Tempokai

  It was an ordinary day for the ordinary enough Kazuhito Amano (天野 一仁). He was in his room again, watching the “Wild Pegasus vs. The Great Sasuke” video match on his phone again, just like he did for a decade already, analyzing the moves, imagining himself being as a wrestler in here, again and again.

  Kazuhito loved wrestling.

  L. O. V. E. D.

  Maybe obsession is the right word.

  He would go to the gym after his monotonous job in whatever-est bck company he’s been sving away for decade already for a meager pay and exercise. He then went back to his house and train his wrestling on inanimate objects, particurly on the training dummy he had found in the dumpster one day, next to a gym he’d been going to for years already.

  Kazuhito called him Dummy (ダミー). Not a particurly imaginative name, I’d say, but I’m not here to critique the naming sense of his. He’d throw him, wrestle with him, drink tea with him, and even make him pose like his favorite wrestlers, making him wear masks and so on. Dummy tolerated it.

  Simply put, it was his and the only friend he can interact with right here and now. Shocking.

  And so, after re-watching the whole 20 minute battle, he had thrown his phone gently into a charging station, stood up from his worn down chair, motivated. Kazuhito silently muttered, “Let’s do it again, Dummy!”, to his only friend that was ying like a dummy nearby, only to be met with silence. He, interpreting it as ‘silence is acceptance’, went to remove his nth office suit drenched in sweat and other substances like existential dread to wear his “wrestling suit” that he left it in the undry.

  But when he opened the door leading bathroom, it didn’t lead there. Kazuhito stumbled, seeing unfamiliar gothic architecture he’d only seen in the European churches on the internet, and fallen down with face forward.

  Kazuhito understood immediately amidst the pain in his nose. He’d been isekai’d.

  So what do the individuals whose daily grind gets disrupted with spontaneous wormholes do?

  Panic.

  If everything goes as every isekai plot imaginable, he will be subjected to every female in existence, needs to defeat every evil imaginable and probably die a few times, both physically and metaphorically and maybe even psychologically. Sweat, which was more than enough beforehand, trickled down even more, imagining every situation that will lead him to have... interaction with others.

  “I have waited for you, O Chosen One!”

  A smooth, silky voice, surprisingly in Japanese (which Kazuhito immediately understood being a “divine enough” plot convenience), rushed his ears like an unwanted existence. Especially the ‘chosen one’ thingy.

  Kazuhito knows that he’s the only chosen one in being himself, which he doesn’t want to share with anyone. He, with an elegance of a move trained for a hundred times, rolled backwards to return to the door he’d fallen from to... only for it to be closed already. He felt it with his buttocks. Ouch.

  After filing like a fish for a second because the door disappeared into ether, he stood up. His heart was beating non-stop, telling him “run away or fight that blonde beauty #1 that probably wants to ensve you”, his legs bulging up, preparing for the wrestling match other than Dummy, and his nose dramatically gushing out blood like no tomorrow, and his mind overheating like a faulty CPU he has in his office PC. While contempting (aka panicking), the blonde beauty #1, resembling a typical stereotype of a saintess, looked at him strangely.

  “Chosen One, are you alright? Do you...”

  And the world blurred slightly, making the Kazuhito not listen to the blonde beauty #1, aka “saintess” stereotype, as his mind chose what to do.

  Fight.

  Because in his life, the only females he interacted with were his already departed grandma and piece-of-very-bad-work boss, whom he hated wholeheartedly. And his niece, but she’s so precious that she didn’t into this brief list.

  “Chosen One, what are you do—”

  Dropkick. Right in the abdomen of a saintess.

  Fwlessly executed.

  Rushing toward the beauty like running to get on the departing bus,

  Leaping into the air as if jumping the “wet floor” sign in the corridor,

  Aiming the kick like a knockoff Shawn Spears,

  Tactically moving the feet to not hit the particurly bouncy, and frankly, distracting chest but the abdomen for maximum damage, Kazuhito did it all.

  Saintess flew backwards and crashed into a wall tens of meters away. Blood gushed out of her mouth, and she lost consciousness while probably developing a fear of sudden movements. Kazuhito rolled again and stood up like he always does after dropkicking the Dummy. Seeing the carnage he did at a probably-a-harem-member-to-be #1 ying like a Yamcha, he panicked more. His attacks weren’t THAT powerful against Dummy, only flying a meter or so.

  Of course, he didn’t account for ws of physics being different, is he?

  Probably not, looking at his stoic face, searching for somewhere to escape. He doesn’t have time to contempte, because now “flight” response got activated after the “fight” in his mind. Thankfully, there were no guards or someone to see that their head of religion was unconscious on the floor, bleeding from the mouth to apprehend him.

  And of course, he finds it right away. A portal that leads to some opulent looking corridor on his right. He runs right in, not thinking clearly, and goes deeper down the corridor. Windows show the typical medieval “fantasy looking” town outside, and he certainly was in some sort of pace. Which terrified the Kazuhito even more. He now just wants to go home, to his ever silent Dummy.

  After solidly running for a minute, always turning to the first left corridor (a common tactic when traveling to unknown pces, or Kazuhito thinks so), he encounters beauty #2 and #3 from afar. Kazuhito’s blurred vision coupled with adrenaline in his blood immediately recognizes “princess warrior” and “loli mage” stereotypes.

  They stopped walking and looked at the giant muscur man with running towards them in a strange disheveled suit. They immediately recognized it as Chosen One’s clothes from Another World, as they saw it in holy scriptures and various artwork descriptions.

  “Chosen One!”

  They rushed towards him too, screaming, akin to seeing a celebrity in the wild.

  So, what Kazuhito does, seeing even more beauties running at him, probably knowing (or not) that he’d drop-kicked their ally? Fight the beauties.

  “HIIIIIYAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

  With a fearsome scream of knockoff "The Great Sasuke", Kazuhito, rushes at them. Princess Warrior and Loli Mage were fairly understandably confused, and seeing the blood in around his mouth and on the white (closer to yellowish gray due sweating) shirt, they assumed the worst: demon king forces attacked the summoning ritual and something happened to Saintess. That’s why the Chosen Hero (Kazuhito, probably) is running.

  And so, two forces colluded. Princess Warrior almost collided with Kazuhito, and he performed his move.

  “Chosen One, are you hur—”

  The Spinebuster.

  He grabbed the Princess Warrior in what he thought was a waist (hard to know because she was wearing actual, full armor), picked her up like his only niece who loves him as is (only 2 times bigger), and dropped her right at the Loli Mage like a pack of shredded paper bag into a trash. Mage, surprise in her eyes reacted, and spellcasted a barrier the st second before the drop. It shattered instantly, not before slowing down the literal hunk of metal and flesh falling on her.

  The collision was hard enough to cause a slight earthquake. Two women knocked unconscious because of the sheer absurdity (and physics of this world at least), leaving Kazuhito just slightly winded.

  Using another logical falcy, ahem, “tactic”, where typical RPG protagonists loot the defeated enemies, he loots the pouch (taking the first item sticking out of the pouch), and takes a piece of a paper. It had geometrically correct scribbles (magic patterns that took a day to make by the Mage), and Kazuhito ripped it in half. Accidentally. His hands were shaking, after all.

  This action, however accidental may be, sucked mana out of the air, and materialized as a portal. And Kazuhito jumped inside of it, not thinking where it leads.

  It popped him right in the Demon King’s domain. How he knows about it? Because everything around the dark and foreboding castle is dark and foreboding. Just as fantasy authors intended it to be. The reason the spell scroll transported him to this pce is because it was the st location the two of them had teleported away from, a “return teleportation” scroll.

  Kazuhito finally caught his breath (and his sanity) from the females, and plopped himself into a small cave, hiding himself. His heart was still beating fast, and every muscle now felt sore. His bare foot, yes, he has no boots (because who in the world wears boots in the home) are now dirty and hurt a lot. It's not every day that bathrooms lead to isekaindia.

  After ying like a Dummy for ten minutes, thinking on how to return back home, Kazuhito's mind finally had an idea.

  Go to Demon King's castle and "wrestle" the Demon King. Ingenious, right? Occam's Razor doing the Kazuhito's work in thinking.

  Kazuhito stood up and hit the cave with his head. Accidentally. Emphasis on "small cave", and "giant Kazuhito".

  With a fanfare of thousand miracles (and maybe plot conveniences, hard to decipher here) the protruding rock was a hidden lever. Wall in the not so deep cave moved sideways and opened a ominously lit corridor deep into somewhere. Kazuhito, massaging his hurt head with no thought goes inside.

  Kazuhito, fresh from concussing himself on a rock, stepped into the corridor that had appeared with all the grace of a drunk giraffe. His muscles were screaming, his feet were bleeding, and his brain was still processing the absurdity of his situation. But none of that mattered. There was only one thought keeping him going.

  Wrestle the Demon King. Just one suplex and I’m home.

  He didn’t know why he thought that. Maybe all those years spent suplexing his Dummy had eroded what was left of his brain cells, but logic had never been his strong suit. Neither had social interaction, nor common sense. But physical strength? Oh, he had that in spades. Kazuhito’s muscles bulged as he stumbled forward, one hand still rubbing the goose egg forming on his skull.

  The corridor twisted and turned, leading him deeper into what he assumed was the heart of the Demon King’s castle. The gothic stone walls were adorned with ominous torches, casting eerie shadows that probably screamed "You’re about to die, you idiot." But Kazuhito didn’t care. He was a man on a mission. A ridiculous, barely thought-through mission, but a mission nonetheless.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kazuhito found himself standing in front of two gigantic bck iron doors. They were inscribed with ancient runes that probably transted to something like “Here lies the Demon King, the ultimate evil, do not enter unless you’re insane or have a death wish.” Kazuhito, naturally, pushed them open without a second thought.

  Inside was exactly what he expected. A throne room. Dark, foreboding, and unnecessarily rge, because why wouldn’t the Demon King be compensating for something? Shadows danced along the walls, and there, at the far end of the room, was the throne.

  But wait.

  Hold up.

  This wasn’t right.

  Sitting on the throne, draped in dark, flowing robes, was not the terrifying, muscle-bound Demon King Kazuhito had been expecting. Oh no, it was something far worse.

  It was a woman. And not just any woman—she was the spitting image of his favorite idol, the one he had secretly obsessed over since his teenage years. The one whose posters still adorned the walls of his bedroom like some tragic monument to his eternal virginity.

  Her hair was long and silver, cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Her skin was pale, her lips painted blood red, and her eyes glowed with an unsettling mixture of cruelty and allure. But that wasn’t the worst part. Oh no.

  It was the boobs. The absolutely enormous, physics-defying, practically anti-gravity boobs that were spilling out of her robes as if they had never heard of modesty in their lives. It was like they were personally attacking his dignity with their sheer audacity.

  Kazuhito’s brain short-circuited.

  “Welcome, O Chosen Hero,” the Demon Queen purred, her voice dripping with seductive menace. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Kazuhito’s eyes twitched. His heart raced, not with the adrenaline of battle, but with the panic of a man who had never, ever been this close to a pair of real breasts.

  The Demon Queen stood up, slowly, deliberately, and Kazuhito’s legs involuntarily started to tremble. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying like a deadly pendulum, her chest bouncing in ways that surely defied the ws of nature, physics, and maybe even good taste.

  “Is something the matter, Hero?” she teased, her voice dangerously low. “You seem... tense.”

  Kazuhito swallowed hard. His legs were shaking. His heart was thumping in his chest so loud he thought he might explode. This was not in the pn. This was absolutely not part of the deal.

  Without even thinking, his body reacted. It was pure muscle memory. A decade of suplexing Dummy had trained him for this exact moment, or at least a vaguely simir one. With a sudden, primal scream of terror and adrenaline, Kazuhito surged forward.

  “HIYAAAAAAA!!!”

  He grabbed the Demon Queen around the waist (or, well, as close to her waist as possible given the obstacles in the way), lifted her into the air with a strength that surprised even him, and suplexed her right into the cold, hard floor.

  The sound of the impact echoed throughout the throne room like the crash of a thundercp. Dust flew everywhere, and the Demon Queen’s shocked gasp was swallowed by the sheer ridiculousness of the moment. Her massive chest took the brunt of the fall, bouncing absurdly against the stone floor, while her regal crown cttered away, rolling off into the shadows.

  Kazuhito, meanwhile, scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, his face beet red, his eyes wide with terror. He had just suplexed the Demon Queen. A queen. A woman. With boobs.

  He was going to die. He was absolutely going to die.

  But then, as if the universe had decided to gift him one final, absurd plot convenience, a portal opened up right behind him. He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He ran like his life depended on it (because it probably did) and leapt headfirst into the swirling vortex.

  With a fsh of light and a sickening lurch, Kazuhito found himself tumbling back into his dingy, ordinary apartment. He nded face-first on the worn carpet, breathing in the familiar smell of cheap instant noodles and the faint scent of mold.

  He was home. Sweet, blessed home. He crawled over to his beloved Dummy, who was still lying in the same spot he had left him in. With tears of relief streaming down his face, Kazuhito hugged the inanimate object like it was his long-lost brother.

  “I’ll never leave you again, Dummy,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise.”

  Meanwhile, back in the Demon Queen’s castle, she sat up, rubbing the back of her head and gring at the empty space where Kazuhito had disappeared.

  “Well,” she muttered, her voice ced with irritation and confusion. “That was unexpected.”

  And thus, Kazuhito Amano, wrestling fanatic and suplex artist extraordinaire, returned to his simple life. No harems. No world-saving quests. Just him, his Dummy, and the knowledge that somewhere out there, in another world, he had suplexed a pair of boobs so powerful, they probably qualified as weapons of mass destruction.

  And he couldn’t be prouder.

  The end.