A/N: Now, before we begin, for any potential readers out there, do note that this would take 'inspiration' from chinese fanfic novels.
That was a lie. Think of this as a fanfic of a fanfic. Why do you think that this is the title?
Now, some may ask, why wouldn't I just write my own fanfic? Well, I'm way too lazy to think of a proper plot and I had enough of reading insufferable chinese MCs.
This would be my take on the fanfics with my own OC. Read it an your own risk.
***
In the middle of an abandoned warehouse, men wearing black formal suits could be seen surrounding a man restrained on a chair.
He wore nothing but a simple boxer and a blindfold, but the ceiling light hanging above him showed his slick, fit physique. It had no exaggerated fat nor muscle, just the right size to the general aesthetic.
Although he was bound, the man didn't show any signs of struggle nor panic. In fact, he seemed rather calm.
Soon, another figure walked forward. This person was a tall, classy, but overwhelming looking man. He had a trimmed beard, a formal italian suit, and a fedora.
He had sharp eyes and high-bridged nose. He walked with an air of authority as the other suited men made way for him.
"Remove the blindfold." The man said with a rough voice.
The other goons followed and soon, the restrained man on the chair was able to see.
With his features fully seen now, people would see that the restrained man was no older than twenty. He had a handsome, youthful face where one could tell he had just entered his adulthood.
"Vinny..."
The man with the cigar sighed, looking at the young man who remained quiet while staring back at him.
"Why?"
He really wanted to know.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" The boy replied with a rather languid tone.
"You know what I'm talking about." The man with the cigar narrowed his eyes.
"Why did you sleep with the boss' wife?"
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Don't tell me you fell for that woman's fake naive, damsel in distress personality. You know better at what that scheming whore is really about."
"....."
The atmosphere stayed silent for a bit.
Only, until the young man finally responded.
"We were just using each other." He said, before staring back at the man, "But that's not what this is about. Is it?"
"Using each other? Vinny! She just used you!"
"Fuck off, Uncle. You know full well how John and your goons got a higher position in the family. You think it's the boss appreciating your efforts? Don't be stupid."
"...You don't know what you're talking about, kid. Face it, that woman only manipulated you."
"I know."
"..." The man in cigar narrowed his yes, taking a puff before exhaling deeply.
"....Now I understand what this is about."
He looked at the young, unapologetic boy who hadn't shown an ounce of fear.
"This is about your father, isn't?"
"....." the young man doesn't answer.
"Damn it! Vincent! I TOLD YOU TO LET IT GO!"
"Whatever." The young man named Vincent replied, "It doesn't matter now. The territory wars is getting intense, cops are getting itchy, and Alphonse is busy fending off from multiple direction."
"He couldn't even come here to personally execute me."
Vincent then looked at the man in front of him, "And with Ruth's affair going out, it's the perfect chance for us to strike back."
"..." the man in the cigar deeply sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment. "I should'a known..."
Seeing his Uncle's response was all the answer Vincent needed.
"Heh... so it was you.... you were the real rat all along."
It all made sense now.
After all, the only he had been giving gists about his deeds in the family was his uncle.
And that look... that silence.... all the more confirmed it.
His own damn uncle ratted him out.
"When you first got me to join this family, you promised me we would avenge dad together."
"....."
"But somewhere along the line.... you changed. No— you turned your back on your real family."
Vincent spat to the side in disgust.
"Was it the riches? The drugs? The women? The fucking mansion?"
"Uncl— no, Frank..." Vincent looked his uncle in utter disappointment, "What happened to you?"
"..."
Defeaning silence fell as the man with cigar— Frank, looked at his nephew with an indescribable gaze. His hands were clenched tight, but he didn't do anything.
Instead, he only pulled the pistol from under his coat and pointed it at the boy in front of him.
Staring directly at his newphew's eyes, he cocked the gun and pointed it the latter's forehead.
".....I'm sorry Vinny...."
"You're a coward, Frank. A coward."
"....I am...."
"I'll wait for you in he—"
BANG!
And just like that, the short life of Vincent Castello has ended.
And then, he woke up.
"!!!"
His body jolted. He looked around in alarm, instincts flaring the moment he felt someone touch his arm.
"Hey… you alright?"
A gentle voice came from beside him, making him snap his head in that direction.
It was a girl—a young one—dressed in a high school uniform.
"..."
Utterly disoriented, Vincent rubbed his eyes and checked again.
Nothing changed.
He was still sitting in the middle of a brightly lit classroom, surrounded by teenagers in matching uniforms. The room buzzed with casual chatter, laughter, and without a care in the world.
"Tenjou-kun?"
That same girl called to him again, concern lining her soft voice.
"Are you alright?"
She had chestnut brown hair, short and slightly wavy, stopping just above her shoulders. Looks wise, she was pretty—normal, but in a comforting sort of way.
But Vincent wasn't focused on that.
No—what the hell was going on?
Why was there a Japanese chick speaking to him?
More importantly—why the hell could he understand Japanese?
No. Screw that.
What the actual fuck was happening right now?
***
A full week and a half had passed since Vincent found himself in... another body.
Well, make no mistake, he looked exactly as he did back to when he was in his teens.
The only difference is that he was living an entirely different life here.
He was Japanese.
Imagine that.
A Full-blooded Sicilian, born and bred in the underbelly of Brooklyn, somehow waking up as a fifteen-year-old named Akari Tenjou—a high school punk attending some place called Sakura Prefecture High.
Not only that, but he's an orphan who was currently living in an apartment complex that his parents left for him.
He'll get into more details about that later, but for now, let's focus on himself.
Akari Tenjou didn't seem to have any close friends nor relatives. No one in particular had reached out to him during the last five days at least.
In simple words, the kid had no presence at all. Not even a hobby, judging by the lack of personal objects in his own apartment.
The only people he only really interacted with was his tenants.
But other than that, Vincent— now, Akari, had an easy time living as Akari Tenjou.
Pretending was easy, especially when he guy he's pretending to be was as bland as a blank sheet of paper.
The real struggle for him here was the fact that he lives in 2017— the digital age.
Who could've thought, huh? That internet would be something so much more?
Information was so easy to access and with LINE, communicating with other people was instantaneous.
Vincent had spent the last five days doing recon. On the couch. In bed. In the damn bathroom. Surfing the net like some tech geek, absorbing everything this world had to offer.
School was just a formality—a place to rest his eyes while the body played along.
But what got to him most wasn't the convenience.
It was the peace.
The environment.
This life.
Everything.
Here, he didn't have to constantly check over his shoulder in case someone was trying to shoot him.
Here, he could sleep—actually sleep—without the fear of being killed in the middle of the night.
Here, he didn't have to go on missions.
Didn't have to deal with cracked-out junkies who failed to pay. Didn't have to risk his life over some turf war gone sideways.
He wasn't managing blood-stained ledgers or laundering cash through shell companies. Wasn't triple-checking offshore accounts or playing babysitter to cokeheads who thought they were smarter than the Family.
He wasn't the disposable boytoy of some power-hungry boss lady playing politics between orgasms.
No.
Here, he was free.
Free in a way he didn't even know was possible.
The kind of freedom that made a man suspicious.
Still, he wasn't wasting it.
Not one bit.
Today was Saturday. The sun outside was warm and Vincent—no, Akari—was stretched out on a cheap couch in a cozy apartment, hands over the coffee table while the gaming laptop showed an mmorpg log in screen.
He took this all in, breathing in the air or relaxation and normalcy.
After all, for the first time in a long, long while...
He wasn't thinking about who he had to kill tomorrow.
'Alright, enough of that.'
He logged on in his account.
The game was a relatively popular game. Pretty immersive and entertaining as well. The grind was rewarding and it was friendly to free-to-play players.
The main reason he got intk this game was because of it's fantasy elements. Here, he fought against fantasy monsters like goblins or dragons.
In his opinion, it was much better than those competitive shooting games where pansy, spoiled retards pretend like they fought in the vietnamese war.
Just as he logged in, he received an invite.
[ TaprisSugarbell has sent you an invite!]
He chuckled.
'Did this girl even sleep?'
Healer-san is what they called her.
She was pretty much a troll healer who gets off on making her party members beg to be healed. And even if they did beg, sometimes she wouldn't heal them and just collect their equipment drops.
Akari accepted the invite.
[ In-game chat (Party)
Ligma: Did you even sleep, Healer-san?
TaprisSugarbell: Shut up and teleport to me, noob. We gotta get you to max level so we can start raiding the Soul Power Boss. Oh, and we'll also equipment farm those simps.
Ligma: Such a cruel, cruel mistress. You know, I'm surprised you haven't been publicly blacklisted yet. I mean, you literally trolled the same group of people four times already.
TaprisSugarbell: It's not my fault you humans are so gullible.
Ligma: You sure they just aren't masochists and you're being used for their fetish?
TaprisSugarbell: Fweh?! T-They are?! No, wait. More than that, how could you even say such vulgar things?!
Ligma: Ah, my bad. I'm TPing now. ]
And just like that, Akari spent the whole damn day grinding and leveling up with his in-game buddy.
By the time he realized it, afternoon had already slipped into early evening.
With a sigh, he stretched his stiff limbs, joints cracking like old floorboards, and turned to glance out the window. The sun was on its way out—golden light bleeding across the sky, slowly giving way to the darkness creeping in from the edges.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Peaceful.
Fulfilling, even.
Almost made him forget the world he came from.
Without thinking, Akari reached into his pocket—an old habit. Then he froze.
No cigars.
Ah… right.
He didn't have any.
Fifteen-year-olds didn't have a habit of smoking.
Well, that's fine.
Even he himself only occasionally does it to enjoy relaxing moments.
He leaned back against the window frame, arms crossed, just watching. The world outside was calm. Still. Soft wind rustling the trees, a gentle orange glow cast over the streets. For a brief moment, everything felt... right.
Relaxing.
Contemplative.
Enjoyable—
'The fuck is that?'
His eyes locked onto something down the alley to the right.
There was a movement— a shadow.
Now, normally, he wouldn't be alarmed if it was a rat.
But if said rat had glowing eyes, built lile a predator, and sizing to about two adult dogs combined?
That would definitely alarm him.
Akari's stomach sank.
From the second-floor window, he watched it slink through the shadows—limbs coiled, posture tense—like it was hunting something.
Or worse...
Heading straight for his building.
'What the fu—'
The thing darted forward, a blur of muscle and fangs, slipping right under his window in the blink of an eye.
"!!!!"
Akari tumbled backward instinctively—
CRASH!
"SCREEEEECHHH!!!"
The sound shattered the quiet like a gunshot.
The damn monster was in.
***
A/N: As for readers that came from my other fanfic, I really should've stuck to the theme which was "there is no plot". The problem that occurred there is that I had my own damn plot and when I try to execute it, I keep editing it because it just wouldn't fit how I envisioned it.
Maybe I need to brush up my writing style or maybe use a.i. to help. But for now, There is No Plot would be in hia—
No. Fuck that. I'll fucking make it.
I keep breaking promises, but that degenerate novel, I want to fucking finish that. Even if being productive makes me puke.