The restaurant Anthony had chosen wasn't expensive, but it had that cozy, candlelit atmosphere he loved. Soft music played in the background, the smell of fresh pasta filled the air, and waiters walked by carrying steaming trays. To him, it was perfect: intimate, discreet, and special enough to celebrate three years with the woman he loved.
He adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath, and broke into a wide smile when she arrived.
"Love! You actually made it on time… that's great."
She only lifted her hand in a weak wave, as if forcing her own presence into the room. She sat down slowly, crossed her legs, and didn't even try to hide her tired sigh. Her gaze wandered, stuck on her phone screen, then the door, then nowhere at all.
But Anthony was far too radiant to notice the warning signs.
"Three years, huh?" He let out a small laugh, nerves tinged with happiness. "I was remembering our first date today… you remember? That empty movie theater?"
"Uh… kind of." She toyed with a strand of hair, emotionless.
"Ah, yeah, sure…"
Anthony thought it was just fatigue. Maybe a rough week. Maybe the food hadn't arrived yet. He kept smiling, trying to hold the mood together.
"I wanted to use today to… well, to say thank you."
She lifted her eyes, but not out of interest — out of obligation.
"Thank me for what?"
"For staying by my side all this time. For believing in me. I… I know I get a bit clumsy sometimes, but you—"
"Anthony."
Her voice came cold, hard, leaving no room for illusions.
He stopped.
A waiter walked by with steaming plates. A couple at the next table toasted with wine.
But at their table, the air grew heavy.
"We need to talk."
His heart tightened.
It was the last thing any excited boyfriend wanted to hear on their anniversary.
"Is everything okay? You seem—"
"I don't want this anymore."
Direct. Raw. Without a hint of hesitation.
Anthony blinked a few times.
"Y-You don't want… the dinner?"
"The relationship."
The table shook when he pressed his hand down hard, trying to anchor himself to a reality less cruel.
"W-What are you saying…? We've been together for three years…"
She sighed, like someone pulling off a bandage from a wound that no longer hurts.
"Exactly. Three years. And I don't feel anything anymore, Anthony. Nothing worth holding onto."
He felt his throat close.
"But— I… made plans for us. I took care of you. I even helped you with your issues with your mother. I thought—"
"I know."
Her eyes drifted away, the way they always did when she told half-truths.
"But it's not enough. I don't want this anymore."
Anthony tried searching her face for some affection. For regret. For anything that could prove this was just a bad moment.
But she was distant.
Distant like someone who already had somewhere else to run.
Distant like someone who had already chosen another path — or another person.
He swallowed hard.
"This is all because you're already with someone else, isn't it…?"
She froze for half a second — just enough for him to notice.
"That's not what this is about."
It was exactly what it was about.
Anthony stood up so fast that the chair screeched against the floor. His eyes burned, his breath was uneven, his chest tight.
"O-Okay." he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Sorry for bothering your day."
And before anyone at the next table could notice the tears already falling, he left the restaurant practically running, stumbling at the door, ignoring the rain beginning to fall outside.
She just stayed there, staring at her phone.
A notification lit up.
"I'm here. Want to come over later?"
It was Anthony's childhood friend.
----------------------------------------
Anthony ran down the sidewalk like a child whose favorite toy had just been ripped from his hands. The light rain hit his face, but it was impossible to tell where the drops from the sky ended and his tears began.
He sobbed. Loudly. Desperately.
The kind of sobbing that would make any passerby look at him and think: "Wow… someone just lost their job, the love of their life, and maybe the dog too."
And worse, he was ugly-crying.
Runny nose.
Uneven breathing.
Face all twisted.
That expression no human being would ever want to see reflect—
"OH GOD, THE STORE WINDOW REFLECTION!"
He saw his own distorted face in the glass of an electronics shop.
Horrible. Tragic. Comical.
He looked like a mix of a "sad clown" with a "soaking wet cat about to be adopted out of pity."
And while he ran, his mind played a humiliation slideshow:
"I gave her that giant teddy bear on her birthday…"
"I stood up to her mother for her… the CATHOLIC MOTHER! She still hates me!"
"I made that vegan dinner even though I hate broccoli…"
"And I even bought that ridiculously expensive necklace… the one she said she'd 'cherish'… and never wore…"
Each memory was an emotional slap.
Slap after slap.
He was emotionally bruised already.
"I'M AN IDIOT!"
He shouted in the middle of the street, utterly overtaken by chaos. A woman crossing the road dodged him like he was a stray animal.
He knew. He always knew he was clumsy, naive, too flexible, and even said "sorry" when someone bumped into him for no reason at all.
But this pain… that specific little pain…
It hurt like someone had set his tiny heart inside a rat trap.
And then—
He stopped feeling the ground.
Anthony took two more steps in mid-air.
Yes. In mid-air.
He looked down slowly.
With that primitive instinct telling you that you've just done something stupid.
Under his feet… there was no ground.
Only a dark hole, comfortably big enough for someone to fall into and become a morning-news statistic.
An uncovered manhole, black as his emotional future.
He didn't even have time to think:
"Uh-oh."
Gravity, which had just been watching until now, decided to clock back in.
And pulled him.
"WAAAHOO-HOO-HOO-HOOEY—!!"
He fell, screaming like a cat being thrown into a cold bath.
The echo made it sound like ten Anthonys were screaming at once.
And with that…
The darkness swallowed him whole.
----------------------------------------
The fall seemed to last an eternity until—
—SMAAACK!
Anthony hit the ground face-first.
The impact echoed, as if he had passionately kissed the floor.
"Ow… my… spine… I think I broke my spine…"
He rolled onto his back, staring into the absolute nothingness above him. Nothing. No light, no shadows, no walls. Just infinite darkness. A void so complete it felt like his eyes had been switched off.
"Where… where am I?"
"In the existential void."
The answer came softly, almost musical.
Anthony turned at once — and his eyes widened.
There, walking toward him with the vibe of an overworked civil servant, was a very abnormal cat.
It had yellow and white fur with brown stripes, slightly glowing green eyes, and wore a dark green hooded cloak. On its back it carried a small purple backpack, adorable and suspicious at the same time.
And it walked on two legs naturally, as if that were the most normal thing in the universe.
"W-Well… hi?" Anthony muttered.
"Hello!" the cat nodded with a feline smile. "I'm Satus! Responsible for handling souls in the afterlife. Something like… an attendant, supervisor, therapist, and babysitter for dead people."
Satus clapped his paws together, and a dark wooden office desk appeared out of nowhere.
A chair lifted Anthony off the ground by force and dragged him to the desk, while another chair popped up behind Satus, who sat down normally.
"Let's see… let's see…"
Satus snapped his fingers, and a stack of documents appeared on the desk, along with a pen that seemed to be made of light.
He began flipping through the pages, green eyes scanning line after line.
"Anthony James. Twenty-seven years old. Born in… mhm… high-earning lawyer… comfortable life… emotionally gullible… ah, that explains a lot…"
Anthony winced.
"I—I wasn't that gullible…"
"Yes, you were."
He flipped another page.
"Three-year relationship… ah, I get it. Suffered emotional manipulation level… eight out of ten. Pretty severe. Salvageable, but you're not exactly popular in the self-esteem department."
Anthony sighed.
"I… I know."
Satus turned to another page.
He froze.
And then… he started laughing.
"YOU FELL INTO A SEWER HOLE?! AHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD, THIS IS BEAUTIFUL! TRAGIC AND STUPID AT THE SAME TIME!"
Anthony covered his face in shame.
"I… I was emotionally unstable!"
"You were emotionally BLIIIND, that's what you were!" Satus wiped a tear of laughter. "Ah… it's been millennia since I laughed like that. Thank you."
Anthony just grumbled.
After a few more minutes of reading — accompanied by comments like "Hmm, typical…", "Oh wow, embarrassing…", and "Your romantic decision-making should be illegal" — Satus finally stopped on a specific page.
"Oho. This inheritance is a mess."
Anthony swallowed hard.
"Ah…"
"You put all your assets, properties, savings, and investments under your girlfriend's name."
Satus closed the folder with a tap.
"Man… this is so naïve it's almost cute. Cute… and utterly pathetic."
Anthony sank into the chair.
"She… said it was just for safety…"
"Uh-huh. And I'm a stuffed cookie."
Satus rolled his eyes.
"Look, since you're dead, the paperwork here gives a posthumous transfer option. Out of pity — and because I'm a kindhearted cat — you can change your inheritance beneficiary."
Anthony blinked, surprised.
"R-Really? I can?"
"Yes. It's that or your ex buys a mansion with a heart-shaped pool while celebrating with your childhood friend."
"…A charity."
Anthony murmured without hesitation.
"Send everything to one that helps disabled children."
Satus smiled proudly.
"Good choice, kid."
He snapped his fingers and all furniture vanished with a poof, leaving them standing in the darkness again.
"Now, onto the important part."
He snapped his fingers again, and a massive spinning wheel appeared, shining with names, logos, titles, and things Anthony recognized from anime, comics, novels, and literature.
"On this wheel is every fictional world you personally know. It's a lot… but don't worry, the universe chooses for you."
Anthony gulped.
"I… I'm going to be reincarnated?"
"Yes. Just like in anime."
Satus pushed the wheel.
It spun fast — very fast.
Anthony was sweating.
He recognized names whizzing by: Naruto… One Piece… Berserk… Dead Space...
The wheel began to slow.
Until—
WARHAMMER 40K
"N-No… NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT HELLHOLE!"
Satus looked at the wheel.
Sighed.
And gave it a gentle tap.
CLACK.
The wheel shifted to the next space.
MY HERO ACADEMIA
Anthony had never been so relieved in his life — literally.
"There." Satus said, walking toward him. "It's decided."
He took the purple backpack off his shoulders and set it in front of Anthony.
"Now, put your hand in and take your gift."
Anthony reached in.
Then his forearm.
Then his elbow.
Then his shoulder.
The bag seemed bottomless.
"It's… deeper than I expected…"
Until his fingers touched something — and he pulled out a glowing green orb.
Before he could ask—
An invisible force yanked him off the ground.
"Wha—?! I'M GOING UP?! HEY! HEY!"
Satus waved calmly, like he was saying goodbye to someone catching a bus.
"That's everything. Good luck in your new life. Don't die again, okay? And try not to fall into another sewer hole!"
Anthony was pulled upward and swallowed by a blinding light before disappearing from the void.
----------------------------------------
Anthony woke up with a jolt, like someone who had just fallen off a building and accidentally landed on a mattress. The ceiling was white, the air smelled like old dust, and the mattress was surprisingly comfortable for someone who had literally died in the sewers.
He blinked a few times, trying to understand where he was, until he noticed a folded piece of paper resting on his lap. Hesitantly, he opened the note.
"Good morning, newborn. I took care of your paperwork, records, school history, and identification. As far as everyone is concerned, you've always lived here. Don't get into trouble too soon. — Satus"
Anthony took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders. He ran a hand down his face… and then realized something was very, very off. The bone structure was sharper. The nose wasn't his. The jawline was more elegant. He ran his hand through his hair, and even that felt wrong—straighter, nicer, more… professional?
A wave of curiosity took over him, and he stumbled out of the bedroom, heading to the door beside it, which looked like the bathroom. He flipped on the light, braced himself on the sink, lifted his head…
And almost had a heart attack.
He stared at the mirror with the expression of a man who had just seen a ghost.
Hideo Kojima.
He was Hideo Kojima.
Literally.
Anthony leaned closer to the mirror, touching his cheeks, his nose, his jawline. He pulled at the skin, raised his eyebrows, turned his head side to side. It was absurd. It was surreal. It was… wonderful.
"Look at this geometry… dear God… I became Kojima…" he whispered, half in awe, half in panic.
After several minutes of absolute self-analysis, he stumbled back to the bedroom in complete shock. He walked to the window and pulled the curtains open. Outside, the streets were buzzing with life. Normal people walked alongside individuals with metal skin, insect arms, bird heads, a guy with his head on fire, shining people, people who probably weren't people.
Yup. He really was in My Hero Academia.
Anthony sat at the edge of the bed and took a long breath.
"Well… at least it's not Warhammer." He thanked the heavens sincerely.
His shoulders relaxed a little.
"I've only watched like three seasons… and I barely remember what happens in them…" he muttered, before falling backward like a corpse being dropped. He lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, absorbing everything.
And then a lightbulb went off in his mind.
He shot up.
"WAIT! If I'm in MHA… then I must have a power! Everybody has a power here!"
Excitement hit him like pure caffeine.
He stood up, took a deep breath, stretched his arm forward dramatically and…
"Power activate!"
Nothing.
He closed his fist and pointed to the ceiling.
"Shazam! … wait, no, that's the other universe…"
Nothing.
He made a hand gesture.
Then another.
Then about twenty more.
He spun around, tried throwing a punch, tried saying catchphrases, tried doing shonen hero poses, tried imitating All Might, tried meditating like a Buddhist monk.
Absolutely nothing.
Frustrated, he started producing a series of confused sounds while trying to imagine his possible power manifesting.
"Eneeeergyyy… super power… activate… c'mon, for the love of—!"
And before he could continue his extremely pathetic performance, something slammed against the door with enough force to shake his soul.
"BOY!" The voice was raspy, dragged-out, and filled with years of accumulated hatred. "EITHER YOU KEEP QUIET OR I'LL COME THERE AND TEACH YOU THE MEANING OF SILENCE!"
Anthony froze mid-pose, one finger pointed at the ceiling like a villain caught on a hidden camera.
He slowly opened the door.
In front of him stood an elderly lady.
A very elderly lady.
The kind who looked like she had been sculpted by anger itself.
Wrinkled frown, floral robe, worn-out slippers, and eyes that said "I have yelled at children, adults, heroes, villains, and newborns alike."
"I– is there anything I can help you with, ma'am?" he asked.
"Yes! YOU CAN STOP MAKING NOISE! I've lived here for forty years and never heard such nonsense coming from one apartment alone! If you're summoning a demon, tell it to shut up too!" she barked, pointing a wrinkled finger right in his face.
Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but she turned around and left, grumbling, without giving him the chance.
"In my time nobody yelled 'shazam' at seven in the morning… clueless generation…"
The door closed by itself after her.
"Oookay… that's… something…" he muttered, walking slowly back inside. "First morning in a new world and I already got yelled at by an old lady…"
Anthony looked around the tiny rental apartment and sighed tiredly. The place wasn't big: a kitchen that was also the living room, a bedroom that doubled as emotional storage, and a bathroom apparently designed by someone who hated tall people.
He started rummaging through the drawers, curious to see what else Satus had left for him.
"Let's see who I am now, huh… dear me…" he murmured, still dazed.
Until he found a black, worn-out wallet. He opened it with the dramatic tension of someone expecting to uncover an ancient secret—or at least a few forgotten coins.
And there it was: the ID card.
Name: Anthony James
Age: 23
Nationality: American
Quirk: None.
The silence that followed was almost spiritual.
Anthony simply froze. Blinked.
And then… collapsed to his knees, arms raised to the heavens as if performing a Greek tragedy.
"NO WAY! EVEN IN ANOTHER WORLDDD?!" he screamed, crying with absolutely no elegance, his nose running.
"WHYYY?! NOT EVEN A LITTLE SPARK, A TINY FLAME, A GROWING NOSE, ANYTHING!''
He banged his head lightly on the bed—not enough to hurt, but enough to look dramatically pitiful.
"Not even a useless ability like turning into a toaster… nothing… life really hates me…"
And so, three months passed.
Three surprisingly normal months.
So normal that he sometimes even forgot he had reincarnated into another world. The only constant reminders were:
– heroes flying around like pizza delivery guys;
– villains causing a scene on TV;
– and people with exotic appearances walking down the streets as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Other than that… life was just like his previous one.
Almost too similar.
Satus had left a decent bank balance, enough for Anthony to avoid going hungry and still pay rent. But Anthony knew that if he wanted to survive… he needed to work.
First, he tried being a lawyer again.
The result?
Well… he ended up becoming a taxi driver.
----------------------------------------
It was Saturday, almost dawn, and Anthony dragged his beaten body back to the apartment.
He tossed the keys into a corner.
Kicked his shoes away.
And complained the entire way to the bathroom.
"That clingy couple is going to give me gastritis one day… KISSING LIKE THAT IN MY CAR, FOR FUCK'S SAKE…" he grumbled, rubbing his face. "Ahhh, driver this, driver that…"
He stepped into a quick shower, the water running as he exaggerated a feminine voice:
"Driver, no need to rush," he said with an affectionate tone.
"Driver, go slower, we're trying to enjoy the night… Right, honey?"
Then he imitated the boyfriend in a deep voice that sounded like an asthmatic dog:
"Ah, hey, dudeman… she's my girlfriend… hey, dudeman… I'm scared she'll get mad… hey, dudeman… I'm just a dudeman!"
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
A punch to the wall nearly made his heart leap out of his mouth.
"I TOLD YOU TO STOP MAKING NOISE, BOY!" yelled the voice of the elderly neighbor, the dreaded Mrs. Nakamura, owner of the building and terror of all tenants.
Anthony shrank like a soaked cat.
"S-Sorry, Mrs. Nakamura! It won't happen again!"
Silence.
"Damn old hag…" he muttered — quietly enough to keep living.
He walked to the bed, lay down still in his robe, and let out a deep sigh.
"I reincarnated for this… to be a taxi driver in a world of heroes… with no powers… the only difference is that now there are people with wings and arms that turn into jelly…"
He turned to the side, burying his face into the pillow.
And then… he started crying while sucking on his big toe like a baby.
"Life is so unfair… I just wanted to do better than last time… but now I'm a taxi driver… in Japan… WITH NO QUIRK…"
He shoved his face deeper into the pillow.
"Maybe I'll find another manhole… fall in… and wake up somewhere else… at least with the power to turn into a toaster…"
He stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Then lifted his head suddenly, eyes unfocused.
"I… think I forgot something…"
Blink.
"Hmm… nah. Must be paranoia."
And so he turned to the side, sighed…
And finally fell asleep.
But as Anthony slept deeply… the air suddenly folded above his bed, as if someone had crumpled space-time with their bare hands.
A black rift opened, and from it… emerged a small greenish, glowing sphere, pulsing with energy.
Before it could fall, a distant — and clearly exhausted — voice echoed from the rift:
"Multidimensional delivery nº 0031-AXY for… uh… Anthony James. Sorry for the delay, sweetheart, traffic between realities is a nightmare today."
The voice coughed.
"Good luck with that, okay?"
The rift zipped shut, and the sphere fell straight onto Anthony's forehead.
It was instantly absorbed, sinking into his skin like melted butter into a warm piece of toast.
Anthony rolled in bed.
Then rolled again.
Then tangled himself in the sheets.
Then half-fell out of them.
Then crawled back in.
And then started flailing.
And flailing more.
And flailing even more.
Until suddenly, HE SHOT UP STANDING ON THE BED, arms open, body stiff like a board as a bright green light exploded from his eyes and mouth.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAH—"
He didn't even finish the scream before spinning into a human tornado — and then chaos began.
Papers flew.
Books fell from shelves.
Dust everywhere.
The little spinning cyclone shot across the entire apartment, ricocheting like an unhinged pinball, until it slammed right into the window.
CRASH!
And out he went, plummeting from the 4th floor.
And then… inches from the ground… his body tensed as if someone had yanked an invisible handbrake.
He stopped, suspended a fingernail's distance from the ground.
And then… gently landed on the asphalt.
The streetlamp flickered as if unsure of what it was witnessing.
Until… it brightened.
Revealing Anthony bald. Bald, green, glowing, with a huge smile and teeth almost too big for his mouth.
He looked down at himself, at the horrible sleepwear he had on, and grimaced.
He spun once — a yellow blur — and reappeared in a flawless yellow suit with a shiny black tie.
He slid a hand along the jacket, adjusting it with exaggerated elegance.
"Ahh, now that's more like it, baby…"
He gave his blazer one last touch and stepped onto the street — just in time to be hit by a truck.
The truck braked so hard it almost skidded, and the driver jumped out, panicked.
"MY GOD, I KILLED SOMEONE—"
But he stopped.
Because Anthony was completely flattened on the ground.
No blood.
No broken bones.
He looked… like a human sticker.
"...…"
Anthony raised a flat hand in a little wave — with no bone-cracking sounds, because… there weren't any.
Then he peeled himself off the ground like a giant sticker, wobbling.
He straightened up, still thin as paper, put his thumb in his mouth, and inflated himself back to normal.
The truck driver backed up three steps, traumatized.
Anthony fixed his suit again, brushing off the dust.
"Ui, what a strange situation, dear~"
He winked at the driver.
"Next time, try being a teensy bit more careful… If it were someone else, they'd already be starring in some generic isekai. Now if you'll excuse me… daddy's got business to handle."
And he vanished, running so fast he left a yellow blur and a whirlwind of papers behind.
The driver just stood there, trying to process the complete collapse of his sanity.
"I… I think I'm taking a vacation…"