It was a cold winter night when Hachiman awoke to a world of colours. And pain. Mostly pain. Deep rooted and penetrating. It felt like his entire being was on fire, his soul being judged for every sin committed.

It was found wanting.

Deep breathes. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.

Five minutes passed before the agony subsided but not completely, reduced to a dull throbbing behind his eyes and occasional lances of pain racing through his bloodstream. The all-encompassing desire to consume drowned his thoughts before vanishing as quickly as it came.

Then, colour.

Vibrant hues and a myriad of pastel shades coalesced together in some semblance of order. Red and blue tinged with black. Blinding gold flecked with white. Dull gold swirled equally with inky black. Everywhere he looked the colours screamed and all Hachiman wanted at this moment was to turn it off.

Blink.

The extra colours faded away to the grey concrete jungle around him, but not one he could recognise. Foreign neon lights flashed constantly from around the corners of the alley way Hachiman had woken up in. Though the weathered and half faded election posters plastered along the walls were written in a familiar script, the woman who featured on it was a stranger.

This wasn't Chiba.

His breaths quickened. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. Everything was wrong. The pain, the colours, the smell. The air itself seemed to reject his presence, as if he was an anomaly that shouldn't exist.

He was supposed to be at the mall, shopping for a gift. The image of a nice girl with bright eyes and a brighter smile pushed to the forefront of his mind. He didn't like nice girls, hated them, but for her he'd made an exception.

Yui.

In. Out. In. Out.

The image was soon joined by another. Impossibly clear blue eyes, hiding warmth rarely seen. Natural beauty and grace personified.

Yukino.

Hachiman Hikigaya was well and truly hyperventilating at this point. Something was wrong. More wrong than normal. Scrambling to his feet with reckless abandon, Hachiman ran to the end of the alleyway. He paid no heed to the cold that was biting his skin and numbing his hands, his mind focused solely on taking one step forward at a time.

With movement the pain resurfaced with a vengeance, clouding his thoughts and distorting the image of the two women seared in his brain. Breaths visible from the cold and coming in staccato like bursts he finally entered the main street, startling pedestrians at his sudden exit.

Everything was wrong.

Yes, it looked like Japan. Yes, the people around him looked Japanese. Yes, the Kanji on the signs and restaurant windows was Japanese. But as his gaze locked on to the many signs that lined the buildings, the whole world seemed to stand still.

Rotten eyes stared at the flashing neon, willing it to change. Willing it all to disappear and give him the first sense of normality since he had woke up in this nightmare. Despite his misgivings in mathematics, Hachiman was confident in both Japanese history and geography.

And he was especially confident that there was no such town near Tokyo called Kuoh.

Before he could gather his thoughts, literal magic lit up the sky. Spears of Light clashed against orbs of pure darkness. The people around him seemed completely oblivious to the spectacle above, eyes unnaturally glazed as their idle chatter stopped but their feet kept them moving.

A feminine yell caught his attention and up above lightning arced through the night, uncaring of its cloudless origin. Wanting a closer look, his vision reacted to his thoughts. Once again the world around him shifted, the same colours coming to life and painting the starless sky with all the artistic skill of a three year old.

Wishing to just focus on the three dots in the sky, where the colours were condensed, his vision once again listened to his thoughts. Soon, the background colour dispersed leaving a sharp and clear image of the fight that was ripped straight out of some trashy adult magical girl anime.

Two of the three had breasts, impossibly large and likely to give back problems by 30. Bat like wings that somehow kept them airborne and, perhaps trashiest of all, school uniforms that you were more likely to find in an adults cosplay shop than any respectable educational institution. At the centre of both, dark colours swirled with red. Though he idly noted one had small wisps the same muted gold as their opponent.

The remaining unknown figure was male, rippling with muscle and golden rays of light. Spear after spear was thrown at the two females, each either knocked off course or dodged with deft movements. It was clear the man was tiring, his spears less bright and less in number. It wasn't long before he was struck by a bolt of lightning, burnt feathers fluttering in the wind.

In a last ditch effort, the man drew all his remaining energy towards himself and released it. Dozens of spears exploded outwards in radiant splendour. Focused on the admittedly cool fight that would have had his eighth grade self giddy with excitement, Hachiman watched as the two females countered as many spears as they could with a mix of lightning and void.

Too late he realised a spear heading right towards him, almost blinding with his enhanced vision. Even if all this was a nightmare (he highly doubted, the pain was all too real, the smell, the sounds; his imagination was never this wild) Hachiman wouldn't leave it up to fate.

He had too many stories left unwritten, too many words left unsaid.

Panic set in, and instinct took over.

And so he glared at the spear, calling upon the well of untapped energy deep in his core. The god of this isekai was an asshole with a sick sense of humour, giving his eyes of all things powers. A double asshole for not giving him a fucking tutorial. Even the bottom of the barrel, trashiest isekai's at least had a goddess that would explain something. Anything.

What had he gotten? Dumped in the streets with nothing but the clothes on his back and a wallet with 15,000 yen. Which, technically, was his own clothes and wallet. So he'd gotten nothing, absolutely nothing from this fake japan isekai god.

Glaring harder, Hachiman felt a foreign pull from deep within his heart and suddenly his eyes burned.

Black flares of magic ignited behind his pupils, tendrils of dark flame leaking out the corners. The colours receded, replaced with a grey scale that made everything hard to see. Yet the spear that once was flying at lethal speeds had started to slow; unknown forces chipping away at it piece by piece until it was all but consumed by magic alone.

Releasing the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Hachiman watched as the frigid air turned his breath visible and promptly fell on his back. Tears formed and he let them fall with zero shame. It didn't matter. There was no one here that cared.

No-one.

Because here was real and all the ones who mattered weren't here, and Hachiman now only realised the true depth of his relationship with those he let in to his life. Was that genuine thing that he craved so much, was it there all along?

They said that your life flashes before your eyes before your death. And though he still breathed, when the spear was first launched he had seen the flashes. He had seen the snippets of a childhood best left forgotten and the snapshots of better of times, violent sensei included.

It was all too much. The pain that never seemed to leave, the mental strain of finding out that magic existed, the fact that he could perform said magic, and the drain on his soul from using said magic.

For a second time that night, Hikigaya Hachiman had passed out on the cold streets of Kuoh.

It was a cold winter morning when Hachiman awoke to the gentle prodding of a middle aged man with green eyes and blonde hair. Startled and still high strung from the previous night, he scurried back.

"It's okay. Do not be afraid."

The man smiled kindly, his foreign looks a stark contrast to his perfect Japanese. He offered a hand to Hachiman who promptly ignored it, instead picking himself off the dirty street. He eyed the foreigner warily, unsure of his trustworthiness.

Stranger he may be, but Hachiman couldn't shake the natural feeling of trust the man exuded; an otherworldly aura that spoke truth and righteousness. Aura. Blinking once Hachiman willed the colours to come back.

For a fraction of a second he was blinded by golden radiance before it was forcibly cut off.

"There's no need for that. I speak only the truth, 'tis both my blessing and burden."

Shakily, Hachiman responded.

"Who are you?"

The man pondered for a moment, appearing deep in thought.

"I'm just a friendly face, hoping to help a lost boy far from home. A guardian angel, if you will."

The dead eyed teen was having none of it.

"Fuck off."

And with that, Hachiman turned around and walked away. He didn't need some all-powerful (the man before him was drowning in it) being to act as some guardian angel to him. He was a few hours too late anyway. The riajuu looking bastard could go die. He'd make it on his own in this world. If magic sent him here, then logically there was magic that could send him back.

He'd find it by his own merit.

Hachiman left the net café struggling to control his panicked breathing. He didn't exist. There was nothing. No 17 year old boy from Chiba. No Hikigaya family with corporate slave parents or precious little Komachi. The tears were getting harder to hold back when that thought crossed his mind.

Further research showed more and more evidence all drawing to one conclusion. No Yukinoshita on the Chiba diet. No Sobu High School, Chiba's most prestigious academy. Nothing.

Searching in all things supernatural yielded surprisingly little results. There was no news article on last night's lightshow, no photo evidence of the destruction the rain of spears had caused. Widening his search had given him some clues. Blogs focused on the occult and supernatural: devil contracts and angel sightings, fallen or otherwise.

It seemed little Kuoh was a hotspot for such activities, the blogs more often than not drawing evidence from the happenings of the little town. And yet, there seemed to be no mainstream knowledge, no sure-fire evidence that it all even existed. Then he remembered the glazed over eyes.

He sneered.

Magic. Of course it was. It always came back to magic. He had to thank whoever brought him here to at least put him close to where he could possibly find answers. The only thanks he had for that being. Who threw a clueless teenager in to the Dark Souls of Isekai without so much as a guide book? He also didn't have the luxury of undead immortality.

Now Hachiman was regretting his outburst at the one man that was probably willing to give him some answers. Right now he just wanted to get back home, real home, and play with his Vita-chan. Hell, he'd take hanging out with Tobe than whatever was in store for him here.

Please don't make me the main character. There was no way. He wouldn't let it. He'd fight fate every step of the way. He had a goal in mind and it didn't matter whether he was at the heart of major events or just a bystander in the background.

To work was to lose. He firmly believed that. He didn't care if he was summoned here to defeat the demon king or some other two-bit villain the degenerate author had hyped up. He didn't care if the fate of this world hinged on him growing strong and getting a harem. This world had given him nothing and taken everything.

So he'd keep his head down. He'd watch from the sidelines and let the real protagonist steal the show and get the girls. He was going to find a way back, find someone with the power to send him back. And if that didn't work? Well, Hachiman had never liked relying on others to fix his own problems. If it came down it, he'd just have to get strong enough to do it himself.

Feel free to skip the A/N.

Fairly short, sorry. Longest A/N I'll ever have cause I need to clear some things up. Just wanted to get this chapter out the way so I can start with Hachiman's journey. Gotta break a character before you can build it up right? Anyway, not as happy as I could've been with this chapter. Hoped the characterisation was okay enough and everything else believable-ish. As you can see I went with the isekai route. There's more room to play with and less characters to juggle. Pat on the back to whoever guesses the identity of the blonde haired stranger. He'll play a minor role in the next few chapters simply cause it'd be near impossible to make it believable of surviving in modern Japan with literally no papers/identity/money AND keep Hachiman at least kind of in character.

Quick timeline of events:

Second year of highschool, winter break is when Hachiman gets isekai'd. After Christmas, before Yukino's birthday. So, 2nd January. Google suggests the standard Japanese School year ends in March, starts in April. This gives me 4 months to work with in terms of getting Hachiman trained up and in to Kuoh. He will be starting third year, Sona/Rias' class. Hachiman won't be instantly strong. And there are serious drawbacks to his powers that we'll find out later.

Leaning towards free-lance/neutral party.

Hope it clears up some things. Also, what's preferred? 2ish updates a week of 3-5k words or just a big chapter every week? Let me know in PMs or whatever.

In any case take it easy and have a good one.