The canvas was almost complete.
In a dimly lit studio that reeked of copper and madness, a man stood over a canvas painted not with oils, but with blood—his masterpiece. The subject: a hauntingly accurate portrait of Judge Holden, the pale, hairless harbinger of death from Blood Meridian, grinning in the hellish glow of flickering fluorescent light. Every stroke was a tribute. Every smear, a sin.
The artist—if one could still call him that—took a step back, admiring the work. His hands, drenched in crimson, trembled not from fear, but satisfaction. The room around him was a gallery of grotesque devotion—canvases dripping, bodies in various stages of decay, and buckets labeled with names, some crossed out.
"Perfect," he whispered, blood trickling down his cheek like a tear.
And then—bang.
A bullet tore through his chest, spun his body like a dying marionette, and flung him to the ground. He landed hard, head striking the wood with a sickening thud. His own blood now pooled around him, mixing with that of his victims.
As life slipped away, he found it almost ironic. "Guess karma is a better artist than me," he muttered, choking on copper.
Darkness swallowed his vision. But instead of oblivion, came memories. A flood of them. Ramen. Anime marathons. Harry Potter debates. Crying at the End of Evangelion. He was... just a guy once. A part-time biologist. An otaku who wore Naruto headbands unironically. A Reddit mod who was dangerously based.
He hadn't always been like this.
Then came his first kill—an accident. Maybe. Maybe not. But that high... that intoxicating rush... it dragged him into a world of bloodlust, obsession, and grotesque artistry. It consumed him.
Until now.
He closed his eyes, ready to disappear forever.
Only to wake up… smaller?
"What the hell—my hands! Why do I have baby jazz hands?!"
He shot up in a bed that wasn't his. Blonde hair tumbled over his eyes like a 2000s boy band member.
"Oh god. I'm a Tumblr sexyman."
Memories hit him like a Genjutsu. His name was now Leonardo Giovanna, and he'd just been adopted by his uncle, Don Salvatore Giovanna, head of a colossal mafia empire. Drugs. Guns. Soprano-style family dinners.
And worst of all—no Wi-Fi.
He stumbled into the bathroom like a caffeinated raccoon, stared into the mirror, and blinked.
"Okay, new face. Kinda hot. Young DiCaprio meets Light Yagami, minus the psychopathy. Actually... with the psychopathy."
He brushed his teeth with the precision of a ninja who also happened to have OCD, showered, then strutted into his walk-in closet like a JoJo character. Dark blue suit with sleek gray stripes? Selected. Drip level? Maxed out.
As he descended the marble staircase, a voice called from below.
"Leonardo, we're meeting with an organization today," said Don Salvatore, sipping espresso and petting a cat like he was auditioning for Godfather 5: Electric Boogaloo. "They're called The Hand."
Leonardo froze mid-step.
The Hand?As in—THE ninja cult from Marvel?
"You mean The Hand... like shadow assassins who do parkour and resurrect people with magic blood?"
Salvatore raised an eyebrow. "They just need us to deliver their opium."
Leonardo burst out laughing. "Opium?! Who even smokes opium in the year 2000?! What's next—someone asking for a floppy disk with their dial-up password?"
"It's 1988," Salvatore replied flatly. "Stop saying dumb shit."
Leonardo's jaw dropped.
"...no phones. No Netflix. No YouTube. No One Piece episode 1000. No TikTok girls doing that 'legs-shoulder-hips' dance. I'm literally in hell."
He turned to face you—the reader—directly.
"Yeah. You. I know you're reading this thinking, 'Wow, this dude's insane.' But put yourself in my shoes. I was a blood-soaked serial killer painting with human Kool-Aid five minutes ago. Now I'm a teenage mafia prince in a retro version of Earth where Blockbuster still exists. There's no way this gets less weird."
He gave a half-smile. "Oh—and I think I have a second chance. Maybe. Or maybe I'll end up making paintings again—only this time with magic, ninjas, and mafia suits. But don't worry."
He winked. "I've watched every anime. I've read the entire Harry Potter series. I've played Yakuza 0 and Persona 5. I'm basically built for this."
Don Salvatore clapped him on the shoulder.
"Let's go, boy. Business first."
Leonardo adjusted his tie, grinning like a madman. "Cool. Cool cool cool. Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"If I die again... no more Judge Holden portraits."