I stare down at my chest, the world narrowing to the gruesome, almost surreal sight. For a moment, it feels like I'm outside my own body, watching as blood wells up between my fingers, hot and slick, painting my palms a deep crimson. My hands shake violently, panic fighting with numbness, and I can't seem to press hard enough to stop the flow. The blood seeps between my fingers, streaming down in thick rivulets and pooling at my feet, glistening black in the dim alley lights. I shudder, teeth clenching, as a wave of cold sweeps through me. My heart pounds, erratic and weak, each beat a thunderclap that seems to echo inside my bones. My body is shutting down, but I grit my teeth, willing myself to stay upright, to hold on, even as the world tilts and wavers.
Shadows press in at the edges of my vision. My legs barely obey me as I stagger deeper into the alleyway, every step sending fresh agony lancing through my chest. The world blurs, colors running together, as a single memory sharpens into focus, cutting through the haze like a beacon: the soft blue glow of an old TV, the only source of warmth in the dim, echoing halls of the orphanage. Nights spent bathed in its light, the comforting hum of anime my only solace in a lonely world. The memory wraps around me, bittersweet and vivid, representing everything I've ever loved and lost. It swells and crashes over me, a haunting reminder of where I've come from and what I've endured.
A strangled sob cuts through the haze behind me. I force myself to turn, every movement slow and deliberate, every muscle screaming in protest. She stands there, her long blonde hair trembling with every shudder, tears tracing bright lines down her cheeks, hands pressed so tightly over her mouth that her knuckles turn white. Her eyes are wide, raw with terror and disbelief, searching my face for hope, for reassurance, for something I can't give. I want to comfort her, to tell her it'll be okay, but my voice catches in my throat. All I can do is clench my fist, fighting the tremor, and offer her a shaky, desperate smile.
Slowly, I force myself to face the man looming in front of us. His grin is monstrous, stretching across his face with a glee that curdles my blood. He throws his head back and laughs, a sound so sharp and manic it seems to bounce off the bricks, making the alley feel even narrower, the night even colder. The distant wail of sirens drifts in, thin and fragile, almost lost beneath the echo of his cackling. For a split second, I'd like to know if help will reach us in time, or if it's already too late.
Time is slipping away, each second stretching and snapping taut. If I freeze, he'll kill us both, wipe us out like we were never here. But if this is where my story ends, then hers will go on. The thought sears away my fear, steeling my nerves. I make my choice in an instant, resolve burning through the numbness.
With a surge of adrenaline, I hurl myself at him, catching him by surprise. We tumble to the ground, limbs tangling, desperation lending me a frantic strength. The gun glints between us, cold and deadly. I lock eyes with her, voice ragged and urgent: "Get out of here! Go! I can only hold him off for a little while!" She quivers, frozen in terror, and for a heartbeat, I fear she won't move. Then she runs, tears streaming, her footsteps echoing down the alley until they fade into the night.
We grapple in the dirt, both of us gasping, sweat and blood mingling as the gun twists in our hands. His strength is terrifying, but desperation has made me reckless, wild. My world shrinks to the struggle, the scrape of brick, the metallic tang of blood, the thunder of our hearts. Suddenly, the gun explodes in my hand—a deafening crack. Pain lances through me, white-hot and blinding. I reel back, collapsing onto the pavement. The world slows, sounds stretching into unbearable silence. The sky spins overhead, stars smearing across my vision. Somewhere, another gunshot rings out, but it comes from far away, as if underwater.
A face leans over me, swimming in and out of focus, an officer, edged by the strobe of red and blue lights. His lips move, speaking urgent words I can't quite hear over the roar in my ears. My chest heaves, each breath a battle. I dig deep, forcing my thoughts into words, desperate to know only one thing: "Is she alright? Did she get away?" My voice is a rasp, barely more than a whisper.
He seems to understand, nodding solemnly. Then, through the haze of pain and lights, she appears. Her face is streaked with tears, but she's alive. She's safe. Relief floods me, warm and overwhelming, pushing back the cold for one last, precious moment. I manage a trembling smile, gratitude, and peace mingling as the world blurs at the edges.
"I'm glad..." The words slip from my lips, soft as a sigh. My head tips back, surrendering to the darkness, gentle, silent, absolute. The last thing I feel is the warmth of relief, carrying me away.
All I see is dark. I'm engulfed in a darkness that feels like being submerged in black honey, thick and consuming. There's a sense of weight and pressure around me, accompanied by a faint hum, like a distant heartbeat syncing with my own. Suddenly, I feel a pull where my heart once was, a thread dragging me through the viscous void. My mind screams silently in fear, but before the cry can echo, the darkness vanishes, leaving only the trace of my terror.
I'm in a room like an office, with white walls, a wooden desk, paintings, and wall compartments. I glance down and sigh: 'Still no body. Nobody here. What am I supposed to do?' After a moment, a man enters through the door behind me. He wears a white doctor's coat and holds a clipboard. "Ah, let's see... Noah, is it?" he mutters. Questions whirl in my mind, one louder than the rest: 'Who the hell is this guy?'
As if reading my thoughts, he looks to where my head would be. "Ah, I forgot to introduce myself. Not that it matters. My name is irrelevant. I'm an angel and on a strict schedule, so let's be quick." I sigh mentally. 'So, I really am dead. At least the girl is safe.' The angel continues, his words precise and devoid of warmth. "Now, let's clarify your situation. You won't have choices here, and I will not entertain unnecessary questions. Do we have a mutual understanding?"
I hesitate, trying to parse what he's saying. How could I not have questions? He doesn't give me the chance to ask any, though. "You'll be transmigrated into a new world randomly. I won't tell you where. It'll be close to the start of the story, so if you've glimpsed that world before, there's a chance you'll recognize something. You'll have chakra, like from Naruto, and I'm giving you some memories and muscle memory of someone who just graduated from the academy. You'll know how to train and have basic info. You'll also keep any powers from the new world, if there are any. However, remember that chakra will work differently in this new world, adapting to its own laws and abilities. For instance, it might interact unpredictably with the powers in this world, and its usage could attract unwanted attention. Keep in mind that overusing chakra, or recklessly merging it with external abilities, could destabilize you or your surroundings. That's all the information I can give you," he states without emotion. Despite his stern demeanor, a hint of something else lingers in his eyes, a tired look, perhaps, or something more complex. "There are strict rules governing transmigration," he finally admits. "If I shared too much, it could ruin the balance that exists between worlds, and that's why I can only give you the essentials. This is an integral part of the process. Everything is tightly controlled." His words hang in the air, leaving little room for negotiation or curiosity. "Understood?"
I try to process everything as he moves on. "Hope so, because I won't explain again. Off you go." He presses a button, and the pull at my heart returns, much faster this time. 'I think I'm gonna hurl!'