The morning began like a dream. Shiki Yami stretched in bed, the warmth of his wife beside him grounding him in the bliss of his life. He turned his head, watching her peaceful face, and whispered, "I don't think I'll ever get tired of waking up to this."
She murmured something unintelligible, her lips twitching into a sleepy smile. Yami chuckled quietly, kissed her forehead, and slid out of bed. The house was still quiet, save for the soft creaks of floorboards under his steps.
In the kitchen, yami being the best husband and father decided to make breakfast —pancakes flipped, bacon sizzled, and eggs were whisked to golden perfection. The smells of the bacon drew his three children in, their laughter and chatter filling the space. His wife joined them, her hair a mess but her smile brighter than the sun.
"Breakfast of champions, huh?" she teased, taking her seat.
"Nothing but the best for my team," Yami replied, sliding plates across the table.
After breakfast, they all gathered on the couch for their usual weekend ritual: One Piece. Yami couldn't help but beam as his kids debated their favorite characters and his wife snuck playful jabs about his lifelong obsession with the show.
But time ticked on. Work called. He kissed them goodbye, one by one, holding his wife a little longer before stepping into his car.
.
.
.
At the intersection, the light turned red, and Yami tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming to the radio. While looking at his rear view mirror He caught movement in his line of sight—a white semi barreling toward him. His brow furrowed.
"Fuck me" he muttered.
The truck smashed into him, the impact sending his car skidding. Pain shot through his body making him black out for a short time, but somehow, he clung back to consciousness fast.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now!?" he groaned, gripping the wheel.
Another truck roared into view, this one slamming into his left side. His head snapped back, stars exploding in his vision. Blood dripped down his face, but he was still alive.
"Two? What is this, a joke?"
The final blow came from the right—a third truck, massive and unforgiving. The collision crumpled the car like paper, and this time, there was no surviving it. Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Shiki Yami awoke, he wasn't greeted by heavenly light or soothing voices. Instead, cold iron bit into his wrists, and the muffled sounds of screams echoed around him. He was bound, naked and bruised, his body smaller and frailer than he remembered. Panic gripped him as he scanned the dimly lit room.
"What the hell?" he croaked.
The sound of a door creaking open pulled his attention. Two figures stepped into view. One was tall and broad-shouldered, adorned in gaudy, opulent robes. The other was slim, with an unsettling smile that would make the devil moan.
"Ah, our new fighter is awake," the man said, his voice dripping with cruel delight.
"Look at him, Gabrielle," the woman purred. "He's scrawny, but there's something… promising about him."
Gabrielle's grin widened. "You'll learn quickly, boy. Fight well, and you might earn the privilege of surviving another day."
Shiki's blood ran cold. The chains around his wrists clinked as he tried to move. His memories were jumbled—he'd been a man with a family, a life full of love and comfort. Now he was a child, stripped of everything, thrust into a nightmare.
"What… What is this place?" he whispered, his voice shaking.
The woman's laughter was sharp, almost musical. "Welcome to your new life, little fighter. You belong to us now. Fight, kill, entertain us. Or die trying."
Shiki's hands clenched, the weight of his new reality sinking in. He didn't know why or how he'd ended up here, but one thing was certain: this wasn't a life he could accept.
As the door slammed shut behind them, leaving him alone in the dark, he muttered to himself, "You've gotta be kidding me… This is some sick joke, right?"
——————
AN:more power stones = more chapters