Chapter Text
The Convenience Store Did Not Prepare Him for This
Subaru Natsuki was in the middle of congratulating himself on surviving another midnight convenience store run without much social interaction when the world broke.
It didn’t explode. It didn’t fade to white. It didn’t even do anything cool like swirl ominously.
It skipped.
One second he was stepping off the curb, plastic bag rustling with instant noodles and discount snacks, already planning which anime opening he’d hum on the walk home—
—and the next, his foot never hit the ground.
Instead, reality lurched sideways like a drunk failing a balance check, light flared in nauseating rainbow streaks, and Subaru felt the deeply upsetting sensation of being grabbed by existence itself and yanked.
“W—what the—?!”
He collided with something small, solid, and inexplicably bouncy.
They both hit the ground.
Subaru skidded across rough stone, groceries exploding everywhere, while the other body landed in a surprisingly nimble roll before popping upright with the enthusiasm of a stage performer hitting her mark.
“Oho!”
Her voice rang out bright and triumphant.
Subaru groaned, face-down, palms stinging. “Ow… ow ow ow… okay, note to self, concussion check later…”
He pushed himself up—and froze.
They were not in Japan.
Tall stone buildings loomed around them, banners fluttering overhead, the air thick with voices, hooves, and the clatter of a medieval city that absolutely did not belong in modern Japan. People bustled past in unfamiliar clothes, some pausing to stare.
And standing directly in front of him was—
A girl.
A small girl.
Dressed like a walking cosplay budget violation.
She wore frilled knightly armor that somehow managed to be both ceremonial and impractical, white and gold with ribbons fluttering where ribbons had no right to be. Her hair was a pale blonde bob, eyes wide and sparkling with unfiltered delight.
And in her hands—
In her hands was a lance.
Not a prop.
Not foam.
A real, gleaming, absurdly sharp lance.
Subaru’s brain blue-screened.
“…Nope,” he whispered. “Nope nope nope nope—”
Before he could scramble backward, the girl spun on her heel, taking in the surroundings with open-mouthed wonder.
“Aha! Behold, Rocinante, we have arrived!” she declared, stamping one foot. The shoes she wore—those shoes twinkled. Literal sparkles chimed as she bounced in place. “What a splendid realm! So bustling! So ripe with virtue and villainy alike!”
Subaru stared at the shoes.
Then at the lance.
Then at the people.
Then back at the lance.
“Okay,” he croaked. “Okay. Deep breaths. This is a dream. This is a bad dream. I ate something bad.”
The girl suddenly leaned into his personal space, eyes inches from his.
“Greetings, stranger of odd garb!” she chirped. “I am Don Quixote, a knight errant in pursuit of justice most radiant! Might thou inform me—”
A shout cut her off.
“Oi! You two!”
Subaru flinched, twisting toward the voice. A rough-looking man shoved his way through the crowd, face twisted in a sneer, hand already reaching inside his cloak.
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to cause trouble in the street?” the man growled. “Hand over your shiny stuff, and maybe I won’t—”
The rest happened very fast.
Don Quixote gasped.
“A villain!” she cried, utterly delighted. “So soon into the quest! Fortune smiles upon us!”
Subaru barely had time to scream “WAIT—” before she moved.
She lunged.
No warning. No hesitation. No dramatic wind-up beyond the sheer confidence of someone who had never once questioned whether this was the correct course of action.
The lance punched through the man’s torso with a wet, meaty thunk.
Blood sprayed.
Subaru felt it hit his cheek.
Warm.
Sticky.
The man made a sound that Subaru would later remember in nightmares—a choking, bubbling gurgle—before Don Quixote twisted the lance and yanked it free.
The body collapsed.
Silence slammed down on the street like a dropped curtain.
Subaru stared.
His vision tunneled.
His ears rang.
Don Quixote planted the butt of her lance against the ground and beamed.
“Fear not, citizens! Justice has been served!”
Subaru’s stomach violently rejected reality.
He turned, staggered two steps, and vomited his soul onto the cobblestones.
“BLEGHH—oh god—oh god oh god—!”
He barely registered the crowd erupting into shouts, people scattering, guards yelling in the distance.
He just kept gagging.
A small hand patted his back.
“Courage, brave wanderer!” Don Quixote said warmly. “The path of chivalry doth demand a stout stomach!”
Subaru wheezed, wiping his mouth with a shaking sleeve.
“…You—” he gasped. “You just—he was—there was so much—”
She tilted her head, lance still dripping.
“Hmm?”
He looked at her.
Really looked.
She wasn’t splattered or crazed or manic.
She was… happy.
Bright-eyed. Earnest. Proud.
Like she’d just helped an old lady cross the street.
“…You turned that guy into a shish kebab,” Subaru whispered.
Don Quixote smiled wider.
“Indeed! A most foul varlet he was!”
Subaru blacked out for half a second.
When his vision came back, guards were definitely coming, his groceries were destroyed, he was covered in blood that was not his, and he was standing next to a pint-sized knight with a murder weapon and zero remorse.
She clasped his hands suddenly.
“By fate’s decree, thou didst arrive alongside me!” she declared. “Thus, thou art surely my appointed squire!”
“…I’m sorry, your what?”
“Squire Subaru of the Odd Garb!” she announced proudly. “Come! Let us flee before lesser minds impede our righteous march!”
She grabbed his wrist and ran.
Subaru screamed as his feet moved on instinct.
“This is not happening! This is not happening! I didn’t sign up for Lance Psycho Isekai—!”
But even as terror clawed at his chest—
Even as his heart hammered and his legs burned—
Her grip was warm.
Steady.
And for just a second, as they vanished into an alley together, Subaru felt the strangest, most unsettling thought flicker through his panic:
She really thinks she saved me.
Subaru learned three important facts in the next thirty seconds.
One: medieval alleys were narrower than they looked.
Two: armor did not slow Don Quixote down in the slightest.
Three: if you were dragged into another world by a girl with a lance, she would absolutely outrun the consequences while you screamed apologies to physics.
“STOP—WAIT—SLOW DOWN—!”
Don Quixote vaulted over a crate with a joyful laugh, sparkly shoes chiming as she landed. Subaru barely cleared it, nearly eating stone when his foot slipped on something unpleasantly slick.
Blood. Definitely blood.
Behind them, shouts echoed.
“After them!” “She skewered him!” “Which way did they go?!”
Subaru’s lungs burned like they were filled with broken glass.
“I’m gonna—! I’m gonna die—!”
“Nonsense!” Don Quixote said brightly, not even winded. “A squire’s endurance is forged through trial!”
“I DIDN’T APPLY FOR THIS JOB!”
She skidded to a stop at a fork in the alley, eyes darting left and right with exaggerated seriousness. Then she pointed dramatically.
“Thither!”
They burst into a dead end.
Subaru slammed to a halt, heart trying to claw its way out of his throat. Brick wall. No door. No ladder. No escape.
“…This is it,” he rasped. “This is where I die because I followed a homicidal mascot.”
Don Quixote blinked.
“Oh! A tactical oversight.”
Footsteps thundered closer.
Subaru slid down the wall, hands shaking. “Okay, okay, listen. We can explain. We can say it was self-defense. Or… or you can knock me out and use me as a hostage? Please don’t skewer me—”
Don Quixote frowned.
“Skewer thee?” she repeated, genuinely puzzled.
She turned fully toward him.
“Squire Subaru,” she said solemnly, planting her lance tip-down like a banner. “Why would I ever strike down my own companion?”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
“…Because you stabbed a guy. In the street. With a smile.”
Her brow furrowed deeper, as if he’d said something profoundly strange.
“He was a villain,” she said simply. “Villains harm the innocent. Knights stop villains.”
“That’s—!” Subaru swallowed. “That’s not how that works! You don’t just decide someone’s evil and—!”
The guards rounded the corner.
Don Quixote moved instantly.
She stepped in front of Subaru, small body squared, lance raised.
“Stand behind me,” she commanded.
He didn’t argue.
Steel clashed. A guard lunged—she deflected, spun, smacked the man across the helmet with the haft. Another came in low—she hopped clean over the swing, shoes sparkling, and bonked him unconscious with frightening efficiency.
Subaru watched, horrified and awed and deeply, deeply afraid of being on the wrong side of her someday.
But the guards hesitated.
This girl wasn’t wild.
She was skilled.
“Retreat!” someone yelled. “Get reinforcements!”
They fled.
Silence crept back in.
Subaru slid down the wall again, weak-kneed.
“…You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered.
Don Quixote turned, face bright once more.
“Of course I did!” she said. “What sort of knight would abandon her squire?”
Her hand extended.
He stared at it.
Small. Calloused. Smudged with someone else’s blood.
“…I’m not your squire,” he said weakly.
She tilted her head.
“Not yet,” she agreed cheerfully.
She helped him up anyway.
They walked until the city noise dulled, ducking into a shadowed nook beneath an overhang. Subaru finally bent over again, dry-heaving.
Don Quixote rubbed his back in earnest little circles.
“Thou art very brave,” she said. “Many would faint outright.”
“…Low bar,” he croaked.
She beamed like he’d accepted a medal.
When the shaking finally eased, Subaru wiped his face and looked at her again—really looked.
She wasn’t mocking him.
She wasn’t bloodthirsty.
She was sincere.
Dangerously, catastrophically sincere.
“…You’re not scared,” he said quietly.
“Of course not,” Don Quixote replied. “Fear clouds judgment. Dreams demand clarity.”
Dreams.
That word sat wrong in his chest.
“…Where did you even come from?” he asked.
She gazed upward, eyes distant for half a heartbeat.
“From a tower of dusty tomes,” she said lightly.
“And now I am here! With thee!”
Subaru laughed weakly. “That’s… the worst answer you could’ve given.”
She laughed with him, delighted.
Something twisted in his chest.
This girl was insane.
And yet—
When he’d been cornered, terrified, useless—
She hadn’t hesitated.
She’d stood in front of him.
“…Hey,” he said after a moment. “If we’re… together now…”
“Yes?”
“…Can you maybe warn me before you kill someone?”
She thought very hard about that.
“…I shall endeavor,” Don Quixote said proudly.
It was not reassuring.
Subaru decided, about fifteen minutes after not dying, that this world ran on bad decisions made confidently.
They drifted through the capital’s streets at a cautious pace. Don Quixote walked like this was a parade in her honor—head high, steps springy, shoes chiming with every bounce—while Subaru hovered half a step behind her, flinching at every raised voice and glint of steel.
“Okay,” Subaru muttered, tugging at his tracksuit. “New rules. We keep our heads down. We don’t talk to strangers. We absolutely don’t stab anyone.”
Don Quixote nodded with exaggerated seriousness.
Immediately afterward, she pointed.
“Behold! Two merchants locked in mortal dispute!”
Subaru lunged and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“—Mmph?!”
“No,” he hissed, dragging her back. “That’s just yelling. People do that. Over money. And other stuff.”
She blinked, eyes wide.
“…A cunning illusion,” she whispered reverently.
“No! Just—trust me. Please.”
She studied his face, searching for something unseen, then nodded.
“Very well, Squire Subaru. I shall defer to thy worldly expertise.”
That agreement came far too easily.
Subaru did not like that.
They stopped near a stone fountain tucked into a quieter square. Subaru crouched and scrubbed his hands in the water, watching diluted red swirl away.
“…Okay,” he said under his breath. “We need food. Somewhere to sleep. And a way to not get arrested.”
Don Quixote perched on the fountain’s edge, feet swinging.
“Ah! The logistics phase of our quest!” she said cheerfully. “A crucial trial of any heroic saga!”
He glanced up at her. “Do you have money?”
She froze.
“…Define money.”
Subaru closed his eyes.
“You don’t,” he said flatly.
“Alas!” Don Quixote clutched her chest dramatically. “I was stripped of worldly wealth in preparation for destiny!”
“Of course you were.”
Subaru leaned back against the fountain, staring up at the sky. “Okay. Fine. We find work. Honest work. No stabbing.”
She saluted. “I shall smite evil for wages!”
“No smiting.”
“…I shall glare menacingly for wages?”
“We’ll workshop it.”
They wandered again, Subaru scanning signboards, trying to piece together literacy from vibes alone. He felt painfully out of place—his clothes, his posture, his very existence screamed wrong.
Don Quixote, meanwhile, fit like a puzzle piece from a different box but refused to notice.
At one point, a drunk stumbled toward them, muttering something ugly.
Subaru tensed.
Don Quixote shifted, lance angling—
Subaru caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
She looked at him.
The drunk took one look at her eyes—bright, unblinking, utterly fearless—and thought better of it, shuffling away.
Don Quixote slowly lowered the lance.
“…Very well,” she said. “For now.”
Subaru let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
She smiled like he’d given her permission to exist.
They eventually ducked beneath an overhang as evening crept in, city lanterns flickering to life.
Subaru sank down onto a crate, exhausted.
“…You didn’t have to listen to me,” he said quietly.
Don Quixote tilted her head. “Of course I did. A knight heeds her companion.”
“…I’m still not your squire.”
She considered this.
“…Then thou art my partner,” she said, pleased. “Until such time as destiny clarifies matters.”
Subaru snorted despite himself.
“…You’re really serious about this whole justice thing, huh?”
Her gaze drifted upward, expression softening—not dimming, not cracking, just… focused.
“Dreams are serious things,” she said. “Without them, one is simply... passing the time until the end.”
The words hit him sideways.
Subaru looked away, throat tight for reasons he didn’t want to examine.
“…If you’re gonna stick with me,” he said gruffly, “try not to die.”
Don Quixote laughed, bright and fearless.
“I have no intention of doing so.”
Subaru watched her laugh, heart doing something inconvenient and dangerous.
This was bad.
This was very bad.
Night in the capital did not come gently.
Lanterns flared to life all at once, the city transforming into a warm glow of gold and shadow that made everything feel more expensive than Subaru could afford. Which was to say: at all.
Subaru stood in front of an inn with a carved wooden sign and a cheerful jingle drifting out the door.
“…Okay,” he muttered. “We just need one room. One. We sleep. We don’t die.”
Don Quixote peered up at the building.
“A fortified resting hall!” she declared. “Splendid! Surely the keepers of such a bastion welcome wandering knights!”
Subaru stepped inside before she could challenge someone to honorable combat over a pillow.
The innkeeper—a broad man with a tired face—looked them over.
Subaru smiled his best please don’t notice I’m broke smile.
“Hi. Room for the night. Cheap as humanly possible.”
The innkeeper’s gaze slid to Don Quixote’s lance.
“…You planning to stable that?”
“She bites,” Subaru said quickly.
Don Quixote nodded solemnly.
The innkeeper sighed. “Two silvers.”
Subaru’s brain emptied.
“…Define silver.”
The man stared.
“…Out.”
They were gently but firmly escorted back onto the street.
Don Quixote looked thoughtful.
“Perhaps we should slay a dragon,” she offered.
“NO.”
---
Plan B was a smaller inn.
Plan C was a much smaller inn that smelled like old beer and despair.
Plan D involved Subaru trying to barter with instant noodles.
It did not work.
By Plan F, Subaru was crouched in an alley, head in his hands.
“…I am so dead,” he groaned. “I got isekai’d with no powers, no money, and a knight who thinks ‘budget’ is a kind of monster.”
Don Quixote knelt beside him, eyes shining with concern.
“Despair not!” she said. “A knight’s worth is not measured in coin!”
“That’s great,” Subaru snapped. “But innkeepers don’t accept vibes!”
She gasped.
“…They do not?”
“No!”
She looked genuinely shaken.
“…A cruel world.”
They sat in silence.
Then Don Quixote straightened, resolute.
“I shall earn us shelter.”
“By doing what,” Subaru asked weakly, “politely intimidating the concept of poverty?”
She smiled.
“I shall perform.”
Before Subaru could ask what that meant, she sprang up onto a crate in the middle of the street.
“Citizens!” she cried. “Gather round and behold a tale of valor!”
“Oh no,” Subaru whispered.
People slowed.
Stopped.
Watched.
Don Quixote launched into an impassioned speech about justice, knights, and dragons of deceit, punctuating her words with dramatic flourishes of her lance that absolutely violated several public safety expectations.
Subaru watched, horrified, as—
—coins started dropping.
“…No way,” he breathed.
She ended with a heroic pose.
Polite applause followed.
Don Quixote hopped down, grinning, holding out her palm.
“…I believe this is money.”
Subaru stared.
“…You busked,” he said.
“I conquered hearts!”
They counted.
It was enough.
Barely.
---
The final inn accepted them with suspicion and one stern rule about “no weapons indoors.”
Don Quixote argued valiantly.
Subaru apologized profusely.
They got a room.
One bed.
Subaru stared at it.
“…We can rotate,” he said faintly.
Don Quixote sat on the floor cross-legged.
“A knight requires no bed!”
“You are sleeping on the bed,” Subaru said immediately. “I’m not explaining this to anyone.”
She blinked.
“…A noble sacrifice.”
He collapsed onto the floor.
Ceiling. Wooden beams. Real.
“…Hey,” he said quietly. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
Don Quixote hummed. “But I wished to.”
“…You scare me,” he admitted.
She looked at him, expression gentle, unoffended.
“And yet,” she said, “thou hast not fled.”
Subaru swallowed.
“…Try not to stab anyone or do stupid things tomorrow.”
She smiled.
“I shall endeavor.”
Again: not reassuring.
Morning arrived with the subtlety of a brick.
Subaru woke up with his face mashed against the floor, spine twisted like a pretzel, and a deep, spiritual resentment for wooden architecture.
“…I hate this world,” he mumbled into a splinter.
Above him, Don Quixote sat bolt upright on the bed, already fully dressed, eyes sparkling with dawn-fueled enthusiasm.
“Awaken, Squire Subaru!” she proclaimed. “A new day beckons with boundless opportunity!”
He groaned. “Do not shout heroism at me before breakfast.”
She leaned over the edge of the bed, peering down at him upside-down.
“Didst thou sleep well upon the warrior’s floor?”
“I slept like a man who lost every coin flip of his life.”
She nodded sagely. “A rite of passage.”
Subaru dragged himself upright and immediately regretted it.
They checked out under the innkeeper’s deeply suspicious gaze and stepped back into the street. The capital buzzed with morning energy—merchants shouting, carts rolling, guards clanking past.
Subaru squinted at a notice board plastered with parchment.
“…Okay,” he muttered. “Jobs. We need jobs. Simple ones. No violence.”
Don Quixote leaned in.
“May I strike evil adjacent to the task?”
“No.”
“…May I glare heroically?”
“We’ll negotiate.”
Subaru scanned the listings.
Warehouse help needed
Escort for merchant caravan
Street cleaning assistance
His eyes stopped at the last one.
“…Perfect,” he said. “Low danger. Honest labor. Zero stabbing.”
Don Quixote read it slowly, lips moving.
“‘Assist in the cleansing of public walkways.’” She straightened. “Ah! Purging filth from the land!”
“No purging,” Subaru warned. “Sweeping.”
They arrived at the work site ten minutes later.
The foreman took one look at Don Quixote’s lance and sighed like a man who had made peace with nonsense.
“…You break anything, you pay for it.”
Subaru nodded rapidly. “Absolutely. She’ll just… supervise.”
Don Quixote saluted.
“I shall defend the broom!”
Thirty minutes later, the street was spotless.
Not because Don Quixote swept.
Because she intimidated dirt.
She marched alongside the workers, giving impassioned speeches about cleanliness as a moral virtue, glaring at stubborn grime until laborers scrubbed harder out of sheer pressure.
One man whispered, “Is she… judging the street?”
“Yes,” Subaru said tiredly. “Morally.”
At one point, a rat scurried out of a drain.
Don Quixote gasped.
“A sewer dragon!”
Before Subaru could stop her, she leapt—landing in front of it, lance leveled.
The rat froze.
They stared at each other.
Don Quixote slowly lowered the lance.
“…Begone,” she intoned.
The rat fled.
The workers applauded.
Subaru buried his face in his hands.
They got paid.
Actual coins.
Subaru stared at them like they might evaporate.
“…We survived,” he whispered.
Don Quixote beamed. “Victory through virtue!”
As they walked away, Subaru glanced sideways at her.
“…You didn’t stab anything.”
She smiled proudly.
“I exercised restraint.”
“That’s—” he stopped. “…That’s actually really impressive.”
Her eyes lit up like he’d just knighted her again.
“Thou thinkest so?!”
“Don’t make it weird,” he said quickly. “Just—good job.”
She walked a little closer after that.
Not touching.
Just… closer.
They bought food.
Bread. Cheap stew. Subaru nearly cried.
As they sat on a low wall eating, passersby stared.
A mismatched pair: a strange boy in odd clothes and a tiny knight humming happily with a lance across her lap.
Subaru noticed something odd.
She always sat facing outward.
Always watching.
“…You don’t relax, do you?” he asked.
Don Quixote paused.
“…A knight must ever be vigilant,” she said lightly.
He nodded.
“…Hey. Thanks. For yesterday. And today.”
She looked at him, surprised.
“I merely did what was right.”
“…Yeah,” Subaru said softly. “That’s what scares me.”
She tilted her head.
“And yet thou remainest.”
“…Yeah.”
They finished eating.
Coins clinked.
The day stretched ahead of them, uncertain and dangerous and ridiculous.
Subaru stood, rolling his shoulders.
“…Okay. Same plan tomorrow. No stabbing.”
Don Quixote grinned.
“I shall endeavor.”
Subaru sighed.
Still not reassuring.
But as they walked on together, the city swallowing them whole—
The crack, the chaos, the terror—
It all felt strangely survivable.
Subaru learned about the rumors on accident.
Which was, unfortunately, how he learned most things in this world.
They were standing near a stall arguing over whether dried meat counted as breakfast and lunch when he overheard two guards talking behind him.
“…—telling you, she lifted a man by the collar with a spear.” “No way.” “Swear on the Dragon. Little thing, blonde, eyes like she was judging your soul.”
Subaru froze mid-chew.
Don Quixote, blissfully unaware, held up a strip of jerky. “Squire Subaru! This one resembles the texture of victory!”
“…Don,” he said slowly, “how many people have you talked to today.”
She beamed. “Several!”
“How many of them did you call villains.”
She paused.
“…Define villain.”
Subaru swallowed the rest of his food whole and nearly choked.
By noon, it was undeniable.
People were staring.
Not the curious looks from before—the knowing ones. Whispers followed them. Vendors stiffened when Don Quixote approached, then relaxed when she smiled and politely asked for prices instead of declaring a moral crusade.
A kid pointed at her.
“That’s her!” “The spear knight!” “My dad says she stabbed evil!”
Don Quixote waved cheerfully.
Subaru wanted to crawl into a sewer and live with the rat she’d traumatized.
“…We have a reputation,” he muttered.
“A good one?” she asked eagerly.
“…A loud one.”
They ducked into a side street to avoid a growing crowd.
Subaru paced. “Okay. New rule. You don’t talk to strangers unless I’m there.”
She nodded immediately.
“Excellent! Thou shalt be my herald!”
“…My what.”
“My voice to the masses!” she declared. “For thou art wise in the ways of not alarming people.”
“That is the saddest compliment I’ve ever received.”
It worked.
Sort of.
When Don Quixote stood quietly behind Subaru like a brightly colored judgment statue, people spoke to him instead.
Merchants negotiated nervously. Children asked questions. One old woman patted Don Quixote’s head and called her "an excellent bodyguard."
Don Quixote glowed with pride.
Subaru died inside.
At one point, a man approached cautiously.
“…You the one keeping her in check?”
Subaru opened his mouth to deny—
“Yes,” Don Quixote said brightly. “He is my moral compass!”
Subaru’s soul left his body, came back, and filed a formal complaint.
“…I am barely holding myself together,” he hissed once the man left.
“But thou art holding,” she replied, sincere.
That shut him up.
By late afternoon, Subaru realized something worse than the rumors.
Don Quixote was listening to him.
Actually listening.
When he said “don’t,” she didn’t argue. When he said “wait,” she waited. When he said “this way,” she followed.
Not blindly—but willingly.
That scared him more than the lance.
They stopped near the same fountain from the night before.
Don Quixote sat, feet swinging, watching reflections in the water.
“Subaru,” she said suddenly.
“…Yeah?”
“Why dost thou tremble when danger nears?”
He stiffened.
“…Because I’m normal,” he said lightly. “Normal people don’t like dying.”
She hummed, thoughtful.
“And yet thou standest beside me regardless.”
“…Because if I don’t,” he said quietly, “you’ll charge in alone.”
She turned to him then, eyes wide.
“…Would that be wrong?”
Subaru met her gaze.
“…Yeah,” he said. “It would.”
Something in her expression softened.
“I see,” she said.
The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable.
Subaru looked away first.
“…People think you’re a lunatic,” he admitted.
She blinked. “Am I?”
“No,” he said immediately. Then, quieter, “You’re just… too much.”
She smiled, radiant.
“Then I am fortunate,” she said, “to have found someone who can bear me.”
Subaru’s chest hurt.
“…Don’t put that on me,” he muttered.
She tilted her head. “But thou hast not denied it.”
He didn’t respond.
As the sun dipped low, bells rang in the distance.
Subaru stood, stretching.
“…Okay. Let’s find work again tomorrow. Keep a low profile.”
Don Quixote rose with him, lance resting easily at her side.
“As thou commandest, Herald Subaru.”
He sighed.
“Stop calling me that.”
She laughed, bright and fearless.
And somehow—somehow—that laugh followed him all the way back to the inn.
Subaru had a bad feeling the moment the job board sparkled.
Not literally—this wasn’t a magic thing. It was worse.
Someone had drawn little stars around one of the notices.
“…Nope,” Subaru said instantly.
Don Quixote leaned over his shoulder. “Oh! An escort quest!”
“Why do you know that term.”
She tapped the parchment. “‘Assist merchant transport through outskirts. Modest danger. Fair pay.’”
Subaru squinted. “Modest danger is code for ‘you might trip.’ This is perfect.”
Don Quixote smiled in a way that made his soul attempt to evacuate.
The merchant was a balding man with three wagons, six crates, and the energy of someone who deeply regretted every life choice that led to this moment.
“You two are… the help?” he asked.
Subaru nodded. “Yep. Very normal help. No incidents. She’s mostly emotional support.”
Don Quixote saluted.
“I shall annihilate any who threaten thee!”
The merchant blinked. “…Emotional.”
They hadn’t even cleared the city gates before Subaru started narrating his own obituary.
Okay. This is fine. It’s just walking. Walking is safe. Walking is how humans survived long enough to invent instant ramen—
A shadow moved.
Subaru screamed internally.
Three bandits stepped out from behind a rocky outcrop.
“Hand over the goods,” one sneered.
Subaru opened his mouth.
Don Quixote did not.
She moved.
She did not stab.
Instead, she planted her foot, spun her lance sideways, and clotheslined the first bandit off his feet so hard he skipped across the dirt.
The second charged.
She caught him.
By the face.
And threw him.
He landed in a wagon. The wagon cracked.
The crates did not.
Subaru stared.
The third bandit froze.
Don Quixote pointed her lance at him.
“Flee,” she commanded.
He fled.
The merchant screamed.
“My wagon!”
Don Quixote bowed. “The cargo remains unblemished!”
Subaru collapsed to his knees.
“…I should’ve stayed in Japan,” he whispered. “I should’ve bought milk and gone home.”
The rest of the trip went worse.
At one point, a wolf lunged.
Don Quixote picked it up.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.
She lifted it by the scruff, stared into its eyes, and said, “Begone, beast.”
It whimpered and ran.
Subaru stopped asking questions.
By the time they reached the destination, the merchant looked ten years older.
“…I’m paying extra,” he said shakily.
Subaru clutched the coins like they were holy relics.
“…We lived.”
Don Quixote beamed. “Another victory!”
“I’m aging in real time,” Subaru said.
On the walk back, Subaru lagged behind.
“…You didn’t have to go that hard,” he muttered.
She blinked. “Hard?”
“You threw a man.”
“Yes.”
“…Casually.”
“Yes.”
“…With one hand.”
She tilted her head. “Is that… unusual?”
Subaru laughed. It came out hysterical.
“You are not built correctly.”
She took that as a compliment.
That night, back at the inn, Subaru stared at the ceiling again.
“…Hey,” he said. “If I die, please tell people I tried my best.”
Don Quixote nodded solemnly.
“I shall sing of thy valor.”
“…Please don’t.”
She smiled anyway.
Subaru closed his eyes.
This was his life now.
A knight. A lance. A world actively mocking him.
And somehow—
He’d wake up tomorrow and do it again.
Subaru should have known something was wrong when the job paid too well.
That was rule one of survival: if a piece of parchment promised generous compensation for “simple assistance,” it was lying.
He stared at the notice, sweat beading on his neck.
“…This is bait,” Subaru muttered.
Don Quixote leaned in so close he could feel her enthusiasm vibrating.
“‘Assist in securing a noble estate against irregular disturbances,’” she read aloud. “Aha! A righteous calling!”
“That says estate,” Subaru hissed. “Estates come with politics. Politics come with guillotines.”
She nodded gravely.
“Then we must be vigilant.”
That was not what he meant.
The carriage ride was paid for.
That was strike two.
Subaru sat rigid, hands clenched, while Don Quixote peered out the window like a child on her first field trip.
“Look, Subaru!” she said. “A grand keep upon a hill!”
The mansion rose into view—massive, pristine, and unmistakably important.
Subaru felt his soul leave his body and file a missing persons report.
“…Why does every bad decision I make involve rich people.”
The gates opened by themselves.
Subaru screamed internally.
A man stepped out.
Tall. Thin. Dressed like a noble had been attacked by a rainbow and lost. Face painted in a perpetual smile.
Don Quixote gasped.
“A court jester!” she whispered reverently.
Subaru grabbed her sleeve. “No. That’s a mage. Or a noble. Or a murder clown. Just—be polite.”
The man bowed extravagantly.
“I am Roswaaal L. Mathers~,” he sang. “Welcome to my humble abode~.”
Don Quixote clapped.
“Marvelous costume! Thy bells are invisible, but thy spirit rings loud!”
Roswaal paused.
Subaru died a little.
“…Jester?” Roswaal repeated.
“Yes!” Don Quixote said brightly. “Every great lord requires one to lift the hearts of the court!”
Roswaal laughed.
A lot.
Subaru stared at the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the dirt.
They were ushered inside.
Subaru did not recall agreeing.
He did recall Roswaal finding Don Quixote endlessly amusing.
“So~,” Roswaal drawled, circling them, “you two answered my little notice~.”
“Yes,” Subaru said quickly. “We’re very responsible. Minimal property damage.”
Don Quixote saluted. “I shall defend thy realm from evil and boredom alike!”
Roswaal’s eyes gleamed.
“Splendid~. Then a small test~.”
Subaru’s stomach dropped.
The “test” was in the courtyard.
Subaru positioned himself behind a pillar.
A stone construct rose from the ground.
Subaru screamed.
Don Quixote laughed.
She charged.
The golem swung.
She caught the arm.
Lifted.
And threw the entire thing into the fountain.
Stone shattered.
Water exploded.
Silence.
Ram stared.
Rem stared.
Roswaal clapped slowly.
“…Exquisite~.”
Subaru slid down the pillar.
“I’m not built for this world,” he announced.
Don Quixote posed triumphantly.
“Did I pass the jester’s trial?”
Roswaal laughed again.
“Oh, very much so~.”
They were offered jobs.
Lodging.
Food.
Payment.
Subaru folded instantly.
“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely. Permanently.”
Don Quixote nodded. “We accept thy patronage, merry fool!”
Roswaal’s grin widened.
Subaru did not like that.
That night, Subaru lay in a real bed, staring at the ceiling.
“…I live in a noble’s mansion,” he whispered. “With a knight who thinks the lord is a clown.”
Don Quixote polished her lance nearby.
“A most festive keep!”
Subaru closed his eyes.
He had made irreversible choices.