Gun Girl from Another World

Chapter 1

Awakening

It really was a dream.

As awareness begins to return to me, there's no sensation of impact or injury. The familiar fog of dreams rolls back from my consciousness as my mind moves through the slow process of jacking back into my physical body.

My muscles begin to stir, sluggishly shifting and twitching without yet enough strength to actually move even a finger, like cogs that have only begun to receive power but have not yet built up enough force to turn the next one over.

It may not yet be enough to move, but it's enough to tell me something is wrong. The fibers within my limbs shift back and forth against something my brain tells me is hard and cold, not soft and wrapped in linen. It quickly determines this is outside its expected parameters and environmental awareness begins to spread through me at an accelerated rate.

In short order, my brain informs me that my face is also pressed against the same hard, cold surface, cheek squashed against it so that my entire mouth is off-center from the rest of my face. The atmospheric data comes on its heels. The air is practically still, cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to be dangerous, and touching every inch of my skin that isn't against the hard surface.

The awareness reaches my logic centers and the feedback rapidly begins to connect to concepts.

I'm naked, laying belly down, probably on tile. Not in my bed, wearing my sleeping t-shirt, curled up in a comforter. In other words, I'm not where I'm supposed to be if I'd gone to sleep normally.

As drawn out as it all feels, I've probably only been awake for less than a dozen seconds.

I begin to shift my body now, and my brain automatically suggests the most likely explanation to match the errant data, accompanied by possible causes and recommended courses of action.

Did I fall asleep in the bathroom? I'm not in pain, so I didn't slip and knock myself out. I don't remember going drinking last night. In fact, I don't actually remember a "last night." Maybe I did knock myself out. I should get to my bedroom, get some clothes, find my phone. It'll have the time, reminders, maybe text messages to refresh my memory. If nothing else, I'll be able to call for help if I need it.

I pull my head off of the floor and begin to haul myself up, craning my neck to see.

With my shoulders mere inches off of the floor, I freeze, every other thought thrown out of my mind.

I see boots. More than one pair.

In the next heartbeat, I'm wide awake as adrenaline floods my system. I get one leg under me, mind trying to assess the threat, eyes scanning for an escape route, and my arms covering myself all at the same time as contradicting but equally urgent concerns flood my mind.

"Peace, young miss. You are in no danger."

I whip toward the deep voice, my panic reaching me faster than the meaning of his words.

He's an old man, but not so old that the echoes of a powerful build have left him. His jaw is strong and clean-shaven despite his gray hair. He's wrapped in a white robe that's tied with a red rope half as thick as my wrist, and the cloth is embroidered with all sorts of symbols and designs that seem only decorative to me. On his head is a folded cap and in the hand he isn't holding open toward me is a tall staff that shines like gold.

Or at least I think it shines like gold, I've never actually seen gold with my own eyes before.

There is a soldier to either side of him, standing so that they make a semi-circle around me. They're wearing segmented armor that's a deep blue that's almost purple. Each one wears a helmet secured under his chin with a tied-off strip of cloth. They each hold a spear in their right hand, the butt resting against the ground, and a red tassel tied just under the head. What I'd guess is some sort of short blade is strapped to the small of their backs, again with that red tassel just below the guard. The belt holding it in place is a red rope, not unlike that of the old man except thinner and less pronounced.

Just behind the old man and to his left is a young woman in a similar robe to him, though it's less decorated, and instead of a red rope, is secured with a thick length of rose-colored cloth. She's about my height and it takes me a moment to realize her ears are long and pointed. I can't see her eyes because she's looking down at the ground, the only one of the four not looking at me. It seems more like she's expected to stand that way rather than something she's doing out of embarrassment.

... I wish the rest had some sense of embarrassment.

I toss my gaze recklessly around my immediate surroundings. A solid white marble floor etched with red symbols. Ivory pillars. Walls of dark wood. It all screams opulence so loudly I almost feel like I have to shut my eyes against it. It's also nowhere I've ever seen in my life.

"Where am I?" I demand. I'll reprimand myself for the questions later. Turns out, cliche as they may be, I still need their answers. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The soldiers and the young woman don't move a muscle. They might as well be statues.

The old man's voice is steady and calm, as if this was all a perfectly normal situation. "You are in Fushiro, capitol of the Furinshao Empire. The imperial family stand witness over your arrival."

He motions behind him and I only now notice three more figures at the far end of the room. A man and a woman sit on a raised platform that look like it was brought in for this.

The man has a massive frame wrapped in a crimson robe trimmed with gold and tied with a gold belt thick enough to use for rigging. He wears his black hair long, with a little hat on his head that matches his robe, and an honest to goodness full on fu manchu.

The woman, who must be his wife, wears a violet robe also trimmed in gold with a gold cloth wrap, but she wears no hat and her hair is pulled up in buns to either side of her head, underneath gold strings dotted with green stones. These seem to parallel her husband's set of necklaces, thick chains of gold and slabs of green stone that would make a rapper jealous.

The third figure is a boy who stands beside them, with no chair provided. He wears a simpler robe and is barefoot, but still has a golden rope. I'd guess him about five or six, and his features take after his mother.

The two adults have stern expressions on their faces, though it doesn't really feel directed at me. The boy is staring wide-eyed at the whole proceedings, and I'm reminded the only thing protecting my dignity are my own limbs.

"I am Sacred Genstai," the old man continues answering my question, having not actually paused in doing so, "Archpriest of the High Temple of the Ascended. I am in charge of the sacred ritual for summoning Heroes." Wow, he spent longer introducing himself than he did the imperial family. "You are one of those chosen by the Heavens and sent to us in answer to our pleas."

The memory of the dream springs back to mind. Asking me if I want to go on an adventure.

Is this all actually real?

No, there's something more pressing.

"... Does being one of these Heroes get me any clothes?"

The old man is unflappable. "Apologies, young miss. The ritual does not bring any dead matter with it. Only your body, cleansed and purified."

Behind him, the young woman hands him what looks like a crystal ball without raising her head, and he takes it in his free hand as he continues. "If you can wait but a bit longer, we need only take the measure of your blessing, and then Sacred Yorin will take you to quarters where you will be provided with a meal and some basic attire."

At the mention of food, I realize my stomach actually feels quite empty. In fact, I don't feel like I have any food in me at all. No dead matter, he said. Did that include food I'd already eaten? Digested?

While I'm processing the dietary implications of getting yanked across the multiverse, he holds the crystal ball up before me. Its dark center begins to glow with a blue light, and a familiar blue box opens before our eyes. It must face all of us, rather than being mirrored, because he can read it just fine even though it looks like it's open in front of me.

NAME: Remmi Lee

RACE: Human

AGE: 15

LEVEL: 1

CLASS: Gunslinger

... With a flash of embarrassment, I am suddenly struck with realization why the box in my dream didn't wait for me to tell it if I was fit. I had been musing about how much energy I had when I was fifteen, and it must have taken that as a necessity.

I resist the urge to look myself over. I could have a little identity crisis in the privacy of whatever room they give me. Standing stark naked in the middle of a room full of strangers is the wrong place for it.

"Hrmm," the old priest observes. "Gunslinger?"

The man in the crimson robe seems impatient, and he straightens up in his seat. "She has the blessing, then?"

The old man turns and gives a bow of his head. "Yes, Lordship, she seems to. It's not a class I've ever heard of, but it definitely is a class. The blessing is, as Your Lordship knows, the only way to acquire one without going through the temple."

The large man nods and gives a dismissive wave of his hand. He stands, only then followed by his wife. "See her on her way, then. She will be reviewed with the rest tomorrow."

The old priest bows again and the family leaves the chamber in single file, an air about them as if this is all something distant from them.

Except the boy. He pauses in the doorway to stare at me again. I give him an uncomfortable smile for lack of any better idea, and he smiles back, but then his mother gets him by the ear and drags him out after them.

Genstai - I'm pretty sure at this point Sacred is a title - steps aside and motions the young woman with the long ears toward me. "Sacred Yorin, if you will."

She bows her head and steps toward me. She only then raises her head to smile at me, and her eyes are bluer than anything I've ever seen in my life. "Hero Remmi Lee, please come with me."

I'm glad to get away from the old man and his soldiers, but once we're off in a hallway by ourselves, there's something I'm burning to ask.

"Are there other heroes that were summoned?" It's possible that Genstai's talking was about different rituals, but the man in the crimson robe said I'd be reviewed with others.

"Four others," Yorin nodded. "They awoke before you and had already left the Divine Hall. You will be able to meet them in the morning."

"And I was just laying there that whole time, bare as a broomstick?!" I almost try to conceal my annoyance, but don't quite make it.

"Apologies, Hero," Yorin bows, flushing red. "We cannot be certain your energies have properly settled until you awaken. To disturb you, even by covering you, could have caused great damage. It is why even the soul orb is not turned upon you until then."

She hesitates. "It is unusual for you to take so long to awaken, but it is also unusual to summon five heroes. It is possible the extra burden stressed you somehow we are not aware. Your level is certainly lower than it should be."

We stop outside of a sliding wooden door that she opens for me, revealing a cozy, if small room. A bed is built into the floor, there's a wardrobe against the wall, a washbasin across from the bed and a changing screen.

"... Well, if I'm a gunslinger," I muse, "then I don't imagine my level will matter very much. So long as I can get a gun to sling, anyway."

That hesitation again. In fact, Yorin steps away from me, but covers it with a bow. "I am certain weapons will be provided for the Heroes at tomorrow's review. Please rest well for today, I understand the ritual is quite exhausting. Someone will bring you food within the hour."

And she's gone before I can thank her for the escort.