The moment his eyes opened, Kazuma made a decision. Today, he would do nothing. Absolutely nothing. He stared at the ceiling above his bed. Bird calls drifted in from outside. Peaceful. Serene. This was exactly the kind of morning he was born to do nothing on. Kazuma—Satou Kazuma, sixteen years old—narrowed his deep brown eyes and tried to close his eyelids again. Black short hair spread across the pillow. His white shirt was wrinkled somewhere, his slacks loose at the belt. A thin scar remained on his left wrist, faintly white in the morning light. A scar he barely remembered getting. He figured that's just how things were in another world. Right. This was another world. Before this, Kazuma had been in Japan, just an ordinary middle schooler. Nothing he was particularly good at, no real dreams, just games all day. Then he'd dragged a goddess down with him on his way to death, and when he came to, he'd been reincarnated on the Belzarant continent. The goddess's name was Aqua. The