Mochi opened her eyes and found herself suspended in soup.
Or… something suspiciously soup-adjacent.
Golden. Glowing. Gently bubbling with the occasional floating noodle, like starlight had gone to culinary school.
She blinked. No pain. No pressure. No Rael.
"Ugh," she groaned. "I died again, didn't I?"
A disembodied voice echoed above, carrying the frantic cheer of an overworked celestial librarian:
"Welcome to the Reincarnation Pool. Take a number. Someone will see you when the Fates finish playing dice with reality."
A glowing number materialized in her palm: 9,409,211.
"Excuse me?" she snapped at the cosmos. "I saved a child, my soul exploded, and I get dumped behind nine million mortals in line? Rude."
A koi fish—shimmering and smug—glided by.
She reached out instinctively to pet it, but her hand passed through.
"Don't touch the messengers," the koi said flatly.
"Sorry," Mochi muttered. "Didn't realize you were on the clock."
The koi sighed the sigh of an ancient intern and flicked its fins in a come along gesture. "You've been flagged. Interrupted soul arc. Special processing. Back door."
Now they were talking.
Mochi flipped into an enthusiastic swim-somersault, trailing the koi past booths labeled:
"Basic Rebirth""Heroic Comeback""Plant Kingdom""People Who Insist on Coming Back as Ducks"
Finally, they arrived at a suspended circular desk in the middle of a glittering cosmic library. Books orbited like lazy comets. Behind the desk sat a terribly overworked being sipping tea and stamping paperwork with a quill made of starlight.
"Case 207B—Selfless Magical Combustion," the koi announced.
The being glanced up.
They were made of glitter and grandmother energy, and peered over the rim of their moon-glasses with a look of gentle exasperation.
"Ah. You again."
"Have we met?" Mochi asked.
"Twice," the being replied, opening a book that was writing itself as they read it. "Once as a cat. Once as a human-shaped gremlin of chaos."
"…Fair."
"You've died for someone else. Again. Admirable. Also terribly inconvenient. You weren't scheduled to be here yet, so now we have... options."
"Options like spa services? New identities? Villainess upgrades?"
The being smiled, all mischief and stars.
"Option one: Rebirth. Start fresh. Could be a mushroom. Could be a firebird. Depends on the Wheel. No refunds."
Mochi grimaced. "Next."
"Option two: Disincarnated cat spirit. You get to haunt libraries and push things off tables. Low responsibility. High pettiness."
"…Tempting."
"Option three," the being said, tapping their quill, "an uncommon send-back. Same life. One-time reversal. Side effects: unpredictable. Fine print: one clause."
"Clause?"
"You'll owe the universe."
Mochi blinked. "That is… delightfully vague and mildly threatening. I love it."
The koi fish snorted.
The being lifted their quill. "Are you certain?"
Mochi drew in a long, exaggerated breath. Then grinned.
"I made a boy believe I was a reincarnated cat, got blown up by magic, and would absolutely do it all again. Take me home."
"Very well."
The koi gave a solemn little nod. "See you next time."
"Hopefully with better snacks," Mochi muttered.
The pool shimmered.
The universe tilted slightly.
And with the pop of a soap bubble and the faint smell of marshmallows—
Mochi vanished.