A few minutes ago, Ethan was falling.
Cold wind pressed against him, or at least that was what his brain told him.
He felt speed, pressure, and the pull of gravity, but when he tried to move his arms or legs, nothing happened.
He could not flail, he could not twist, he could not even reach out to grab anything.
For a short while, his mind was foggy, as if half his thoughts had been unplugged.
He did not know where he was or how he had gotten there. He only knew one thing: he was falling. Fast.
Then his memories slowly returned…
New York, the café, getting fired, getting evicted, standing on the street with his life stuffed into garbage bags.
Looking up at the sky and yelling at the universe. Saying that there was no way things could get worse, and then the sandal.
His last clear image was a black sandal getting larger and larger in his vision.
He remembered the stupid thought that flashed through his head in that moment, "So this is how I die? Slapped to death by a slipper?"
He should have stayed dead. Instead, here he was, falling again.
He tried to move his fingers and found no fingers. He tried to blink and found no eyelids. His awareness slowly shifted as he felt out his shape.
He felt flat. One side was rough, like rubber. The other side was smooth and slightly sticky, like it had been pressed against a sweaty foot for a long time.
Ethan went quiet… It took three full seconds for his soul to accept this.
'No way!'
If he could have looked at himself, he knew what he would see: a black sandal. He had been killed by a sandal, and now he had become one.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he was sure the god in charge of him was lazy and had a terrible sense of humor.
His awareness tilted, and his "view" shifted downward.
Below him, a city he had never seen spread out like a painting.
Stone streets, carriages, people in cloaks and robes, no skyscrapers, no cars, no traffic lights. Magic-world aesthetic, very fantasy.
"Fantasy world?" Ethan thought numbly. "Did I get isekai'd as sandal?"
He focused on where he was falling.
A brown-haired kid stood there, arguing with empty air, holding a leather shoe. His expression was full of grievance. Ethan's panic spiked.
"Move, move, turn, dodge, anything!" he shouted inside.
But Nothing Happened. He only had gravity.
"I'm sorry, kid! Incoming!"
A moment later, his sole met the back of the boy's head with a clean smack.
The impact rattled Ethan's awareness. The boy staggered and yelped. Ethan bounced once on the ground and then lay still.
He stared at the sky he could not see and had one clear thought.
'So this is my second life.'
***
Back to the present.
Oliver stared at the black sandal in his hand.
The black sandal stared back at him, or at least that was how it felt.
It had just talked. It had just introduced itself.
"My name is Ethan."
The voice was clear, a bit tired, and full of resentment toward reality.
Oliver's expression twisted slightly. He pinched his own cheek hard.
"Ouch. It hurt… So you are real?" Oliver muttered.
"Of course I'm real," Ethan snapped.
"I am not your imagination. I was a normal human five minutes ago, then I died to a falling sandal, and now I am one.
Do you know what that feels like? No, you do not."
'Normal human. Died. Sandal. Other world.'
This thing really thought his brain could swallow all that in one go?
Oliver cleared his throat, lifted the sandal closer, and lowered his voice.
"All right, which artificer is behind this prank? Is this a talking artifact joke? Did Fiona set this up?"
Ethan paused. "What artificer?"
"You know," Oliver said seriously, "enchanters. Magic item crafters. People who make cursed teapots and exploding brooms.
Did someone engrave a Voice Transmission spell into you? Is there a joke inscription somewhere?"
He flipped Ethan over, checked the sole, peered at the straps, and squinted as if runes would suddenly appear. There were none.
Whatever strange force had made Ethan into a sandal had not bothered with decorations.
"I told you, I am not a magic tool," Ethan said helplessly.
"I am a person from another world. I lived in a city called New York.
I wore shirts, pants, and proper shoes. I had bills. I had student debt.
I got fired. Then a slipper killed me. Now I woke up as this."
'New York. Shirts. Student debt.' None of these words meant anything to Oliver.
"So the artificer added nonsense voice lines," Oliver muttered. "Very detailed nonsense, too."
Ethan felt something break inside.
"Listen. You are holding me. I can talk. I fell on your head. This is clearly fate.
In stories, this is where you scream 'cheat' or 'legendary artifact' and swear to conquer the world with my help. At least pretend to follow the script."
Oliver looked him in the strap.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said flatly, "but I do know one thing."
"What?" Ethan asked.
"You are full of crap, who conquer the word with a sandal!?"
Oliver sighed and lowered the sandal. He crouched and gently placed Ethan on the ground, like putting down a poisonous snake he did not want to step on.
"I already have enough problems," Oliver said.
"Fiona wants to bite my head off, and my mother will throw me out the window if I come home without an apology. I don't have time to talk to a suspicious sandal."
"I am not suspicious! I am extremely honest and extremely unemployed!" Ethan protested.
"Good luck," Oliver said politely. "You can wait here. Or find a richer owner. Maybe some noble who can afford enchanted sandal. I need to go beg forgiveness now."
He turned and walked away.
Ethan watched Oliver's back getting smaller.
For a moment his mind went blank, then the reality of his situation hit him hard.
He was in another world. He was a sandal. No limbs, no wallet, no ID, no system, no tutorial, no newbie gift pack.
His only connection to anything was the boy who had just dumped him on the street like a stray sock.
"Wait, wait, wait! Don't leave me here!" Ethan shouted.
He tried to move. Something responded.
The sandal twitched.
He focused, as if clenching muscles he did not have. With a small, awkward jerk, his body left the ground and hopped forward.
"…It worked?"
He tried again. The sandal bounced.
"Yes. Movement. I love physics."
He gathered all the desperation of an unemployed graduate and a newly reborn street weapon.
The black sandal suddenly jumped after Oliver, hopping in short, frantic leaps.
"Hey! You! Kid! Protagonist-looking kid! Stop walking away from your main support!"
Oliver heard the voice behind him and quickened his pace.
"I am not listening," he muttered. "This is an illusion. If I ignore it, it will go away. It has to go away."
To everyone else, the scene looked very simple.
The Reed boy stomped away with a stiff back, while a single black sandal bounced after him like a loyal pet.
Hop, hop, hop.
They could not hear Ethan's voice, only see the sandal jumping after Oliver like a dog that had chosen its owner.
Someone at a stall burst out laughing.
"Look, Oliver picked up a new toy."
"Is that another of his weird artifact?" another joked. "Did he finally get a self-moving shoe?"
"Maybe he pranked some wandering master, and this is his punishment," a third said. "Walk around the city with one sandal chasing you for three days."
The laughter spread. No one thought it was too strange.
This was Oliver, after all. Last week he turned a well blue. The week before that he somehow make glowing chickens.
In the long list of "weird things Oliver has done," being followed by a hopping sandal did not reach the top ten.
Oliver felt everyone's stares. His ears burned.
"Why are they all looking at me?" he hissed. "This is the sandal's fault."
Behind him, Ethan threw his whole soul into every jump.
"Stop! Do you hear me? Stop! Do not leave me alone in a foreign world as a solo sandal! I have social anxiety!"
Hop! Hop! Hop!
The black sandal chased him down the street. Oliver walked faster. The sandal jumped faster. The crowd laughed louder.