Rye crossed the street and got hit by a truck.
He had planned to head home, right after buying a sketchbook he saw on a newly released anime. It inspired Rye to get back to drawing. A long, long time after quitting.
But now – he was robbed of that opportunity because of some stupid driver. He wanted to draw all this time, only quitting to spend time with friends and family — but — he really, really did want to get back to drawing.
Rye couldn't anymore.
He was on the brink of death.
The sketchbook, a black-orange cover with thick paper, fell on the crossroads with a soft thud. Rye stared at it as he clawed on the ground.
"Agghh…" Rye groaned, though, his vision already faded. The world turned black. The pain vanished.
His crushed ribs, broken spine, and limp body all dissipated into nothingness like burnt paper. He couldn't feel anything anymore in this dark void. The flash of the truck didn't even light up his eyelids.
The world was all dark.
It was scary.
———
[Initializing… 1%... 49%... 99%...]
Ding!
[You've been granted an Artist's System.]
[Reincarnation Complete.]
———
Rye blinked and immediately, he saw a ceiling he didn't recognize. No, it's not even a ceiling. More like the bottom of an upper bunk bed.
Maybe they rushed him to a hospital. But why under a bunk-bed?
Wooden planks, wooden bed, wool mattress. It wasn't fluorescent nor was it sterile white. Is this really a hospital? Rye's pretty sure it wasn't their house either.
He took a look around and then stood up. Rye's forehead felt cold. When he stood up, a wrinkled towel fell on the ground with a wet thud.
When he leaned down to pick up the towel—his eyes widened and nerves started to pop.
'What the hell?'
His arms were short and skinny. Not his own hands at all. It looked like something a 7-year-old child would have, not a teenager. Obviously underdeveloped for someone his age.
What could be happening… wasn't he supposed to be dead? At least, the place should've looked like a hospital. His body isn't his either.
Rye fell on the ground. His butt slammed on wooden floorboards from the sheer shock. "What is happening?"
As if life came crashing down on him with all the surprises, his voice, too, didn't sound like his own. It sounded like a young boy's pre-puberty. Annoyingly whiny and high-pitched.
Eyes widening even more – if that's even possible –
Rye screamed with all he had.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
***
With all the information Rye could gather — he indeed got reincarnated in another world. The truck's death was a key to it.
Most isekai's start with the mc dying to a truck. Rye had watched and read enough novels to know that much.
But still — that sketchbook cost him 80php… he didn't even get to use the thing.
But whatever, right? It's another world. Rye can just draw here, his dream of becoming an artist can be reached. Not like it's gonna be worse than his previous life.
For fuck's sake, he lived in the Philippines. Anything else can be better.
'Goodbye friends, family, and internet access…! I'll be sure to live this life to the fullest for all of you.' Rye said teary-eyed.
Back to important matters, Rye realized he has a system. Really. A system screen that coincidentally, looked like his expensive sketchbook. A black-orange panel.
Called an "Artist's System".
[System Initializing…]
[System Completed.]
/-/
[Name]: Rye Scarrow
[Level]: 3
[Pathway]: Artist
Tips: (The system-pathway is exclusive to you, and you only. Hide it to get advantages in fights and learn other pathways to cover your system up. Discovery of the system could lead to death.)
Tips: (Your drawings will manifest as real attacks with the system. You can create whatever you want with the system's help. Though, that depends on mastery, art skills, and understanding of the rules. Mana and level is a huge thing too. Make sure to level up.)
/-/
Rye closed the panel and sighed. He'd read enough.
But isn't that exciting?
Drawing is a weapon in this new world. He'll use that thing wisely.
***
"Rye. Rye. Rye. Come on, is your sickness taking over again?" The voice of a distressed woman entered Rye's ears. Apparently, he's named the same in this new world. What a coincidence.
The woman; brown-haired, clad in green dress and an apron, slid a bowl of soup in front of Rye's table. A steaming bowl full of herbs and meat.
"I'm fine now, mom." He replied to his new 'mother'.
It has been twenty minutes since he screamed in that room earlier. When he headed out, this woman teared up and hugged him, so Rye could guess it's his mother. She cooked in the house too so it's pretty obvious. And she looked to be in her mid-30's.
"Your sister's outside, she'd be shocked to see you. It's been a week since you could stand… Now, you even have the energy to scream." Mom teased, then slurped her own soup.
Rye didn't get any flooding memories, unfortunately.
He didn't know how to act with his new mother so he was always paranoid. One wrong word and she'll be suspicious. Who knows if she realizes he's from another world? The system could kill him.
Old Rye had been sick for a week. Maybe she'll believe him losing memories to a certain extent. That's good.
Still – it's really awkward to play pretend.
"Haaah," Rye sighed. He ate the soup, avoided the herbs, and took a bite on the wet meat. Probably pig…? He didn't know. But Rye wished rice was served alongside.
Oh, Filipino cuisine!
'I'll miss you with the contrast of this flavorless dish.'