There was no ceremony. No glowing lights or magical music. Just… him, lying flat on a bench in the middle of a park like he'd just been dropped there by a drunk cosmic delivery man.
His eyes snapped open. The sky above him was painfully blue, birds chirping way too cheerfully. His chest rose and fell steadily, more rhythmically than usual. Calm. Controlled.
"What the hell?!" he shouted, sitting up fast and immediately regretting it as the world spun like a cheap carnival ride.
"Better breathing," he muttered, staring at his hands. "Of all the fucking things I could have gotten—fire powers, a cursed technique, hell even super hearing—I get the ability to inhale air slightly more efficiently."
He stood up, legs wobbly. His body felt light. Too light. Weak. The kind of weak that made it feel like a light breeze might fold him in half like a busted lawn chair.
As he staggered out of the park, still trying to make sense of what the actual shit just happened, he dug through his pockets. Wallet. ID. Cash. A stick of gum. Hey, at least he wasn't broke.
He squinted at the ID.Name: Riku Yamadera.Age: 18.Address: Listed.
"Huh," he muttered. "Lucky bastard has the same name as me. Sorry for the identity theft, bro. Universe says fuck you too, I guess."
The walk home was awkward. Every step reminded him of how frail this new body was. His knee popped once. Just from walking. That shouldn't happen at eighteen.
He found the house. Nice neighborhood. Standard two-story. Flowers on the porch. The kind of house that screams, "We're totally normal and nothing cursed ever happens here."Yeah. That felt fake as hell.
He opened the door like he belonged there. Tried not to look suspicious. Tried not to look like a soul from another universe wearing someone else's skin.
"Riku!" a woman said from the kitchen. His new mom. "You're back early, sweetie. Feeling okay?"
"Y-yeah," he replied, voice cracking like a liar. "Totally fine. Just needed air."
His new dad walked in, gave him a once-over. "You sure? You look pale."
"Had some bad sushi," Riku said. "Ass... I mean gas. Gastro. Gastro stuff. You know."
They stared at him. He gave them a thumbs up.
Then bolted upstairs.
His new room looked exactly how he imagined a background character's room would look. Posters. Books. The faint scent of teenage body spray and crushed dreams.
He shut the door, locked it, then collapsed onto the bed.
"What the fuck is happening," he groaned into the sheets. "What. The. Actual. Fuck."
He flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "System?"
["Hello."]
"Can you tell me what point in time we're in? Like, where in the story?"
[…]
["That information is unavailable."]
"Of course it fucking is," he hissed. "Useless unless it's about goddamn gacha."
No response.
He exhaled slowly. His heart rate dropped. Breath steady. Smooth. In. Out.
"…Okay. That's... kind of nice," he admitted. "Still a shit power, though."
He sat up, looked down at himself.
"This body's weak."
"Oh, really? You think?" he snapped at himself in a perfect sarcastic imitation of... himself. "Thank you, Captain Observation."
"I'm just saying," he said to the room. "This body is like paper."
"Yeah? Well, your body was thinner than a damn stick bug, remember that?"
"...Right," he muttered. "I'm talking to myself, aren't I?"
"Yep. Like a crazy person."
He sighed and dragged his hand down his face.
"Starting tomorrow," he muttered, "I build this body up. Push-ups, sit-ups, jogs—whatever. And please, God, System, Satan—anyone—just give me a better pull tomorrow."
He turned off the light. The room went dark.
"I got this," he whispered to the void. "Probably."
Then, like the sleep-deprived ghost of a gacha addict, he closed his eyes… and waited for the next fucked up day to begin.