Deep breaths, Kyle, deep breaths– damnit, I wish I had my inhaler!

Kyle rested his hands on top of his head as he tried to catch his breath. His chest felt tight, the air flowing into his lungs constricted against a tightened airway. Each attempt at breathing felt shallow; he stopped and leaned against a wall, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself, ignoring the burning sensation in his legs.

He’d only sprinted a couple dozen feet away, but a quick burst of physical movement like that compounded on top of his anxiety levels, causing his asthma to suddenly kick in. He figured the dose from mid-morning had probably worn off during his nap in the park.

Despite being diagnosed when he was young, Kyle had never before let his condition prevent him from being active. Improving his physical condition via cross country had done wonders for his stamina, despite the need for an inhaler, and he made sure he always had one most everywhere he went. 

Now though, Kyle realized, without the inhaler in his missing backpack, he wasn’t going to be doing a whole lot of physical activity going forward. On top of that, his throat was parched and his back damp with sweat. At this point, he would have downed the rest of either of the water bottles that had been in his bag, but he was left to lament the loss of those as well.

He stayed propped against the wall for a minute longer, enjoying the shade. He estimated it to be about four o’clock, based on the angle of the sun; he hadn’t recalled seeing a clock anywhere obvious in the corner store, nor in the park. Looking around, he saw an open-window shop close by. It looked like the kind of newspaper and book stands he’d seen in shows or movies set in New York City, only this shop was set in the middle of numerous other, larger businesses on either side of the continuous building running all the way down the street. Quite the odd strip mall on this side of the street. Surely someone must have the time, right?

As he approached, Kyle saw a salesman behind the raised counter, turning the pages through a copy of one of the newspapers on display. The man wore a short cap, which hid his face as he looked down at the paper in front of him. There was a pale scar that stood out against the dark skin of his right arm that propped his head up, and he didn’t look up as Kyle approached. 

“Excuse me sir, do you have the time?”

“Do you not?”

Kyle blinked in bewilderment; of all the responses, he wasn’t expecting such a backhanded reply to just a question about the time. “Umm, no, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

Without looking at him, the man pulled out a pocket watch from the pocket on his chest and mumbled. “A third past sixteen.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“I said it’s sixteen-twenty. What, your master not letting you clean your ears or something?”

Sixteen-twenty? What does that mean? Wait, he can’t mean–

“You mean four-twenty P.M.?” Kyle asked, his brows furrowed. The man paused mid page-turn and looked up. His left eye was normal, but the right one was a dull gray and scarred over; obviously injured from a fight. Likely the same one where he got the scar on his arm.

“Excuse me?” the man asked, his voice low. “What are you on about? Are you trying to pull something, kid? You really someone’s servant boy, or is this some dumb a prank…?” The salesman looked up and down the street, but there were no other passersby. He returned his gaze to Kyle, eyes squinting. 

Dang, that eye is unnerving!

“N-no, sir! Sorry to bother you!” Kyle hurried away, not eager to irritate someone clearly in a bad mood already. He looked back and saw the man had returned to his paper, uninterested in the retreating would-be butler. Great to know people will still see me as a “kid” here, just as they did back on Earth. And was he using military time? Does everyone use that? Oh, that’s going to take some getting used to… Huh, I wonder if they’ve got daylight saving too? 

Once he put enough distance between him and the newspaper stand, he paused to lean against the large windows of another store. Just that burst of speed was enough to return him to a state of momentary breathlessness, and he closed his eyes as he brought his hands together behind his head, trying to mentally force more air into his body. I know it’s been a couple months since I was running regularly, but it was never this bad. Gah, must be the anxiety making it worse…

He thought back to the headlines he’d managed to read on the pages of the newspaper before running away:

“Avalonia in disarray as negotiations with Terr Alliance stall! Terrorist attacks, trade disputes; what else lies in store for the newly founded republic?”

“Dissent rises! Loyalists voice regret at losing protection of the crown; is it too late to rejoin the kingdom?”

“Gang violence in Clavishburg increases with each day! How much worse must it get before peace is restored?”

“The Congress of Industrial Tycoons arrives in Clavishburg today, the Twentieth of Labor, to discuss the continued development of the city and the rest of the country!

Without context, Kyle wasn’t sure what to make of any of the headlines, other than things were probably rather bleak in Avalonia right now. That, and today was the twentieth day of Labor, which must have either been referring to a month or season. I didn’t get summoned to settle a political struggle, did I? I’d much rather deal with whatever those gangs are up to right now…

His breathing finally back to normal, he pulled out the bar he’d stolen from the corner store. He sighed as he looked at it, almost tempted to return to Connor and confess. But the feeling of a lingering emptiness in his stomach wasn’t going to go away without him eating something.

Kyle pried open the packaging to reveal a simple oat bar, covered in a light brown syrup. It smelled of peanut butter. It didn’t look like it’d be very filling, but it would tie him over until he found something else to eat. He took a bite, and nodded to himself as the flavor of caramelized peanut butter flooded his mouth. Suddenly, he felt something particularly chewy between his molars, and running his tongue over it, he felt something soft and wrinkly. Biting into it once more, he realized what it was. Even in this world, people commit such atrocities to grapes! Why ruin a perfectly good fruit by drying it?

Kyle swallowed with sadness; with no money to his name and no way to easily procure more food, he wasn’t about to complain or refuse food all because it wasn’t to his liking. He pocketed the wrapper while he finished eating, and watched on as a few people passed by going about their daily life. Nobody so much as gave him a passing glance; everyone was none the wiser that they were in the presence of somebody from another world, time, dimension, whatever. It momentarily occurred to Kyle that he might not be a first, and that there could very well have been other people like him from Earth, isekaied to this world before him. At the same time, there was simply no way to know that for a fact without going out and searching for them, and the last thing he wanted was to garner any attention for being a crazy person talking about other worlds. Who knows if that’d be considered heresy, either. Last thing I need is to make the enemy of a church.

Despite not yet seeing anything indicating a place of worship or religion, Kyle was absolutely certain there existed something like that in this world. As far as he could tell, the people here were just as human as he was. And to Kyle, having faith in something was a fundamental part of what it meant to be a human. Whether it was faith in a higher power existing or not, in oneself and your own abilities, in one’s friends and family, or even in the possibility that you could wind up isekaied to another world without warning.

“Thanks again, Markus.” Just to his left, someone in a beaten up tophat and brown leather jacket opened the door to the shop Kyle was leaning against. They waved to someone inside before turning away, their smile disappearing. “Damn, almost had him!”

Kyle raised an eyebrow but said nothing to the customer’s outburst. Stepping away from the window, he looked up and saw the word “Pawnshop” written in bold, bright red letters. The window he’d been leaning against had something written on it as well: “Home to Avalonia’s most authentic collectibles!” On the window opposite of the door, another sign read “Liars and con-persons will be refused service and kicked out, with prejudice.”

It took Kyle a moment to realize the “con” in “con-persons” did not have anything to do with people attending a convention, but was referring to con-artists. It was a pawnshop, after all. That grumpy fellow leaving the store just now probably hadn’t quite gotten the steal on an item he was hoping for.

Kyle looked around the windows to check inside. There didn’t seem to be any other customers, just somebody behind the counter. Maybe I could get the equivalent of a dollar here in exchange for everything I’ve got in my wallet? 

Taking a deep breath, Kyle opened the door, greeted by a room of cool air and lavender. Some bells chimed from the top of the doorway, grabbing the attention of the older gentleman inside. In his hands was a screwdriver and a silver pocket watch. He was wearing what looked like a monocle with multiple lenses on it, and as he looked at Kyle, his eye was enlarged to an eerie degree.

Kyle’s face must have said something, because the man put his tools down and took the eyepiece off. “Sorry ‘bout that. What can I do for you?”

Kyle hesitated a moment, shifting his bag from one hand to the other again. “Uhm, this is a pawnshop, right?”

“Last I checked, yes, my store is a pawnshop.”

“And you, uh, willing to take most anything off peoples’ hands?”

“So long as it’s theirs and in a functional or repairable condition. Or if it’s unique enough that I just have to have it, sure.” He shifted his gaze downward and nodded towards the plastic bag. “You looking to sell something there?”

“Oh, no!” Kyle said, putting his bag behind his back. “I mean… not this. I don’t think?” Selling the Shiroshi and Kuroshi figurine hadn’t even been on Kyle’s radar. Thinking about it, surely this would be worth more than otherworldly money, right? Oh, but to lose the twins like this, just to make a few quick bucks… Nick, Tony, what should I do?