If you are reading this story, I am either dead or mentally unstable, because there is no way I could write and publish this online in this world. My name is Kaito, and I am a normal office worker. I hate my j*b and life, but throwing a tantrum will not pay the bills, so I kept going.
I hadn't slept for three days straight. My boss kept assigning me tasks that I wasn't being paid enough for. I'm pretty sure that was illegal, but what could I say? If I complained, I might lose my j*b. So I kept working. After so many sleepless nights, I was exhausted. I went up to the rooftop to take a small break. Looking down from the corner of the building, I thought, If I jump, I won't have to do anything anymore. No work, no stress. But I wasn't brave enough to actually do it, so I backed away.
As I was retreating, a colleague I had borrowed money from came to the rooftop. He saw me and immediately started demanding his money back. I was backing away without realizing that I was one step away from the edge. And guess what? I fell.
"At least now I don't have to pay the bills or this guy," I thought. As I was falling, I saw my colleague's horrified face, his arm stretched toward me. I thought, At least he's worried about me, right? but this son of a respectful lady shouted, "Nooo! My money!" At that moment, I wondered which level of hell he would end up in. Then I hit the ground—or so I thought.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a bed with a man sitting right beside me. For a moment, I thought he was an angel, ready to judge me for my sins and tell me where I was going. But instead, the man started talking about his life. "My name is **Elias...,"** he started. After a while, I got annoyed and said, "I'm not interested," as I tried to get up. That's when this old fart pulled out a gun, pointed it at my forehead, and said, "You will sit right here and hear my story." Terrified, I sat and listened.
He talked and talked for half an hour. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed. I thought he would talk for a whole day to tell me about his past glory, but he only had half an hour to talk. When he finally stopped talking, I asked, "Where am I? Am I still alive? Or is this the afterlife?" His answer was, "You're in a different world."
My eyes widened in shock. "Are you high or something?" I asked him. "No," he replied. "You won't believe me, but you're in another world." He even showed me a map that didn't even resemble the map of the Earth. Although I failed geology, I knew this wasn't even the map of our world. Then he told me, "In this world, random people appear for no reason. Nobody knows why it happens. But as soon as they appear, they know that this is not their world. That gun you see was also brought by a random person. People researched and found out that one only comes here after almost dying."
"So, I'm dead in the other world and alive here?" I asked. "No," the old man said. "You're alive in both. You just teleported here right before dying."
"Alright," I sighed, "but can you keep the gun down? If you accidentally shoot it, someone will die."
"Oh, this gun?" He chuckled. "It's empty. The person who brought it here used up all the ammo trying to kill wild animals and died when he ran out."
I stared at him. "So you pointed an empty gun at me just to make me hear your pathetic life story?" My mood shifted, and I was ready to kill him myself. But he quickly said, "Wait, wait! You still need me. Without me, you won't survive this world. It's not like the one you came from. I can teach you."
"Teach me what?" I asked.
"The fighting art made for the seven senses. I can't teach you the senses themselves, but I can show you the art."
"Seven senses? You mean six," I corrected.
"No, seven," he insisted. "This world is different. To survive, or even leave this mountain alive, you'll need them. I'll teach you the 'Seven Senses Fist,' an art originally created for this purpose. There are many fighting arts here, but this one is special. Once you reach town, you can find a master to teach you the seven senses themselves."
Intrigued, I readily agreed. The old man took me outside to demonstrate. He stood in front of a rock, assumed an odd position—with his right hand in front of his face and his left hand near his hip—and struck the rock with the palm of his left hand. Cracks appeared. While it was no large crack, it was a crack nonetheless, and I stood there in awe. Instantly, I wanted to learn.
The old man warned me, "If you want to learn, you must endure hard training."
Given that I had lived on caffeine before coming here, I wasn't expecting much from myself. But I still said yes. Training began. I won't describe it all—there's no reason to share my entire life story with strangers. What matters is that after hard work, I finally learned the art.
One day, the old man challenged me to a fight to test if I had passed. The fight began. After a while, I struck the final blow, and he fell. Panicked, I thought I had gone too far. His condition looked bad. I cursed myself, thinking, What have I done?
But the old man reassured me. "It's okay. I was at my limit. I was about to die anyway. I just wanted to help someone before the end—and now I have." He told me to look under the bed, where I would find a box with supplies. But before he could tell me more, he closed his eyes and took his last breath.
I wept as I buried the old man under the bed. I went back into the house, where I found the supplies the old man told me about. Inside the box, I saw a guidebook written for people from another world. It had information about monsters, areas, and places, like a Pokédex. I pocketed the book and looked through the rest of the supplies. I saw two potions, one that would increase healing but would cause hunger, and another that would cure fatigue if I drank water. I also saw some money, food, and drinks that I would need on my journey.
I took the potions, the supplies, and set off to start my new life in this world.