Man, if someone had told me yesterday that my biggest worry wouldn't be dodging my boss's micromanaging emails, but figuring out how not to get eaten by glowing tree monsters, I'd have laughed in their face, spitting mustard from my half-chewed Big Mac.
But here I am, suddenly playing the lead in my own crappy Isekai fanfiction. I am Akira Smith, your average twenty-year-old half-Japanese, half-white slacker chasing the American Dream.
The Isekai genre is much too familiar, isn't it? Truck-kun road rage, followed by waking up with god-tier powers in a world full of elves and dragons, and all that shit.
Except in my case, there was no truck, and no cheat skills popped up like a Skyrim mod. It was just me in my sweaty jogging gear, staring at a forest that looked like a psychedelic screensaver.
Let's back up a second, peeps. Don't you want to know my backstory so that you can develop a modicum of respect towards me? To find me relatable? I'll give you a rundown.
It was a total grind. Alarms from two different clocks blared every morning at six. I snoozed both of them once, twice, until the noise trauma made me drag my ass out of bed for a quick Starbucks run.
Who has time for brewing coffee when you've got a soul-crushing office job waiting for you an hour of commute away? It wasn't anything fancy, but an entry-level data entry bullshit job. I was constantly surrounded by dudes in ties who believed their prowess in Excel spreadsheets could get them girls.
"Akira, did you update the quarterly report?" a bitch boss demanded, wearing a pantsuit that made her look like a fatter Dolores Umbridge.
'Yeah, Karen,' I answered her in my head. 'I did update the crap out of the QR, right after I binge-watched the latest woke Marvel flick on Netflix to numb the pain.'
With my mixed heritage, that is, Japanese mom and white American dad, I grew up bouncing between opposing cultures. Go on, spill the stereotypes. Sushi one night, burgers the next, but I ultimately ended up in Jacksonville, chasing that corporate dream that has failed more Americans than Microsoft Zune.
Gaming was my real escape, although I played only about an hour at night. After work, I'd fire up my PC and dive in. I was never much of a gamer, but I did indulge in a bit of real-time strategy games, such as Age of Empires and Civilization.
I sank hundreds of hours of my life into them, building elaborate kingdoms from scratch, and surviving against all odds from barbarians, dictators, and imperialists. NGL, this genre was therapeutic for me. That is, escaping the daily real-life grind by fake-grinding and managing imaginary resources in a virtual world. Trust me, that will be my last complex sentence.
Video games are empowering, aren't they? Like I was the hero of my own story, not just another loser oiling the corporate machine.
Ah, another critical mention I almost forgot. I stayed fit. Nights were for runs. They kept me sane, or so I liked to believe. Pounding the syringe-riddled pavements under those flickering streetlights, dodging tech bros heading to breweries, and illegal aliens asking for money. All the while, music blasted in my ears from Kanye to K-pop.
Last night was no different. The open-sewer breeze was cool, and my legs were especially springy because of being over-caffeinated. I hit the sweet spot of my run. Ah, that moment.
My mind wandered to what-ifs. What if I won the lottery? What if I quit and backpacked across Europe like in those Eat, Pray, Love movies?
Then, BAM! The world glitched out. The air shimmered like bad CGI from a rushed superhero movie. The colors flipped like I was in the Upside Down from Stranger Things.
The next thing I know, I face-planted into dirt that smelled like wet moss. There was no warning, no dramatic voice-over. Was just isekai'd crudely, leading to a bloody nose. Oh, God! Not my moneymaker!
I groaned like a bitch and pushed myself up, spitting out leaves that tasted suspiciously like licorice. Was this a vegan game?
"What the actual fuck?" I muttered, patting down my pockets. My smartphone was still there. The screen fritzed a bit. There were no bars, and the battery was draining like the ghost of a low-blood-sugar Karen possessed it.
My wallet still had a couple of hundred bucks. Well, that was useless, unless this place had a free trade agreement with the US and A. I was still in my T-shirt, shorts, and Nikes, which were now caked in mud. Someone other than me had peed a bit in my pants.
Great, just great! I wasn't presented with a starter pack. No tutorial NPC popped up to explain the rules. If this was indeed an Isekai, it was the trial version, which opened up after you shared credit card info.
I appeared to have no overpowered skills, and there wasn't any harem of waifus waiting to greet and bathe me. Just me, feeling like that guy from Cast Away before he befriends the volleyball. I looked around for sports objects but didn't find any.
The surrounding forest was straight out of a Tim Burton fever dream. "Enough with the Hollywood references, Akira!" my mom's heavy accent voice echoed in my head. Never mind.
Let me paint a picture for you. The trees had bark that glowed like neon signs in Vegas, leaving shimmering colors that don't exist on the RGB scale. Up above, the sky had this weird swirl of clouds.
I couldn't spot any sun yet, but the world was illuminated enough to see. Was it twilight? The birds were normal IG, although the chirps sounded a bit auto-tuned.
A vine nearby twitched, opening a flower that puffed out sparkly pollen. That was pretty generic. I sneezed hard enough to wake the dead. "The fantasy world had allergies already? How nerfed was I? Come on."
Panic set in for a moment, mingled with the loneliness I felt after breakups. I fought hard. Think, Akira, think. All those hours in real-time strategy games gotta count for something. I was, at worst, a senior noob.
My throat was parched. I strained my ears and heard a trickle nearby, which led me to a stream. A sip. Tasted like bottled water. So far, so good.
Hunger next, since my stomach hasn't stopped growling since I was spawned. My first meal grew on bushes loaded with red, shiny fruits that looked like oversized strawberries. I plucked one, sniffed it, and found no funky smells.
"If this poisons me, at least it'll be quicker than another performance review," I joked to myself, taking a bite. I almost staggered on my feet as a juicy explosion of flavor, much like a Starburst, filled my mouth. Not bad.
Instinct made me pocket a few more. Inventory management starts now, even if it's just in my sweatpants.
Night fell quickly. It was shelter time. Classical, distant wolf howls filled the air. They better not be werewolves. I gathered dry branches, suffering a few splinters in the process. Just cut it out on the realism, man!
I weave them with twigs, propping the structure against a big root. It looked like a crappy Fortnite build. Hmm.
Let's build a fire. I rubbed sticks like a Boy Scout, and sparks caught immediately. Flames crackle into life, and damn, that warmth felt like hugging a heated blanket after a Netflix marathon.
I couldn't sleep. The shadows played tricks on me. Strange shapes flitting around in the dark, and dim eyes gleaming. "Stay back, furballs!" I warned them like a pansy. "Or I'll... uh, throw rocks at you!"
Sitting by the fire, it was time to gather my mind. How did this happen? Was it that shady energy drink I chugged before the run and died? Or did I piss off some kami, a Japanese demi-god, at a shrine my mum frequented back in Tokyo?
Well, considering standard Isekai tropes, usually the MC is a NEET who dies heroically and gets OP powers from a hentai goddess.
I was still a mixed-race dude who likes burgers and binge-watching The Office. "Where is my status screen? My cheat ability to summon cheeseburgers?" I chuckle at my stupid humor, but it was forced. Fuck this.
"Akira, don't be cynical," my oka-san used to say. I was homesick already, missing my bed, my gaming rig, and even the traffic jams.
What would my coworkers say? "Akira probably eloped with his waifu pillow."
But hey, every polluted cloud has a silver lining. No more TPS reports, no more fake smiles at team meetings.
This world could have hidden potential. The tropes just hadn't kicked in yet. Maybe I'll level up, build a castle like in Minecraft, and ride a dragon like in Game of Thrones. The possibilities were endless.
I didn't realize when I fell asleep. Dawn broke. My eyes opened to a riot of colors, reminding me of the cooler Instagram filters. There were three orbs in the sky, like mini-suns. Interesting.
I stood and stretched, taking a moment for my autistic brain to activate. The latter immediately spotted a path, perhaps an animal track leading uphill.
I followed it, gathering more fruits and also a sharp rock for a weapon. Uphill, the view slapped. Hills with crystal spikes like Superman's Fortress of Solitude, and rivers sparkling like diamond rivers in a Disney flick.
In the distance were ruins of a city. Crumbled walls infested with vines. Was it a friendly civilization, or a trap for a freshly Isekai'd hero?
The adventure hook got me. Come on, Akira! I descended, heading down the slope in the general direction of the ruins. Dear fantasy civilization, here I come to crap on you!