I walked down a crowded city street, my steps light, head bobbing to a tune only I could hear. My fingers strummed an imaginary guitar along the strap of my school bag, singing under my breath.
"Sasageyo... Sasageyo..."
Life was simple. The sun was out. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and engine oil. One of those days where nothing felt wrong.
Until it did.
"HOOOONK!!!"
A truck came barreling toward the curb, horn blaring like the trumpets of divine judgment.
My eyes widened. Time slowed.
"Truck-kun...? Is it my time?" I muttered.
But no. Instinct took over. I jolted left, a panic-fueled stumble dragging me out of the kill zone. The metallic behemoth roared past me.
I exhaled sharply, holding my chest. "Fuh... That was close."
Then I noticed the glaring red pedestrian light.
"Oh. That explains the honking."
The signal blinked red. Pedestrians stopped around me.
I resumed humming.
Then it happened.
BOOM!!!
An explosion shattered the calm. Glass from a luxury showroom burst into the air like glittering knives. Flames licked up toward the sky. Black smoke billowed, and screams echoed through the street.
I stumbled back, shielding my face.
Then I saw it.
A small child, no older than five, pinned beneath a chunk of concrete near the blaze. People ran past—afraid, blind, or both.
But I saw.
My legs moved before thought could catch up. I sprinted across the road, dodging frozen traffic and falling debris. Smoke choked me. My ears rang.
The child sobbed. "Mommy! Mommy!"
I dropped to my knees and grabbed the slab.
It wouldn't move.
"Tch—come on... COME ON!"
My fingers dug into the edges. My muscles screamed. Nothing.
Then—something clicked. Power surged through me.
"Don't worry, kid," I said, bracing myself. "You're safe now. Because—"
I struck a pose, hands on hips.
"BECAUSE I'M HERE!"
The kid blinked. Awe? Confusion? Who knows.
I didn't care. I pushed.
The slab shifted.
The kid scrambled out.
I scooped him up and ran, lungs burning. The sidewalk was in reach.
CLANG!
A metallic groan echoed above.
I looked up.
A truck—likely from the showroom display—was falling.
Right. Toward. Me.
"Motherfu—"
BLACK.
When my eyes fluttered open, I was staring at a ceiling. White. Cold. Sterile.
A hospital.
The scent of disinfectant clung to the air—sharp, clinical, like it was trying to erase everything that had happened.
My head throbbed.
I groaned and tried to sit up—only to find my body too heavy, too weak.
"Urgh… What the hell happened…?"
I blinked, trying to piece things together.
Explosion. A kid. The truck. Falling metal.
And then—
PAIN.
A blinding, skull-splitting headache stabbed through me like lightning.
I clutched my temples, wincing.
That's when I saw it.
A translucent blue screen hovered above my face, pulsing softly… like it was alive.
I stared at it, stunned. "A… system?"
Had I been drugged? Hallucinating from trauma? Some wild morphine trip?
Before I could even process that, it hit me—like a tidal wave crashing down without warning.
A surge of memories.
Foreign.
Vivid.
Real.
I gasped, but no sound came. It was like being dunked headfirst into someone else's life—only it wasn't just sights and sounds. It was emotions. Pain. Love. Regret. Dreams. All flooding in at once.
I clutched my chest, breath ragged, as tears welled up in my eyes.
This wasn't just a memory. It was a life.
A boy named Eishi Lucivar.
Same first name. Same face. But not me.
His father? Dead. He lived with his mom. Sixteen years old.
He stood alone on a quiet stage, hands trembling on the neck of a beat-up but treasured violin. The auditorium lights blazed above, and beyond them, shadows of the audience waited. He took a breath. Not from nerves—no, from pressure. From how much depended on that moment.
The bow touched the string.
A soft note.
Then another. Then more—building into a haunting, beautiful melody. It was sad, yes, but hopeful too. Like a song for all the things you wanted to say but couldn't. His pain, his loneliness—all of it poured out through that violin.
His vision blurred. He swayed.
Still, he played.
Until the string snapped.
It whipped across his cheek like a slap, and the violin slipped from his shoulder.
He didn't die.
He fainted.
Collapsed onstage from pure exhaustion.
Pushed too far.
Not for glory, but out of desperation. For his dream. For his mom, who worked herself to the bone just to help him reach it..
I choked.
"Seichiro Eishi… huh."
I looked down at my hands.
They were smaller. Softer.The calluses were all wrong — not from years of guitar strings, but from bowing a violin. Lighter, more delicate… but precise.
My eyes drifted across the room.A small wall calendar hung just above the nurse's desk.
2012.
My breath hitched.Not just a different place — a different time?
Did I go back? Or… was this another world entirely?
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recall ever being in this hospital — not as a child, not ever.
The weight of the memories, the disconnect between my body and soul, the clarity of it all…
After a long, quiet breath, I reached the only conclusion that made sense.
"This… isn't my world."
My voice cracked.
I blinked, trying to hold back the tears.
"So… I'm dead?""Did I reincarnate? Or… was the accident just a dream?""Or maybe… I've been transferred?"
The thoughts tumbled over each other, all sounding wrong — and yet too real to ignore.
"But the memory… it was too vivid.""Too detailed. Too painful.""It doesn't feel like a dream."
He gripped his chest as his heart pounded faster.
"It's like… I have two sets of memories.""Two lives. Two selves.""And I don't know which one is really me."
My pulse spiked. The truck. The explosion. That kid I saved—
Did I really die doing that?
I let out a bitter laugh, a tear sliding down my cheek. "Seriously? I actually got isekai'd saving someone?"
Then it hit me like a gut punch.
"Wait! The ADO concert!"
I clenched my fists. "No way. I saved up three months for that ticket!"
But even as I said it, the sting was already softening. Back in my old world, I had no one. No family. Barely any friends. Just an empty apartment and a lot of noise in my head.
Here… this Eishi had something. A mother. A dream. A future.
Then—
"EISHI!!!"
The door burst open with a crash.
A woman rushed in, eyes red, tears running freely down her cheeks.
"Eishi!" she cried, throwing her arms around me. "Thank God! You're awake!"
I froze.
That voice. That warmth. It wrapped around me like something I didn't realize I'd been missing.
"I was so scared," she whispered into my shoulder. "I thought… I thought I lost you…"
I swallowed thickly. My hands slowly came up to hug her back.
"I… I'm sorry, Mom."
She pulled away slightly, enough for me to see her fragile, tear-streaked smile.
"The doctor said it was exhaustion. You collapsed. Overwork. Eishi, that scholarship—yes, it's important—but your health? That matters more. You're all I have."
I met her eyes. There was pain in them. And love.
So much love.
"I promise," I whispered. "I won't… I won't push myself like that again."
She smiled through the tremble.
"Good. That's all I need to hear."
She leaned down and kissed my forehead, so gently I could've broken apart.
"I'll let the doctors know you're up. Rest, okay?"
She stood and left, her warmth still lingering in the air like fading sunlight.
Silence returned.
I turned my gaze back to the floating screen.
Words shimmered across the surface:
[ Samsara System ]
I blinked.
No.
This wasn't a dream.
This was real.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling again.
"…What have I gotten myself into?"