In the buzzing neon-lit streets of Kitanami City, where late-night convenience stores shared walls with secret spirit shrines, one boy rose to social media infamy not through looks, talent, or brains—but through brainrot.
Seventeen-year-old Itsuki Hanabira was a proud, walking embodiment of "please touch grass." With a cracked phone in one hand and his orange cat, Mikan, biting the other, Itsuki spent his days unleashing chaos online. His specialty? Posting absurd job application templates on every platform known to humankind, filling them with outrageous skills like "Certified Ghost Buster (Level 1)", "Professional Bag Holder", and "Full-Time Emotional Support Stranger."
He didn't just post them—he wore them. Literally.
One Sunday, he crafted a human-sized cardboard job application form and paraded it at the Kitanami Mall cosplay event, the form hanging over his body like some corporate spirit possessing a lost soul. People laughed, took pictures, and before he knew it, "Job Application Guy" became a meme. Fan pages popped up overnight: "HireMe-kun Stan Club," "Resume-sama Fanbase," "Official Water Bottle Holder of Itsuki."
And it didn't stop there.
At the next con, other teens cosplayed as his job application. Some printed out 6-foot resume banners, some crafted 3D-printed name tags reading "Applicant #420," and some wore fake briefcases saying "Will Work for Likes." The cosplay world went nuts. Even a fast-food mascot was spotted holding a "Now Hiring" sign referencing him.
Itsuki, bathing in internet validation, kept pushing the limits. He faked interviews with ghosts, applied for jobs at haunted shrines, and once posted "Currently Hiring a Poltergeist to Scare Me into Being Productive."
It was all harmless fun.
Until one night, when his phone rang.
Unknown Number.
He froze. Mikan, his pet orange cat, sitting on his chest, gave his nose a warning chomp.
"Ow! Chill, dude," Itsuki hissed, swatting the cat off. He answered the call.
"Hanabira Itsuki? This is the Kitanami City Police. Report to the 7th Precinct immediately. It's urgent."
His heart dropped into his stomach.
"Uh, sir, did I accidentally harass a government ghost? Or is this about the prank job post for the Prime Minister's office?"
"Now."
The line went dead.
Mikan glared at him as if saying, "Told you so."
Under the suffocating fluorescent lights of the precinct, Itsuki sat nervously, fiddling with the straps of his cat-ear hoodie. Officers stared at him. Some whispered. Some tried not to laugh.
"You're the...uh, Job Application Kid, right?" an officer asked, stifling a smirk.
"I prefer 'Freelance Chaos Agent,' but yeah, that's me," Itsuki replied, voice cracking halfway through the joke.
Before he could drop another punchline, the station doors slammed open. Men in military uniforms barged in, their boots clanking like thunder. One of them pointed straight at Itsuki.
"Bring him."
Blindfolded and stuffed into a van that smelled suspiciously like wet socks and gun oil, Itsuki tried to joke his way out of panic.
"Uh, guys? Just saying, I only applied as a ghost hunter for clout. I don't ACTUALLY fight spirits, okay?" Silence.
Mikan, snuck into his hoodie, bit his neck. He winced.
"I get it, karma."
After what felt like hours, they arrived.
It was a cold, industrial facility, buzzing with halogen lights and surrounded by barbed wire. Inside, a sterile lab smelled of bleach and death.
A body lay on the central table, covered by a white sheet.
"Come closer," one officer commanded.
Itsuki hesitated. "I-I'm not really good with horror movie tropes, sir. Usually, the funny guy dies first."
The officer pulled the sheet.
And there he was.
Lying lifeless. Pale. Still.
His own face.
Itsuki Hanabira.
Dead.
"W-What the... this... is a prank, right? Like... a hyper-realistic wax figure? Or some AI deepfake stunt? Right?" His voice trembled, eyes refusing to believe the body before him.
The resemblance was undeniable. Down to the faded blue bracelet he always wore. Down to the small scar on his chin from that one time Mikan pushed a glass off the table.
He stumbled backward, heart racing so loud it drowned out the world. Mikan hissed from inside his hoodie.
Before he could speak, a doctor, pale and serious, entered the room.
"Subject Hanabira Itsuki," the doctor began, flipping through a clipboard, "has been confirmed deceased for approximately five months."
"..."
The room froze.
"W-What do you mean five months?! I'm... I'm right here!" Itsuki shouted, clutching his chest.
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "Exactly. Which begs the question—"
He looked up, meeting Itsuki's horrified eyes.
"How did your body arrive from the future?"