Transmigration Isn't All That Great, Actually

Being reincarnated...sucks.

For one, unless you get a wish to decide where you go and how your life will turn out, you're basically leaving everything to chance.

You could be born to royalty. Or, you could be born into destitution. You could be born to loving parents. Or, you could be abused and hated by the people who made you. You could at least be born in a peaceful country. Or, you could be born in a war-torn country and die before you're even fully grown by getting caught up in the fighting.

I'd rather take a 100% chance at being born in an average family, to average parents, than a 50/50 chance I could be born in either an insanely rich family or a destitute one.

I don't particularly mind gambling...but there are some things you shouldn't gamble with.

As I found out after a run-in with Truck-kun, the one and only.

I was met by a ROB who gave me six tickets and told me to rip them. He refused to answer anything I asked and just continually repeated that I needed to rip the tickets. So, I did. After the first ticket, I realized these tickets gave me powers and abilities.

Presumably for my next life. Originally, I was excited. Thrilled, even. The chance to reincarnate, or even transmigrate, was something everyone dreamed of at least once in their life.

Especially people like me. The weak and listless, who had nothing going for them in life.

If only I'd known it didn't always go like those fanfics I'd always binge-read. It, most of the time, goes much much worse than those.

Still, I gained some good abilities. What were they? These:

[Experience and Talent of a Grandmaster Swordsman]

[Experience and Talent of a Grandmaster Unarmed Combatant]

[Herculean Physique*]

[High-Speed Physique**]

[Shusui]

[Beast-Like Combat Instincts]

(*A/N - Basically someone with this has extremely dense bodily tissue that lends them incredible strength and durability. Also gives them 100% Muscle Usage. **High-Speed Physique basically gives the MC speedster biology but it needs training and exercise to reach it's true potential, so he's not gonna be running at the speed of light instantly out of the gates lol.)

A super strong, super durable, super speedy, beastly one-man army who can wield Shusui, a sword from the series 'One Piece' known for it's durability. A combination that should do pretty well, right? True. Even now, I'll tell you it seems to be quite a strong combo.

I was informed Shusui would be stored in my soul and I'd be able to call it out when I wanted to, and I was informed that the experience and talent of the two grandmasters would be merged with me in the process of my transmigration.

What that consisted of was being bombarded with decades and decades of killing, fighting and bloodshed.

I gained the experience of an unnamed Samurai who lived on the battlefield from the age of 6, until the day he died at the ripe old age of 108. 102 years of experience on the battlefield and using a sword, of fighting and killing--do you know how much that hurt? It felt like someone was driving a drill through my mind and all the while I was forced to watch bloody scene after bloody scene.

It was fucking horrible. And it didn't get better.

Mainly because I gained the experience of an unnamed Martial Artist who traveled the world and took his style of Karate and morphed into an art purely used to kill. An assassin, is what he was. A bloodthirsty man who got high off of the feeling of fighting people with his barehands. A twisted and rotten-to-the-core type of man. He also reached the ripe old age of 99 before dying of natural causes.

Two horrible men who lived so long, and now I had their experiences and talents. The pain tripled when I actually found myself in a physical body.

I wasn't given any time to get over the pain either. I was picked up by some men, and thrown into a pit. I quickly learned that I'd been transmigrated into an enslaved person who was used in underground blood sports.

How? Because minutes later, I was faced off against a child no older than 13, brandishing a knife at me. They were scarred all over and their eyes were dead. Blank. Indifferent. Just like their expression. They rushed me and because of the pain, I lashed out in self-defense and acted purely on instinct.

Beastly instincts, driven by over a century and a half of experiences from two horrible men.

The boy's neck snapped and severed, his throat a bloody mess after my instinctive knife hand was thrust through it.

The crowd around the pit weren't stunned. They loved it. The cheers shook my eardrums. They were so loud I felt them in my chest, thumping against my heart. At the time, I collapsed and threw up. Before I was even finished with that, another person was thrown into the pit.

I'd rather not go into it any further, but for clarifications sake, I killed eleven people that day. All of varying ages.

It turned out my new body was a recently kidnapped 9-year-old.

Which means it's been five years since I was transmigrated. Five years in this hellish place where I'm forced to kill and kill and kill and kill and kill. Every fucking day. I used to hate killing. I used to throw up every morning, knowing I was going to have to kill people. Now...I just feel indifferent. Like there's a bad taste in my mouth but I can put up with it if I have to.

I've tried to escape hundreds of times over the last few years but the people of this world can be quite strong. They even know magic, I've found out. Whether this world runs off of different rules when compared to my old one or not but people are too strong.

Speaking of strong, I'm decently strong myself. They can't put me up against other humans anymore because I can't be killed via normal means and my human opponents always get bisected in a few moves.

So they send me up against animals that are a bit too big for a logical world. From that little bit of information, I figured out I was probably in an anime world of sorts.

Bears - the ones they send up against me, anyway - are usually six or seven meter tall monstrosities when they stand up on their hind legs. They're also muscular and bulky as hell. Same goes for the Lions and Rhinos they've put me up against. Bulls too. Kinda like they've been injecting growth hormones and steroids into the poor things.

In other news, magic is annoying to go up against. I'm still getting used to it with my new talents but it's aggravating. Kind of like archers if each arrow they shot was a bazooka and if they had the ability to summon the elements to do their bidding.

I've still been trying to escape in between matches. Every attempt lets me get better at fighting magic and maybe they'll eventually think 'he's more effort than he's worth' and then either kill me or let me escape. Either one works.

I'm fed up with this life.

Where's the harem? The school life? The funny family antics? The training arcs that don't involve life-or-death battles and escape attempts?

Stabbing my sword through the back of a Tiger's head, I felt momentarily sorry for the beast before I pulled the sword free and flicked the blood off it before sheathing the blade. A cheap katana they gave me. It was training in and of itself to not break this shitty thing with every swing I sent at my opponents.

I was just about to head back to my room to plan another escape attempt when someone slammed through the roof above me, the floodlights above crashing down. They were a blur, even to me, and yet instinctively I knew their movements were...unnatural. Their blurred arms flashed around, bangs ringing out as bullets flew and hit the guards surrounding the pit. The crowd screamed and ran, becoming cowards as soon as any sign of danger was thrown at them.

...Typical. They love to watch me slaughter dangerous beasts and put myself at risk but don't wanna risk themselves. I guess they're physically normal people, huh?

The blur suddenly slowed, hitting the ground at a fraction of the speed they should've hit it.

Magic, no doubt.

They looked up at me and I finally got a look at the person who'd charged in. Black hair, dead black eyes, a middle-aged face with the typical features of an Asian man. Japanese, maybe? Either way, he was wearing a trench coat and underneath that, a black suit. He blankly looked at me with a vacant expression and I felt all my instincts warn me that this man was dangerous.

I could tell I was physically stronger than him. But something told me I'd die no matter how I tried to attack him. Even with centuries of experience and honed talent, I'd die. That ability to speed up and slow down...it was too dangerous for me to go up against as I am right now*.

(*A/N - Keep in mind he's a 14-year-old and isn't fully developed physically just yet.)

I bent my knees, a hand on my sword's hilt, instinct ruling me right now. The danger was too high to not react like this. Regardless of how easily he could out speed me, I still had to be ready. I still had to try and react.

His eyes looked over me before he reached into his trench coat. I tensed, muscles pulled taut and blood vessels bulging on my skin.

Except he didn't pull out a gun, or even a weapon of any kind. He pulled out a picture.

He looked between it and me a few times before finally speaking, "Are you Masato Oosuki?" he asked in Japanese. Oddly enough...I could understand him. An extra gift from that ROB or did this body already know it? I did take over this body when it was around 9-years-old, so it wouldn't surprise me. I do have vaguely Asian features.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, still tensed and ready to respond to an attack, "I don't have any memories before the age of nine."

He nodded to this before putting the photo away, "Do you know where you are?" he asked and I shook my head, releasing and then gripping my sword hilt again. He sighed and gestured to the surrounding building, "This is a gladiatorial pit in South America. One that's ran by Mages. I was sent here to clear them out and to help an old friend find her son...and I think you might be her son. What do you think?" he pulled the photo out again before throwing it at me.

It took a lot of mental control to not slash the photo before it could get near me but I released my sword hilt and grabbed the photo out of the air, looking down at it.

I hadn't seen much of myself outside of using dirty mirrors that barely reflected anything, but I knew I had black hair and yellow eyes. I'd felt my features with my hands and could tell I wasn't ugly or anything. Straight nose, defined jawline, high cheekbones, unblemished skin (apart from a few scars)--I guess that could be considered handsome, I don't know.

What it did tell me was that I had a unique feature. My eye color. And this picture had a kid, around 8-years-old, with yellow eyes, happily smiling next to a brown-haired woman who was smiling joyfully as she gave the child a side hug.

My forehead suddenly felt like it was being pierced by an ice pick and I groaned, holding my head, squashing the picture against it.

I remembered this pain. This is the pain brought on by memories.

More memories came into my head. But these memories...were nice. Filled with warmth. There wasn't any bloodshed or brutal murders - just memories of a Japanese kid living with his single mom and the days of peace they had together. The smiles, the laughs, the times out eating at family restaurants.

Mamako Oosuki. That's her name. This body's--my mother. My name...is Masato Oosuki. I was kidnapped while on holiday in Europe and shipped here.

...Why the hell didn't I get these memories until now? I feel like I've been cheated.

. . .

The traveling back to Japan was odd. The man introduced himself as Kiritsuga Emiya. Which instantly triggered memories from my past life - memories of a show called Fate/Stay Night. He was the main character's foster father.

Yet the character I knew wasn't really there. He was much more talkative and despite having blank, dead eyes, he actually smiled quite a few times when he explained things to me.

He seemed more like a friendly middle-aged man than he did an international Magus Killer.

The only thing that kept me focused and on edge was my instincts that warned me about him. And I could guess why. His magic, Innate Time Control, is quite impressive. Being able to double, triple or quadruple his speed, reflexes and bodily motions is quite a nice ability. Makes him exceptionally deadly as well, which is why my instincts were going haywire.

Still, oddities about his behavior aside, I enjoyed the trip to where I assumed 'home' was. No killing needed to be done and I could just relax while eating food.

A luxury that wasn't usually offered to me much back in the pit. I got water and nutrition blocks.

Not the tastiest or most exuberant food to grow up on, honestly.

It still gave me too much to ponder my situation. Is where I'm going really my home? I did take over this body, after all. It wasn't originally mine. Would this Mamako realize this? Would she instinctively know? Or would I have to keep fooling her into thinking that I'm her son? It's a complicated scenario and I don't think I'm shameless enough to just take over someone else's life and live it in their steed.

How complicated it is aside, I'm also selfish enough that I won't give up this new life. Why do you think I fought and fought in those bloody fights despite not liking to kill? Because I wanted to live. Simple as that.

And the introduction of these memories only gave me more of a reason to live, actually. After all, these memories showed me I could live a life in this new world. A relatively normal one.

So, I was now standing outside a door to a suburban house.

Kiritsuga was standing right next to me, and it seemed he was tired of waiting, "...Are you going to knock the door anytime soon?" he asked and even despite not looking back, I could hear the slight smirk that was no doubt on his face.

I turned and yep, it was right there. I scowled and waved him off, "I'm doing it, I'm doing it. Just trying to prepare myself because if she's anything like how I remember--!"

I was cut off by the sound of rapid footsteps from behind the door before it was flung open, revealing a beautiful woman with a slender yet curvy figure - she must've been in her thirties but she didn't look a day over twenty. Even despite that, she gave off a mature aura that you'd imagine a mother to have. Her purple eyes stared at me, her eyes quickly becoming red-rimmed and filling with tears.

Her appearance was...familiar, same with her name and my own, but I couldn't place them. But I guess that's what happens after years of having to focus on fighting for your life. You forget things that don't contribute to that fighting for your life thing.

I tried to smile, but I knew it came out crooked and forced on my face. I hadn't had to smile in years - hell, I hadn't needed to make any facial expressions in the years I'd been here - so it was bound to be the case but I tried my best, continuing with what I think was a gentle tone, "Mother...I'm back," it wasn't anything profound but it seemed to do the trick as the woman flung herself at me.

She gripped and hugged me with more strength than I expected from her lithe frame but I wasn't hurt or annoyed by it. The sentiment held in this hug...felt nice. Warm. Better than anything in the last few years by far.

I hugged her back and she somehow hugged me even tighter, sobbing into my chest. Not knowing what to do, I just rubbed her back and tried to comfort her.

...I was beginning to realize I severely lacked experience in these types of scenarios.

Nevertheless, she didn't seem to mind as she pulled her, her face messy with tears and the little makeup she seemed to be wearing now smudged slightly. She looked up at me, her eyes puffy and her bottom lip quivering.

"I'm...I'm so sorry Maa-kun...I'm so sorry I let you get taken away...!" she broke down into sobs again, her guilt pouring out of her.

A mother who loved her son, had her son taken away and she blamed herself for it. Years of emotional torment not too much unlike my own in terms of severity. She no doubt bottled it up and now it was exploding outward because I'm here. Her son.

...Hypocrite. That's right. I'm a hypocrite. Faced with this crying woman, faced with her guilt and her cries of shame, I can't find it in myself to not become her son. Even if I'm a different person, even if I'm not the son she wanted, I'm still the best she's gonna get. I'm still her son in some ways, even if I'm different in others. This crying woman is my mother.

Something clicked in the back of my head and I felt a more natural smile come across my face.

I cupped the side of her face before speaking, "You don't need to be sorry, mom. I don't blame you. I'd never blame you for something like this. You don't need to be sorry...because I'm back and I don't plan on leaving again," I finished by pulling her back into another hug, holding her tight, "You sent that old man to look for me, right?" I asked and she nodded against my chest, "You never gave up hope that he'd find me, right?" I once again asked and she nodded in reply, her sobs getting louder as the emotions overwhelmed her, "Then you truly have nothing to be sorry for. You tried your best and here I am. You're a brilliant mother."

Here I am, hugging my new mother and letting her cry out all the emotions she'd bottled up throughout the years I was gone.

I'm Masato Oosuki. No matter what, I'll live this life as if it were my own.