There was an explosion. The hotel's gas pipeline had been old, built well over a century ago, and even when it had been constructed, it could not be considered well made. Although the hotel's business was by no means bad, the owner was a cheapskate and would rather bring all his profits to his grave than renovate the hotel. His wish was granted, as one of the pipes exploded near his face when he was in the basement, and a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in his skull.
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The boy was on a trip with his grandparents and little sister. His parents were killed in a car crash when he was six, so his grandparents took him and his sister in. Not wanting their grandchildren to suffer, they did their best to provide them with parental love, despite not being very well off. They succeeded and their grandson ended up being a good kid. Kind, dependable, dutiful, the boy was everything any parent could hope for, aside from being a bit shy, a result of staying home and helping his grandparents most days.
The boy knew that his grandparents were growing old when they started to become slower at everything. Their wrinkles, already plenty, kept piling on one another as the years went by. Still, they smiled for the kids. Knowing they threw their lives away, twice, once to raise their daughter, then her children as well, he was determined to do something for them. After working hundreds of hours of part-time work, he had finally saved enough for a family trip to a tourist attraction in another city. He didn't have much, so they had to settle for cheap accommodations, but grandma and grandpa were happy nonetheless, bursting into tears and hugging him tightly when he told them.
He told himself that it would not be the last time he did this. When he get a proper job, he would invite them for another trip, to a more beautiful place, sleep in a luxurious hotel, eat food they could only look at before. Unfortunately, he would never have the opportunity to do so.
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When the boy regained awareness, he was standing inside a small room with hundreds of manga books spread across the floor, mixed with a wide variety of empty snack and fast food packages. Its walls were covered with anime and manga posters. The shelves, where the books should have been, were instead full of a variety anime figurines from many different shows, some from the posters on the walls. If an anime addict were to see this room, he'd feel right at home. In front of him, there was a young girl sitting on a cushion, her back towards him, her eyes practically glued to a PC screen which was airing an episode of Dr*gon B*ll.
His first thought was understandable.
Did I get kidnapped by an otaku or something? He thought to himself.
What are they going to do? Demand ransom so they can buy more figurines? I know they are expensive, but you can't be that desperate, right?"
"Relax, I'm not kidnapping you." The girl spoke, still not turning away from the screen.
"Oh, ok. Then can you tell me where I am?" He replied.
"..."
He asked, when he saw that she didn't answer. "Uh...Hello?"
Still no answer.
He decided to shake her shoulder. "Excuse me?"
"Arghhh! Could you shut up for a minute? It is getting intense over here! G*ku is about to gather his Sp*rit Bomb! Stand over there and wait patiently."
So he relegated himself to stand awkwardly in the corner, surrounded by mountains of manga and trash, listening to Dr*gon B*ll while the girl occasionally repeat the lines the characters said and screamed in excitement: "Nature, give me strength...", "Yeahhhh!", "...who can't protect themselves...", "Boom! Pow! Gratata! Ya!"
Rest assured. She doesn't have mental problems. She's just a shut-in otaku.
...
Okay, maybe she does have mental problems.
This went on for another 15 minutes, until finally the credits rolled and the girl turned towards him. Looking closely, she seemed like a child about 12 years old, with silver hair and eyes. She was wearing plain pajamas which was so wrinkled they might not have been cleaned since the day they were bought. The corners of her mouth still had traces of tomato sauce.
"Ahhh." She sighed contentedly. "That was good. Isn't it exciting how humans can create such wonderful works of art like these. Nar*to, *ne P*ece, Dr*gon B*ll, truly on par with those of Sh*kespe*re and V*n G*gh."
"I don't think comparing anime to famous historical figures is very fitting..." He said in response.
Also, why is everything censored?
"What?" The girl stared at the boy, her eyes radiating irritation. "Not fitting? Are you looking down on anime and manga? Do you think they are just meaningless moving drawings? Are you saying their creators are not worthy of recognition?"
"No, I'm not saying..." He tried to back pedal.
"Shame on you." She shoved her finger in his face, using it to enunciate every syllable. "SHAME. ON. YOU!"
"Fine. Fine. I'm wrong. Anime is love, anime is life. Anime is the Bible, anime is Jesus himself reincarnated. Can you tell me where I am yet?"
"Oh, that." She dropped her finger and took on a lazy attitude, as though her anger just a moment ago had been a lie. "Don't worry about it. You are dead anyway, so it doesn't matter."
There was a noticeable pause during which the only sound that could be heard was the music emanating from the girl's laptop. "...What?"
"Like I said, dead. Like Kr*llin in every single episode."
"But, I'm standing right here."
"Yep. Standing right there, dead as a doornail."
"If this is a prank, then it's a really bad one, you know that?"
"Don't believe me? Fine." She picked up a book and threw it at him. It went right through his chest.
"Whoa!" He jumped backward, surprised at the bizarre phenomenon.
I have got to be dreaming, he thought.
"And there we go."
"Wait. How did I even die? I remember I was sleeping in the hotel I went with my family, and then I'm just... here."
"Ah, I erased it."
"You what?"
"I erased that bit of your memory. If I didn't do that, most people would go crazy over their death, screaming, running around breaking stuff and all that. I do leave the rest of it intact, however, so you won't turn into a brain dead dumbass when I talk to you. Like that one guy I experimented on a few weeks ago. I believe I had to turn him into a chicken afterward. He is having a good life though, pecking at high quality corns as a pet of some rich family, so it's ok."
"You talk like you're a god."
It was reasonable for the boy to be skeptical about this situation. It's not everyday that one would wake up being told they're dead by a shut-in loli calling herself god, who apparently turns people into chickens.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. But I am." She placed her hand over her mouth as she laughed in a completely overdone fashion, before puffing out her chest and placing her hand upon it. "Can you not see it, the mighty air of absolute power and supremacy which the great
me is releasing?"
He can't. In fact, now you look even more like a kid with chuunibyou than a god. Not that you didn't already resemble one anyway.
"Uhh...okay? Let's assume you are a god, then. What will happen to me now?"
"Now I will reincarnate you into another world, where magic is present. Like in those isekai anime and web novels that are popular nowadays. But unlike them, I'll have to erase the rest of your memory when I send you down. Can't have people breaking the world with knowledge from their past life, you see. I honestly can't get their appeal, really. Overpowered MCs in a generic fantasy world is boring. The authors of these novels must not have a lot of cells in their brains when they write them. But enough of that. A new episode of F*re F*rce is about to air, so we gotta hurry."
She snapped her fingers. Then a spin wheel appeared out of nowhere.
Okay, now this is definitely a dream, the boy thought. "What's that for?"
"This? It's something which will decide your next life's fate. It's a hassle to have to judge someone's past to do that, this is way quicker. About a sixth of the options here will get you a comfortable life, where you'll live in luxury, fame and not having to worry about everything ever. The rest means perpetual suffering."
"Seriously? You gonna decide people's fate by spinning a wheel? That sound really irresponsible."
"Nah, it's fine. No one has come back to complain yet. Although it might be because they can't get here... Well, they can, they just don't remember the last time they were here. Anyway, here we go!" She hastily grabbed the wheel and spun it. "Even if you get a bad fate, you'll die quickly, so it ain't that bad. You can always try again next ti... Gah!"
The wheel stopped at a section. There is something written on it, but he couldn't make out the words, so the boy couldn't know why the girl had started panicking beside him.
"What's wrong?" He said as he leaned forward to get a better look at what was written
"Nothing." She sidled in front of the spot on the wheel that was selected.
"You seem panicked."
"No, I'm not."
"What does the wheel say, then?"
"It, uh, says...you...are blessed! You are going to be very happy in the next life, having a lot of loving friends and families, and, and, you will become very strong, to the point where nothing will be able to stop you! Totally what it said."
"You don't sound very convincing."
"Oh don't mind the small details. Your race will be what the people in this world call "Voca". It's a race that can communicate with the dead. Next, I'll give you some of the best skills I can think of, because of how blessed you are, of course. Now would you look at the time! We are way behind schedule, so I'm going to send you down right now. Good luck!"
A circle of light appeared under the boy's feet. It gradually increase in size and light, wrapping him within.
"Wait, at least explain what skills you gave me first!" He said, realizing his "dream" was about to end.
"You'll know what they are when you need them. Please, live your next life freely! Remember, don't tell anyone about your race, and don't let anything they say sway you!"
When the light eventually faded, the figure of the boy was gone. Only the girl, and the room full of anime merchandise was left.
"Man, I screwed up pretty bad, didn't I." The girl said as she and the room quickly faded away into nothingness.
I don't know what to think, but you have my attention.
