Japan, Musutafu, 8 AM.
The sun had already risen, shining with an attitude like "Rise and suffer, mortals."
stretching its golden rays across a world that, frankly, didn't deserve this level of warmth.
Everything looked peaceful, too peaceful. And that's suspicious in an era where people can fire lasers out of their bellybuttons, Or even worse, grow Purple Balls on their heads!
Crime was normal. Chaos was normal.
Peace? That's the abnormal part.
People marched to work, students dragged themselves to school, superheroes patrolled with their embarrassing and childish costumes.
The cherry blossoms fluttered gently in a scene so beautiful it could be a wallpaper on some depressed office worker's PC.
Takoba Municipal Beach Park however...was the complete opposite.
What once was a scenic coastline had now become a junkyard apocalypse
Trash from the sea piled up for years, and locals, being the absolute menaces they are, started dumping their junk there too.
And in the middle of it all…
A teenager lay face-down on the sand.
Yes. That's him. Our protagonist.
You might be wondering how he got here.
Well… I'm also wondering that.
He looked about fifteen or sixteen. Black messy hair. Pale skin. White tank top. Gray shorts.
the default skin of EVERY Moroccan teen during summer.
He was lying on his stomach in a pose suspiciously similar to Luffy's Joyboy awakening pose, if Joyboy had been dreaming about girls in bikinis.
And he was dreaming about girls in bikinis.
Drool leaked from his mouth.
His hips… moved.
He was literally humping, NOoo!!! it should be said "Drilling" the sand!
The soft sand beneath him made the dream extra realistic. Too realistic!!!
Look, He's a teenage boy. Don't judge him too harshly.
…Okay, maybe judge him a little.
Suddenly, his body twitched, He scored a goal in one against three match! Hooryaa!!!
His senses started coming online one by one, he felt, Cold, Wet. Sand touching places sand shouldn't touch.
The salty ocean breeze.
His eyes fluttered open. Blurry at first, between 144px and 360px.
And then, the quality returned to 8k, but only in his right eye, the left eye had been diagnosed to have astigmatism, which is an imperfection in the curvature of the eye that causes blurred vision. It occurs when the cornea is curved more like a football than a round baseball. and that happen because of watching too much corn! so stop watching it!
source : trust me bro, i'm speaking from experience!
Sand. Everywhere.
His brain blue-screened.
Then rebooted.
His heart froze.
His breath hitched.
And then—
"MAMAAA!!!"
He is a mama boy, only his mom can make him feel safe in such a weird situation!
He jolted upright so fast you'd think someone cast a resurrection spell on him.
His eyes were wide, his legs shaking like a wet cat, sweat pouring down his back as the terror settled in.
So Who is this Whiga?
And his name is John Cena!!!...ahem wrong line.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our protagonist...
---in the voice of Present MIC Voice---
Adam Al Hantakour!
From: Morocco
Age: 15
Weight: 50 kg
Height: 1.70 m
Hobbies: Anime, Webnovels, Manga, Manhua, Writing Fanfics, Watching Corn (currently fighting his addiction; 3 months clean), Spirituality, Conspiracy theories, Politics, Video Editing, Photography, Cinema.
Likes: Girls, Girls, Girls
Dislikes: Zi0n1sts Zi0nis1s Zi0n1sts and lgbtv+(a clash of interest, if they are allowed to spread, then who gonna give birth to girls?)
Goals: Paradise, Free P@lestine, become a millionaire, marry four wives, have a big house with swimming pool, Write a story that inspire people to change toward better.
Religion: Muslim (practicing with difficulty, fighting his overflowing sinful desires, but absolutely firm on "There is no god except Allah.")
Is he a mess?
Yes.
Is he relatable?
Probably, at least to me, since he is molded after me, your beloved author.
Is he ready to handle what's coming?
Absolutely not!
Adam stared around, mind blank.
He was absolutely certain he was asleep in his living room!!!
90% of Moroccans don't have separate bedrooms, by the way. If you sleep in the salon and wake up surrounded by guests drinking tea and gossiping, that's just Tuesday. And if your neighbor's daughter, your secret crush, sees you drooling, mouth open like a dead pig? Yeah, that shame stays with you forever...it happened to a certain friend of mine, definitely not me!
Anyway...
He was in the salon.
So how tf did he wake up here?
A prank?
Impossible. He had no friends.
Family prank? They had no money OR time.
Kidnapped?
Bro, even kidnappers wouldn't bother with him. The family was poor, the apartment was in debt.
So…
The only logical conclusion:
"I GOT KIDNAPPED BY JINN (ghosts)!! OR DEMONS!!!"
His mind latched onto the only explanation that made sense in this terrifiying situation.
Jinn!
The beings of smokeless fire his faith taught him were real, unseen entities sharing the world. living in a parallel higher dimension, they can see us, they live among us, in every house, every place, but we can't see them. the evilest among them are called shayatin aka demons.
Panic hit 100%.
"WAAA!!! ALLAH'U AKBAR!!! LA ILLAHA ILLA ALLAH!!!"
He scrambled up and ran, Well...attempted to run.
only a stupid whiga without survival instinct will stay in the crime scene.
this junk filled beach is obviously a good place for murder and hiding traces.
Running on sand is like fighting a boss while your controller lags.
Every step sank, his legs wobbled, and his stamina bar went down faster than his dignity.
Fall. Stand. Fall again. Run. Trip. Roll, Repeat the cycle again and again.
"A'udhu billahi min ash-shaytan ir-rajim!!!"
(I seek refuge in Allah from Satan, the accursed (or the outcast).)
But his mouth kept chanting, louder every time, like he was trying to scare off ghosts through sheer volume.
Then he saw them, stairs leading up to the city.
Civilization.
With renewed fear-powered motivation, Adam climbed the stairs like he was trying to escape hell itself.
In his desperate attempt to run away from whatever jinn or evil entities kidnapped him, Adam was now fully coated in sand.
Not partially.
FULLY!!!
Like a freshly breaded schnitzel ready for frying.
If anyone saw him, they wouldn't see "a frightened teen."
No.
They will see a walking, talking piece of katsu that has achieved self-awareness.
But Adam didn't care.
Fuck appearances. Fuck dignity.
Survival came first. Survival, Humanity and faith.
Because once life is on the line, a human should sacrifice everything—
Except their faith and humanity.
To sacrifice your humanity is to become an empty shell, a monster, an NPC.
But to sacrifice your faith? That was a transaction with eternal consequences. This life, he believed, was a fleeting dream, and death was the inevitable wake-up call. The destination was either paradise or hellfire, and he was determined to be a smart investor.
so be smart. Be a spiritual businessman: invest in good deeds now, or go bankrupt for eternity.
And so, the sand-creature known as Adam sprinted onto the cleanest and perfect road he had ever seen in his life, a concrete path so shiny he feels it is illegal to walk on it.
One step was all it took to figure out The horrifying truth: he was not in Morocco anymore.
The road was lined with blooming sakura trees, petals drifting lazily in the air as if he was in anime scene.
another thing that confirmed his guess, the design style of this area doesn't feel Moroccan at all.
If he weren't in mortal panic, he would've taken a picture.
As he sprinted under the shower of sakura petals, something snapped inside him.
Not the sane part.
That had already left the chat earlier.
No, this was the otaku part, the one that survived dozens of childhood humiliations by imagining himself as a shonen main character.
His vision blurred.
the world slowed down.
in his mind, The OST that had been haunting his mind these days was being played, which is solo leveling "DARK ARIA".
then a dramatic narrator voice began, the one in Hunter x Hunter Chimera Ants Arc:
"In a world where chaos blooms like cherry blossoms… one boy runs."
Adam saw himself from a cinematic third-person angle:
A 'golden' teenager in a tank top and shorts,
sprinting heroically through a tunnel of falling petals.
Wind whooshed.
Petals danced.
His hair sparkled in a golden lens flare (it was just sand, but in the delusion it looked majestic).
In the fantasy cutscene, Adam shouted:
"NO MATTER HOW HARD LIFE GETS—
I! WILL! SURVIVE!!!"
Reality Adam shouted:
"AAAHHHHHHHH!!! I DON'T WANNA DIE!!! MAMA!!! HELP!!!"
The two voices overlapped in one glorious, disastrous harmony.
The narrator continued:
"This is the tale… of an idiot destined for greatness."
Adam, still delusional, heard the background music swelling...
The chorus whispered in his heart:
"Death is gonna come for me…"
Adam's Heart almost froze, his feet became cold.
"…Nonononono! I DOn't Want To die yet!!! I'm still virgin!!"
Too late.
The music SWELLED, and swelled with it the sense of danger.
The next line hit:
"Be the change I couldn't be…"
Adam internally screamed:
"WHAT CHANGE!? I DIDN'T EVEN CHANGE MY UNDERWEAR for a week!!!"
He started sprinting, full slow-motion dramatic mode.
Cherry blossoms fell around him like he was in the world's saddest shonen opening.
But the actual sound was just his ragged wheezing and the slap-slap-slap of his sand-covered feet on the pavement, leaving behind him footsteps of sands.
OST (blasting in his skull):
"Can you find a life that's like faaaairytaaales…Far from this tragedyyyyy…"
Adam:
"NO I CAN'T!!! THAT'S WHY I'M RUNNING!!!"
...
in a certain bustling avenue in Musutafu city.
it was lined with narrow storefronts, billboards advertising heroes, and famous brands. Bicycles leaned against fences, vending machines glowed at every corner, and the hum of chatter and distant train bells filled the air. Cars and pedestrians moved in orderly chaos.
The sidewalks were crowded with office workers in crisp suits, school students in uniform, and the occasional elderly citizen crossing slowly with a cane. Everything seemed normal…
until Adam Appeared.
everyone watched in confusion as a sand‑covered teenager charged down the street like a a piece of katsu that had leaped off the table to avoid being eaten and was now running for its life.
Everyone looked at him with worry, curiosity, suspicion, excitement...
a full buffet of emotions,
and every gaze hit him like a laser sight.
"Bro, look at that kid… he's almost naked and covered in sand."
"probably his quirk is related to sand?"
"Is he escaping from something?"
"Or worse, he is the something?"
"This looks fun. My gut says something stupid is about to happen. I'm recording."
school students, boys and girls, who fear the world won't be chaotic enough, were all expecting something "fun" to happen.
"poor kid, he probably has some mental illness." sighed a middle aged aunt.
Adam felt the shift in his surroundings and woke up from his delusions, he slowed down, he was panting nonstop, each breath a harsh rasp in the crisp morning air.
feeling the various gazes on him, he tried to "blend in," walking casually on the roadside like nothing was wrong.
Key word: tried.
Because no matter how casual he walked, he was still attracting attention.
This is the worst nightmare for someone with social anxiety, and what a conscidence, he had it too!
His heart was beating like Darude Sandstorm.
Adam swallowed.
'Okay… okay… calm down… just look normal… act normal… first figure out where the hell I am.'
He looked left.
He looked right.
Street signs. Storefronts. Logos.
'This language… this is Japanese. Obviously. I've watched enough anime to tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese, and Korean.'
And then...people.
White-collar workers.
High school students.
Middle-aged aunties.
Everyone giving him the "don't come near me" side-eye.
But something was off, something feel odd, but he can't pinpoint the source of this feeling.
'THESE PEOPLE…'
He squinted.
'Why do NONE of them look Japanese?!'
Because the hair colors—
Pink.
Blue.
Green.
Orange.
purple.
And also because—
A man with a freaking SHARK HEAD crossed the street.
A woman with paper white skin and soft white fur like that of a sheep walked past
A guy with a LONG NECK like a mutated giraffe bought coffee casually.
A schoolgirl with TENTACLE HAIR laughed with her friends.
Adam stopped breathing.
His pupils shrank to pinpoints.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS?!"
Adam's brain slowly cracked open like an egg dropped from a balcony.
His soul whispered:
'We are NOT in Morocco anymore. This is definitely not normal Japan. Is this… the hidden Japanese Jinn realm? I've watched too much isekai anime. Did some jinn hear my wishes and drag me here as a joke? Are they going to eat me? My soul? My kidneys?'
His hands shook.
His blood ran cold.
"YA RABIIIIII…" (ohh my god!)
He tried to scream but only a squeak came out.
He forced himself to breathe.
Forced himself to smile.
Forced himself to act "normal"
Because he noticed the existence of normal looking people like him, although few, which mean they are coexisting.
'there is a hope for survival, i can't screw it, calm down Adam, don't act weird. gather intelligence.'
And the only way to gather intel…
was to ask someone.
He dare not ask these alien looking ones, so he searched for a safe target.
Adam spotted her like a starving man spotting a loaf of bread, she was the closest to him.
the only person in the entire alien hellscape who didn't look like she came out of a failed genetic experiment.
A petite girl, maybe junior high-school age.
Simple hoodie.
Soft expression.
Cat ears. A cat tail.
…Okay, maybe 20% alien. But still the most human so far.
moreover, she is a cat girl, that's one of his dream waifus!!!
Adam's survival instincts screamed: That one. That is the safest NPC. Approach the NPC. NPC gives tutorial. NPC explains the world. NPC gives quest. Go, Hantakour-Sama, go!
He wiped the sand off his arms (which only made it worse), straightened his tank top (still terrible), and forced his best friendly sunny smile.
Unfortunately, Adam's "best friendly smile" was not friendly at all.
Because childhood orthodontic neglect had cursed him with naturally sharp canines that curled forward like accidental vampire fangs.
Adam stepped closer.
The girl froze.
He bowed slightly, trying to be polite, and spoke in the only Japanese words he had ever used consistently in real life.
"Konnichiwa! Itadakimasu?"
(literal translation : Hello, I humbly Receive)
In his mind, he thought he was saying:
Hello! I humbly Need your Help?
What the cat girl understood was:
"Hello. I'm about to eat you."
The girl's soul left her body, she took a step back in fright.
From her perspective:
A 6-foot, sand-covered boy approaching her in slow motion…
Sunlight flashing off his vampire fangs…
Eyes weirdly wide because he was desperately trying to look friendly and show his pure eyes but it made him look like a wretched uncle…
And then he says "Itadakimasu."
A phrase universally known to mean I give thanks for the food I am about to eat.
Adam, noticing her panic, thought: 'Oh no, she didn't get it. Okay, think… think! What would Luffy or Naruto do? Be cute! Be hopeful! Be shonen protagonist friendly!'
He raised both hands slowly, palms open, trying to show he was harmless.
Adam continued, trying to sound cute and friendly, like luffy or naruto:
"Ore wa kaizoku ou ni naru! datibayooo"
(I am going to become the Pirate King!)
What Adam thought he said:
"I'm friendly! I'm hopeful! I'm a dreamer like Luffy! Please help me!"
What the cat girl interpreted:
"I'm going to become the Pirate King,
starting with Eating You!"
Her pupils shrank into dots.
"KYAAA!!!HE WANTS TO EAT MEEE!!!" She screamed, quickly jumped backward like a frightened cat, Her cat tail puffed up like a feather duster thrown in water.
She pointed at him with pure terror.
"This! This thing!!!"
"He's going to eat me!!!"
The passerby's erupted a symphony of chaotic panic, excitement, and fear.
"See!!! i told you he look like A crazy Villain!!!"
"He Gonna eat her!"
"Heroes, where are the heroes!"
People backed away.
Phones came out to record the crime scene.
Someone shouted for a hero.
and some were watching with anticipation what will happen next.
A guy, blue skin, four eyes, recorded him while eating chips.
"Yo yo yo! This is gonna go viral. 'Sand Covered Foreigner going crazy!' Let's gooo!"
seeing such a strong reaction Adam start waving his hands and desperately tried to explain.
"Help, Omae wa mou shindeiru—!!"
(you are already dead)
What Adam thought he said : Help, me I'm going to die.
The crowd: "NANI!?!?!?!"
Half the street ducked like he was about to explode or unleash a powerful move.
Adam's brain melted.
WHY ARE THEY MORE AFRAID NOW?!
WHY ARE THEY DUCKING?!
WHY ARE THEY RUNNING AWAY?!
I'M NOT A TERRORIST!
I just want to ask a fucking simple question! this is so racist!!!
He didn't give up.
One last attempt.
He raised both hands pleadingly and shouted, still keeping his 'sunny friendly smile':
"Matte! YAMATTE KUDASAI! Onegai!!"
What it sounded like, with his fanged smile and cracked voice:
"STOP RUNNING! PLEASEn LET ME EAT YOU PROPERLY!!"
The entire street detonated into more screams.
People scattered in every direction—
some climbing lampposts,
others rolling under cars,
And the cat girl, feeling targeted.
She sprinted so fast her tail created a sonic boom,
vanishing into the distance with a Doppler-shifted scream.
Adam stood there, hands still outstretched in a gesture of absolute, catastrophic failure.
He had done it.
He had accidentally committed verbal terrorism.
His survival instincts sharpened from growing in the Moroccan streets finally snapped.
He swears he could feel some kind of trouble is coming!
'NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! ABORT MISSION!! NPC IS BUGGED!! WORLD IS HOSTILE!! ALIEN COPS ARE COMMING!!!'
He turned around with the speed of a startled ostrich
—and SPRINTED FOR HIS LIFE.
"YAAAAAAAA RABIIIIIIIIII!!"
People screamed again as he rushed past.
"He's charging!!"
"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!"
"I TOLD YOU HE WAS A VILLAIN!!!"
Someone threw a shoe at him for no reason.
Adam didn't look back.
He didn't dare.
He just ran, sand falling off him like a shedding monster.
Sakura petals flew around him in slow motion.
People in panic scattered behind him.
It looked like a dramatic anime chase sequence.
But in reality, it was just a terrified Moroccan teenager trying not to get arrested, killed, eaten, or sealed by Japanese jinn/aliens.
'I need to go back! Back to the beach! Back to where I spawned!! That was the safe zone! The respawn point! The tutorial area!!!'
His lungs burned. His legs wanted to file a complaint. But fear turned him into a track star.
He barreled down the clean white road, past confused civilians.
'Beach. Beach. Beach. SAFE ZONE'
His mind repeated it like a prayer.
He reached the top of the stairs, stumbled down them, He was back in the mountains of trash. His territory.
He scanned the apocalyptic landscape. He needed to be invisible. He needed a hiding spot so cliché, so ridiculous, that no high-tech alien cop would bother looking.
And there it was.
Tilted against a rusted car chassis, half-buried in a hill of plastic bottles: a giant, white, industrial FREEZER. The kind that belongs in a butcher's shop or a horror movie.
Adam scrambled over the trash, threw open the freezer lid, it groaned in protest like an elderly demon, and was about to leap in when a thought, as sharp and cold as the metal, hit him.
'MY FOOTPRINTS, YOU IDIOT!'
He had left a clear footprints all the way from the Junk Fortress to the Scene of Verbal Crime and back. The police would just follow the golden path straight to his fridge-coffin.
PANIC 100%
He couldn't use his hands, that would leave new prints.
He needed something wide.
Something soft.
Something round...ahem
Something that could erase sand without leaving its own distinctive pattern.
His eyes scanned the junks with frantic urgency.
Then...he saw it.
Half-buried under a fishing net and a broken PVC pipe, like a treasure...
A large, deflated rubber dinghy.
The cheap, floppy kind kids kick around in the summer.
Six feet long. Wide. Soft. Perfect.
A plan formed in his head.
He yanked the dinghy by its rope handle and dragged the sad, floppy rubber corpse toward the start of his footprint trail.
He dropped the dinghy over his earliest prints.
Then, climbing onto the edges of the dinghy like he was operating a gigantic, soggy sandal, he slowly painstakingly dragged the deflated rubber boat backward over his own tracks.
The effect was… shockingly good.
The soft underside didn't create new prints, it just smoothed the sand into a natural, slightly messy patch.
It looked less like someone erased something and more like:
"Hmm, perhaps a large piece of garbage gently rolled here."
Nature at work.
Totally innocent.
No possible forensic value.
It took minutes. Agonizing minutes.
Every few feet, he had to stop:
reposition the dinghy,
drag it again,
pray no one was watching this crime-scene-tampering interpretive dance.
By the time he neared the freezer, sweat dripped down his face, his arms shook, and the dinghy looked more tired than he did.
Adam, whispering, panting : "This is the most stressful thing I've done… since my last Calculus exam…"
He positioned the dinghy for the final sweep, erased the last footprint, and slid headfirst into the freezer like a man escaping Hell.
Operation Footprints Erasure: Completed.
Crime trail: obliterated.
Dignity: questionable.
Inside the metal tomb, it was pitch black, cold, and faintly smelled of fish.
He Curled up like a terrified shrimp.
Darkness. Silence. Only his own panting breath.
'…Okay… okay… this is fine… they won't find me here, probably.'
He hugged his knees tightly.
Adam finally exhaled, a shaky sigh of relief.
Every breath came out shaky, Now that the adrenaline was draining out of his system, exhaustion suppressed until now by sheer survival instinct crashed into him like a tsunami.
'so tired...as if I sacrificed ten years of lifespan.'
He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, trying to gather even a sliver of strength.
But the lack of oxygen in the enclosed freezer made it impossible. His lungs struggled. His head spun. A dizzy fog swallowed his thoughts.
'No, I can't faint...If I close my eyes, I might never wake up again!'
Using the same stubborn willpower forged through countless sleepless nights binge-reading webnovels, he fought the suffocating tide of sleep.
He didn't know how long he stayed like that before...
WEEWOO—WEEWOO—WEEWOO—
The sharp wail of a police siren stabbed through the silence.
Adam's eyes widened inside the freezer, his blood turned to ice.
'Ya rabi… they found me already?!'
The siren grew louder.
Closer.
Until it stopped.
'Probably near the stairs' Adam pictured the map of the area in his mind, estimating the position of the car from memory alone.
Adam slammed both hands over his mouth to hold his breath, in hope to lower his presence.
His heart pounded so violently that he was sure even the freezer walls could hear it.
He heard the sound of car doors being opened and closed.
Footsteps descended the stairs, crunched over sand.
Two men.
Two deep, muffled Japanese voices.
"Sector C, eastern shore. Witnesses said the foreign kid ran this way. We're checking for any traces," the older one said into his walkie-talkie.
"The footprints end before the stairs. Either he jumped into this junk heap or he deliberately misled us," the younger muttered, bending to inspect the sand.
Adam, curled in the freezer, understood nothing.
Even after all the anime he'd watched.
'If only there were subtitles...' He thought
he heard the footsteps and the dialogue getting closer to his hiding area.
"Tamagi-san, if he choose to hide in this junks, how are we supposed to find him?"
Adam felt his soul evaporate.
'Ya Rabbi, I'm finished… they gonna dissect me… take my kidneys… feed my organs to alien dogs…'
Adam's squeezed his eyes shut.
He pressed his sweaty forehead against the cold metal, fingers clenched, and started a frantic, silent prayer, a desperate plea to the only one who could truly hide him.
'Ya Allah. Ya Rabbi. Ya Rabbi!'
He repeated the Dua (supplication) of protection, the one he had read about, the one about concealment from evil.
"Wa ja'alnā min bayni aydīhim saddan wa min khalfihim saddan fa-aghshaynāhum fahum lā yubṣirūn."
(And We have placed before them a barrier and behind them a barrier and covered them, so they do not see.)
He repeated it. Again. And again. Louder in his heart. A desperate mantra.
'Ya Rabb, please hide me. I promise! I promise, I will never watch haram graphics again! I will delete everything haram, I'll block those sites, I'll start praying! I will fast every Monday and Thursday! Just please, please blind them to this freezer!'
outside the freezer.
Tamagi-san lowered his walkie-talkie and sighed.
"Find him?"
"Tachibaya-boy, we're not paid enough. We're law enforcers, not heroes. They said someone threatened to eat people, but there's no damage and the foreign kid looked mentally unstable. No casualties, no quirks involved. No danger. Why waste effort?"
"Huh?" The younger man hesitated, then stared at the mountains of junk and suddenly felt as lazy as a sloth. "You're right, Tamagi-san… it's pointless. Let's go back. I haven't even eaten breakfast."
Tamagi-san nodded in satisfaction, the young man was also good at being resourceful like him.
Tamagi-san then activated the walkie talkie and reported : "Sector C, eastern shore clear, No trace of the target."
Breakfast on me," he added.
"Oh? You sure? I eat a lot, Tamagi-san."
"Heh. Want to compete? Loser pays the bill."
"Bring it! I'll win!"
Their laughter faded as their footsteps retreated.
Up the stairs.
To the car.
Doors slammed.
The engine roared.
The siren flared, then faded, disappearing into the distance.
Adam lay in the darkness. Silent. Still. Waiting.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. The silence was absolute.
'Safe!!! Alhamdulillah!!!(thanks god!!!) i'm safe!!!'
He was safe. The dua worked!
Adam didn't cheer. He just started... to cry.
The tears weren't relief. They were thick, hot, and humiliating. They stained the sand on his cheeks and ran down his neck, mixing with the fish-smelling condensation of the freezer.
He was alone. In a fridge. In a hostile, alien Japanese country.
"Mama..."
The word ripped out of his throat, a tiny, broken sound.
Her face appeared in his mind, tired, stressed, but always a light in her eyes when she looked at him. He saw his two sisters: the eldest forced to become an adult too early, And the youngest, just a little girl who still thought Adam was a cool older brother, even though he was a total waste of space.
'Dad...I'm sorry...'
It had only been a few months since the funeral.
"Adam," his father's voice, rough but kind, echoed in his mind.
"You are the man of the house now. Look after your mother. Take care of your sisters. Be strong."
And what had Adam done?
"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry! I'm useless! I'm nothing!" he sobbed, clutching his chest as if his heart were tearing itself apart.
He wasn't the man of the house. He was the extra of the house.
He spent his days glued to the screen, escaping reality with Naruto, One Piece, and those sinful, Haram graphics to vent the frustration of losing his father, of not being a true man as his father wished, and instead being a burden.
"I'm a disappointment! To Mama! To my sisters, To you, Dad! To the whole world! and most importantly, To My creator!
"I don't deserve to be alive!"
He curled into a ball, his breathing hitching with every confession. The guilt was a physical thing, a crushing weight heavier than the junk outside. His faith, his spiritual ambition, it all felt like a childish lie against the reality of his overflowing, filthy desires.
He was a hypocrite. A sinner. A failure. He had forgotten God in times of ease, and now begged Him in desperation. He deserved to be forgotten. yet he wasn't, Protected. Spared.
"I don't deserve your mercy my god...I don't deserve it...I'm such a failure..."
But then, out of the blackness, a whisper of a thought, not a sound, not a voice, but a wave of profound, a warmth bloomed inside him. It was a thought so strong, so clear, it seemed to override the static of his self-loathing.
"O My servants who have transgressed against themselves [by sinning]—do not despair of the mercy of Allah: for Allah forgives all sins: for He is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful."
Adam lost control of his tears, He cried harder. Not in sorrow, but in a torrent of overwhelming, undeserved grace.
"Astaghfirullah. Astaghfirullah. Astaghfirullah!"(I seek forgiveness from God.)
He kept repenting, seeking forgiveness, all his sins, all his negligence, flashed before him, he regrated doing what he did, he regrated it deeply and felt ashamed to the degree of despising himself.
Instead of seeking god for strength, and blessings for his family.
he had drowned himself in distractions.
That…
that was true failure.
His chest felt like it was tearing open, releasing the accumulated toxic guilt
He raised his hands in the darkness.
"Ya Rabb!" he whispered, the sound thick with snot and tears. "You are the one who said, and what You say is the truth: 'Is He not the One who answers the distressed when they call upon Him and removes evil?'
"Ya Allah… I don't know how I got here! I don't know what's happening! I'm clueless! I'm weak! I have nothing to rely on except You!"
"I know! I know in the times of ease I was immersed in life, immersed in watching anime, playing games, and even… sinning and disobeying You! I deserve punishment! I deserve to be forgotten by You in the time of hardship, just like how I forgot You, my Lord, in the time of ease! But I know!"
His voice broke, then solidified with a desperate, pure-hearted conviction.
"I know You are the Most Benevolent, the Most Merciful! Your Mercy is before Your Anger! So please, my Lord, Ya Rabb, give me another chance! Guide me, and give me strength, and guidance! Not for me! But for my mother and sisters! I can't worry them anymore! They can't withstand the blow of my disappearance! I promise You! I will do my best to stop sinning! I'll do good deeds! I'll become a better believer!"
The plea was finished. He poured everything out, months of grief, guilt, fear from the day his father died, in the metallic freezer.
And when his voice finally ran dry, his body collapsed.
Adam fell asleep, like a baby.
peacefully, purely.
Unseen, unknown to the world.
And little did anyone know.
that in a filthy, forgotten freezer,
the greatest hero this world would ever witness
was just born.
Quietly.
Shamefully.
Beautifully.
---
A Reminder, My Dear Brothers and Sisters, From My Heart to Yours
I know why you are here. I know the comfort of losing yourself in a story, using novels to escape a reality that feels too heavy, I'm not here to preach to you from a distance, I'm likely older than many of you, and I am speaking from the trenches. I have been exactly where you are, and I want to offer you a shortcut to avoid the mistakes I made.
We often let our sins stay our hands from prayer. We think, "How can I face Him like this?" But listen to me, No matter how heavy your burden feels, no matter how many, how big, or how dangerous your mistakes seem, the mercy of Allah is far greater than your capacity to sin.
Think of all the mercy you've ever witnessed: the way a mother looks at her child, the compassion of a stranger, even the tenderness an animal shows its young. All of that, every bit of love ever felt on earth, is only one part out of a hundred.
The Prophet ﷺ told us that Allah has kept ninety-nine mercies reserved for the Day of Judgment.
He is Ar-Rahman, Ar-Rahim. If you truly understand this, you will realize that your sins, which come from simple human weakness and desire, should never keep you from Him. They are the very reason you should run to Him, not away. Stand up as quickly as you can. Come back with a broken heart if you must, but just come back.
The path of return doesn't require a map or a massive burst of strength. It starts with a moment of brutal, beautiful honesty. It starts with a genuine dua.
Turn to Him right now and say it with shame, with powerlessness, and with a heart that doesn't want to stay in darkness, with a heart that desires to see light:
"Ya Allah, I want to return to You, but I can't. I don't have the strength. I am stuck. So please, help me. Guide me back, because I cannot find the way on my own."
That's it. Just that simple cry for help.
If you try this now, with a genuine heart (better just when you are about to sleep, because that's the closest you are to death, we believe as Muslims Allah take our souls when we are asleep), you will begin to find yourself moving toward the light without even realizing how your feet are moving. You will find a power returning to you that isn't your own.
I'm sorry to remind you of death while you're trying to escape reality in these pages. But I say it because I love you for the sake of Allah, we don't know when our time is up. It could be after this very chapter. Don't wait until you feel "worthy" to talk to Him. You are worthy of His mercy simply because He is the Most Merciful.
Try it now. Before you turn the page.
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