Kenji's last memory of his old world was the taste of salt in his mouth and the crushing weight of the sea pressing down on him. He remembered his lungs screaming for air, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of blue, and the thought—half regret, half relief—So this is it. The end of the line.
And then… warmth.
When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed.
He lay on a straw mat inside a weathered hut, the smell of dried fish and brine heavy in the air. The walls were made of driftwood lashed together with rope, and sunlight streamed through the cracks. His body, which had been aching and bloated just moments ago, now felt… lighter. Younger. Stronger.
He sat up with a groan. "Ugh… where the hell…?"
The door creaked open, and an old man stepped in. His skin was dark and wrinkled from a lifetime under the sun, his gray beard wiry and unkempt. He wore a simple tunic and carried a pipe tucked behind his ear.
"You're awake," the old man said, his voice gravelly but calm. "The sea didn't claim you after all."
Kenji blinked. "The sea…? Wait. Where am I?"
The man chuckled, setting down a clay jug of water. "You washed ashore just beyond the cove. The waves carried you in like a lost net. Name's Daigo. I pulled you out before the crabs made a meal of you."
Kenji rubbed his temples. Washed ashore…? No. That's not right. I drowned. I'm sure of it.
But the body he felt now wasn't the same one that had failed him in his last life. His shoulders weren't stiff. His back didn't ache. His calloused hands looked younger, steadier.
Reincarnation…? Did I really… start over?
He took the jug of water and drank greedily. It was lukewarm, slightly salty, but it felt like life itself pouring down his throat.
Daigo watched him carefully. "You've got no coin, no family, no boat. But you've got two arms and two legs. That's more than some men can say."
Kenji lowered the jug, wiping his mouth. "…So what, you expect me to work?"
The old man smirked. "No one lives in this village without pulling their weight. If you can't fish, you'll starve. Simple as that."
Kenji chuckled dryly. "Figures. Even in another world, no freebies."
Daigo raised an eyebrow. "Another world?"
Kenji froze. "…Did I say that out loud?"
The old man just puffed on his pipe, smoke curling lazily upward. "Doesn't matter where you came from. Matters what you do now."
That afternoon, Kenji stumbled out into the sunlight, squinting at the village that stretched along the shore. It was small—no more than thirty huts scattered across the sand, with wooden docks jutting into the water. Boats bobbed on the waves, their sails patched, their nets drying in the breeze.
Children ran barefoot along the beach, laughing as they chased crabs. Women salted fish on wide boards, tossing scraps to gulls. Men shouted to each other as they hauled in ropes, the air alive with the rhythm of work.
Kenji shoved his hands into his ragged trousers. His belly grumbled. His throat still tasted like seawater. And worst of all, he had nothing—no money, no tools, not even a scrap of food to his name.
So this is my reset, huh? No office job. No debts. Just… poverty. Back to square one.
A burly man approached him at the dock, carrying a basket of mackerel. He looked Kenji up and down. "You the drifter Daigo dragged in?"
Kenji forced a polite smile. "Yeah. That'd be me."
The man snorted. "Then listen close, stranger. This village don't feed freeloaders. You want supper, you catch it yourself."
Kenji spread his hands. "That's fair. Just one problem—I don't have a rod, or nets, or bait. Kind of hard to fish with bare hands, don't you think?"
The man smirked. "Not our problem. Earn some coin, then buy your gear."
Kenji frowned. "And how am I supposed to earn coin without gear?"
The man shrugged, dumping the fish into a crate. "Figure it out. Everyone else did."
Kenji sighed. Yep. Same as the old world. No shortcuts.
By evening, Kenji found himself sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the water. He had borrowed a chipped wooden bucket from Daigo and tied a string to a bent nail for a makeshift hook. A sad excuse for fishing gear, but it was all he could manage.
The line dangled into the water, rippling with each wave. His stomach growled again. He ignored it, staring out at the horizon.
"…So this is my big second chance, huh?" he muttered. "Reincarnated, reset, and I'm still broke. Figures. The universe must really hate me."
A child's giggle drifted from behind.
Kenji turned to see a little boy standing a few feet away, holding a cracked clay pot full of tiny crabs. His hair stuck out in messy tufts, and his clothes were patched and faded.
The boy tilted his head. "Mister, are you fishing with… a nail?"
Kenji smirked. "What, never seen innovation before? This is called… desperate ingenuity."
The boy laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. "You won't catch anything like that."
Kenji shrugged. "Probably not. But a man can dream."
The boy stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "You're funny. What's your name?"
"…Kenji."
The boy grinned. "Okay, Mister Kenji! I'm Sora."
Kenji blinked. Sora, huh? Sky.
The boy stepped closer, studying him with curious eyes. "You don't look like the others. You smell like fish, though."
Kenji chuckled. "Guess the sea doesn't let anyone off easy."
Sora beamed. "Then you'll be fine. The sea takes care of fishermen."
Kenji raised an eyebrow. "…Does it, now?"
The boy nodded, serious all of a sudden. "But only if you work hard. The sea doesn't like lazy people."
Kenji stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his lips.
"Kid, you sound just like my old boss."
That night, Kenji returned to Daigo's hut empty-handed. Not a single fish had bitten his nail-hook. His stomach ached, and his pride was bruised.
But when he lay down on the straw mat, he found himself chuckling softly.
"…Another world, huh? Broke, hungry, stuck with a bucket and a nail. Guess this is as low as it gets."
He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under.
"Fine, then," he whispered. "If the sea wants me, it can have me. If it wants me to fight, I'll fight. One way or another, I'll make this work."
And somewhere in the distance, beyond the sound of waves, a child's laughter echoed in his dreams.