The city was quiet.Most lights were out, leaving only a few cats prowling the alleys and the faint croak of frogs. But in a tiny room tucked away in the corner of an old apartment block, one screen still glowed.
"Why'd it freeze again, my Hokage game?!"Akira Shuren growled at the monitor.
"Stupid connection! I swear, the server's cursed."
He clicked the close button, muttering curses that would make any forum moderator weep.
Akira Shuren—an orphan, a dropout, and a self-proclaimed shut-in. After high school, he hadn't bothered with college.In his words: "Doctors, engineers—whatever. They're everywhere now. Even grad students are fighting for scraps. I'll pass."
So he lived on the tiny government stipend, renting a one-room space no bigger than a closet. He made small change playing online games for others. Barely enough to survive—but enough.
He wasn't bitter. The head of his orphanage, [CHINESE REFERENCE → Buddhist monk, replace with "old caretaker who believed in the Spirit Path"], had raised him to see life with dull acceptance. Akira didn't really believe in karma or enlightenment. Still, that upbringing had left him calm… maybe too calm.
He had no friends, no dreams, no one to talk to. His world existed between four walls and a flickering monitor.
"Whatever. Let's see if Grass-sensei updated that 'Low-Key Hero' novel."He scrolled through the site, frowning. "Man, even Grass-sensei went on hiatus. Everyone's just quitting halfway through these days."
Silence filled the room. Then—
"What the hell?! The site's down too?!"The homepage had turned into a mess of gibberish text.
"Don't you dare crash on me!"
He slammed his fist down.
Bang!
A sharp pain followed.
"...What the—"
His hand hung limp, wrist twisted unnaturally. He stared in disbelief.
"Ahhhhh—!"
The scream echoed through the neighborhood.
"Shuren! Quiet down, it's midnight!""Mad dog's at it again!""Some of us have jobs, idiot!"
Voices snapped from nearby rooms. Akira clamped a hand over his mouth, gasping through the pain.
"Could this day get any worse…" he muttered, slumping back into his chair.
He wasn't worried about the broken bone. He'd set it himself before—it wasn't the first time. He'd grown up patching wounds and setting joints. This pain was just… something to feel. A reminder that he still existed.
He stared at the dim screen. "If only I could start over… If time travel or reincarnation were real, I'd take it. I'd fight this time. Even if the whole world tried to stop me."
He closed his eyes. His body ached.
The keyboard he'd struck earlier sparked faintly. A thread of smoke curled upward, unnoticed.
"…what's that smell?"
He opened his eyes just as blue light flickered across the keys.
"What the—"
Instinct screamed run. He shot to his feet—And collapsed.
"Damn it—my hand—"
Electric arcs coiled around him. The air hissed. Sparks flared into flame. The monitor burst.
Akira couldn't move. His body seized as the explosion swallowed him.
"If there's another life… I won't waste it. Not again. Even if the gods themselves block my way—I'll fight."
That was his last thought.
Then came nothing.
An endless dark. No up or down, no sound, no body—only thought.
"Is this… death?"
His consciousness drifted through the void. He couldn't even tell if seconds were passing or centuries.
Under that crushing emptiness, even thought began to fade.
"No… I won't vanish. I haven't fought yet. I won't die here. I want to live—no matter what it takes."
The thought burned brighter, louder—until light exploded through the dark.
It ripped through the void, blinding, searing.
And then—he was gone.
Only silence remained.