We were strolling through the busy streets of Tokya, enjoying the sights and smells of the bustling city when suddenly—
BAM!
A loud screech echoed through the air as a truck swerved violently, knocking into a young middle schooler who had been crossing the street. The poor kid went flying like a ragdoll, flipping twice before crashing onto the pavement with a groan.
"Well," I said, scratching my head. "That's one way to skip school."
The truck driver, clearly panicking, floored the gas pedal and tried to speed away. Before he could make his great escape, I leaped into the air, flipped gracefully, and landed a solid WHAM punch right into the windshield.
Glass shattered. The truck crumpled like an empty soda can, and the driver? Well, let's just say his face had an immediate meeting with the steering wheel.
The truck itself skidded backward, flipping over a parked bicycle and crashing into a conveniently placed fruit stand. Bananas and apples rained down like confetti.
I stared at the destruction. "...Uh. I think I went a little too far."
Actual Zag, standing next to me, snorted. "Ya think? You just turned a hit-and-run into an action movie."
I rolled my eyes. "Check the kid, will ya?"
Actual Zag ran over to the fallen student and crouched beside him. After a few moments, he looked up and said, "Eh, he's fine. Just a few bruises. Not dead, though."
I sighed. "Damn. Guess we're not getting an isekai story today."
Tiny Zag, perched on my shoulder, grinned. "Truck-kun failed his mission. Time to revoke his reincarnation privileges!"
Actual Zag smirked. "Poor Truck-kun. Years of service, and this is how it ends."
Just then, like some perfectly timed fate, a sleek black Lambo cruised down the street. The kind of car that screamed "I have too much money and nowhere to spend it."
Without thinking, I waved it down. To my surprise, it actually stopped.
I turned to Actual Zag, wide-eyed. "Bro, I think I just unlocked the Stop a Rich Guy's Car achievement!"
The driver's door opened, and out stepped an old man in a sharp black suit, his gray hair slicked back, his mustache twirled like he practiced it daily in front of a mirror. He looked me up and down with narrowed eyes and said, "How dare you stop my car? Do you even know who I am?"
I gave him a thumbs-up. "Nope. But I do know who he is," I pointed to the injured kid. "Mind helping him instead of flexing your wallet at me?"
The old man's face went from indignant billionaire to concerned grandpa in 0.5 seconds. "Oh! Right! Of course!"
At that moment, his wife stepped out of the car. She was the typical rich lady, dripping with jewelry, sunglasses indoors, and holding a chihuahua like it was her child. "What are you doing, honey?" she said, her tone one part curious, two parts suspicious.
The old man coughed nervously. "Uh, just... helping this fine young man, dear."
She squinted. "You're not buying another company, are you?"
Before he could reply, I cut in with a smirk. "Nah, I think he's investing in karma today."
The old man shot me a look but nodded, trying to play it cool. "Exactly. Karma. Good investment. Yep."
Together, we lifted the injured kid and carefully placed him in the front seat. The billionaire sat in the driver's seat, looking way too excited about driving his own car. I slid into the backseat next to his wife and—surprise—two kids glaring at me like I was some kind of peasant who accidentally stumbled into their private kingdom.
As I closed the door, I leaned out and yelled at Actual Zag, "Yo, bro! Get that truck driver's ass outta here!"
Actual Zag grinned and walked over to the truck. He yanked the unconscious driver out with one hand, plopped him onto the curb, and saluted. "Mission accomplished."
Tiny Zag added, "Truck-kun's under arrest for attempted isekai!"
---
We arrived at the Tokya Grand Hospital, because of course, everything here has to sound fancy. As soon as the car stopped, I bolted out like my life depended on it and yelled, "Emergency! We need help over here!"
A group of nurses came rushing out with a stretcher. The old man and I carefully placed the boy on it, and the nurses wheeled him inside while shouting medical jargon that made zero sense to me.
I turned to the billionaire. "Thanks for the lift, Mr...?"
He puffed his chest. "Sir Bartholomew Von Sterling the Third."
I blinked. "...Yeah, I'm just gonna call you Bart."
He coughed. "You will do no such thing!"
Tiny Zag, still sitting on my shoulder, whispered, "Bet his family tree is just dollar signs."
I grinned. "Alright, Sir Bart, appreciate the help. You saved the day."
He smiled proudly. "Well, of course! A man of my stature always gives back to society!"
His wife, who had been quiet until now, chimed in, "He just wanted an excuse to drive his car."
I snorted. "Classic."
Actual Zag walked over and patted me on the back. "Alright, hero, what now?"
I stretched. "Now? We wait and see if the kid's okay. And maybe hit up a vending machine or two."
Tiny Zag perked up. "Snacks! Finally!"
And so, with Sir Bart boasting about his philanthropic efforts, his wife rolling her eyes, and the Zags arguing over snack choices, our ridiculous day in the city continued.
As we stood outside the hospital, basking in the aftermath of our heroic deeds, the billionaire sighed dramatically and rubbed his temples.
"I was joking earlier," he said with a smirk. "My real name's Sammer Grendard. Just call me Sam."
I blinked. "Wait... you mean you're *not* Sir Bartholomew Von Sterling the Third?"
He chuckled. "I wish. But no, just Sam. It's simpler."
Tiny Zag, perched on my shoulder, whispered, "He went from royalty to 'random dude at a BBQ' real fast."
Before I could reply, a deafening roar of voices filled the air. We turned to see a massive swarm of reporters charging towards us like an army of caffeine-fueled vultures, cameras flashing wildly. Microphones were being thrust into our faces before we even had time to blink.
I leaned toward Actual Zag. "Well... at least we know Tokya's economy is doing fine. Look at all these employed people."
Actual Zag nodded sagely. "Yep. The news industry must be booming."
Sam, however, was completely unfazed. He adjusted his suit and stepped forward with all the grace of a man who was used to having a camera shoved in his face.
"Hello, everyone," he said smoothly, flashing the kind of smile that belonged on a toothpaste commercial. "Nothing much to make a mess about here. Just a small act of kindness, nothing more."
I scratched my head, watching the reporters swarm around him. "You know what? I have an idea."
Before Sam could respond, I dashed back inside the hospital and, after a bit of begging and maybe some light bribery with vending machine snacks, convinced a doctor to help me out.
When I returned, dragging the doctor behind me, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh, what exactly are you doing?"
I grinned. "Just trust me."
I positioned the doctor in front of Sam, shoved a microphone in his hand, and whispered, "Okay, Doc, hit him with three of the dumbest, silliest questions you can think of. Go wild."
The doctor, who looked like he'd been pulled from a nap, blinked a few times but nodded. He cleared his throat and faced Sam with all the seriousness of a presidential debate moderator.
"Mr. Sam," the doctor began, "If a tomato is technically a fruit, does that mean ketchup is a smoothie?"
Sam's eye twitched, but he managed to keep his cool. "No, no, ketchup is definitely *not* a smoothie. That's ridiculous."
The reporters leaned in, furiously taking notes.
The doctor nodded seriously and continued. "If you drop soap on the floor... is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"
Sam's jaw clenched. "What... What kind of question is that?! Obviously, the soap is—Wait, no, the floor—UGH!" He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Look, next question, please."
I was grinning ear to ear at this point. This was gold. Pure gold.
The doctor glanced at me, and I gave him a thumbs-up. He smirked and hit Sam with the final blow. "If Cinderella's shoe fit perfectly, why did it fall off in the first place?"
That did it.
Sam's face turned red as he threw his hands in the air. "OH, COME ON! WHO EVEN THINKS ABOUT THIS STUFF?!"
He pointed dramatically at the doctor, who was barely holding back a laugh. "YOU CALL YOURSELF A DOCTOR?! WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR DEGREE, A CEREAL BOX?!"
The media, who couldn't hear a word of our conversation thanks to the hospital's soundproof glass, saw Sam's outburst and immediately jumped to conclusions.
Cameras flashed, and a reporter shouted, "Breaking news! Billionaire businessman furious at medical staff for *not treating the injured boy properly!*"
Another reporter gasped. "Wow! Such dedication! He must really care about the boy's well-being!"
Sam, now completely baffled, turned to me. "What... what are they saying?"
I gave him a pat on the back. "Relax, Sam. You're officially a saint now. Just roll with it."
He groaned. "I hate you so much right now."
Actual Zag cracked a joke, wiping away fake tears. "I'm so proud. Look at you, Sam. The people's hero!"
Tiny Zag added, "Saint Sammy of Tokya! Bow before him!"
Sam facepalmed. "I need a drink."
I grinned and waved at the reporters. "Ladies and gentlemen, my good friend Sam here is just a man of the people! You won't find a billionaire with a bigger heart!"
Sam groaned louder. "I *really* need a drink."
The reporters cheered, some even clapping. One of them yelled, "Sir, will you be covering all the hospital bills?"
Sam turned to me, eyes wide. "I'm *what?!*"
I patted him on the back again. "You heard them, Sam. Big heart, remember?"
He sighed and turned to the cameras with a forced smile. "Uh... yes, of course. Money is no issue when it comes to saving lives."
The crowd erupted in applause.
Tiny Zag whispered, "You know you're ruining his life, right?"
I smirked. "Nah, I'm upgrading it."
Sam looked at me like he wanted to strangle me. "We are *never* hanging out again."
I threw an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, Saint Sammy, let's go grab some food. You're buying, of course."
Actual Zag laughed. "I'll take a steak."
Tiny Zag added, "And dessert!"
Sam sighed deeply, accepting his fate. "Fine. But only if I can pick the restaurant."
I shrugged. "Fair enough."
As we walked away, I glanced back at the reporters who were still busy covering "Billionaire Sam's Charitable Deeds."
Turning to Sam, I grinned. "You know, for a guy who wanted to stay under the radar, you sure know how to steal the spotlight."
He groaned. "You're going to be the death of me."
I laughed. "Don't worry, that job belongs to Truck-kun."
And with that, our ridiculous adventure in Tokya continued, with Sam officially becoming the unwitting hero of the people... whether he liked it or not.