(AN: Welcome to those who are new and hello to those who came from my other story. I hope you like it please feel free to write a comment and tell me if there are any mistakes)
The automatic doors hissed shut behind him, cutting off the fluorescent buzz of the grocery store like someone snapping a switch. Night air rushed in to replace it—cool, damp, smelling faintly of rain and asphalt. Stephen stepped forward, the plastic bags pulling at his fingers, their thin handles biting into his skin.
The street glistened under the lamps, puddles catching yellow halos of light. His shoes splashed softly as he crossed the parking lot, shoulders hunched, spine tired in a way that went deeper than muscle.
Fifty hours.
Fifty hours this week alone. Meetings that should have been emails. Emails that turned into emergencies. Systems held together by duct tape and prayers, all of them somehow becoming his problem.
He felt hollowed out. Like something had scooped him clean and left only habit behind.
"Home," he muttered under his breath. "Just get home."
Dinner. A shower hot enough to sting. Bed. That was the plan. That was all he wanted.
He shifted the bags in his hands. Chicken. Vegetables. Rice. Simple things. Warm things. The kind of food that didn't ask questions or demand effort.
Then he heard it.
A sound that didn't belong.
Soft at first—easy to miss if you weren't already tired enough for your guard to slip. A choked noise. Half a sob. Half a gasp. It came from the alley to the right of the store, where the lights didn't quite reach and shadows gathered thick against brick.
Stephen slowed.
His first instinct was to keep walking.
Not my business, his mind supplied automatically. Someone else will handle it. Don't be stupid. You're exhausted.
But something tugged at him anyway. Not logic. Not reason.
Something older.
The sound came again. Sharper this time. Frantic.
Stephen stopped completely.
The grocery bags rustled as he lowered them to the ground, careful, almost gentle, like he didn't want to break the moment by being careless. His fingers lingered on the plastic for half a second longer than necessary.
Then he turned toward the alley.
One step.
Two.
Each footfall sounded too loud. His pulse picked up, a low thudding behind his ears. The alley smelled like damp trash and metal, like old rain trapped between walls.
Five steps in, he saw her.
She was pressed back against the brick, hands shaking as she shoved weakly at the man looming over her. He was bigger. Broader. His shadow swallowed hers. Her eyes were wide, wet with tears that hadn't quite fallen yet, breath hitching in short, panicked bursts.
Stephen didn't think.
He moved.
His body surged forward before his mind could catch up, exhaustion burned away by a single, sharp purpose.
"HEY!"
His voice tore through the alley, loud and raw, bouncing off the walls. The man jerked around in surprise. The girl's head snapped toward Stephen, her eyes locking onto him like a lifeline.
Hope flared there—bright and desperate.
Stephen crashed into the man with everything he had left. Shoulder first. The impact drove the air out of both of them as they slammed into the brick wall.
"RUN!" Stephen shouted, already scrambling for balance.
The girl didn't hesitate. She darted past them, shoes slapping against wet concrete, breath ragged as she bolted for the street.
The attacker snarled and shoved Stephen away. "What the hell is your problem?"
Stephen staggered back a step, hands raised. His heart hammered painfully in his chest. "She's gone," he said, forcing his voice steady. "Just walk away."
The man's face twisted. "You should've kept your nose out of it."
He lunged.
Stephen ducked the first punch by instinct, adrenaline sharpening his movements. The second caught him full in the ribs. Pain exploded across his side, bright and immediate, stealing his breath.
He swung back without thinking, fist connecting with the man's jaw. The impact rattled his teeth. The man growled and surged forward, grabbing Stephen by the collar and slamming him into the wall.
Brick bit into his back. His vision shook. Air left his lungs in a sharp gasp.
They grappled—slipping, shoving, feet skidding on wet pavement. Stephen drove a knee into the man's stomach and tore himself free, stumbling back—
Just in time to see metal flash.
The knife plunged into his stomach.
Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt tore through him, white-hot and consuming. His breath caught, locked in his chest like it forgot how to work. The man yanked the blade free and drove it in again.
And again.
Stephen collapsed, knees buckling, hands fumbling uselessly at his abdomen. Warmth spread beneath his fingers—too warm, too fast.
The world tilted.
Sounds stretched and warped. The man's heavy breathing. The distant hum of traffic. Somewhere, far away, someone laughed.
"Should've kept walking," the attacker muttered.
Stephen barely heard him.
The streetlight above blurred into a glowing smear. His pulse slowed, each beat weaker than the last, like a drum losing rhythm.
So… this is it.
The thought came without panic. Without anger.
Just tired acceptance.
Not in a hospital bed. Not with family nearby. Not with any grand meaning attached to it.
Just a wet sidewalk. A stupid bag of groceries. A stranger whose face he'd probably never see again.
But—
At least she got away.
That thought warmed him more than the blood pooling beneath him.
A tear slipped free, tracing a slow, cold path down his cheek.
Maybe I died a hero.
The light swallowed everything.
Stephen expected nothing.
No tunnel. No angels. No darkness stretching on forever.
Instead, he blinked and found himself sitting upright.
The room was white. Not just the walls—everything. Polished floors that reflected light without showing reflections. A desk stood in front of him, stacked high with paperwork that glowed faintly, symbols shifting like they were alive.
Behind it stood a woman.
She was tall, dressed in a white suit so crisp it almost hurt to look at. Long green hair spilled down her back, glossy as silk. Her eyes were gold, warm and sharp all at once.
A badge pinned to her chest read:
AFTERLIFE DEPARTMENT — PROCESSOR LEVEL 6
She smiled. "Welcome! You had a very dramatic ending. Sorry about all the bleeding."
Stephen stared at her.
Then down at his hands.
Then back up. "…I'm dead?"
"Oh, very," she said cheerfully. "But you're here because you saved someone before dying. That earns special processing. Quite rare, actually."
"Special… processing?"
"Reassignment!" She clapped her hands once.
Reality folded.
A massive wheel appeared beside her, spinning so fast the symbols carved into it blurred into bands of color. Names flashed across its surface—worlds, places, realities he recognized and dozens he didn't.
Dragon Ball.
Bleach.
Fullmetal Alchemist.
One Piece.
Harry Potter.
Fast & Furious.
Naruto.
Stephen's mouth went dry. "Is that—"
"The Wheel of Rebirth," she said proudly. "Heroic death earns you a spin. Much more exciting than your old world, don't you think?"
The wheel slowed.
Click.
CLICK.
It stopped.
NARUTO.
She clapped like a delighted teacher. "Excellent pull! High danger, high growth potential."
"I didn't choose that," Stephen protested.
"The wheel knows," she said with a wink.
She snapped her fingers again.
A wooden box appeared on the desk, smooth and polished, with a round opening on top. "Bloodline selection. Hand in, pick a ball."
Stephen hesitated.
She raised an eyebrow. "You already died once."
Fair point.
He reached in and pulled out a red ball.
"Again."
The second was darker. Deep crimson, etched with a swirling black pattern.
Her eyes gleamed. "Interesting."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're a Chinoike–Uzumaki hybrid," she said, savoring the words. "Very rare."
"…Is that good?"
"Oh, very entertaining."
Another snap.
A tall ceramic cup appeared, filled with thin wooden sticks. "Timeline placement."
Stephen frowned. "What does it decide?"
"You won't remember anyway."
He drew one.
She glanced at it and nodded. "Perfect."
He took a breath. "Will I remember my old life?"
She held up a finger. "Three things."
"One—you won't remember your past life."
"Two—you won't remember this conversation."
"Three—you'll get instincts. Feelings. A sense for things you should know."
Her voice softened. "Try not to die too fast this time."
"Wait—"
She clapped.
The world shattered.
Light and color tore him apart, pulling him inward—
And then—
A heartbeat.
A body forming.
A cry waiting to be born.
A new world.
A new life beginning.
The wheel had turned.
Thanks for reading, feel free to write a comment, leave a review, and Power Stones are always appreciated.
I have two other stories The first has 20 chapters released as of this chapter its called Reborn as Stephen Cooper check it out
The second story has a work in progress name but it is a story a soul reincarnated as Cain (Bible) in the world of TVD/Originals. I will be working on it should be released some time in DEC 2025 Mabey lol