Chapter 1:
…..
Here's the whole tale of how I became the most badass Wizard ever... the myth, the legend known as Mr. 'I fucking slept with six hot veelas at the same time.'
Talk about an achievement! I deserve to go down in history as a fucking legend among men.
You know... Not many have what it takes to keep up with one, let alone six!
Yeah, I totally should get an award for that.
Oh well, let's get to the good stuff. So, it all started when we arrived at the massive magical tent—seven veelas and two guys. My fellow warrior fell for one and spent the night with her. That left six hot veelas all for me, but I've never been one to shy away from a good challenge like this one, and I certainly wouldn't let these kinds of life challenges intimidate me.
Now, I know this is the most exciting and important part of this story, but the truth is, it doesn't start like that—it starts a couple of years earlier.
…
…
On the day, Minoru just woke up and…
He blinked.
Okay… The ceiling was wrong.
Not wrong in any way Minoru could actually articulate immediately, not wrong the way you might find a really good dirty pic gone from your secret collection on your phone, or an adult magazine missing from where you remembered leaving it is wrong... not even wrong as a plain-looking thong on a hot chick is wrong. Wrong the fucked-up way a room feels when you've woken up somewhere that isn't your damn bedroom, kinda like when your body knows before your brain catches up that the geometry of the dark above you does not match the geometry you fell asleep under.
He lay still. That much, at least, his body? did automatically: held itself flat and quiet against sheets that smelled of cedar and something faintly resinous, not the fabric softener his mother used, not the particular staleness of his room back in Musutafu. The sheets were heavier than he was used to… even the mattress was firmer.
The ceiling, where the gray morning light had begun to define its edges, was plaster and old wood, high and vaulted, and decorated with delicate engravings.The air smelled really really clean. Yeah… too clean. No sweat. No cheap deodorant to mask the stench of his rather personal nighttime activities.
Okay… Now that he thought about it carefully, he did remember something… like the emptiness. Not a void of darkness, but a more intimate one: the absence of his own body. Of his short legs, his chubby fingers…
"..."
So, Minoru Mineta definitely didn't remember dying but he remember all that… and the truth was, he'd considered it all just a damn very vivid nightmare or something like that. But no… he'd been literally ripped out of his life.
Then, nothing.
And then, this.
"…The Fucckk…?" His voice came out lower than he expected, smoother, with a resonance that sat in his chest rather than his throat. Clearer. Firmer. Less pathetic.
He sat up abruptly. Mistake. A brutal wave of dizziness washed over him and he fell back onto the bed. He brought a hand to his head. The hand was trembling.
Shit… It wasn't even his damn hand.
Minoru's chest went very tight.
He breathed through it. In. Out. In. The tightness didn't leave, but it compressed itself into a manageable shape, something he could work around.
He sat up again, slower.
The room assembled itself around him in the growing light: tall windows with heavy curtains the color of deep water, a writing desk with a surface so clear it reflected the ceiling, a wardrobe of dark lacquered wood with brass fittings, a bookshelf that ran floor to ceiling on two walls and was packed with volumes whose spines he could not yet read in the dimness. A wand? on the nightstand. Long, pale, slightly curved at the grip, resting on a cloth of folded black silk.
And for some odd reason, he somehow just felt a connection with it..
Yep… with a fucking wand!
Then the flashbacks came flooding back like a dam burst.
Mahoutokoro… the name echoed in his mind… the magic school on the volcanic island. The oldest, or so they said. The giant paiños that transport children before they can use a wand... he himself had ridden them from the age of seven until just before he turned thirteen and get his wand.
The Mineta family.... a Japonese pureblood magic family. Insan, mad and disturbing fucking codes of conduct forged in some shit like the crucible of samurai honor or somtething like that but magical, who knows.
Oh and that is not all... there were also magical punishments for anyone who strayed from the straight and narrow.
Discipline. Righteousness. Silence. Etc…
Then also spells, potions, the history of magic in the Far East and the world in general, and a shitlot more.
Minoru felt how that strange life.... his life, the life of this body.... was embedding itself in his depraved mind. Fifteen years of rigorous training. Fifteen years without a single wicked smile or even a lewd thought. Fifteen years of being the perfect son he for sure had never been.
"What the... hell...?" he muttered, and the word sounded crude and strange in his new tone of voice, as if he weren't used to such coarse language. Laughable in Mineta's books.
Then Minoru looked at his hands. Long fingers. Elegant knuckles. The hands of someone who had spent years at calligraphy and careful spellwork, not the stubby, ink-stained hands he'd had yesterday, when yesterday had still made sense.
He pressed his thumb into his palm hard enough to leave a white mark that flushed back to rosy hue. The pain was ordinary and real.
"Okay," he said, to no one. "Okay. So. That happened."
Naturally, the room offered no commentary. But to be honest, he should have realized it the very damnmoment he acquired the equivalent of fifteen freaking years of memories that weren't his own!
Then he jumped out of bed and nearly fell as he tried to run toward a full-length mirror against the wall. The floor was cold stone under his feet, overlaid with a rug whose pile was deep enough to lose his toes in.
He stopped dead in his tracks when caught his reflection.
The guy staring at him wasn't short. He didn't have that round, awkward face. He didn't have that… loser vibe.
He was… damn attractive. Tall. Well-proportioned…
"Shit… I'd even say athletic" Fucking yes, he has an athletic, kinda well-defined build, with a muscular yet slender physique… more agile than bulky. His torso is firm, with defined pectorals and a clearly defined abdomen, thanks to Quidditch, combined with good physical condition and consistent training. His arms are also muscular, though not overly so, maintaining proportion with the rest of his body.
"If I were a chick, I'd definitely hook/fuck up with me" Especially when the face that looked back at him had sharp, serious features, with dark eyes that sparkled with a kinda violet or purple glow beneath relatively thick, well-defined eyebrows that slanted slightly downward in the center, and a strong jawline that wasn't quite square.
His hair, once a shapeless mass, now was a dark purple and thick, with plenty of volume and a wavy or slightly curly texture… wored it tousled but intentionally so, with strands falling naturally, and he could already feel the slight wave where he had slept on his side.
Also apparently, in this world, his dark purple hair wasn't something natural, since it was actually weird for someone to have that color; so nope, in his case, there had been an incident with a experimental magic potion when he was very young, and somehow it caused his birth-black hair to turn dark purple(The perils of being part of a family whose main line of business and source of income was brewing potions.).
And the cherry on top... he was tall. Really, truly fucking tall—so tall that the world looked slightly different from up there: the ceiling closer, the doorways more passable.
Okay okay, the truth was that he stood just at 5'7", not Really particularly tall. But Minoru had been, in his previous life, very very short. So, for him, he was a fucking giant.
He took a slow breath through his nose and watched his reflection do the same: composed, contained, every line of the posture reading as someone who had never once in his life considered hiding under a desk or crying in a bathroom stall… or more important… someone that has ever used his short height to get a peek up the skirts of some really hot tall women—or, well… any tall women in skirts, to be honest. Though he definitely preferred the hot ones, yet one learned to settle for a little less.
"…Is that… me?" Minoru raised an eyebrow. The reflection again did the same.
He turned around, looking at himself from different angles as if afraid the damn spell would be broken. He certainly took a liking to what he saw.
Yep, he could really work with this. Heh…