“It has begun…. the gears of fate has been move since the time you found something to stand for. The fate that will lead you to the story unbeknownst to anyone and you, shall unleash the story you should hope to bring forth to your life…..”

With those cacophonous lines echoed in my ear, everything turns pitch black. The last thing I remember is the face of that guy. That guy who pointed his revolver to my head.

Although, I don’t fully remember why, or what exactly happens to me. In the pitch black place I heard sounds of gear, gradually moving along. Each mechanical gears crashing, my heart beats. It slowly, faintly heard in between.

And then…

A blaring noise heard atop of my head. An annoying sound ricocheting soothing my eardrums. Raising my arm as an intuition to find and shut the sound automatically responded instantly.

Reaching where the sound comes from, my fingers tap the button and it halted. My eyes opens up. A ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling covered in darkness.

Above my bed is a digital alarm clock in red color set in 6:00 a.m.

I sit on the bed and yawns. Huh? Did I just died? Why am I yawning like I was just woke up? I still remember it. But, might be just all a dream, I guess? From the thick curtain hanging on my room cuts the slim ray of morning sunbeam.

Coming off from my bed, I placed the alarm atop and opens the curtain. “Good morning, world.” I mumbled. My body felt the warm sensation. It must be all but a dream, after all.

I go to my closet to get clothes, when, I happen to see a rectangular body mirror beside the room standing.

That made me happen to look at my appearance. “Huh?”

My mouth agape out of surprise from the reflection in the mirror. Wait. What?

I became a 17 year-old guy. A not-so-muscular, or scrawny body, a height of 5 feet 4 inches, and a possible looks of a mundane boy like I always have been. “What the…?”

I got amazed. Why…? Why is this happened? I happened to be 30 years old. I’m in the 1/4 of my life as a human being, and now this happened.

How come I become a teenager again? How come I looked like someone younger? And this isn’t just my looks from when I was before. A truly different appearance.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How is this happened?

Who is this person? Who am I?

Because I don’t know much of myself, I started rummaging on my closet. Inside are varieties of clothes indicating on different weathers. What? On the wall hanged a dark-blue blazer and pants, with an embroidery attached at the breast pocket.

What is this? I looked at the appearance of the emblem tagged in the pocket. “Lily Flower Academy” but it written as (百合の花学園)

Huh. What? Since when I learn reading Kanji? I am not a Japanese. I’m an Asian but not a Japanese.

Wait. I don’t know who I am, but the language I speak seems no different. I still speak the language I’ve been practiced since the time I was born.

I proceed on rummaging on my stuff. Picking the bag sitting on my chair, I get the notebooks and books inside. My name’s written also there. “Miyamoto Kira.” (吉良宮本)

Yes. Once again, I read the words same as written in the embroidery of my blazer.

What’s this all about? I don’t understand.

“Kira, you woke up already?” a voice from the other side of my room heard as a knock comes through. “It’s your first day in Highschool. Better not be late.”

I don’t know how to respond. Will I just answer like a normal student? I guess it is?

“Ah, yes. I’ll come right away… mom.”

The way I speak is really polite. Huh. Why is that? I know to myself I am polite to my seniors at work and the elders. Yet… this is odd.

I started preparing myself and go out of my room. Outside the door hangs a signage written in Katakana (キラ) Kira.

I got downstairs and proceed on the dining area. Over there, I see a woman, in her 20’s, has a bob-cut hair and slim figure. She wears a cardigan, and dress inside.

Her eyes are slightly droopy and has fair color of skin like mine. She’s wearing thick frames of glasses that makes her beauty be more perfect. Eating her breakfast using chopsticks, she glances at me.

“Good morning, Kira.” she greeted after swallowing the food she chew from her mouth. “I… Good morning…. elder sister?”

I feel awkward to greet someone who I don’t know in the first place. That sudden, her eyebrows fuzzed together, looking at me with wonder. “What’s the matter?”

“Huh?” I jolt out. What? What is she saying? I don’t know who she is so—

“Might be she didn’t recognize you because of your eyeglasses, Hana.” a woman in her 40’s replied as she turns to us. Wearing an apron, she shows a smile while appearing like a gentle mom.

Her hair tied in bun shape, holding a tray with food. She then placed it down my table. “Go eat your breakfast, Kira. Hana has been not wearing glasses so you might be shocked how she looks.”

The woman, who is my mom speaks at me with a wry smile on her lips. “Don’t you worry, you’ll get used to it.”

I nodded, as my elder sister smiles at me and continue her breakfast. I did same, and like how I read the Kanji and Katakana, my hand reflex on holding chopsticks goes naturally.

Wait. What’s the meaning of this? How did I learn this in the first place? This is weird. This isn’t something I can just learn so casually?

Who am I? What’s my real identity? Did I really died? And how come I become a household member of a Japanese family?

With those questions hanging in my mind, everything slowly unfolds. Unbeknownst to me,. and to everyone who I got attached to as my “family”, a fabricated lie hides.

Because this time I wasn’t just only a reader. I am also the author of this story emphasized to me as the named: Life.