The night in Kyoto was unusually tranquil, yet alive with the kind of energy only a city could produce—a paradox wrapped in neon and old cobblestones. The hum of the subway rumbled faintly beneath the streets, like the city's stomach grumbling after a long day of business meetings and karaoke sessions. Above, the distant clink of sake glasses and laughter spilled out from tiny izakayas, their doors ajar as if to invite passersby into their cozy chaos. Neon signs painted the asphalt in kaleidoscopic hues—pinks, blues, and reds blinking lazily, as though the signs themselves had just returned from a night out and were a little too tired to keep flashing in sync.
A cool breeze swept through the city, brushing against people's faces like a cheeky reminder that summer was over, carrying with it the faint scent of grilled yakitori and the earthy aroma of rain-soaked pavement, which almost made you forget the smell of exhaust fumes. Above it all stretched a night sky smeared with city lights, offering only the faintest glimpse of stars, as if they too had been drinking a bit too much sake and were just too shy to show their full glory.
Through this picturesque scene stumbled Sato, a man who seemed to be a walking violation of Kyoto's aesthetic. His wrinkled suit hung on him like a deflated balloon after a bad party, his tie loosened to a point that suggested it had given up on life entirely. His black shoes—once shiny enough to reflect his regret—were scuffed beyond recognition, the soles complaining audibly with every uneven step. Clutched in his sweaty hand was a brown paper bag, the universal sign of poor life choices, betraying his recent—and generously overindulgent—visit to a nearby bar.
His walk was a drunken interpretation of modern art, all chaotic angles and unpredictable turns. He swayed like a ship caught in a storm, every step a precarious flirtation with gravity. "Ha! Sidewalks are overrated," he slurred, veering dangerously close to the curb. He caught himself just in time and staggered back onto the walkway, throwing his arms out theatrically like a trapeze artist sticking the landing. "Who needs a straight line anyway? It's just… societal propaganda."
He laughed at his own joke, a loud, wheezy chuckle that echoed into the night. But the sound quickly deflated, leaving only a faint frown etched on his flushed face. Somewhere under the haze of alcohol and self-pity, the grim reality of his life lurked, ready to pounce.
"This is adulthood, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with enough sarcasm to drown an optimist. "Work hard, they said. Follow your dreams, they said. Yeah, well, screw them. Where's my dream? Probably got stuck in traffic behind a damn truck."
Sato paused, wobbling precariously before leaning against a streetlamp like it was an old friend he could confide in. He tilted his head up toward the moon, its calm, glowing beauty seeming to mock him.
"College was supposed to be the start of everything," he murmured bitterly. His mind dragged him back to those hopeful years when he thought the world was his oyster—only to find out the oyster was rotten. He'd dreamed of becoming an engineer, of building skyscrapers or sleek machines that people would marvel at. Instead, his job applications were met with rejection letters that were always polite but never encouraging.
"Thank you for applying. We regret to inform you—blah, blah, blah," he mimicked in a nasal voice, shaking his head. "Should've just framed one of those rejection letters and called it my first architectural achievement."
After a dozen rejections, he'd ended up in a job that could generously be described as soul-crushing. The company was the stuff of nightmares, a black hole of unpaid overtime and passive-aggressive managers. Quitting wasn't an option; the company had a knack for making vague but terrifying threats that suggested leaving might involve a permanent dirt nap.
"Work and sleep. Sleep and work," he muttered, pushing himself off the streetlamp and nearly losing his balance. "What a life. A hamster in a suit probably has more fun."
The alcohol loosened his thoughts further, and he began to tally all the things he'd missed out on. Eating at a fancy restaurant? Nope—instant ramen didn't count. Taking a spontaneous vacation? Never—his vacation days were as mythical as unicorns. Falling in love? Ha! The closest he'd come was a brief, wistful glance at the office coffee machine. His only real companions were the endless reports on his desk and the relentless tick-tock of the office clock, both of which seemed to mock him daily.
"I just wanted a normal life," he muttered, his voice growing louder as his despair bubbled over. He threw his arms up dramatically, nearly dropping his paper bag. "Is that too much to ask? Just one day—one single day—where I can eat what I want, do what I want, and not feel like a cog in some broken machine!"
The universe, ever the comedian, decided to respond. A loud horn blared through the air, cutting through his drunken soliloquy like a poorly-timed punchline.
Sato turned sluggishly, his intoxicated brain taking its sweet time to process the rapidly approaching lights. A brakeless truck—big, loud, and terrifying—hurtled toward him, its engine growling like an angry beast.
"Oh, come on!" Sato yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Of all the ways to go, this? Couldn't I at least get hit by something cooler, like a Lamborghini? Or a parade float?!"
The truck didn't share his sense of humor, and before Sato could finish his rant, it slammed into him. The impact was quick and brutal, flinging him into the void of oblivion with all the subtlety of a punchline delivered by a drunken comedian.
***
When Sato next opened his eyes, he was no longer on the streets of Kyoto. Instead, he found himself surrounded by nothingness—a vast, infinite void that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. There was no ground, no sky, no sound. Just… nothing.
He looked down at himself and was startled to see he still had a body, though it felt oddly weightless, like he was made of helium or bad life choices. He was also completely naked.
"Great," he muttered, folding his arms in a vain attempt at dignity. "Not only am I dead, but I'm also indecent. Fantastic start to the afterlife. Couldn't even get a robe? A towel, maybe?"
He squinted into the endless void, which seemed to offer no answers—or furniture. "Hello?" he called out, his voice bouncing back at him like it was just as lost. "Anybody here? God? Buddha? That drunk guy at the bar who said life is a simulation?"
No response. Only silence.
"Well, this sucks," Sato muttered, plopping down onto what he assumed was "ground," though it felt like sitting on a cloud made of awkwardness. He tapped a finger against his knee. "If this is purgatory, they could at least give me a chair. Or a vending machine. A drink would be nice. Maybe a blanket for my dignity."
Just as he began to resign himself to eternal boredom, a soft glow appeared in the distance, faint at first, like the last glimmer of a phone battery. It grew brighter and closer, pulsing with an otherworldly rhythm, until it resolved into the shape of… her.
She was radiant—so radiant, in fact, that Sato had to shield his eyes for a moment, squinting like he'd stared directly into the sun. Her golden hair shimmered like sunlight, cascading down her back in perfect waves, defying the laws of humidity. Her gown was an elegant masterpiece of white and gold, glowing softly as though she were a celestial lightbulb. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto him, and she smiled—a smile so warm and inviting it made his heart skip a beat and then awkwardly try to catch up.
Sato stared, slack-jawed, his brain working overtime to process what he was seeing. "Am I… in a shampoo commercial? Should I be holding a bottle of conditioner right now?"
The woman chuckled softly, her voice like wind chimes on a summer breeze, though the sound was annoyingly soothing. "No, Sato. You are in the space between worlds."
Her tone was calming, but Sato couldn't quite shake his confusion—or the fact that he was still very naked. "Right. And you are…?"
"You may think of me as a guide," she said cryptically, which didn't help Sato's growing suspicion that he'd wandered into some kind of cosmic customer service line. "I am here to offer you a second chance."
"A second chance?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Lady, I just got hit by a truck. I think I'm beyond chances at this point."
Her serene smile didn't falter. If anything, it widened slightly, which only made Sato more suspicious. "Your life in that world has ended, yes. But your wish—to live a normal, happy life—has been heard. I am here to grant it."
Sato blinked at her, trying to make sense of her words. "Wait. Are you saying… reincarnation? Like, a do-over?"
"Exactly," she said, her eyes twinkling like she'd just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "You will be reborn into another world. A world of fantasy, where magic exists, and possibilities are endless. There, you can live the life you've always dreamed of. The choice is yours."
He gawked at her, his mind racing through the implications. "So… no more black company? No more unpaid overtime? No more living off convenience store bentos and pretending they taste like real food?"
"None of that," she assured him, her smile growing even warmer—if that was possible without setting the void on fire. "Only freedom and the opportunity to live as you wish."
For the first time in years—maybe ever—Sato felt a flicker of genuine hope. It was small and fragile, like a seedling poking through cracked concrete. "This isn't some kind of trick, is it? Like, I get reborn as a slime or a cockroach or something?"
The woman laughed, the sound like a balm for his frayed nerves. "No tricks. You will be reborn as a human, with a loving family to guide you."
He nodded slowly, determination replacing his earlier skepticism. "Alright, then. Let's do this. Reincarnation it is! I'm ready for my fantasy adventure."
Her smile widened, practically glowing now. "Very well. Close your eyes, Sato. Your new life begins now."
A blinding light enveloped him, and for a moment, he felt utterly weightless, as though the universe itself had hit the "reset" button on his existence.
"Please let me at least have pants this time," he mumbled before everything went white.
***
When Sato opened his eyes again, he was greeted by two unfamiliar faces looming over him like giants. A woman with soft brown hair and kind black eyes cradled him in her arms, her expression glowing with maternal joy. Beside her stood a man with a strong jawline, piercing brown eyes, and a posture that screamed "I chop wood for fun." His rugged frame practically radiated quiet strength.
Sato blinked, his vision still blurry, but clear enough to register one alarming fact: They were huge.
"Wait… are these… my parents?!" he tried to shout, but instead, a pitiful gurgle escaped his lips.
The woman's face lit up like a lantern. She turned to the man and said in an unfamiliar sing-song voice, "Galro mekshi vena! Hasa-to ilen bashki!" (Look, dear! He's awake! So full of life already!)
The man chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Fash tolven norru. Laso vrena kasta, hossa vril doma." (That's our boy. He's going to grow up strong, just like his old man.)
Sato's brow furrowed. What… the hell are they saying? he thought, trying to process the alien sounds. It wasn't Japanese. It wasn't English. It wasn't even close to anything he'd heard before. For all he knew, they could have been casting a spell to turn him into a frog.
The woman smiled lovingly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Isha meku liyo noshi, hasn beki?" (Oh, just look at him. Isn't he perfect?)
The man's proud laughter filled the room. "Perli? Kosta veni nor, lik! Boya lik!" (Perfect? He's going to be more than perfect! A warrior, I tell you!)
Sato blinked up at them, his confusion deepening. Oh, great. Not only am I reborn as a baby, but I've also landed in a world where everyone speaks IKEA instructions.
He tried to make sense of his surroundings. The room was cozy, with stone walls and a roaring fireplace that cast flickering shadows across the wooden beams of the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of herbs and something sweet—like freshly baked bread.
Okay, he thought, maybe this isn't so bad. Nice house, nice parents—wait, am I drooling? Why am I drooling?
His body, uncoordinated and tiny, betrayed him at every turn. His attempt to lift his hands resulted in little more than a flail, which only made the woman coo louder. "Vesha loko! Komo bresi!" (Oh, look at him! He's so energetic!)
The man grinned, leaning closer. "Vrita? Hek noso lara nura haren! Voja kali zarnet!" (Energetic? He's ready to take on a bear, I'd say! Look at those fists!)
Sato glanced down at his so-called "fists," which looked more like pudgy marshmallows than anything capable of fighting a bear. Yeah, sure, Dad. I'm a regular warrior, alright. Fear my chubby wrath.
Still, the realization was slowly sinking in: he was a baby. A literal baby. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Not only would he have to start over, but he'd have to relearn everything. Walking, talking, eating without spilling food all over himself. I've been demoted to Level 0 Human.
Great, he thought sarcastically. I wanted a second chance, and now I get to start from diapers. Fantastic.
As if on cue, a strange warmth spread across his lower half. He froze.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no…
The woman's smile turned into a look of mild alarm. She sniffed the air. "Beri kasta? No shi, no shi!" (Oh my, is that…? Oh no, it is!)
The man's proud demeanor faltered as he wrinkled his nose. "Hama bresh voshi? Liko boru." (Already? That was fast.)
Sato wanted to die all over again. Kill me now. Just… end it. Take me back to the void.
But instead of looking annoyed, his new mother laughed, cradling him closer. "Sha viro, tama. Mama lisse kara." (Don't worry, little one. Mama's got you.)
The man crossed his arms, smirking. "Hava vresh ti loma. Hossa liko kasta doru!" (I'll leave this one to you. He's your little warrior now.)
Sato sighed internally, resigning himself to his new, incredibly humiliating reality. Well, he thought as they bustled around to clean him up, I wanted a normal life. Guess this is as normal as it gets. At least there's magic… right?
As he lay there, helpless and mortified, a flicker of light danced in the corner of the room. It hovered like a firefly before zipping out of sight.
Sato's heart sank. Oh no. Magic is real, isn't it?