Rei Akiyama died wearing a blue wig, glitter tights, and a crumpled convention badge that read:
"Sailor Mercury – Level: Genius Girl!"
It was a warm Sunday afternoon, the kind of day that clung to your skin like cosplay glue and con-crunch regret. Her boots were aching, her bag stuffed with signed doujinshi, and her phone battery teetered at 2% as she scrolled through the latest fanfic update on AO3.
Then came the truck.
It wasn't dramatic. There was no dramatic slow-motion scream. No heartwarming save-the-kid moment. Just an exhausted girl stepping into the crosswalk at the wrong time. A blaring horn. A flash of white. And then—
Darkness.
But not for long.
---
When Rei opened her eyes, she was lying on… linoleum?
No. Not linoleum. The floor was white. Too white. White in the way corporate hell must be white. Fluorescent lights hummed gently overhead, though no fixtures could be seen. Endless rows of desks stretched into the void, and each one had a tiny plaque and a stack of glowing folders.
Rei blinked. Her boots were gone. Her wig too. She was in a plain school uniform. Her body felt… light. Weightless, almost.
Then a voice crackled to her left.
"Welcome to the Divine Reincarnation Department. Please take a number."
She turned. A ticket machine stood beside a glowing kiosk. The paper read:
> Soul ID: A-31804
Status: Eligible for Special Rebirth Package – ERROR REASSIGNMENT
Please report to Clerk-17 at Station B-12
"…what the hell," Rei muttered.
---
Clerk-17 looked like a tired office worker who'd seen a thousand reincarnations too many. Gray robes. Coffee mug that said "SMITE ME WITH PAPERWORK." A pair of ethereal reading glasses perched on the bridge of a featureless face.
He looked up as she approached.
"Sailor Mercury, huh? Bold choice."
"I… what?"
"You're dead. Don't worry, it happens. Normally, you'd be shuffled off to Recycle Queue 7 or a basic memory-wipe loop, but…" He held up her ticket. "We had a cosmic misfire. Some guy named Hector the Hero got your body slot and your karma credits. So—you get compensation."
Rei blinked. "Compensation?"
He pointed to a floating terminal beside his desk. Two massive wheels hovered in the air—shimmering with multicolored symbols and incomprehensible languages. One had worlds etched along the rim. The other pulsed with words like "fire control," "beast taming," "inventory system," and "plot armor."
"Two spins," Clerk-17 said. "One for your world. One for your power. Divine standard clause. Don't question it."
Before she could respond, the first wheel began to spin with a shimmer of golden stardust.
---
WORLD SPIN
The names flashed past:
Marvel
Naruto
Warhammer 40K (Rei gulped)
Pokémon
Lord of the Rings
One Piece
Percy Jackson
Harry Potter…
It slowed.
Tick. Tick. Tick...
> DING!
WORLD SELECTED: Wizarding World of Harry Potter (Branchline Timeline: AU – Pre-Canon Initiation)
Rei's jaw dropped. Her heart leapt.
"Oh. My. God."
Clerk-17 raised a brow. "Fan?"
"I read every book. I watched every film. I devoured every Pottermore article. I have a spreadsheet on wand theory."
"Yikes," he said dryly. "Next spin."
---
POWER SPIN
This time, the wheel was even more chaotic.
Reality Rewrite
Gamer Interface
Elemental Avatar
Summoner's Contract
Skill Maker
Mascaromancy…
It blurred, glowed, stuttered—
> DING!
POWER SELECTED: MASCAROMANCY – Fiction-Based Magical Mask Creation
Rei leaned forward. "Wait… wait, like making masks that give powers?"
Clerk-17 flipped open her file. "Let's see… based on soul condition, karmic affinity, and obsession index—yep. You can craft enchanted masks based on any fictional character you know well enough. Wear the mask, gain their power. No mental side effects. Just magical drain. Good luck."
"I—seriously? Any character? Like—Naruto? Storm? Spider-Gwen? Sephiroth?!"
He waved his hand. "Sure, but you'll start small. No one reincarnates with cheat-level power fully unlocked. That's against policy."
Rei's mind reeled. Every fandom. Every power set. Every world she ever loved—
"This is better than transmigrating with a notebook," she whispered.
"You'll retain your memories," Clerk-17 said, stamping a glowing seal on her file. "No name change. Just soul-slide into a new vessel in Wizarding Britain. Oh, and your Mascaromancy Core will manifest sometime before school age."
She felt the air ripple around her. A tugging sensation at her chest.
Clerk-17 glanced up.
"Last advice, mortal: don't let the fiction define you. Let it inspire you."
A golden seal burned on her wrist.
The world blurred.