Izuma stumbled down the uneven street.
every step a negotiation between panic and curiosity. He kept his arms close to his body, shrinking into himself, trying to look smaller, less noticeable. The city pressed in from all sides—noisy, colorful, and impossibly strange.
He tried to focus, to catalog what he saw, because that was what he did when things got overwhelming: break the world into pieces he could understand. And, if he was being honest, it was a little like being dropped into the first episode of a new fantasy anime—except this time, he was the protagonist, and there was no script.
The people here were…almost human. Almost,but not really. He saw a tall figure with pointed ears and silver hair, skin faintly green in the sunlight, speaking to a merchant with a voice that sounded like wind through leaves. A pair of children darted past, their eyes too large and their laughter too high-pitched, chasing a ball made of woven reeds. Some wore flowing robes, others had armor that looked ceremonial rather than practical. There were even hulking, broad-shouldered types with tusks and faces that looked carved from stone.
He watched a group of what he guessed were elves—tall, elegant, with angular features and ears that swept back like the wings of a bird. Their movements were graceful, but their eyes were sharp, always watching. One of them smiled at a passing merchant, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Izuma shivered. He recognized that kind of smile—the kind that meant "I'm getting what I want, and you don't even know it." He'd seen it in enough shonen villains to know it wasn't friendly.
He noticed the way people haggled in the marketplace, voices rising and falling in that patchwork language. Some were loud and boisterous, others sly and quiet, slipping coins from hand to hand with practiced ease. He saw a man with fox-like features slip a purse from an unsuspecting traveler, then melt into the crowd.
The animals were just as strange. He saw a carriage drawn by something that looked like a cross between a horse and a lizard–or some type of reptile, scales glinting in the sun, its eyes a deep, intelligent gold. Smaller creatures scurried at the edges of the street—some with too many legs, others with fur that changed color as they moved. A bird perched on a signpost, its feathers iridescent, its beak split in two like a pair of scissors.
Izuma's mind spun with observations, questions, and half-formed theories. He watched how people avoided certain alleys, how some groups stuck together and others seemed to drift alone, always wary. He noticed the way some merchants displayed their goods openly, while others kept their wares half-hidden, eyes darting to passing guards.
He didn't trust anyone. Not really. Years of being an outsider, of watching from the edges, had taught him to see the little things—the way someone's eyes lingered too long, the way a hand hovered near a knife, the way a smile could mean a threat. He wondered how many people here were like him, just trying to survive, and how many would use him the moment he let his guard down.
He tried to blend in, but he knew he stood out. His uniform, his lost expression, the way he flinched at every shout or sudden movement. He felt exposed, like a side character in a world that didn't have a place for him yet.
And since Izuma himself was just a teen, He let his thoughts spiral, let them carry him away from the fear and the strangeness. He wondered if he could ever fit in here, if he'd ever understand the rules of this place. He wondered if he'd ever see home again, or if this was all there was now—an endless parade of faces he'd never know, places he'd never belong.
He was so deep in thought, so lost in his own head, that he didn't notice the figure approaching until a voice cut through the noise.
"H-Hey. You look… lost."
Izuma blinked, startled, and looked up. Standing in front of him was an elf girl—tall and slender, with pale green eyes that seemed to see straight through him. Her hair was the color of new leaves, braided with tiny white flowers, and her ears swept back in elegant arcs. She wore a tunic of soft blue fabric, a leather satchel slung over one shoulder, and her expression was curious, not unkind.
He opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat.
The world seemed to pause, just for a second, as her gaze met his.