Morning sunlight peeked through the dusty blinds, stabbing my eyes like little golden daggers.
I groaned, rolled over, and buried my face deeper into the pillow.
My phone alarm went off again.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
I grabbed it without looking and slammed the snooze button.
"Five more minutes," I muttered.
Five minutes turned into thirty.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed, my hair was sticking out in seven different directions, and I looked like I'd lost a fight with a raccoon. A glance at the clock told me I was already late for my morning run.
…Great.
Not that anyone would care. I didn't have school, didn't have a 9-to-5 job. But I did have my crazy father's voice stuck in my head.
"A warrior's day starts with the sun! If you're awake after it rises, you're already dead!"
He wasn't wrong. He was also insane.
I stumbled into the kitchen, poured myself some cereal, and stared at the milk carton. Expired. Of course. I tossed it in the sink and decided breakfast could wait until after training.
Pulling on a black hoodie and sweats, I stepped outside. The neighborhood was quiet, just the sound of a distant dog barking and a delivery scooter whining down the road.
I started jogging.
---
It's been years since my father forced me into martial arts.
Judo was his obsession. He'd been some local champion back in the day, and he wanted me to be better than him. Didn't matter if I liked it or not — before I even knew how to multiply numbers, I knew how to throw a grown man over my shoulder.
At first, I hated it. Then I realized… I was good at it. Good.
By the time I was in my late teens, I was doing underground MMA matches for extra cash. Yeah, I know, illegal, dangerous, blah blah blah. But nothing made me feel more alive than stepping into a ring and facing someone who wanted to knock me out.
The problem was, in this world, martial arts didn't make you famous unless you went pro… and I didn't care about fame.
I just liked being strong.
---
After my run, I stopped by the old warehouse where I trained. It was my little sanctuary — dusty mats, punching bags with duct tape holding them together, and a wall mirror cracked from when a flying kick went a little too far.
I started with some warm-ups. Shadowboxing. Rolling. Throws on the crash mat. My muscles remembered every movement like an old song.
Then I set the timer and went all out. Elbows, knees, combinations. Judo throws into ground-and-pound. Sweating, breathing hard, grinning like an idiot.
"Still got it," I muttered to myself.
---
On the way home, I stopped at a convenience store to grab some food. The bored cashier barely glanced up from his phone as I bought instant noodles, an energy drink, and a bag of chips. Peak athlete diet.
Back in my apartment, I collapsed on the couch, flipped open my laptop, and scrolled through my usual forums. Mostly martial arts discussions, fight clips, and a bit of anime.
Yeah, I liked anime. Just… casually. I wasn't one of those guys who could name every voice actor or debate which waifu was "best girl." I watched whatever looked cool, laughed at the memes, and moved on with my life.
---
The rest of the day was painfully normal.
Training. Eating. Browsing. Showering.
Night came, and I decided to grab dinner outside. The city streets were glowing with neon signs, people rushing around, and cars honking.
I crossed the street while slurping a skewer of grilled meat from a street vendor. That's when I saw it.
The true predator of modern Japan.
Truck-kun.
It was one of those big delivery trucks, barreling down the roadway way too fast. I froze for a split second. The driver's eyes widened, his mouth moving like he was shouting something.
I stepped back.
Unfortunately, the skewer stick slipped from my hand and clattered onto the road. And like an idiot, my body moved before my brain caught up.
I stepped forward to grab it.
---
Bright headlights filled my vision.
Time slowed down.
The sound of screeching brakes tore through the air.
The front grill of the truck grew larger and larger until it was all I could see.
"Hah… so this is how it ends?" I muttered. "Not in the ring. Not in a fight. But because I wanted meat on a stick…"
There was a weird sense of peace in that moment. I'd lived well enough. I'd been strong.
Then — impact.
And everything went dark.
---
When I opened my eyes, there was… nothing. No street. No city. Just blackness stretching forever.
I wasn't floating. I wasn't falling. I was just… here.
Somewhere in the void, a voice echoed. Calm, amused.
"You died. Pretty stupid way to go, by the way."
I frowned. "Gee, thanks."
"Don't mention it. Anyway, you're not done yet. You've been chosen for… a transfer."
"A transfer? Like… a job transfer?"
"More like a world transfer. Think of it as… reincarnation."
I stared into the void. "Oh. You mean the whole isekai thing? Like in those light novels?"
"Yes. Exactly like that."
I blinked. "…Can I pick my powers?"
The voice chuckled.
"You'll have what suits you best. And believe me… you'll like it."
Before I could reply, the darkness swallowed me whole.
Somewhere, far away, I heard the faint cry of a newborn baby.
And that's how my story in a new world began.