The morning started just as Hiroto Kazuma had anticipated — miserably.
His alarm failed to sound. The power had failed at some point in the night, probably due to his neighbor letting the shared circuit overload with plug-in heaters once again. His phone was at 2% battery remaining, flickering at him like a dying firefly.
"Good. Another record for disappointment," Hiroto grumbled, getting into bed, hair sticking up like he had wrestled a pillow and lost.
He was thirty-five, employed in a humdrum office job at a firm whose slogan could just as well have been "We appreciate your misery." A good soul, but afflictingly blessed by the universe from infancy on — all his plans had a 100% likelihood of crashing monumentally.
He lurched into the bathroom, squeezed the toothpaste, and watched the tube burst from the back, covering his shirt with mint foam.
He glared at it.
"…I didn't even squeeze that hard."
His reflection glared back, looking just as exhausted to be alive. Slight stubble, mild dark circles, and the flat, deadpan eyes of someone who has watched too many vending machines devour his coins.
He brushed anyway. His toothbrush snapped in two halfway through.
By the time he ran out the door, his shoelaces came untied twice. It began raining, naturally — much to the contrary of the forecast indicating "clear skies all week." He stood under his umbrella, which promptly turned inside out in the wind.
"Great. Just what I needed — the weather getting into the act."
He ran to the bus stop, dodging puddles and missing every time. When he arrived, the bus had departed. The next? Thirty minutes. He huffed, soaked, hair running down into his collar.
A woman standing nearby, noticing his wretched look, silently shared half of her umbrella. He smiled appreciatively.
"Thank you. I really—"
A car driving by splashed them both with muddy water.
The woman blinked at him in shock and then took a step away. Hiroto didn't even flinch. He just grunted, "That checks out."
---
It wasn't any better at work. His computer froze twice, his boss criticized him for a mistake that someone else had made, and the vending machine again rejected his coins.
"Do you ever think maybe the universe has a personal grudge?" he asked Toshi, his coworker, over a break.
Toshi chuckled. "Nah, you just overthink things. Other than that, bad luck's just your trademark now. You're like the poster child for some kind of bad-luck syndrome."
"Terrific. I'll add that to my resume, then."
"You should! Hiroto Kazuma: Professional Failure Specialist!"
Hiroto laughed. He liked that at least his suffering amused someone. Down inside, however, he experienced that hollowness — the one that whispered, You're trying so hard, and life just doesn't care.
When lunch came, he went to the cafe across the street. The moment he sat down, a waiter tripped nearby, sending soup flying — directly onto his lap.
"Oh for the love of—"
"I'm so sorry, sir!"
Hiroto forced a smile. "No, no, it's fine. It's just… hot broth on my dignity."
He tidied up, left an extravagant tip, and walked back out. He saw a stray cat shivering on the ground near a bench. A skinny little creature, fur clumped with rain.
He got down low. "Hey, pal. Having a bad day yourself?"
The cat meowed weakly, rubbing against his wet pants.
He smiled faintly. "At least you're upfront about being miserable."
He took out the sole sandwich he'd purchased for lunch — tuna, of all things — and ripped off a small bite for the cat.
"There you are. Don't tell me I never did something brave."
The cat devoured it happily, tail wagging. Something about it pained Hiroto's chest. Perhaps he recognized himself in this animal — small, lost, trying its best in a world that cared nothing.
He breathed deeply. "You know, perhaps we are just naturally born with bad stats. Low luck, high… I don't know, stamina?"
The cat blinked indifferently.
"Sure. Now I'm monologuing to a cat. Wonderful. Perhaps I'll begin hearing background music next."
---
The rain let up, and he figured he'd go home early. Perhaps he'd take a walk, get his head together. The streets sparkled with puddles and neon reflections. His nappy shoes squeaked each time he walked.
He was walking across by a small corner when he spotted it — the same stray cat racing across the street.
"Hey! Wait—
A delivery truck came around the corner too quickly. The driver didn't notice the cat.
Hiroto ran without thinking.
He grabbed the creature and turned half-way through, shoving it out of the path. Tires screeched. There was a crash — the harsh, metallic sound of metal on metal, of crashing — and everything turned white.
---
When he opened his eyes, the world was at an angle. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him; everything was distant, muffled. The cat meowed on the sidewalk, alive and safe. Relief flooded him, meshed with confusion.
He attempted to move. Couldn't.
"Oh… that's bad." His voice was almost silent. "I actually… did it, huh?"
A pained laughter escaped his mouth. "Saved the cat. Died like an idiot. Classic."
He could sense the heat of blood spreading beneath him, the acrid scent of gasoline and rain blending in the air. The neon lights overhead pulsed, warping oddly.
Someone was yelling — far away, muted. "Call an ambulance!"
He slowly blinked. His mind drifted.
"So this is it, huh? Thirty-five years of bad luck… and this is how I end up. Not even dramatic."
The cat approached, rubbing its head against his motionless hand. He smiled faintly.
"Guess you're my last friend, huh? Take care, little guy."
His vision blurred. The rain softened into static.
He thought, absurdly, about his unpaid bills, his broken umbrella, his empty fridge. Then he laughed weakly.
"Figures. Even dying, I'm thinking about rent."
The pain faded. He felt weightless, the noise of the world slipping away like a tide pulling back.
For the first time in years, his shoulders eased. He thought he saw something in the air — a gentle light, like the sun shining through water.
"…Maybe," he whispered, "maybe my luck's about to change."
And with that final ironic hope, Hiroto Kazuma — the kindest, unluckiest man alive — closed his eyes.
The rain stopped.
The cat meowed once, looking at the lifeless body on the street, and trotted off into the alley — with a peculiar golden feather in its jaws that had not been there previously.
.....
It was white.
Not the hospital kind, or the cloud kind, or the snow kind — this was the kind that contained nothing whatsoever. No up, no down, no air, no sound. Just. being.
And Hiroto Kazuma was sitting in the very middle of it, cross-legged on flat nothing, wearing the very same wet office uniform he'd passed away in.
Okay," he said slowly. "Either I'm crazy or heaven's waiting room."
Nobody answered.
He looked around again. Still nothing.
"Wow. Even in death, customer service is poor."
He exhaled a deep breath, running his unkempt hair with his hand. "So this is it, then? I thought, I don't know, angels? Trumpets? Maybe a PowerPoint of all my flaws?"
A lazy, teasing voice came from behind him.
> You'd have a PowerPoint that's very, very long, you know."
It jumped and spun around — and nearly slid off the floor that didn't exist.
Hovering about two feet above the ground was a woman—or something very nearly so. She looked as if she had just rolled out of the bed in some very posh bedroom: long golden locks that glowed faintly, violet eyes sparkling like some sort of gemstones, and a pale white tunic one sneeze from wardrobe catastrophe.
She held in her hand a hot cup inscribed "World Management Department."
"Who—?"
Goddess," she replied, waving offhandedly. "Technically of Luck, I suppose. You may address me as Seraphina. Or, you know, 'Your Radiant Highness of Probability.' Whatever you prefer."
Hiroto blinked. "Goddess… of Luck."
"Mm-hmm."
".You sure about that? Because, not to be rude, but you really messed up with me."
The goddess leaned forward, gazing at him over the rim of her mug. "Excuse me?
"I mean— thirty-five years. Not a day of good fortune. Last week, I tripped over air. Air. My last lunch was tuna sandwich that got soggy. I got run over saving a cat who's probably forgotten me by now. You sure you're fit for your job?"
She stared at him, mouth slightly open. Then she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, mortals. Always complaining. Do you have any concept of how many people I have to deal with? Luck isn't an exact science!"
"Well, it should be," he growled.
> "Listen, Hiroto— may I call you Hiroto?— you got the cosmic bum deal, I'll grant it. There was a paperwork problem."
"Paperwork problem?"
> You were meant to gain a +3 bonus to luck at age six, but a mistake was made and you were put under 'Hiroshi Kazuma' instead of 'Hiroto Kazuma.' Typical spelling mistake.
"He covered his face with his hands. "Unbelievable.
> "Don't be so dramatic! You did okay, given. Didn't turn bad, didn't quit, saved a cat—very impressive. So I'm here to pay you back."
"Reimburse me," he slowly repeated back. "Like a return policy on life?"
> "Precisely!" she cried. "You get to be reborn."
He blinked. "Wait. Reborn? Like, new world, swords and dragons, the whole nine yards?"
"Bingo." She smiled. "One brand new magical world. You select a blessing. And—" She lazily spun her hair. "—I might even improve your luck this time."
He shot her an eyebrow. "You might?"
>"Look, luck is fleeting. Too much and you go boom. Too little and you're you. I'll meet you halfway."
And why did he have the feeling his halfway was going to be fatal?
Oh, ye of little faith. I'm a professional."
"You were drinking coffee out of a mug that read 'World Management Department.' That does not make you confident."
She smiled smugly. "You're cute when you pout. Reminds me of my intern."
"I don't think I had to hear that."
---
Seraphina snapped her fingers, and a large glowing screen materialized between them. On it, there were lines of text in golden script: "Reincarnation Form Selection."
"Wait, is this. a character creation menu?" Hiroto asked.
>
"Yup. Except you can't pick anything yourself. It's random. Because, you know."
He sighed.
Of course.
The letters started to spin, flashing faster and faster. Race, class, stats, age, gender — all rushing by like a slot machine.
"Can I at least veto something?"
>
"Nope! That would be cheating fate."
I died saving a cat. I think I should get a little cheating in there!
> "You'll thank me later."
The wheel stopped spinning.
Seraphina leaned forward to read the result. Her smile froze.
"Oh."
Hiroto frowned. "Oh what?"
>
"Uhhh… this is embarrassing."
As she talked, she extended the paper.
"What did I get?"
> "Well… you're definitely human."
"Good start."
> "You're gifted with Chaotic Luck."
".Define 'chaotic.'"
> "It means probability warps around you randomly. You'll experience miracles and catastrophes in equal proportions."
"Equal proportions? I'd like more miracles, thank you."
> "Not how it works."
He groaned. "Fine. What else?"
She hesitated.
> "You're… also female."
"…What?"
> "Female. As in, woman. Girl. XX chromosomes. Wavy hair, probably."
He gazed at her, stunned. "You turned me into a girl?"
> "Not me! The system did! Randomized! You saw me, I didn't touch anything."
It was like watching a cartoon.
"Undo it."
> "Can't."
It was like she was reporting on something that was happening to someone else.
"Re-roll!"
> "Nope."
She tried on a serious face, and managed only not to do so as her shoulders shook with giggles.
> "Oh, don't look so betrayed. It's not like you haven't wanted a change of perspective. Think of it as… a fresh start. You'll be adorable."
"I'm thirty-five!"
> "Not anymore. You'll be about fifteen, in body at least. Don't worry, you'll grow into it."
He rubbed his temples. "I saved a cat. I didn't ask for divine comedy."
> "Divine luck, actually. And besides—" she leaned closer, her tone playful, "—you might like it. New world, new body, new opportunities. And your blessing means you'll never be bored."
"Bored? I'd settle for not dying every Tuesday."
> "You'll be fine. Probably."
"'Probably'? That's your word?"
> "I'm the Goddess of Luck, not Guarantees."
He groaned again, staring up at the endless white. "Unbelievable. My life was a cosmic typo, and now my afterlife is gender roulette."
> "You're welcome."
---
Seraphina clapped her hands, and a golden circle appeared beneath him. Runes glowed, swirling around like liquid light.
"Wait, wait, wait— at least tell me about the world I'm going to!"
> "Oh, yeah. Standard fare. Magic, kingdoms, dungeons, swords, monsters, politics of intrigue. Technology's all modern though — mana cars, crystal comms, the whole shebang."
"So basically fantasy with Wi-Fi."
> "Yeah! You're gonna love it. It's Aetherion. Try not to wreck it."
"What if I do?"
> "Then I'll have to do paperwork again, and trust me, nobody wants that."
The light began to rise, enveloping him. He felt his body vanishing — as if he was being torn apart gradually, pixel by pixel.
"Hey, Seraphina?"
> "Yes?"
"If I survive this, I'm reporting this. Something underhanded is going on here."
> "Ha! Get in line."
He took a deep breath, feeling something warm inside his chest — excitement, fear, maybe both.
"Fine, okay. Let's see how unlucky I can be as a girl."
Now that's the spirit!" she raised in toast, holding her mug aloft in greeting. "Good luck, Elira Kazuma!"
The name echoed in his head as light engulfed him whole.
"Wait— Elira? Who in the devil's name is—"
And then, silence.
---
In some corner of the endless ocean of worlds, a new soul fell through light's veil, gleaming softly gold.
The Goddess of Luck sipped her coffee with a sigh.
"Blimey. or it, I guess. I'll have to keep an eye on those gender settings."
She snapped her fingers, opening a file titled 'Elira Kazuma: Chaos Protocol Active.'
She yawned, stretched, and vanished into thin air — leaving behind only the distant sound of rolling dice forever in the infinite expanse.