"Next morning when I woke up, I was dead. I hate it when that happens."
I thought it would be another episode of sleep paralysis then pondering once again the things I deeply regretted 7 years ago.
From the looks of it, things...went out of control.
A white stretch of landscape appeared right before his eyes. When he stepped in, the scenery changed into something far more mystical than he expected to be.
A scent of camphor and old parchment rushes to meet him as tall wooden towers rise from the ground. They stand in long, silent rows that extend into the blank area.
Tracing the rough edges of the shelves, he then looked left and right, utterly clueless until a realization struck him in an instant.
Dying by lying down on the bed.
What a lame ass way to die...
Each sensation was far too real.
Although it sounded ridiculous, the reality was always like this.
Ling Lubbock, rest in peace.
"As they said, life is full of unexpected scenarios. You either have to embrace it, or linger in the past like you used to be."
An enigmatic voice broke the stillness.
Subsequently, the soft shuffle of papers echoed within the confines of the endless expanse of shelves and books.
A first question came to mind.
"Did you delete my browsing history?"
He wasn't that religious in the past and the mortal sins he accumulated weren't that bad... Or so he thought.
That's why meeting a god-like presence was mind-boggling to him.
He sauntered toward the voice, the towering shelves parted and paved his way as a massive reclining chair sat in the center of the clearing.
The backrest conceals the figure sitting within.
"Unfortunately, we didn't. And I am not a god that you think it would be."
The chair rotates slowly. He watches the heavy leather turn until the figure faces him. A knowing look crosses his face.
"Come on now, you don't have to copy my face like that. Aren't you an omnipotent being?" He then went calm, seeing the same stupid look being used right now.
"I am not kidding you, this is my... No, this is our face! Let's just say that you are me and me is you, alright?" the figure chuckled.
What in the vagueposting is this? Don't tell me we're the same being like reincarnations or something absurd like that...
"Bingo! You've got it in an instant." the figure applauded.
Wait, really? Is this god kidding me or what?
"We are the same, no matter how much you deny it. Anyways, you'll learn it once you accomplish your task and are reincarnated into another world."
Nice! It seems that this god is finished toying with me. But an assignment huh...
The figure shook its head until it said, "Your task is to write a record of your next world's mysteries, events, and your daily experiences into this book."
With a snap of its fingers, a black book emerged out of nowhere and mysteriously floated in front.
Akashic Records... Got a ring on it.
The cover was simple, plain black with the title at the center. If others might see it, they could mistakenly think it was a Death Note. Once his fingers clasped on it— the book began to seep into his spiritual self.
"That book is important, so take care of it."
"And of course, we'll never end this meeting with some cheats. I have two cheats for you that are somewhat interwoven with each other. Use them wisely," the figure matter-of-factly stated.
Ling Lubbock faintly grinned before his expression turned sour.
"Wait a minute! Is this a little bit rushed? What are my cheats? Bro, I don't even know what world I am going to reincarnate in!" Ling Lubbock interjected.
Even though he was a lump of a corporeal soul, a chill sent shivers down his spine when the thought about the likelihood of being transmigrated to Berserk, Fear and Hunger, AOT, or Dragon Ball crossed his mind.
Two unidentified cheats as a child wouldn't matter facing a constant war, being a sacrificial lamb to the gods, a huge-ass titan squashing his home, or a multiversal threat that could destroy an entire galaxy.
I'm not that guy.
"Stop overthinking it, man. This next chapter wouldn't be half as fun if you knew exactly what was coming. Don't let anxiety call the shots again—you've been down that road before."
The thoughts of the monotonous life flashed before his eyes. The bland doom-scrolling and his constant sentimentality for the past really did take a toll on him.
"You know what, you're quite right. In fact, I should be happy that I have a second chance in life..."
A final, shaky sigh escaped. His eyes went steady and unblinking. Gone were the days of regrets and wishing for a new beginning.
"But, I have a question before you throw me to the whatever land. Can I be immortal in this world?"
At those words, the figure sank his chin into his palm. "That is such a broad word. However, there's a certain being who is technically like an immortal. I don't know if that fits your standards..."
Ling's gaze snapped toward him, his eyes alight with a sudden, hungry brilliance.
"But I guess that soothes your curiosity."
The figure let his hand fall from his chin, his expression turning sharp. "Now... Are you ready?"
Ling decisively nodded.
"Well then, good luck and have fun!"
SNAP!
...
"Neesan! Enough with my cheeks!" a boy groaned, wincing at her touch.
"No way!" a gorgeous girl chirped, her mood bright and celebratory. "I'm just making sure you're properly perked up for your birthday!"
Yoichi, once Ling, huffed with annoyance as his sister hovered over him. He was a tanned, chubby-cheeked boy with a wild mane of black hair.
However, his eyes were his unique signature; their golden hues were so lovely they seemed to soften his grumpy expression, just as they had on the day he arrived in this world.
A September 2002 baby, he now resides in Kanagawa. Located just outside Tokyo, a prefecture celebrated and known for its restorative hot springs and iconic views of Mount Fuji.
His mother, Michelle Murakami, was a Filipina worker who had moved to Japan with an earnest drive to build a better life. His father, Kiyoshi, worked as a legal advisor. It was a demanding, high-paying career that provided the family with a comfortable life in their expensive Kanagawa home.
Yoichi is a reclusive but well-liked kid in his neighborhood. Having mastered Japanese after a bit of a struggle, his life in Kanagawa is mostly quiet—except for his elder sister, Asuka. A cheerful twelve-year-old extrovert, she lives to pester him.
He ignores the noise by writing in his diary, documenting a life that remains stubbornly normal. Despite his constant record-keeping, no supernatural anomalies have appeared, and his "cheat" power remains frustratingly dormant.
Nearly five years old now, Yoichi sat in silence, a serious frown surfacing on his small face.
"Cheer up! Missing Mom and Dad already?" Asuka chirped, playfully ruffling his hair until it stood on end. Yoichi didn't even blink; he was miles away.
Where is that cheat power?! he wondered, his irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior.
The moment it activates, this girl is in for it!
A fire blazed within his eyes as the clock ticked toward 10 PM, his mind still racing with tension.
"It's time for bed, baby boy!" Asuka gave his hair one last, messy rustle before disappearing into her room with a playful wave.
Once she was gone, Yoichi let out a quiet sigh.
He methodically washed his dishes, the mundane chore grounding him before he retreated to his own room. As he stepped inside, the breezy atmosphere of the night took over, carrying the fresh, woody scent of the nearby nature through his window.
He gave me this life, and I'm thankful for that, Yoichi mused. But I have a backup plan if things stay ordinary.
That solution was simple: survive school, save every yen, and invest heavily in Bitcoin—the classic strategy for any self-respecting reincarnated soul.
Whether he had a "cheat" or not, he was determined to make this second chance worthwhile.
With that final thought, he snuggled into his blanket and, with the easy exhaustion of a five-year-old, dozed off in an instant.
His mind drifted until the clock struck midnight.
Suddenly, a sharp agonizing heat flared behind the ribs, churning like the very pits of hell had been uncorked within the chest.
Fingers clawed at the fabric of his shirt as the world rushed back into focus.
What... What is going on?!
Teeth ground together against the scorching pressure. A suffocating sensation filled his lungs.
The soul itself felt like it was being peeled back, layer by layer, until a single gasp broke the tension.
Am I going to die again? No! This is impossible!
As the torment seared into the fabric of his soul, a single, desperate rasp was forced past his lips.
"Akashic Records..."
The moment the words left his lips, the Akashic Records erupted in a blinding light.
Before he could react, the book's power took hold, stretching his physical form and sucking him into the pages like spaghettification.
What the fuck is going on?!
"Aaaaahhhh!!!"
The scream was torn from Yoichi's throat as the void spat him out. The world materialized beneath him in a blurred rush, and he hit the earth with a jarring thud.
A moment passed. Then two.
There hadn't been a single warning. Damn that god!
He'd been convinced his second life had just ended as abruptly as the first.
"Damn it!" he spat into the dirt, his voice thick with an exasperated exhaustion.
Slowly, the quiet peace of his surroundings began to reach him. Yoichi forced himself to sit up, his heart rate slowing as he stared at the lush, verdant greenery stretching out in every direction.
The atmosphere felt different here, serene with a power he couldn't name.
"Now, what in the hell am I?" he muttered to the empty air.
"Hello there."
The voice was calm, cutting through his confusion.
Yoichi snapped his head toward the sound.
A woman stood there, looking remarkably out of place in a modern jacket and short black hair, her face settled into a gentle smile.
"Who are you?"
Yoichi's question was sharp, his instincts as cautious as a rabbit's. After the relentless bombardment of the last few minutes, he wasn't taking any chances.
He stared at her, his brow furrowed into a deep, defensive frown, waiting for the next disaster to drop.
Her smile dipped. She looked away shyly, her fingers nervously tracing the zipper of her jacket.
The woman seemed genuinely bashful, her soft voice barely rising above the rustle of the greenery.
"Funny," she whispered with a gentle, hesitant shrug. "I was going to ask you the same. Who are you?"
"Names first," Yoichi snapped, his stubbornness as thick as the silence between them.
The woman gave a shy, hesitant nod.
"I'm Akio Fushiguro."
Yoichi froze, his hand instinctively cupping his chin.
Fushiguro. Why is that so familiar?
He racked his brain, the truth striking him with the force of a lightning bolt.
He wasn't calm anymore; he was reeling.
"Toji Fushiguro," Yoichi blurted out, his eyes searching hers. "Do you know him?"
Akio gasped, her shy demeanor replaced by pure shock. "Do you know my husband? That's... quite surprising, coming from a child."
Oh my god. It's actually Lobotomy Kaisen.
The absurdity of it made his head spin. He looked at Akio Fushiguro, his mind a whirlwind of cursed energy theories and "fraud" memes.
His peaceful plan to just buy Bitcoin and go to college was officially dead.
Yoichi was in the heart of the madness.