Chapter Text
The neon lights of the city at night.
The buzzing crowd around them.
The music playing in stores.
All of these were typically traits of an average city.
And in this city in particular resided four young men. Four young men who were amazing at everything they did, from singing to athletics...but shit at video games!
Or...had been.
It was a regular night.
"Hey, how long is this traffic gonna hold up?" Mafumafu complained.
Soraru rolled his eyes. "Can't we just get food from the convenience store on this block? Do we have to cross?"
"Yes!" the other three shouted at once. Soraru smacked them as people glanced in their direction.
They waited for what seemed like another fifteen minutes, glaring at the red man on the light.
...
...
"IT'S GREEN" Sakata shouted.
"hUH"
"Let's go!" Mafumafu exclaimed. He was the first to cross...
but unfortunately, a white truck, its driver asleep like a rock, came rushing into the scene.
"MAFU--" Soraru yelled.
As Mafumafu turned too late, the three ran across the street in a failed attempt to save him. The cold light of the truck's headlights reflected in their terrified eyes as Soraru reached his hand to Mafumafu--
And that day, four lives were supposedly lost.
"Yo," said a stranger holding a long scythe, his voice filled with something that he probably thought was pity. "That sounds like a waste."
Soraru frowned. "We're already dead, so how are you--"
"I'm your grim reaper," said the stranger, checking his watch. "Now, there are four of you, correct? It would be terrible to work overtime because one of you got lost."
The four singers glanced at each other.
Trust? Mafumafu asked silently.
No trust? Sakata said.
Wait, Soraru replied.
Ugh, Urata said.
The grim reaper laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not here to, you know, reap your souls."
"Doesn't that technically mean--"
"The four of you died terribly young," said the reaper with exaggerated sorrow. "So I decided to reincarnate you all, with all of your powers and stats preserved!"
Soraru glanced at his friends, who rolled their eyes.
"There's gotta be a catch," Urata said.
The reaper pointed at him. "Spot on!" he said in a bright voice.
"Please never say 'spot on' again," Sakata muttered. The reaper circled them, tapping his scythe against the floor of--wait, where the hell even were they?
It was just...white. Endless white. There was no definite floor or walls or ceiling.
"I'm reincarnating you...into an otome game!"
"Ehhhh?!?!"