lot of things, and Mizuki would remember them clearly if it isn't for her hazy mind from staying in all day. All that illuminates her studio apartment is the blue light from the television. It rumbles softly.

Mizuki pushes herself up into a position where she can fold her legs, now throwing her quilt over her head. When she attempts to stretch out a leg, she finds herself kicking against a couple of empty metal cans. 'I should really clean this mess up', she wonders, critical gaze watching the heaps of empty chip bags and hollow plastic bottles strewn across the floor.

Even then, she picks up her controller, throwing her headset over her ears.

Hirashi Mizuki, once the Hirashi family's trophy child. The youngest of three daughters, the family's pride and glory. She has never been a letdown - not once. So how, many would question, is she in an empty apartment, unemployed at 24 with a Master's degree in Business lying pathetically on a dirty dinner table.

<i >Zzzt. The television buzzes, white screen flickering with a faltering light till suddenly the excruciatingly loud sound of lightning hits Mizuki's ears. It's dark. Mizuki groans, her tapping against the various controller buttons growing increasingly impatient. After a brief few moments, the screen flashes back on.

Mizuki crawls forward, searching through the trash for her game, raising her eyebrow at the feel of a hardcover video game under her fingertips. She holds it up to her face, squinting for a moment or two.

Northstar Retribution, she reads under her breath.

What a tacky name, she sighs.

She stands, stumbling for a bit before she regains her balance. She crouches, knocking the box-shaped television on its sides to find a hatch where she can insert the CD. Growing up privileged, she hasn't seen anything less than 30-inch mega screens at a normal.

I didn't know they had this kind of beat-up thing nowadays, she scrunches her nose with evident disdain, slotting the disc somewhere at the back of the television, hoping it isn't ruined.

Standing back, she folds her arms critically, waiting for the television to magically fix itself, hoping the game will load. There's nothing better she can do in the rain either way. She's been asleep for too long to fall back into her daze. Sluggishly, she falls against her couch with a thud, picking up her controller.

Nothing changes. Mizuki yawns. While waiting for the game to load, she attempts to read the synopsis of the game. There's nothing much written, something about a land being thrown under great sorrow and only to be rescued by mysterious heroes. She flings it aside, bored. Overhead, thunder hisses and bellows, much louder than any other round.

Mizuki flinches, rubbing her arm in an attempt to comfort herself.

The loud wind has been rattling her windows for a while now and it's just about getting annoying enough for her to notice. It's at this point when a strike of lightning flashes through the sky and the television comes on.

"Northstar Retribution!" a blue opening screen welcomes Mizuki on-screen. She straightens her back against the sofa, now intrigued. <i >Finally, something that's working— Darkness. Mizuki's face falls. Her eye twitches in annoyance. She can't be surprised.

She only found this game because it was being thrown out by the shop owner of the indie store she normally patronises. It's located further downtown, in a neighborhood where there's graffiti on the brick walls and stoners getting high at every corner.

She only goes there because it's cheap, not like the fancy electronic stores that charge her a whole seven thousand yen for a game she'll touch once.

Mizuki recalls the scene perfectly. "What are you doing?" she had said as she nudged the filthy front door of the store. A bell tinkled in greeting overhead. Cho was rummaging around behind the counter, a trash bag placed unceremoniously on top, a bright red cover glinting under the ceiling lights next to it. Mizuki raised her eyebrow in interest.

"Are you throwing this out?" Mizuki stepped forward, taking the game in her hand.

"'Ya," Cho stated, chewing on her gum. "You sure you want it? Been on my shelves for days. It's old and shit," she explained dismissively. Mizuki remembers dismissing any external thought, taking the game in her hand and walking out of the store, exclaiming a word of thanks. The game has been on her table for a while since the incident. Likely a bad idea to start up a possibly dysfunctional game during a thunderstorm.

Mizuki is broken out of her stupor by the television coming on again. A sliver of hope returns to her, only to vanish when the screen shows nothing more than a sign instructing 'No connection, check antennae.'

"Huh?!" Mizuki huffs in disbelief, sliding off her couch. Pursing her lips doubtfully, she reaches a hand for the antennae, hoping she'll figure out what to do on the spot.

She doesn't.

Instead, with a thunderous roar from the sky, Mizuki feels a surge of electricity run through her veins. She retracts her hand, then falling to her knees. Events unfurl so quickly, Mizuki finds her thoughts meshed into a blur. Her breathing heavy, she finds herself panicked till eventually, her senses go numb.

Her limbs tremor.

A half-eaten bag is crushed under her weight. Her vision wavers, watching as a blue light illuminates the carpeted floor.

<i >Ah, is this where it ends?

[Hirashi Mizuki has joined the world]

Mizuki flinches. She feels a cold liquid fall roughly against her cheeks as if demanding her to return to her senses. She's drowsy, and barely in a clear enough state of mind. Her eyes flutter open, gaze skyward. It's grey, the sky a monotone patchwork of clouds. A raindrop splatters against the corner of her eye. She winces, sitting up with her arm to her forehead.

She purses her lips and then the epiphany hits her. She looks up, rain falling on her lips. Mizuki shouldn't be here. "So where am I?" she gasps softly, clutching the grass around her. Her eyes dart around her surroundings, scanning each and every possible thing she can land her eyes on. She can't tell where exactly she is, someplace resembling a medieval town. It's the sort of setting she's seen in her comics and it gives her the inkling that she's nowhere in Japan.

When she peers to her right, she gives herself a jolt, watching an unfamiliar man tower over her as she sits in his shadow.

"Ah?" he turns, curious emerald eyes observing Mizuki, only to be knocked in the shin by her. "Ow, ow, ow!" he grimaces, clutching his calf, jumping backwards. Pointing an accusatory finger at Mizuki, he hisses in annoyance. Mizuki climbs into a defensive stance, returning his glare, her clothes muddy and unkempt.

"Who are you?" Mizuki blinks with furrowed eyebrows. It's only at this point that she takes notice of his features. He should be at least a head taller than her, slender legs, arms and everything. He doesn't look rugged in the least, perhaps a few splotches of dirt on his clothes. Mizuki questions how he manages to carry himself with an air of pride even so.

"Clearly you don't know how to show any appreciation after I carried you all the way here from the town square," he scoffs, glaring daggers at Mizuki. "Maybe I should've left you after you fell limp at my feet."

Mizuki's expression softens. She stands back, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. "Right. Thank you for that but I still don't know who you are."

"God, you annoy me," he massages his forehead, turning his back to Mizuki. His soggy shirt reveals a modest amount of his pale but well-built body. Mizuki diverts her gaze, following his steps meekly with her ears flushed from mortification. As she does so, she scrutinises her surroundings.

She pauses at his doorstep, watching him tentatively before stepping in. "What are you doing? You want to stay out there and get drenched?" he scrunches his nose, snapping at Mizuki in a hostile tone. Hand on the door, he begins to push it close, "Fine then, be my guest."

Before he can, Mizuki snatches the opportunity and slips in quickly, standing with her back pressed against his wall. She takes the opportunity to look around warily, up at the ceilings and down at the floorboards.

"I have no reason to capture you," the man reassures, beckoning her into the main room. Mizuki has never seen a house quite like this. It's like a suburban apartment, a much smaller version of her family's house back home. Accepting his invitation, she welcomes herself to the couch which she slumps against sluggishly, folding her legs against it.

Throwing her head back, she clutches onto her calves. He looks familiar, she ponders. She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she parts her lips. <i >I'm stuck in the video game, aren't I?

The acceptance hits hard but Mizuki doesn't know how to feign surprise. It's absolutely stupid and by far the least possible thing that could happen to her. She averts her gaze towards the sound of nearing footsteps, staring at the anonymous man approaching her once again. Setting down a wooden cup in front of her, he raises his eyebrow, "Why are you looking at me like that? You should be thanking me that I didn't leave you on the street."

"Thank you," Mizuki rolls her eyes, stubbornly picking up the cup and chugging the drink. She winces, wiping her mouth. He better not have poisoned me.

She stands, handing him the cup. I hope this is a dream.

"Yasui Hinata," he reaches out a hand. Mizuki, though reluctantly, cups his palm in her own, shaking his hand firmly. "Hirashi Mizuki. A pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, we both know it's not." Mizuki drops her hand, sighing.

"Treat me more as your temporary host than your friend for the time being, till you can return to your hometown," he expresses nonchalantly, returning the utensil to its proper location. Mizuki looks behind her, noticing the muddy patch where she was seated. She flushes red. He sits across her, drying his hair with an old rag, then gesturing towards one that Mizuki can use.

"I don't expect much from someone like you, take a seat," Hinata muffles a chuckle. Mizuki scoffs at his rudeness, the way he manages to slip in an insult in every sentence. Snatching a cloth next to her, she dries her hair roughly, glaring at him venomously.

'I'm sick of him. Can't I just wake up already?' As she thinks this, her frown deepens into a scowl.

"You see, glaring at me like that won't do you or me any good. You'll need to tell me where you're from and details like that," Hinata focuses on his hair. He fidgets with the rubber band at the very end of his braid, undoing it so his hair can dry better. Mizuki finds herself gawking at him as he does so. His hair's a lot longer than mine. Self-conscious, she begins patting her own. Their eyes meet.

Sheepish, she looks away. "I know I'm handsome, you don't have to be shy about it," he raises an eyebrow, expression unchanging.

"I'm from Tokyo," Mizuki clears her throat. Hinata halts, watching her with a weird expression. "Could you repeat yourself?"

"Huh? Tokyo? Ever heard of it?" Mizuki snaps her fingers in front of his face. Hinata's face falls and surprisingly, he doesn't argue. He folds one leg over the other, rubbing his chin deep in thought. Flicking his gaze up, he inquires, "Have you heard of Polaris?"

Mizuki scrunches her nose. "Like the star?"

"Sigma, Ocantis?"

"Do I look like an astronomer to you?" Mizuki huffs incredulously. Hinata sits up, ignoring Mizuki's snarky comments. "You're in Astrum. Whether or not you believe it, I strongly believe you're stuck in a parallel universe."

Mizuki blinks. She pinches herself and unfortunately, she can feel pain. Of course, being stuck in a video game has been one of the top few explanations for her ridiculous situation but God has she been praying that it wouldn't be true. She sulks but does nothing else, neither complain nor break down in sorrows or blame the world.

"Right," she presses her lips into a thin line. "What next?"

"You aren't shocked?" Hinata's lips part in surprise.

"You don't seem too surprised either."