Akira Sitri didn't expect to die in his pajamas.
The floor was cold beneath his cheek. His vision blurred, tunneling into the cracked ceiling of his dorm room as warmth spilled from the knife wound in his side. He tried to breathe, but each gasp gurgled—wet, sharp, and wrong. The scent of iron overwhelmed the stale ramen and old textbooks that defined his college life.
His roommate stood above him, wide-eyed, chest heaving. "You should've minded your business," he muttered, the knife slipping from his fingers, clattering like an afterthought.
Akira tried to ask why. Tried to reach for his phone. Tried to... do anything.
Darkness took him instead.
He woke not with a scream, but a gasp—clean air flooding his lungs like a rebirth. The sky above was impossibly blue, with soft clouds drifting like brushstrokes across a painted dome. Below him stretched a rooftop garden bathed in sunlight, birds chirping from neatly trimmed hedges. A far cry from the sterile dorms and flickering fluorescent lights of his old world.
He sat up quickly, chest rising with panic. He touched his side. No blood. No wound. Just soft linen clothes and a leather belt cinched around a leaner frame. He blinked—recognizing this outfit. The cotton tunic, the charcoal trousers, the lightweight traveling boots.
Satou Pendragon's clothes.
"No way..." he murmured.
Memories not his own stirred. Not flashes, but entire pages. A web of familiarity wrapped around his brain: battles, stat screens, spell chants, long walks through ancient cities under foreign moons. The delicious scent of skewered meats in Seryuu City. The tickling warmth of Liza's tail brushing his leg as they made camp.
He touched his face. It wasn't his face. It was Satou's—slightly older, sharper, more composed.
I'm in Death March...
But how?
Before he could process further, a sound chimed softly in the air, like a glass bell echoing within his skull.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
Welcome, Akira Sitri.
Host Body: Ichirou Suzuki (Alias: Satou Pendragon)
World: "Zanaris Cluster — Arc 1: Inciting Flame"
Mission 1: Explore your surroundings.
Reward: 10 Points
He stared at the glowing text suspended in mid-air. Semi-transparent, slightly blue-tinted, and navigable with a flick of thought. It responded to mental commands, reshaping into a tabbed interface showing attributes, skills, and a blinking log labeled MISSIONS.
"System…" he whispered. "This wasn't in the original story."
No answer came, but he noticed something that didn't belong to Satou: a skill tree divided into "Combat," "Utility," and "Cognition," all marked as [LOCKED] until he spent points to unlock them.
Akira sat in stunned silence. Was this a dream? A coma fantasy? A punishment?
He wasn't sure.
But the breeze smelled real. The sun was warm. And the pain that had clung to him—fear, grief, betrayal—lingered at the edges of his soul, just enough to remind him that this wasn't heaven.
It was something else.
His first steps were shaky. He climbed down the wooden stairs of the manor house, greeted by soft voices and the scent of miso soup. The building was larger than a regular home but held warmth in every polished banister and folded cushion. Shoji screens cast clean lines of light across wooden floors.
From the kitchen, a woman in her thirties—Sachi, Satou's adoptive mother—turned with a gentle smile. "Satou-chan, you're awake. You overslept, didn't you?"
Her voice made something inside him crack. Maternal. Unassuming. Safe.
"I... yeah," he said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice—now calm, slightly deeper, effortlessly controlled.
A boy younger than him, around ten, ran past with a stick in hand. "Onii-san! Towa's ready for sparring again!"
Akira managed a grin. "Not before breakfast."
From behind the doorframe peeked Ayaka—Satou's little sister, no older than twelve. Her wide eyes were curious, but her smile was subdued, like a book waiting to be opened.
"You're acting weird," she said bluntly. "Did you hit your head?"
"Probably," he replied with a dry laugh. "But I think I'll be fine."
Sachi set a tray before him at the low table: steaming rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and miso. He hesitated before eating—not because he wasn't hungry, but because it felt… wrong to be here. To take Satou's place.
Yet the warmth of the food grounded him. As did the quiet chatter of the family. As did the way Towa leaned into his side when he showed him how to grip the training stick correctly.
I have to protect this, he realized. Even if it's not mine to begin with.
Later that afternoon, he walked through the outskirts of the town—Elaris, he now knew—a minor border village near the empire's edge. Not quite where Satou originally started, but close enough in flavor: cobblestone paths, inns with bright painted signs, the smell of roast meat from an open vendor grill.
That's when the notification came.
[New Mission: Minor Emergency]
Assist a merchant under attack.
Reward: 20 Points
At the far end of the plaza, shrieks rose.
Three goblins—scrawny, green-skinned, barely armed—had stumbled from the treeline beyond the watch walls. Town guards scrambled from a nearby barracks, but one of the creatures had leapt atop a cart, scaring the horses and scattering crates of produce.
Akira hesitated. I don't have weapons. I don't know how to fight like Satou yet—
But another window popped up.
Skill: "Wind Blade" [Proficiency: 10%] — Cost: 5 MPCast?
He took a breath. "Do it."
He raised his hand instinctively, letting the System guide him. A translucent blade of compressed air snapped from his palm, arcing like a whip. It caught the lead goblin square in the chest. The creature shrieked and tumbled backward, stunned.
The other two turned and fled as guards closed in.
Cheers erupted. The merchant—a squat, mustachioed man with wide eyes—sprinted over. "You! Sir! You saved me!"
Akira rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, happy to help."
Mission Complete: +20 Points
Skill Proficiency Increased
Wind Blade → Level 2
The System pinged softly in the background. But what lingered was the thrill—not of power, but of choice. Here, he could intervene. Change things. Not just live in a fictional world—but actively shape it.
That night, he sat outside the house under the stars. The garden lantern flickered beside him as Ayaka joined, her bare feet quiet on the stones.
"Onii-san," she said, sitting beside him. "You're different today."
He glanced at her. "Different how?"
"You smiled more. But also... you looked sad when no one was watching."
Akira paused. Then he placed a hand on her head. "People change. Sometimes all at once."
She nodded. "Just don't change too much, okay?"
A soft laugh escaped him. "I'll try."
As the stars wheeled overhead, Akira stared at the open System menu, a hundred branching paths still locked. Missions to be claimed. Powers to be tested. A world to explore.
But most of all—a life to live. This time, on his own terms.