Nash's stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the quiet of the small park.
"Damn," he muttered, rubbing his belly. "I nearly forgot I haven't eaten since… well, since before I died."
He sat up on the bench, stretching his stiff body. The night air was cool, but hunger gnawed at him more than the cold. His eyes wandered, and in the distance, across the dim street, he spotted a small food stand with a flickering lightbulb hanging above it. The smell of grilled meat carried faintly on the breeze, instantly making his mouth water.
His gaze shifted to Hina, still standing like a mannequin beside the bench.
"Guess you'll be fine here," he whispered. "No one's gonna drag you anywhere… not unless they want their arms ripped out of their sockets."
He stood, brushing off his boxers. At least he had the pants and jacket he looted earlier. After tugging them on, he felt slightly more human and less like a wandering bum.
Nash glanced back at Hina.
"Should I… try to move her? Nah. Last time I tried, I couldn't even lift her finger. You're like Thor's hammer. Or maybe the system just doesn't want me dragging you around when I'm not inside you."
He sighed. "Whatever. Stay here. Don't get into trouble."
With that, he shuffled across the park, heading for the stand. The closer he got, the stronger the scent grew, and his pace quickened.
The vendor, a middle-aged woman with tied-back hair, gave him a curious look as he approached.
"You look like hell, kid," she said, her tone half mocking, half sympathetic. "You running from a bar fight or something?"
Nash forced a grin. "Something like that. How much for two sticks of meat?"
She eyed his ragged appearance but shrugged. "Three units."
Nash fished through the wallet he had stolen. The colorful bills still made no sense to him, but he pulled out a small one and handed it over.
The woman inspected it, then gave him a nod. "You're lucky. That's worth more than three. I'll give you back the change." She dug into a rusty tin box and handed him a few smaller bills.
Nash muttered under his breath, "At least money works like money here."
He took the food, steaming hot on skewers, and bit into one immediately. The savory flavor exploded in his mouth, juices dripping down his chin.
"Holy… this is so good," he mumbled with his mouth full.
The woman laughed. "You eat like you haven't had a meal in days."
"Feels like longer than that," Nash said honestly.
After a few minutes of stuffing his face, Nash bought another portion and carried it carefully in his arms. He felt lighter already, like food was a small anchor to sanity in this insane second life.
As he walked back toward the park, his heart skipped a beat.
Three figures stood around Hina.
They were young men, maybe late teens or early twenties, dressed in mismatched jackets and cheap jewelry. Wannabe gangsters, from the look of them. One of them had his arm draped over Hina's shoulders, grinning like he just won the lottery.
Nash froze behind a tree, clutching the food. His stomach tightened, but not from hunger this time.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered. "I leave her alone for five minutes and this happens?"
The boy with his arm around Hina leaned close, whispering loud enough that Nash could hear. "Damn girl, you're tall, but I like that. You got that model look. Come on, hang out with us tonight. We'll show you a good time."
The second one snickered. "She ain't saying no. Look at her, standing there like she wants it."
The third licked his lips. "Maybe she's shy. I like shy girls."
Nash clenched his jaw. His first instinct was to run at them and swing. But one glance at Hina's still figure reminded him of his advantage.
"Fine," he whispered to himself. "Let's make this quick."
He placed the food carefully beside the tree, leaned back, and let his consciousness slip.
The world spun, and his sight returned through Hina's eyes.
Her body jolted awake.
The boy with his arm around her shoulder blinked in confusion. "Whoa, what the—"
Before he could finish, Hina's palm shot out, slamming into his face with a sickening crack. He flew backward like a ragdoll, crashing into a pile of trash cans.
The other two froze, eyes wide.
"The hell just happened?" one stammered.
"Bro, she just smacked him across the alley!" the other shouted.
Nash did not give them time to recover. He pivoted, Hina's legs moving with terrifying speed, and drove a fist into the second boy's stomach. His eyes bulged, spit flying from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground unconscious.
The last one stumbled back, panic twisting his face. He turned to run.
"Oh no you don't," Nash muttered through Hina's warped voice.
Her hand shot out like a vice, grabbing the boy by the back of the neck. With effortless strength, she lifted him into the air as his legs flailed.
"Wait! Wait! Please don't kill me!" the boy squealed, his voice cracking.
Nash tilted Hina's head, her long hair falling like a curtain. The layered, eerie voice made the boy shiver even harder.
"Then shut up."
Hina's fist drove into his stomach. The boy's body went limp in her grip. Nash tossed him aside like garbage.
Breathing out, Nash crouched and rummaged through their pockets. He pulled out crumpled bills, a few trinkets, even one cheap watch.
"Not bad," he muttered. "Between you three idiots, I might just cover dinner for a week."
Straightening, he looked at their unconscious forms. "Concussions? Unlikely. Broken ribs? Definitely. Do I care? Not even a little."
The sound of Hina's voice still creeped him out. Each word was layered, like a chorus of whispers echoing inside a box.
"I swear, I can't get used to this," Nash grumbled. "You sound like a haunted basement with bad acoustics."
Carrying both his real body and the food, he walked away from the scene. The city grew quieter as he wandered until he spotted a worn-out apartment complex with broken lights and peeling paint.
"This looks about my level," Nash muttered.
He stepped inside, still using Hina's body. The receptionist at the front desk, a tired-looking man with greasy hair, looked up. His eyes widened instantly.
The sight of Hina made him freeze. "W… whoa."
Nash ignored the reaction, focusing on getting a room. He remembered the voice problem and decided against speaking. Instead, he pointed at himself, then at his unconscious body slung over his shoulder, then made a sleeping gesture with his hands.
The receptionist blinked, trying to process the bizarre sight of a goddess-like woman carrying a half-dressed man. He rubbed his eyes, sighed, then said, "Alright… no questions. You want a room, right? Three nights?"
Nash nodded quickly.
"That'll be fifty units," the man said cautiously.
Nash pulled some bills from the loot and placed them on the counter. The man counted them, his lips tightening.
"Alright, room 2C. Don't cause trouble."
He slid a key across the counter, still glancing nervously at Hina's flawless face and perfect body.
Nash took the key without a word and carried his original body upstairs.
The room was pitiful. A small bed, a cracked window, a single chair. The wallpaper was peeling, and the air smelled faintly of mildew.
But to Nash, it was heaven compared to a park bench.
He laid his real body on the bed, then sat Hina on the floor, cross-legged like a doll waiting for instructions.
With a deep breath, he released control. The dizzying spin pulled him back into his own body. His eyes opened to the sight of Hina sitting motionless on the floor, her head bowed.
Nash stretched, feeling the comfort of a bed beneath him.
He grabbed the food he had carried back and devoured what remained, savoring every bite.
Leaning against the wall, he stared at Hina.
"So that's it. I've got food in my belly, a roof over my head, and money in my pocket. For now, I'm surviving."
He lay back, hands behind his head. The ceiling was cracked, water stains forming strange shapes.
"But what comes next? Do I just keep robbing assholes in alleys? Keep wandering like this? Or do I… aim higher?"
His mind buzzed with possibilities, but exhaustion crept in faster than his thoughts could settle.
For the first time since waking in this strange new world, Nash closed his eyes in a bed, uncertain of the future but alive enough to chase it.
His second life had just begun.