Kutaro had always imagined that if he ever died, it would be during something dramatic.
Maybe saving someone from a burning building.
Maybe a heroic sacrifice in front of a speeding truck to protect a child—like those cringe isekai stories.
But reality, as always, had other plans.
Kutaro died because a grandma rammed into him with a bicycle.
Not even a motorcycle.
Not even a scooter.
A bicycle.
And that was possibly the most embarrassing achievement in his twenty-three years of existence.
Earlier that day, Kutaro stood in front of a convenience store's automatic door, staring at the ATM receipt in his hand.
Balance: 1,167 yen.
He blinked.
His brain refused to accept those numbers.
"One thousand... one hundred... sixty-seven yen..." he whispered.
The automatic door slid open, revealing the harsh outside world and his reflection: messy black hair, cheap jacket, dark circles under eyes—the manifestation of poor life choices. The door closed again, as if even the store pitied him.
The universe had been very clear for the past three months.
He was unemployed. He was single. He was poor. And most importantly, he was tired.
"Damn," Kutaro muttered, stuffing the receipt into his pocket. "This is rock bottom. No, this is the underground basement of rock bottom."
He stepped outside into the chilly late evening.
Japan was beautiful at night, but it held no comfort for a man who just realized his bank account could afford either bread or instant ramen—not both.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
He unlocked the screen with the energy of someone who desperately hoped the universe would give him something, anything.
It was from her.
Yui.
His crush for two years.
His coworker from the café that fired him three months ago.
The girl he confessed his feelings to last week.
Yui: I like you... as a friend. But I'm dating Kenji now. I hope we can still be close!
Kutaro felt something inside him snap. Not his heart—his dignity.
Kenji. The guy who wore sunglasses indoors and called himself "crypto enthusiast."
Of course she liked that guy.
Kutaro typed without thinking.
Kutaro: Haha! No worries! I'm fine, totally fine! Super fine!
Autocorrect added a smiley face.
Kutaro: :D
Perfect. Now he looked like a clown doing customer service.
He shoved his phone into his pocket, lowered his head, and walked down the sidewalk. His breath came out in pale fog.
"I'm sick of everything," he muttered. "Work hates me. Love hates me. Even the ATM hates me."
He kicked a pebble.
The pebble bounced off the street… then hit a passing salaryman's shoe.
The man glared. Kutaro bowed reflexively.
"Oh—sorry! My bad! Sorry!"
He walked faster, cheeks burning.
He needed to go home.
He needed to sleep.
He needed to wake up in another world where people didn't friendzone him and ATMs didn't mock him with receipts.
As he crossed the street, he heard a strange sound.
RING! RING! RIIIIING!!
He turned his head.
And there it was.
A bicycle.
More specifically, an elderly woman on a bicycle.
She pedaled with the intensity of a Tour de France world champion, except she was eighty years old and had the posture of a shrimp.
Her eyes were laser-focused.
Her headband said: "SPEED IS LIFE."
Her knees were pumping like pistons.
"What the hell—?!"
Kutaro froze.
She was coming directly at him.
Time slowed down.
He imagined his obituary:
Here lies Kutaro. Died single. Died broke. Died to a grandma bicycle.
He tried to step aside.
But the last thing he heard was:
"OUTTA MY WAY, SONNY!!"
THUD.
Darkness.
…
He was dead.
---
In the void, Kutaro couldn't see anything, but he could think.
Is this the afterlife? It's… cold.
He felt something pressing against his face. Cloth? Wood? His lungs struggled to expand.
He smelled dirt.
Wait.
Dirt?
Kutaro panicked. His eyes shot open.
Pitch black.
He wasn't lying on clouds or floating in heaven.
He was lying on his back. Inside a tight wooden box. With soil pressing down.
"I—what—WHERE AM I?!"
His breathing quickened.
The space was so cramped he couldn't even move his elbows. His legs were bound by something—cloth? Rope?
Kutaro thrashed, but the wooden walls pressed against him like a prison.
A horrible realization dawned on him.
"No way… Am I in a coffin?!"
His heartbeat accelerated into a frantic thumping.
He tried to scream, but dirt filled the cracks above him—some grains dropped into his mouth. His throat tightened.
"HEL—HELP!"
No answer.
No light.
Just his own terrified breathing inside a wooden box buried who knew how many meters underground.
He pushed against the coffin lid, but his strength was pathetic. He could barely push a door when it was stuck, let alone hundreds of kilos of dirt.
His thoughts spiraled.
Why am I underground?
Why am I wrapped like a corpse?
Did the hospital mix me with someone else?
Before panic swallowed him whole—
A sound echoed inside his brain.
[Initializing system boot sequence.]
Kutaro froze.
A digital chime reverberated inside his skull, clear and sharp.
The voice was robotic, calm, and unbelievably sarcastic.
[Congratulations, Host. You have successfully died.]
"…Thanks?" Kutaro muttered, offended.
[Cause of death: Elderly high-speed human-powered vehicle impact.
Translation: You got isekai'd by a grandma bicycle.]
"I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, YOU DON'T NEED TO SAY IT LIKE THAT!"
[Would you prefer: 'Run over like a discount pancake'?]
Kutaro swallowed hard. The coffin was too small to flail around, but emotionally, he did.
"What do you want from me?!"
[You have been selected as the Host of the Multi-Purpose Growth Assistance System.]
"…That sounds long."
[Just call me System. Or Supreme Ultimate Guide of Your pathetic—]
"System it is."
[Setting host identity: Name: Saori. Gender: Male. Race: Human. Status: Questionably alive.]
"Saori?!" Kutaro screeched. "Why Saori?! That sounds like a girl's name!"
[The original owner of this body was named Saori. You inherited his identity. Deal with it.]
Kutaro mentally screamed. He wanted to punch something. Preferably the System.
[Scanning status…]
A translucent blue screen appeared in his vision.
================================ Name: Saori
Level: 1
Class: None
HP: 6/10 (oxygen deprivation detected)
MP: 0
Strength: bad
Agility: also bad
Luck: worse
"…That's the status menu?! You didn't even write numbers properly!"
[Why waste numbers? It's obvious you're pathetic.]
Kutaro inhaled sharply.
"So tell me. How do I get out of here before I suffocate?"
[Easy. Just use your incredible strength to break the coffin lid and climb out.]
Kutaro pushed.
Nothing happened.
"I CAN'T!"
[Yes, that was sarcasm. Correct. You are too weak.]
Kutaro gritted his teeth.
"So what do I do?"
[New Quest Generated.]
[Quest: Don't Die (Again)]
Objective: Escape your burial site.
Reward: 1 Gacha Token.
Penalty for failure: Death.]
"You don't say."
[Hint: Try moving your right hand.]
Kutaro struggled. His fingers brushed something—thin fabric.
The corpse's burial cloth.
He grabbed it and pulled hard.
Rip.
His right arm freed.
He punched upward. The coffin lid shook. Dirt trickled in and hit his face.
He coughed.
[Warning: HP dropping due to lack of oxygen. Estimated survival time: three minutes.]
"NOT HELPING!"
He punched again.
Then again.
His knuckles hurt like hell, but he kept going.
Wood cracked.
More dirt poured in, smothering his face.
He spit dirt out and used both hands, adrenaline fueling him.
The coffin lid finally splintered.
Cold air rushed down as a chunk of soil collapsed.
He crawled, clawed, pushed.
Kutaro emerged from the grave like a muddy, screaming zombie.
He lay there, chest heaving, half-buried in dirt under the dim light of a pale moon.
He was in a cemetery.
Old stones. Unfamiliar symbols.
No city lights. No traffic.
No Japan.
"This... isn't Earth."
He lifted his trembling hand.
"I actually reincarnated..."
[Correction: You actually died in the stupidest way possible.]
He ignored the insult.
A notification popped up.
[Quest Complete!
Reward: 1 Gacha Token obtained!]
Kutaro stood up, determined.
"System. Gacha. Now."
[Rolling…]
[You received: Wooden Spoon.]
"…A spoon."
[Yes. For eating. Or for beating enemies slowly.]
Kutaro screamed to the sky.
"My new life is going to be hell."
[With your abilities? Most likely.]