Chapter 1: Transmigration
The night was cold, dark, and held a sadness worthy of a Nolan film without a soundtrack.On an ordinary city street, dimly lit by a red traffic light and a flickering lamp that looked as tired of life as I was, an average man leaned against a pole, smoking a cigarette with the resignation of someone who had already missed two buses and three chances at life.
That man was me: Sakurai.
Officially human, Unofficially a functional zombie.
Age: classified.
Occupation: modern-day corporate slave.
Special skill: complaining without anyone listening.
And yes, my name sounds Japanese, but I'm Western, an exotic gift from my mother a half-Japanese half-Latin legend who died giving birth to me.
My life, in short was like a low-budget "slice-of-life" blended with a family drama so sad that not even Netflix would want to adapt it.
While I waited for the light to change I stared at my phone, lost in a light novel.
One of those stories where the protagonist dies, revives with OP powers, and conquers the world while building a harem bigger than One Piece's budget.
"How do they even get so many waifus? I can't even get a Tinder match… I muttered, exhaling smoke through my nose like a depressed dragon.
At that moment, the traffic light started blinking,red, amber, green.
Everything seemed normal—until it wasn't.
FZZZTTT!
Suddenly, time turned thick.Everything slowed, the people around me froze, their faces stuck between surprise and sheer panic, a high-pitched screech, like a dinosaur slamming the brakes stabbed into my ears.
I turned my head,A white light blinded me.
"A truck...?"
Yep, a truck, classic.
—ARE YOU SERIOUS, GOD?! A TRUCK?! COULDN'T I DIE IN A MORE ORIGINAL WAY? LIKE, I DON'T KNOW, A BEAR WITH A SWORD?! —I screamed, but my body didn't move, not even a twitch.
"Move it!… Come on, Sakurai,just like when you dodged deadlines." Nothing.
My legs were frozen, my arms were stone, only one option left: close my eyes and accept my fate.
It was like turning off a console, except instead of sleeping… I floated.
A surreal calm surrounded me, like I was floating in a tub of jasmine tea… with Wi-Fi, no pain, no cold, absolutely nothing, just pure stillness, like my soul had become a leaf drifting in the wind.
"Am I… dead? Or in one of those all-white rooms with Morgan Freeman?"
Seconds passed, or years, or centuries, hard to say.
Then it came—a force pulling me toward a distant light.
Yes, again.
I opened my eyes just in time to see that same light swallowing me like a cosmic whirlpool.
—NO, NO, NO! I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR ISEKAI! —I yelled.
And then... darkness.