You never know when truck-sama is right around the corner and is about to kill—teleport you to an alternate universe.
That's why I'm prepared at all times, just in case today's the day.
I wasn't always like this. I used to be your average run-of-the-mill high schooler, until the fateful day I picked up a wuxia novel. What started as an innocent pastime soon turned into me spending every waking hour reading xianxia, isekai, wuxia, etc. It got so bad that I'd miss out on hanging out with friends to read some dumb web novel knowing I'd dump it 400 chapters in.
I knew this trash was dumbing down my brain, but I'd joke to myself that it's helping me learn Chinese and understand Japanese culture and understand the geopolitics of Korea and other BS like that. I've been reading these web novels for six years and I have nothing to show for it except that I'm extra careful when I go outside so that I don't get isekaid into another dimension.
Today started like any other day. I had an advanced chemistry exam early in the morning, and I decided to give myself a break after studying for half an hour the night before. I decided to pick up some stupid novel, read the first few chapters, and put it away. But like always, one chapter turned into two, then three, then… chapter two-hundred-fudging-ninty-six, and I hated myself for every second of it. I watched the minutes tick by at the top of my phone and wallowed in self-pity the whole time.
I left my run-down apartment thirty minutes before the exam and biked furiously through mostly tight alleyways and narrow streets.
Despite being sleep-deprived and in a hurry to get to Uni and prepare (to cheat) for the exam, due to years of exposure to such tropes, I was still able to see the truck driving at full speed towards me as I crossed a four-way intersection.
Truck-kun zoomed past me as I biked forward, barely scraping the back wheel of my bicycle.
The driver hit the breaks, making an awful screeeeeecch noise, and stopped tens of meters forward.
A few bystanders shrieked and some just stood there without a reaction, petrified by the encounter. Some dude even took out his phone and started recording.
The truck driver jumped down from his driver's seat and walked towards me while scratching the back of his head. He wore a grey cap with a pizza logo on the front, and his checkered pattern shirt was tucked into his jeans.
"Hey, mate… you alright?" he sounded apologetically nonchalant, like he'd been called to the principal's office for the fifth time for making animal noises in clas—OK, that was too specific.
I was too petrified to respond. Did I just survive truck-sama?
He walked a bit closer, bending to take a better look at my face. "Yo, buddy, sorry about that. The missus just called, and she was yanking my brains for…god knows what. You know how them broads are, right? Anyway, I started blastin—eh, wrong line." He awkwardly laughs to himself, then looks down and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just a little shocked by what just went on. Do you, I dunno, wanna go to the hospital or something? Maybe I can…"
I just survived truck-sama.
I just survived truck-sama!
I JUST SURVIVED TRUCK-SAMA!!!
I looked up at the driver. He was blabbering about… whatever it was he was blabbering about, but I didn't care, because I just survived a near-death experience. To think that all those hours wasted reading amounted to something in the end. It was actually worth i—no, no more. At this moment, I decided to change my life. No more self-inserting into some copy-paste fantasy story. No, I was going to be different. I'll study hard. I'll pass my exams. I'll get my diploma, start working in a bigshot company, transfer to Japan, get a hot Japanese wifu and I'll—
Bleargh
I heave heavily after vomiting this morning's peanut butter sandwich and cereal on the ground. Gross.
Bleargh
Looks like there's mo—
Bleargh Bleargh and some more Bleargh.
I look up. A vast expanse of white nothing stretching to eternity encompasses me on all sides. Did I vomit myself into a coma or something?
I walk in a random direction to see if I'd get somewhere, only to come back to my original barf spot. I then run in a different direction and still end up back where I started from. This can't be happening
Damn. Damn. Damn damn damn damn—
"HELLO, YOUNG ONE," a booming voice calls out. A figure clad in a spotless white robe descends from the sky. An invisible wind gives rise to his robe and causes it to flutter, adding grandeur to his solemnly long face and piercing eyes which are gazing into the distance. His skin is gracefully aged, and his white mustache drooping from each lip, long goatee reaching his chest, and somewhat unkempt eyebrows that slant down further show his seniority. His (also white) long hair is let loose on his shoulders and back, but it is tied into a top knot touji at the top by a cloth head crown with a silver needle pinned through it.
"Fear not! For you—," he looks down and his solemn expression turns to confusion, "emmm… why are you black?"
We both look at each other, trying to figure out who the other person is.
He looks further down and erks back in disgust. "And why is there barf on the ground?"
"The hells do you mean why am I black?!"
"I mean exactly what I said. Why are you black? I also asked why there's barf on the ground."
"Why am I black? Because I'm black. You got a problem with that?"
He strokes his goatee with one hand while the other is bent behind his back. "You don't sound black." He said, carefully dodging your last question.
"I don't sound black?" I shout. "Nigga, your ass don't sound smart. Yeah, that's what it is you racist muthafu—."
"Ah, that's more like it. Now, since you won't explain the barf, please excuse me for a moment."
He turns back and whispers to no one in particular. I run up to below where he's levitating and start jumping, trying to land in a punch. He's too high up, so I give up after a few minutes and sit cross-legged in a corner. No. Not a corner. There are no corners in this cursed place.
After minutes, towards the end of which his whispers became louder and more intense, he returns to me.
"It seems there was an error on my part when picking my chosen transmigrator," he sighs.
Transmigrator?
Oh no. Oh no no no. I had a suspicion something like that was up, but I kept pushing it back. Hell-no am I transmigrating to some beat-ass other world.
"Well," he continues, "there's nothing that can be done about that."
I spring up. "Does that mean I can go back?"
"No. Unfortunately, I can't replace you with someone else."
"So freaking what? Just deal with it and send me back. I almost had a near-death experience! I didn't even die for Christ's sake. I was gonna change for good, man, start busting on my school work and—."
Pfffffttttt
Did this mother fu**er just laugh at me while covering his mouth?
"What's you all happy about?"
"It's nothing," he chuckles. "Pardon my rudeness."
"No, come on, what's so funny?"
The way he looks at me turns from mockery to sorrow. "Ah, you're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm serious. Why were you laughing?"
"You weren't going to change."
"Yes I was."
"No."
"Yes."
"No, nigga, no. You weren't. You were going to work hard for a few days, maybe even weeks, and then go back to what you were doing before. You'd eventually graduate, get a dead-end job, marry some girl you knocked up in some back-alley that you don't even like, and live the rest of your life as a loser. Plus, you would have become bald in a decade and gained twice your current weight."
"How the hell are you so sure about that?" I ask, more upset about his depressing prediction than the fact that he—wait a minute. Did he just call me a nigga?
"Look around, young one. This master brought you to this place. This master can also fly. Do you think seeing into your future would be difficult for me?"
Damn… he does have a point. I've always been like this. I'd hear a quote, watch a motivational video, read a book, and… something, anything would ignite a spark in me. I'd then get pumped up and be at it for a couple days, but soon, everything would go back to normal. Sometimes on the same day.
I guess that's it. A life of mediocrity for me. But… why am I so against this? Isn't this what I always wanted? To transmigrate into another world? Escape reality? Isn't that why I've always been so engrossed in these kinds of books? So what if it's going to suck a bit getting kicked around by arrogant young masters. I'll be the MC. Doesn't everyone always get their asses handed to them by the MC? Also, I won't have any connections in this world, and knowing how anyone I get close to will somehow die, I'll just… not make any friends! Yeah, that's what's up. I'm starting to like this idea.
"So, what's your name?" I ask.
"Ah, my apologies for not introducing myself earlier. I'm Zuozhe daren."
"Wait, so is daren your name, or is it the Chinese title I've seen in some novels and stuff"
He laughs. "It's my title. Zuozhe daren. You can also call me da Zuozhe or daren."
"Cool. Well, do you know my name or what?"
"Of course I do. You're GouZaizi."
"…No I'm not. That's a stupid ass name."
"Well, henceforth, that's your name. Deal with it. Any more questions?"
Damn. Alright, I guess. I think about things to ask for a moment. "Where exactly am I going?"
"You'll see soon."
"Ok. Then, anything I should know before I get there?"
"Hmmm… There is, actually. Since you're black, there'll be some changes to your, um, situation when you transmigrate."
I do not like the sound of that one bit. "What do you mean?"
"You'll find out," he smiles sinisterly.
"No, I ain't gonna find out. I'm calling quits. This sounds shady as hel—."
"Sorryit'stoolatebye!"
Zap.
And I'm gone.
…
…
Wait, Zuozhe daren thinks while chuckling to himself hours later, Nah, never mind. He'll figure it out there or when we meet again.
…
…
I open my eyes.
Everything looks different.
Everything smells different.
Everything sounds different.
Everything feels different.
Someone throws a stick and it lands some distance to my back.
"狗崽子,跑啊,赶紧去把它带回来!" some kid with shaved head yells at me.
Is that Chinese?
Oh hell no.
"看什么呢看?快去吧,不然今晚就不喂你了哟!"
No. Nope. This is not happening. Aren't I supposed to know the local language or everyone else is supposed to speak English or something? This must be a prank. "Whooof! Whooof!" I yell at the kid.
"欸,你小子,还敢对老子狂吠!看我怎么教训你."
Wait.
"Whoof?"
what?
"害,谁让我这么软心."
I look at the kid, then I look back at the stick he threw earlier. I then focus on something that's been bothering my eyesight for a while now: my nose. Light goldish and white fur, hazy lines jutting out, and a black end. I snort. It doesn't feel like a normal snort.
Whif
Shit.