SURREAL MYSTERY

The aroma of sizzling meat and spiced potatoes filled the small, brightly lit restaurant. Sparrow Night, a towering figure at eighteen, sat across from his sister, Canary. He watched her, a small whirlwind of energy in a bright yellow dress, as she giddily unwrapped a small, frosted cake.

It was her fifteenth birthday, a milestone they celebrated every year, but this felt different. He felt an unusual twinge of protectiveness, a strange blend of pride and anxiety.

"Birdbro," Canary chirped, her smile as radiant as the candles on her cake. "Staring again? Sure you didn't hit your head again during training?"

Sparrow blinked, drawn back to the present. He rarely spoke, preferring observation to conversation, a habit that stemmed from a life he wasn't entirely sure was real. He took a large bite of his steak, the rich, savory flavor a grounding sensation.

"Just thinking, Tweety," he rumbled, his voice was deeper than most of his age. Was that a result of years of underground fighting in a past life, a life he barely understood? 

Canary giggled, the sound as bright as her namesake. "About what? How many plates of food you can eat?"

Sparrow allowed a rare, small smile to tug at his lips, his eyes softening as he watched her. "Maybe."

As Canary carefully cut a slice of her cake, Sparrow's mind drifted. He saw not the restaurant, but flashes of a different world, a world bathed in the harsh light of construction sites and the dim glow of underground boxing rings. He saw hands calloused and raw, muscles screaming under the strain of labor, and the brutal dance of survival in a world where kindness was a luxury. He saw himself, a skinny, desperate kid fighting for scraps of food, for a moment of peace in a life that was a constant storm. He was a nameless orphan, a hustler, a survivor.

It was the past he didn't fully understand. He was different now. He was Sparrow Night, a mechanical engineering student living in a different world. Well, it was still a mundane modern world, but it was definitely not the same world as his past life.

He had been reborn, he knew that much. He'd been five years old when the memories started bleeding through, faint at first then slowly solidifying. The confusion had been immense, jarring. To suddenly recall the taste of dust and sweat in his mouth, the metallic tang of blood, beneath the smooth taste of hot chocolate and the gentle presence of his new sister. It was like having a second life, fully formed, playing on a loop at the back of his mind.

He was a lone orphan then. And in this world, his parents had also died when he was nine, leaving him and Canary orphans, but not entirely alone. Their relatives, though busy with their work and rarely in town, cared for them. He was grateful. He had finally experienced something similar to a family, something he'd only dreamed of in his past life.

And then there was Mearth... this world. This world, with its somewhat familiar technology – automobiles, televisions, and buildings echoing 20th-century designs – was so close to Earth, yet so very different. He had noticed the subtle differences, the oddities, the whispers of a bigger truth.

He was definitely not the first reincarnator in this Mearth. It was obvious. English was the common tongue in Mearth. That fact only was straightforward enough. How the hell a language from Earth could be the common tongue in this different world where the geography and history were completely different? And there was more...

The truth slowly began to seep through the cracks of his old memories. Alk Elheart, one of his maternal ancestors in this world, was a popular author whose books were filled with Earth mythology. The books were extremely popular and had even spawned some cults. He would have dismissed it as an anomaly, but the familiarity was too distinct.

Then, a few decades ago, Melody Lenaire, this world's famous singer brought classic songs from Earth most earthlings would be familiar to... like the "Unbreak My Heart", "We Are The Champions", and many more... and made them into absolute hits. It couldn't be a coincidence. This world, Mearth, was a place of reincarnation, a place where echoes of Earth were allowed to resurface.

He noticed that, although Mearth seemed to be a normal world, he had a strange feeling that this world had intentionally suppressed something big. There were whispers of horror, hushed stories of things that lurked in the shadows. He also felt a strange power within himself. He knew that his close combat aptitude and martial art knowledge that he practiced weren't things he had learnt in this life or in that past life. His mind just seemed to comprehend and his body naturally responded to it.

Sparrow's gaze returned to Canary, who was now holding up a forkful of cake, a mischievous glint in her green eyes. "Say ahhh, Birdbro!"

He opened his mouth, the sugary sweetness of the vanilla cake a stark contrast to the lingering memory of gritty asphalt. He chewed slowly, the taste grounding him, bringing him back to the present. This life, despite the whispers of forgotten worlds and hidden horrors, was his reality. He had Canary, his little Tweety, and he would protect her from any shadows that might try to reach her.

"It's good?" Canary asked expectantly.

Sparrow nodded, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "Delicious."

She beamed, her eyes sparkling. "Great! It means we don't waste money buying this."

Sparrow watched her, a calmness settling in him. He might have been a survivor in a past life, but he was done surviving. He was going to protect the most important person in his life, his little sister. He was going to protect his family, and if Mearth had monsters hiding in the dark, he was going to fight them.

The restaurant noise faded into the background. He was grounded. Here he was, in Mearth. And this was his life. He was Sparrow Night, and he was ready for whatever the world, or what hid beyond it, was about to throw at him. He ate the rest of his steak, and listened to his little sister's chattering about school and gymnastics practice. He was listening, and his plan was forming in the back of his mind.

"...and then I stuck the landing! It was perfect, Birdbro, you should have seen it!" she exclaimed.

Sparrow chuckled. "I'm sure you did, Tweety."

Canary grinned. "Of course I..."

Suddenly, the world shattered. The glass of the diner's front windows exploded inwards, spraying shards across the room. A roar, guttural and terrifying, ripped through the air.

A hulking figure, easily two and a half meters tall, with razor-sharp claws and skin like charred bark, lumbered into the diner. It was a monster, a creature of nightmare that should have had no place in the sunlit world, its eyes burning with a furious, malevolent red glow.

Panic erupted. Screams filled the air as patrons scrambled for cover. Four policemen, clad in their blue uniforms, who had been enjoying a quiet lunch, drew their pistols and fired at the monster. The bullets sparked harmlessly against the creature's thick hide.

With sickening speed, the Orc lashed out, its claws hooking and tearing, leaving a trail of crimson and shattered bone. Three policemen fell, lifeless, in the first few seconds of the onslaught. The fourth, his face contorted in agony, clutched at his right arm, now a mangled stump. 

The Orc turned its attention towards Sparrow and Canary. Its red eyes seemed to focus on them, a primal hunger sparking within their depths.

"Tweety, run!" Sparrow's voice was low, but it was also filled with steely command. He didn't wait for her reply. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his full height, his muscles coiling beneath his shirt. He grabbed the nearest heavy wooden chair, twisting it in his hands until the legs splintered and formed a makeshift weapon.

He charged, a surprising speed for his size. Sparrow, the quiet, calm-looking student, was a force of nature when unleashed. He spun the chair legs, striking the Orc's arm, a surprising thud echoing around the carnage, making the monster screech in anger, drawing its focus. He knew this was merely a distraction, but it bought Canary a few precious seconds.

Sparrow moved with a fluidity that belied his size, weaving and dodging, using his martial arts training to anticipate the Orc's clumsy attacks. He grabbed a nearby table, smashing it against the creature's side, and then a heavy vase, sending ceramic shards flying.

He knew he couldn't win this with brute force. He was using a mixture of his martial art skills and a strange mental focus that allowed him to anticipate the creature's move, giving him a glimpse of the future. He was trying to create chaos, buy more time, buy enough time for Canary to escape. But...

He mis-stepped, his sneaker landing on a jagged piece of the broken chair leg, sending him off balance. The Orc's claws, moving faster than he could react, slashed across his face. A searing pain exploded behind his left eye as he was thrown backwards, crashing into a fallen table. He could feel blood pouring from the gash. His left eye felt… empty.

Through blurred vision and the ringing of his ears, he saw Canary. Instead of running, she was picking up the fallen pistol of one the fallen policemen. He couldn't scream. He only stared in horror and panic.

Canary, her usually cheerful face now set with grim determination, returned to face the Orc. She fired, the bullet impacting against the creature's head but failing to penetrate its hide. However, the monster's rage shifted to her, its red eyes narrowed, and it lumbered towards her with a roar.

Sparrow, scrambling to his feet, his vision swimming and blood dripping down his face, dove forward, tackling the Orc around its waist. He held it in a rough grapple, locking its arms and neck. His martial art expertise was helping him even though he was injured. It was a desperate, almost ugly move, but it kept the Orc from reaching Canary.

"Tweety!" he roared, his voice raspy.

Canary didn't hesitate. She moved closer, the pistol now held steady in both her hands. She aimed, and this time, her shot was deadly accurate. She fired straight into the Orc's left eye.

The Orc shrieked, a sound that was part pain, part fury. It thrashed violently, but Sparrow held on, his grip unyielding.

That was when the injured policeman appeared, his face pale but determined. He had a big-caliber, sawed-off-shotgun-like, weapon somehow in his remaining left hand. And, without any hesitation, he walked right up to the thrashing Orc whose head was still being held firmly by Sparrow, shoved the barrel into its wide-open mouth and squeezed the trigger.

He continued firing until the monster's head was a mass of gore and its body went limp. 

Darkness closed in on Sparrow. His eardrums were still ringing from the roar of the gunshot, when he felt his consciousness slipped away. The last thing he felt was the warmth of blood spreading across his face, and the last sound was Canary's terrified scream as he fell into oblivion.