Riku Tanaka did not plan to die that Thursday.
He had plans. Big ones. Like microwaving leftover curry, skipping gym, and maybe, maybe, confessing to his crush before graduation. What he did not expect was to hurl himself into the street to save a yowling stray cat from an oncoming truck with glowing headlights and suspiciously celestial humming.
"Huh," Riku muttered, just before impact. "That truck is definitely singing."
And then it hit him. Literally.
The next thing Riku knew, he was floating.
Not through a tunnel of light or above his body or anything poetic. No, he was floating face down in a giant teacup. The liquid smelled faintly of cinnamon and shame.
"What the hell?" he sputtered, flailing his limbs and flopping onto what he now realized was a squishy biscuit coaster.
"Oh good, he's awake," said a voice that dripped with sarcasm and caramel.
Riku blinked up.
Standing before him were four... cookies.
Literal cookies. Dressed in outfits. Talking. Moving.
"What," Riku said flatly, "in the gluten-free hell is going on?"
The tallest cookie stepped forward. He was a slim, glossy éclair wearing a trench coat and a tiny fedora, puffing on a candy cane pipe. He squinted at Riku like a detective from a noir film.
"Name's Choco Éclair," he said, voice deep and gravelly. "Soul Logistics. Welcome to the Bureau of Reincarnation, kid."
"The what now?"
A second cookie twirled in dramatically, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a monocle, and a dress made of pastel macarons.
"Darling, please," she cooed. "Give the boy a moment. He's freshly pancaked."
"Macaron," said Choco, "stop twirling. You're shedding powder again."
"Let me twirl in peace, Éclair!"
"I'm dead, aren't I?" Riku interrupted.
The third cookie, short, square, with spectacles and a crumpled vest—sighed loudly and held up a clipboard made of solidified frosting.
"Riku Tanaka. Age seventeen. Cause of death: Vehicular feline heroism." He adjusted his glasses and frowned. "Yikes."
"Thanks?" Riku offered weakly.
"I'm Ginger Snap. Paperwork. And believe me, this is not how the process is supposed to go."
Just then, the fourth cookie dropped from the ceiling on a licorice rope. He wore a spiked candy bracelet and a mohawk made of cinnamon dust.
"YO!" he shouted. "New guy's here! ROLL THE CHAOS CAM!"
"Snicker Dude," Éclair groaned, pinching the bridge of his chocolate nose.
"I was updating the reincarnation settings and accidentally added a new subclass called 'Slime Pope.' I regret nothing!" Snicker Dude cackled.
"I regret everything," Ginger Snap muttered.
Riku sat up, dripping slightly. "Okay, back up. I die saving a cat, end up in a cookie-run afterlife, and now you're telling me... what, I get reincarnated as a slime pope?"
Madame Macaron placed a delicate frosted hand on his shoulder. "No, sweetie. That was a test soul. You, my dear... are our newest employee."
Riku blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're the new Truck-Kun," Éclair said, matter-of-fact. "You got hit by the truck. That means it's your turn to drive it."
"Hold on. Hit by what truck?"
"The truck," Ginger Snap said, pointing to a swirling portal of sugar-glazed light. "Capital T. Interdimensional soul vehicle. Technically a sentient semi with wings and mood swings."
A loud HONK echoed through the Bureau, and a shadow loomed. Through the glowing portal rolled a massive, armoured truck, red chassis, glowing blue runes, and sleek chrome trim. It skidded to a stop beside them with a soft puff of glittering steam.
On the grill was a gold-plated name tag: Karma-1.
"You're joking," Riku said.
The truck's headlights blinked. Then it spoke in a dry, irritated British accent.
"Greetings, new pilot. I'm Karma-1. Please refrain from screaming or kicking the tires. I am emotionally sensitive."
"I'm going insane," Riku said.
"You're already dead," Ginger Snap corrected. "It's legally different."
Éclair stepped forward again. "Here's the deal. Every few decades, the previous Truck-Kun retires. They reincarnate. We need a new driver to keep the soul system functioning. You were selected—by fate, karma, and a lottery system Snicker Dude may or may not have hacked."
"I spun a wheel," Snicker whispered.
Macaron dusted off Riku's shoulders. "It's not so bad, darling. You just need to drive the truck, show up when people are about to die, honk dramatically, and send them to their next lives."
"Won't that kill them?"
"They're already about to die," Ginger said. "You're more of a... final plot device."
"I—No. No way. I didn't sign up for this!" Riku stood, arms flailing. "I was supposed to—confess! To Yumi-chan! I had curry plans! I AM CURRY-LESS!"
Karma-1 beeped mournfully. "Unresolved emotional damage detected."
Éclair handed him a clipboard. "Sorry, kid. You got hit by the truck. You're bound to the vehicle now. Contract's signed in soul-ink. No refunds."
Riku stared. "You mean I'm a magical truck delivery man for the dead?"
"You're the final honk of destiny," Snicker Dude said reverently.
"This has to be a dream."
Ginger Snap shoved a pen into Riku's hand. "Dreams don't require tax forms. Initial here."
Riku froze. "What happens if I say no?"
"Then we throw you into the Reincarnation Randomizer," Macaron said sweetly. "You could come back as a sentient mop. Or a hamster with anxiety."
Riku signed.
Minutes later, he was standing in front of Karma-1's driver-side door. The cookies waved from the Bureau steps.
"Your first assignment's already queued," Ginger Snap said. "Name: Mimi Fujiwara. Age: 19. Occupation: Professional online catgirl."
"Final words: 'Nyaaaah~!'" Snicker added. "You're gonna love her."
"Good luck, sweetie," Macaron cooed. "Try not to explode."
Karma-1's engine purred. "Shall we deliver fate, Mr. Tanaka?"
Riku climbed in, sighing. "I guess this is my life now."
"Technically, your afterlife," Karma corrected.
And with a shimmer of light and the echo of a honk, the truck vanished through the sugar-glazed portal—off to send chaos, closure, and just a touch of confectionery bureaucracy into the multiverse.