Issac POV (The MC's POV)
I am a 34-year-old penniless foreigner in Tokyo. How did I find myself in this situation? I got pickpocketed when I didn't expect it. (The day had been really fun, and I was truly enjoying the city, until that thief ruined everything).
While I was walking back to the hotel, the whole way I muttered curses under my breath, not for anyone to hear, just to calm myself down. (If only I'd listened to Emma and waited for her, or even kept backup identification or cash separate from my wallet. I wouldn't have had to walk to the hotel. And I don't even remember the rest of the way).
"Oh fuck! And if the day wasn't bad enough," I cursed. Because it started raining out of nowhere, and from the looks of it, the rain would only get harder and harder. I could hardly see the street ahead.
Next to me stood a very smelly guy with some blood coming out of his mouth and questionable liquids on his clothes. (He was wearing striped pajamas, like a prisoner's: very worn-out, frayed, and covered in unwashable stains. Sweat marks clung to the armpits. His trousers were equally grim. And was he even barefoot)
(If I had to describe him in one word, it would be an elephant. But it's better to keep that thought to myself, though.)
"Excuse me, mister, do you happen to know where the Havana Hotel is? The four-star one," I said in Japanese to the guy next to me. He just looked at me with a disdainful gaze, then shrugged. I just sighed to not curse in front of the man. (Now I am literally homeless).
My thought train was cut by a shout coming from middle of the road.
"Hey! Listen to me, Nanahoshi." A boy with a brownish Black hair shouted while stopping a girl by pulling her arm.
The girl gave his arm a strong hand chop before pushing him away and started to shout as well.
"No, Shinohara, you didn't even apologize, and you still continue to waste my time."
Looking at the three teenagers—middle schoolers or high schoolers (I don't know a lot about this country's education system) two boys and a girl, they were arguing. No, actually, just one boy and the girl were arguing. The other boy seemed to be trying his best to calm them both down. But none of them realized they'd wandered into the middle of the road.
Before something could happen to them, part of me wanted to help, while another part wanted to ignore them and focus on my own mess. But for some reason, my foot moved on its own towards them, and the fat man did the same.
Then, out of nowhere, the fat man opened his mouth as if to shout, "Watch out!" But no sound came. Frustrated, he tried to run toward the kids instead, but the rain had turned the road into a slick trap. His feet slipped, and he crashed onto the pavement.
(Well, at least he tried. I might have thought bad of him for no reason. He tried to help the kids out of the goodness of his heart, after all. Maybe, just maybe after I deal with this, I will call him to the hotel to help him if he needed.)
I shouted in English to catch their attention. "Watch out!" As I shouted, one of the boys hugged the girl very tightly, preparing to die and hoping to save her by taking the impact himself. (The one who was arguing with her, I think his name was "Shinohara.") The other boy tried to get to the sidewalk. But 'the damn muddy road' made him slip too, and he fell on his face. (So, I had to get him out of the way first.) As fast as I could, I carried and threw him out of the way.
A blinding light flashed where the kids had been. (It almost felt like getting stung by a flashbang again). It blinded me for a few seconds; I couldn't see anything because of it. And suddenly, I felt a very strong pain in my back. I found myself flying in the air. 'Oh shit!' (That's what I tried to say, but only a groan of pain was produced). All of that because I got hit by the truck. And it hurt like hell.
When I hit the ground, it didn't cushion the pain. It magnified it by a lot. My spine was shattered by the truck's impact, and the hit to the ground continued the job. Because of that, my nervous system was out of service; I could no longer control or feel anything. I tried to resist and stand up, but both of my legs were crushed. I couldn't even twitch a toe. Just numb weight; I was barely feeling my hips. (Just because of the unbearable pain it produced).
And I felt intense pain from my left side. When I focused on the pain, I found my left arm was gone. Maybe still attached, but I couldn't feel anything from it anymore, let alone try to move it. (All I felt was blood coming out of it.)
My head was stuck looking towards the sky. My eyelids were stuck too. The rain washed over my face, cool against the burning agony beneath. My throat bled heavily into my mouth instead of producing sound. (All my attempts to talk just produced more blood). All I could do was cough. More blood. At least the rain would wash it away. (That's when it hit me. Am I dying?)
(No. No, NO, NO. I can't die here. Not like this. Not now. Not yet. Emma will never forgive you, Issac Harold, if you make her a widow like this. You promised her to adopt a child when you got home because she can't get pregnant. You know it well—she's saying it's a vacation. But she came here because Japan is higher in the medical field than South Africa. She is... she... ahh, my breathing is very heavy).
(Stand up, you useless shit of a body, I won't die yet. Whether you like it or not).
(Stand up, please).
(It doesn't matter if I can stand up or not, just keep going and staying alive is more than sufficient for me, please).
I was pleading to a dead body to hold on until help arrived.
.
(Well, that's my life, I guess. At least I died a hero. I hope this will be sufficient for entering heaven. I can't imagine selfless Dad or pure Mom in hell. Well, I think when Dad sees me, he will think I committed suicide. Because, before he died in his last year, I was planning to do one, but failed).
Suddenly, a strange voice stopped my thinking! "Lades zaltok, Zenith!" (What the hell is that language? I probably should stop swearing. I am quite literally a smashed, dying corpse in the middle of the road).
Other voices could be heard, but this time it appeared that the screams of the fat man and the kid had awakened the entire neighborhood, and they had called both the police and ambulance for help.
.
(How long had I been stuck like this? An hour or two? I don't know, all I know is the police arrived immediately and closed the road to avoid any car completing the truck's job).
(I don't know what they will do with the police, but I shouldn't care about that. I suppose I should recite my beliefs, but I can't even remember the last time I was at church, maybe 20 years ago at Mother's funeral).
Then the strange voices appeared again, but in higher volume this time. (Almost like someone screaming in my ear).
"Hahen faiom, Paul!" It was either I got a strange hit on the head (and strangely enough, from my whole wasted body after the accident, somehow this was the only place that hadn't got any visible damage), or someone was talking in an unknown language to me.
(Which is hard considering the fact I can literally speak five different languages fluently like natives, and I can understand another seven. I know many words in many languages due to attending many meetings around the world in hopes to improve medicines in Africa by learning from all the new inventions and discoveries around the globe. And did this voice just say Paul? Isn't that my young brother's name?)
"Zaltok mouy haho, Zenith!" I think I did hit my head very hard because the voices didn't stop. I think they were just increasing. (Still, I can't understand anything. But the words "zaltok" and "Zenith" were repeated for the second time).
"Hey! Are you okay?" said the fat man, speaking to me.
(Well, other than the intense pain on my back, and I can't feel my legs or my left arm, and I'm the perfect example of a dying corpse right now, you know, pretty simple, it happens once a week. I just got hit by a truck, nothing serious, but thanks for asking. That's the worst question to be asked in this situation. "Stupid.") God, how much I wished to say the last word aloud, not just in my head.
Suddenly, the policeman looked at me before bringing his mouth near his radio phone. "An unidentified dark-skinned foreigner man got hit by a truck." The policeman said this, his face contorted with pure disgust. "He is done for." (He said it coldly, without a single hint of emotion about me dying or any hint of sadness about it. I'm pretty sure he would be sadder for a stray animal dying).
He returned to his car, brought a flashlight, and started searching. "The witnesses said there were three high schoolers on the road when the accident happened. Only one can be found. An intense search in the area is needed," said the policeman into the wireless police phone.
(For real, this country and the discrimination in it. Even though I am slightly brown, they are just going to treat me like a monkey. Yes, it is 1000 times better than the past. Before Mandela's presidency, they were going to just ignore my skills in chemistry, physics, biology, high IQ scores, and great ability in learning languages. And they were going to drop me in the nearest military station because of my big build and my great skill in hand-to-hand fights. Well, it doesn't matter now. If anything, I regret not signing with a higher health insurance company).
I sighed internally.
(Well, Emma, you, Paul, Richard, and if you still want to adopt a child, Emma, you all will have to split that 120k dollars with each other. I hope you don't fight over it.)
.
.
Another one of the voices appeared again, but I decided to ignore them. They continued for hours while the doctors and nurses tried to keep me alive with CPR, IV, and so on. If I were to describe it, they were doing it 'perfectly' for an 'unidentified Black foreigner,' as they say. (And did someone shout "Code Delta?" Is it really this bad? Am I done for? At least until now no one said "DNR," so there is still hope.)
(Oh right, forgot to mention the idiot who thinks I'm deaf because he shouts every single question he asks. The idiot thinks I can still use my vocal cords. If I could use them, I would have given him a nice medical advice or two. But the nurse over there wouldn't like to hear them with him).
(And these voices are going to drive me crazy if I outlive this somehow. I think one of my priorities is visiting a rehabilitation center because of the nonstop voices in my head only.)
(But, I heard five words too much to be considered coincidence, and they are [Zenith, Paul, Lilla, Zaltok, and Shinne]. Zenith, that's a new name to me, but it's a nice one. And Lilla was called after half an hour from the rest. The fourth word I can't understand. As for the last one, it almost sounds like the word 'death' in Japanese. Well, whoever was saying that word, it isn't funny as sarcasm, buddy or lady, because it was a woman's voice. But, it doesn't matter anymore, the pulse is stopping anyway).
Things started to black out while the doctors tried to keep me with them with all they had. But the body was already done for. 'Well, see you in heaven, Emma.'
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***
(Rudeus' POV)
***
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Suddenly, after everything blacked out, I thought it was over. (And I should be prepared for my judgment). But what happened was that I started to see two very blurry silhouettes. Describing them, they would be giants. I was still trying to move my arm or make a sound or even breathe freely since I got hit by that truck. But I couldn't.
After some time of trying to make any sound, I was barely able to make a very hurt sound of pain. It could be heard from me, if you were very close since I don't know why my vocal cords weren't working.
Suddenly, one of the silhouettes came and lifted me and started saying strange words. I only understood the word "Shinne." (She finished the words with it.) That apparently made me slightly better, because after she said it, and when she said it, her hand lit a dim green light. And because of it, my vision had become slightly better. (And why was the woman carrying me crying?) Anyway, finally, I could make an audible sound of pain. (Wait a second! How huge was this woman to be able to lift me this easily?)
The woman repeated some words but added another (I think) and then said "X-Shinne." (She finished her words with it.) Her hand lit the whole room, and my vision instantly became better, and my cries of pain became like the normal sound of a crying newborn. That's when I realized many things in the next few seconds.
First, there were three persons in the room: a very well-built man (dwarfing my past proud muscles). He had dark blonde hair, green eyes, and a mole below his left eye. He wore golden earrings of some kind, like an ear cuff. (And did he have a ponytail?)
Also, there was a very reserved woman in the corner of the room wearing an outdated maid outfit from the old big houses. She had too much sweat on her forehead (like she was in the middle of a war or something). She had maroon hair with... were those purple eyes? I couldn't see them at first because of her glasses. Her hairstyle was a little bun.
And lastly, the woman who I was in her hands. She was blonde with blue eyes. She was wearing a very adhesive... (What can I call this?) I will call it a nightgown since I can't identify what it is. But describing it, it was a very revealing dress. (I could barely see some things I'm not supposed to see). The woman who was wearing it while carrying me had the most sweat of all of them. (Her hairstyle was a very short ponytail.)
(I didn't want to know. And before realizing my state, I didn't want to imagine what kind of fight they were in. Right, my mind was too occupied to focus on those useless details). But, she was pretty. All of them were very beautiful people. If anything, I'm sure they could all advertise in face cream ads with these sweet faces. But the woman carrying me was on a whole another level.
(Well, that's when I saw everything. My brain finally decided to work and stopped its vacation to tell me that I had died in the accident. Now I'm reincarnated, and those people are my new family). I cried as hard as I could, finally making an an audible sound. Everyone in the room sighed in relief.
(This wasn't rebirth. It was a coma dream. My brain was just hallucinating as a last joke. Right? I will wake up any time now. Wake up. WAKE UP. Wake up, please. But the pain was too sharp. And the blonde woman's hands were too warm. Oh God. It's real).
My screams just got louder until the blonde woman showed her breast and started to nurse me.
(What is that? Is this some kind of mental torture? I can't see either my alive family or the dead ones. That must be hell. And why is all of my body in pain? Did the pain from the accident reach this new body too? No, that's physically and logically impossible. Then, I received a body of a dead kid. [Stillborn]. "Oh fuck my luck." So even my second chance I received is a dead body. And they did revive me with CPR and the unnatural green light. No, it must be my mind still hallucinating. And I will wake up any time now next to Emma, and she will make fun of me and my big imagination, PLEASE GOD).
While I was crying from inside myself, the dark-haired blonde man, or apparently my new father, was now celebrating like he really believed his dead child had returned to life. Poor man, his son is probably dead, and the one who will live on his body will never give him the right love he deserves. (Let's just hope I didn't kill his son by receiving this body).
(Thinking about it, why can't I see this through to the end? I am dead anyway. And I can't return to my family, so it doesn't matter anymore. I will take it like a test, a very hard one indeed. Starting all over with a new family, ignoring my past and memories. I just hope they don't hate me like the past one. And while enduring the unbearable pain, for this young couple. "Well, Mom, Dad, nice to meet you. I think.")
When I thought that, I felt a sudden urge to sleep. My eyelids suddenly became heavy, I didn't fight it, and I slept immediately.