That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Samurai — Volume 2: Patch Notes and Paradoxes
(Or: Why Does Every Sequel Have Neon Lights?)
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the middle of what looked like Tokyo—if Tokyo had been hacked by an aesthetic committee of samurai and cyberpunks.
Neon kanji pulsed across skyscrapers. Cherry blossoms flickered like holograms. And a billboard the size of Mount Fuji said:
"UPDATE 2.0 INSTALLED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE."
I stood up. My kimono had been replaced with something shinier—armor that glowed faintly at the seams, like it was sponsored by an energy drink.
Strength: Still Average.
Agility: Slightly Lagging.
Hair: Now emits ambient light.
A drone whirred overhead.
"Welcome, Glorious Rendered One!" it chirped. "Would you like to enable microtransactions?"
"No."
"Too bad!"
It shot a beam at me, and a sword materialized in my hand—sleek, silver, and humming like a charging cable. I had to admit, it looked cool. Until a popup appeared above it:
[Your Free Trial of Katana.exe Expires in 3 Uses]
I sighed. "Oh, it's that kind of world."
Before I could complain further, a voice echoed from behind me. Smooth. Familiar.
"You finally patched in."
I turned around—and froze.
It was me. The other me. The one who said, 'Cool, right? Can I get a tutorial first?'
Except this version had cybernetic arms and the expression of someone who'd read too many fan theories about himself.
"Wait," I said. "You're me?"
"Technically, you're the beta build. I'm the stable release."
He flicked his wrist, and a digital scroll unfolded in the air between us.
MISSION: REINTEGRATE THE FRAGMENTS OF KENJI.
"I don't suppose this comes with health insurance?"
"No," he said. "Only patch notes."
He vanished in a burst of pixel dust.
I wandered through Neo-Edo trying to process that. Everywhere I went, people were half-digital—shopkeepers with monitor faces, samurai with data blades, monks chanting in binary.
A noodle stand vendor waved me over. "You look lost, traveler."
"Yeah, just trying to figure out why my doppelgänger wants to merge consciousness."
He nodded. "Happens every Tuesday."
He poured something glowing into a bowl. "Ramen 2.0. Now with taste updates!"
It tasted like electricity and nostalgia.
Then the sky flickered. Static swept across the horizon like a curtain of noise. People froze mid-motion. A system message blinked overhead:
[WARNING: CORE FILES CORRUPTED]
A voice boomed from nowhere—and everywhere.
"Kenji Sato, you are the anomaly that never should have compiled."
The neon lights turned crimson. The air buzzed with a low, digital growl.
I gripped my sword. "Let me guess. Final boss time?"
The ground cracked. From the rupture rose a figure stitched together from broken polygons and samurai armor. Its voice glitched with every syllable:
"I am… the Original Code."
"Cool," I said. "Do I get XP for beating you?"
It roared and charged. I swung my sword—three uses left. One strike. Sparks of data scattered. Two uses. The world froze. My reflection glitched mid-motion. One use.
The figure lunged—then everything paused. The sound warped into silence.
A system prompt appeared in front of me:
[APPLY PATCH?]
Options: [Y] / [N]
Some instinct said yes. My genre awareness said no.
I pressed Y.
Reality rebooted.
When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in a feudal tea house. Everything looked… normal again. Wooden floors. Paper walls. No neon.
For a second, I thought I was back where I started. Then I noticed the teacup floating in midair, flickering like bad Wi-Fi.
Takeda walked in—older, calmer, wearing futuristic glasses. "You did it," he said. "You patched the worlds together."
"I what now?"
"The code of this realm has stabilized. The Age of Honor and the Age of Data coexist."
I stared blankly. "So… is that good?"
He shrugged. "The servers haven't crashed yet."
Outside, a half-holographic cherry tree shimmered gently. Children practiced sword drills using AR filters. Everything looked peaceful.
Until a loud honk shattered the silence.
I turned. A glowing truck phased through the wall like a ghost. Its headlights pulsed with divine purpose.
The driver leaned out, sunglasses reflecting infinity.
"Sorry bro," he said. "Patch 3.0 just dropped."
And before I could even sigh—
BAM.
White light.
End of Volume 2: That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Samurai — Patch Notes and Paradoxes
(Next: Armor of Narrative Convenience.)