The rain in Leekelo never asked permission.
It arrived like an old friend who had forgotten how to knock—sudden, heavy, and indifferent to whether you were ready. That night it poured with particular malice, turning the narrow streets of the city into shallow black mirrors that reflected broken neon and the occasional flash of a passing headlight.
Lookon walked alone.
He was twenty-three, average in every measurable way: height just shy of six feet when he stood straight (which he rarely did), build soft from too many late nights and not enough sunlight, skin the warm medium-brown of most people born under this particular sky. His black hair clung wetly to his forehead, strands falling into eyes that were dark and perpetually a little tired. He wore the same hoodie he'd worn for three winters running—faded navy, zipper half-broken—and cheap earphones that leaked tinny music only he could hear.
The playlist had ended twenty minutes ago. He hadn't bothered to restart it.
In his left hand he carried a thin plastic bag from the corner bookstore: one new volume of *My Hero Academia*, still smelling faintly of fresh ink, and a dog-eared second-hand copy of *One Piece* volume 72 because the shop owner had thrown it in for free with a wink and the words, "You look like you need cheering up, anna."
He didn't.
He was fine.
Or at least, that was what he told himself every time the quiet inside his chest grew louder than the rain.
The call-center shift had ended at 11:42 p.m. He'd smiled at the night supervisor, said "See you tomorrow," even though tomorrow was Saturday and he was off. Routine was easier than explaining things.
Now the lane narrowed. Puddles merged into a single reflective sheet. Streetlamps buzzed overhead, their orange light fracturing in the water.
He thought about the chapter he'd read on the bus ride home.
Deku had just inherited more power than any teenager should ever carry. He'd smiled through the pain, through the broken bones, through the fear that he wasn't enough. Lookon had stared at that panel longer than necessary—Deku's determined grin, blood on his teeth, fist raised against impossible odds.
Something in Lookon's throat had tightened.
Not envy.
Not inspiration.
Just… recognition.
Of how small real life felt compared to those pages.
He stepped off the curb without looking.
The truck came from the left.
No dramatic slow-motion. No inner monologue flashing through every important moment of his life.
Just headlights flaring white-hot in the rain.
A horn—short, panicked.
Rubber screaming on wet asphalt.
Impact.
The world became noise and pressure and then—
Nothing.
Absolute, perfect nothing.
No pain.
No cold.
No rain.
Only silence so deep it felt like drowning in absence.
Then, slowly, a glow.
Blue-white. Clean. Clinical.
A rectangle of light formed in the void in front of him.
Letters appeared, one after another, without flourish.
**CELESTIAL AUDITOR SELECTION PROTOCOL**
**CANDIDATE: LOOKON**
**ORIGIN: LEEKEL0-PRIME**
**TERMINATION EVENT: VEHICULAR COLLISION, 00:04:09 IST, 14 OCTOBER 2025**
**EVALUATION COMPLETE**
**PROFILE MATCH: 87.4%**
— Narrative affinity: High
— Ego attachment: Low
— Observational discipline: Moderate
— Emotional resilience under isolation: Acceptable
**DECISION: ACCEPTED**
Lookon tried to blink. Nothing happened. He had no eyelids here, or perhaps he simply didn't need them.
A second panel unfolded beside the first.
**RECONSTITUTION INITIATED**
**IMMORTALITY TIER ∞ ACTIVATED**
— Absolute cellular regeneration
— Temporal metabolic stasis (apparent age locked at 23)
— Immunity to conventional termination
**CORE DIRECTIVE ASSIGNED**
Maintain multiversal equilibrium.
Detect, analyze, and correct power imbalances before dimensional bleed reaches critical threshold.
He tried to laugh. No sound emerged at first.
Then, slowly, his voice returned—quiet, the same slight South Indian accent he'd always had, unchanged.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
**Humor response logged. Acceptable coping mechanism.**
The text continued without pause.
**You are no longer baseline mortal.**
**You are Auditor Lookon.**
**Your previous existence has concluded.**
**A new existence begins.**
**Objections will not alter parameters.**
Lookon stared at the words until they blurred—not from tears (he had none here), but from the sheer weight of them settling into place.
He thought of his apartment:
The single bed with mismatched sheets.
The stack of manga beside the pillow.
The half-finished cup of filter coffee gone cold on the table.
The phone probably still buzzing with unread messages from the group chat.
"Bro where r u"
"Chapter dropped!!!"
"Truck-kun got you? 💀"
He thought of how he'd always laughed at the trope.
Now the trope had laughed back.
**First directive incoming.**
A new line appeared.
**Primary universes flagged for audit (priority sequence):**
1. Potter-verse – Magical soul entropy / micro-rift formation
2. Shinobi-realm – Chakra cycle instability / entity ascension risk
3. Quirk-society – Power parasitism cascade potential
4. Supernatural-occult – Factional barrier fracturing
… (further entries locked until calibration)
**Travel aperture calibration commencing.**
**Adaptive interface online.**
**You may now open transit rifts at will.**
**Default state: Cloaked / Non-interfering.**
**Recommendation: Observe. Do not act until threshold breach confirmed.**
A smaller window materialized.
**Auditor Status – Initial**
Name: Lookon
Apparent Age: 23
Base Form: Leekelo human (modifiable)
Abilities (Tier 1):
- Absolute Immortality
- Dimensional Transit
- Passive Cloaking
- Power Analysis (observe & record)
- Temporary Mimicry (limited duration)
Emotional State: [Processing…]
He read that last line twice.
Processing.
Yes.
That was accurate.
He reached out—slowly, as if afraid the light might burn—and brushed his fingers against the glowing panel.
It felt like cool, smooth glass. Real. Present.
He pulled his hand back.
"So I just… start?"
**Affirmative.**
**First destination: Potter-verse.**
**Low-threat calibration environment.**
**Rift aperture forming.**
The darkness around him folded.
Not torn. Folded. Like turning the page of a very old book.
Golden-green light spilled through the seam. The scent of wet stone, pine needles, ancient wood, and faint woodsmoke drifted out.
Hogwarts.
Lookon felt something move inside him—not excitement, not fear.
Curiosity.
The same quiet curiosity that had once kept him awake until dawn chasing forum theories about hidden foreshadowing in *Naruto* or *One Piece*.
He looked at the System one last time.
**Proceed?**
He exhaled, even though there was no breath to exhale.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Let's see what happens next."
He stepped forward.
The rift closed behind him without fanfare.
Somewhere, in another world, rain continued to fall on an empty street.
A plastic bag lay abandoned in a puddle, pages of manga slowly dissolving.
But here—here the story had only just begun.