Keitaro sprinted down the narrow hallway, panic written across his face. He couldn't believe it—of all the ways his day could go wrong, this was how it was ending. A simple errand to drop off documents for his boss had turned into a personal crisis thanks to one ill-timed coffee and the unholy vengeance of a spicy ramen bowl.
"Just… need… to hold it…" Keitaro muttered, his voice strained as he clutched his stomach.
He burst into the office building's restroom, the fluorescent lights flickering ominously above. The pristine tiles reflected his pale, sweaty face. Keitaro scanned the room, heart sinking as he saw that every stall was occupied.
"Come on, come on!" he whispered, hopping from foot to foot.
Finally, the ding of a stall lock turning echoed like divine intervention. A man walked out, giving Keitaro a side-eye as he squeezed past.
Keitaro didn't care about appearances. He rushed in, slammed the door, and locked it with trembling fingers. Relief washed over him as he turned toward the porcelain throne—only to realize that the floor beneath him was wet.
"Who leaves the floor like this?!" Keitaro shouted.
His foot slipped on the puddle, and time slowed. He flailed his arms like a windmill, desperately reaching for something to grab, but the laws of physics—and bad luck—were merciless. He fell backward, his head slamming into the toilet seat with a resounding thud.
"Ugh…" His vision blurred, stars dancing across his eyes.
As if that wasn't bad enough, his body continued its descent, and his face splashed directly into the toilet bowl.
Keitaro's last conscious thought was, This is the most humiliating way to go.
Keitaro opened his eyes to a blinding white light.
"Am I… dead?" he murmured.
The light faded, revealing an endless expanse of sky painted with hues of orange and pink. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.
"Welcome to the afterlife," a melodious voice called.
Keitaro turned to see a robed figure floating serenely before him. Their face was obscured, but their aura radiated divinity.
"Am I going to heaven?" Keitaro asked, his voice trembling.
The figure hesitated. "Ah… not quite. You see, your death was… peculiar. Rare, even. So, instead of moving on, you've been chosen for reincarnation!"
Keitaro perked up. "Reincarnation? You mean I get another shot at life? Like in those light novels?"
"Exactly," the figure said. "However, there's a… slight condition."
Keitaro squinted. "Condition?"
The figure gestured, and a shimmering mirror appeared before him. Keitaro peered into it, his reflection rippling. But what he saw wasn't his human self. It was a gleaming porcelain toilet.
"A toilet?!" Keitaro shouted, his voice echoing through the void.
"Yes," the figure said apologetically. "You've been reincarnated as a sentient toilet in a magical world. Your unique form will allow you to cleanse corruption and assist adventurers in need."
"But why a toilet?!" Keitaro demanded, his voice cracking.
The figure shrugged. "The mechanics of reincarnation are mysterious. Perhaps it's poetic justice? Or maybe the universe just has a strange sense of humor."
Keitaro opened his mouth to protest further, but before he could say another word, the world around him began to shift and swirl.
When Keitaro came to, he felt… different. For one, he wasn't standing. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. He tried to turn his head but realized he didn't have one.
Wait a second… where am I?
His vision adjusted, revealing a dimly lit stone room. Torches flickered on the walls, and moss crept along the cracks in the stone. He felt something strange beneath him—a smooth, cold surface.
It all came rushing back. The divine figure. The mirror. The toilet.
"No… no, no, no, no!" Keitaro yelled. Except, his voice now echoed oddly, like someone shouting into a hollow chamber.
He willed himself to move, but he was rooted in place. His body—if you could call it that—was entirely stationary. He felt sturdy. Smooth. Cold.
Oh no. I really am a toilet.
Before he could fully process his new reality, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. A figure entered the room—a young woman in a mage's robe, her face dirtied from battle. She looked around, her eyes landing on Keitaro.
"A toilet? Here?" she said, puzzled. "In the middle of a dungeon?"
Keitaro's panic deepened as the mage approached, inspecting him with curiosity.
"No, no, no! Don't use me!" Keitaro screamed internally.
The mage tilted her head. "Wait… are you… alive?"
Keitaro froze. Could she hear him?
"Uh… hello?" he tried, his voice reverberating awkwardly.
The mage jumped back, her staff at the ready. "It is alive! What kind of cursed object is this?"
"I'm not cursed!" Keitaro shouted. "I'm just… having a really bad day."
The mage lowered her staff slightly, her expression shifting from fear to bewilderment. "I've seen a lot of strange things in dungeons, but a talking toilet? This is new."
Keitaro sighed—or at least he thought he did. He wasn't sure how toilets sighed. "Trust me, it's new for me too."
The mage's emerald-green eyes narrowed as she pointed her staff at Keitaro. "Talk. What are you, and what are you doing in this dungeon?"
Keitaro felt an odd rush of anxiety—probably because being stared down by someone wielding a glowing magical weapon was objectively terrifying. He tried to keep his voice calm, though it still echoed awkwardly. "I know this is hard to believe, but I'm… a toilet."
She raised an eyebrow. "A talking toilet?"
"Yes," Keitaro said. "But not by choice! This wasn't part of my life plan!"
The mage tilted her head, her grip on the staff tightening. "Life plan? Are you saying you weren't always… a toilet?"
"Exactly!" Keitaro said, his voice pitching slightly. "I used to be human! My name is Keitaro, and I—"
"Hold on," the mage interrupted, taking a cautious step closer. Her eyes scanned his porcelain surface for hidden inscriptions or runes. "This feels like a trick. Are you some kind of cursed artifact? A mimic? Or worse—are you possessed by a demon?"
"A demon?!" Keitaro said, indignantly. "Lady, I just woke up in this dungeon five minutes ago, and you're already accusing me of being possessed? Give me a break!"
The mage didn't budge, her staff glowing brighter as she muttered an incantation under her breath. Keitaro felt a strange tingling sensation across his surface, like static electricity.
"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.
"A truth-detection spell," she said curtly. "If you're lying, I'll know."
Keitaro gulped—or at least he imagined he did. "Okay, fine, but I'm telling you, this is all a big misunderstanding!"
The mage's spell completed, and a faint shimmer surrounded Keitaro. She stared at him, frowning. "It says you're… not lying."
"See?" Keitaro said, relieved. "I told you!"
Her suspicion didn't fade entirely. "Just because you believe what you're saying doesn't mean it's true. Cursed objects often have fragments of memories from their past owners."
"Past owner?!" Keitaro exclaimed. "Listen, I don't have a past owner! I'm not cursed! I'm just… me!"
The mage paused, studying him intently. Her staff dimmed, but she didn't lower it. "If you're really just a normal person stuck in this form, how did you end up as… well, that?"
Keitaro hesitated, embarrassment flooding him. "It's kind of… a long story."
"I've got time," the mage said, folding her arms.
"Fine," Keitaro muttered. He recounted his last moments as a human: the frantic search for a bathroom, the fateful slip, the head trauma, and the humiliating drowning incident.
When he finished, the mage stared at him, expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she burst out laughing.
Keitaro's pride took another hit. "It's not funny!"
"You… you died falling into a toilet?" she said, barely able to speak through her laughter. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
Keitaro sulked. "Yeah, laugh it up. My death was a joke, and now my afterlife is even worse."
The mage wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter subsiding. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It's just… you have to admit it's a little ironic."
"Ironic? It's tragic!" Keitaro shot back.
"Fair enough," she said, a faint smile lingering on her face. Her tone softened slightly. "Alright, Keitaro. Let's say I believe you. You're a human soul stuck in a toilet. What now?"
"That's the million-gold-piece question, isn't it?" Keitaro said. "I don't know! I woke up here with no clue what's going on. Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are."
The mage tilted her head, thoughtful. "Hmm. If what you're saying is true, then someone—or something—must have put you here. Reincarnation doesn't just happen randomly."
Keitaro blinked. "So… you think there's a reason I ended up like this?"
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe the gods just have a terrible sense of humor." She shrugged. "Either way, sitting around won't get you any answers."
Keitaro tried to sigh but only managed a hollow gurgle. "Great. So, what do I do? I can't exactly walk out of here."
The mage's lips twitched into a smirk. "That's true. But I could… carry you."
Keitaro recoiled. "Carry me?! Like, on your back?"
"No," she said, amused. "I was thinking more like… a cart or something. Don't worry, I'll figure it out."
"Fantastic," Keitaro muttered. "My grand adventure begins with me as luggage."
The mage laughed again, the tension finally easing. "Well, you'd better get used to it, Keitaro. Because you're coming with me. If nothing else, you'll make an excellent conversation starter."
"Great," Keitaro deadpanned. "My life as a punchline continues."
The mage chuckled, leaning down to inspect him one last time. "By the way, I'm Rina. A mage-in-training, in case that wasn't obvious."
"Nice to meet you, Rina," Keitaro said grudgingly. "Thanks for not smashing me to pieces."
"No promises if you turn out to be evil," Rina said with a wink.
As she began to figure out how to transport him, Keitaro couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe his second life wouldn't be so bad after all.
Or so he thought—until he remembered that adventures tended to involve monsters, traps, and far too many opportunities for humiliation.
"Yep," he muttered to himself. "This is going to suck."