He was going to die before he reached adulthood.
Again.
One-hundred and seventy kilograms of iron stalled above Kousei's chest. His arms shook violently, muscles screaming as the weight began its inevitable, crushing descent. The metal was cold, slick with the sweat of his palms.
'I can't… I can't die like this! Not again! Not until I find it…'
Panic flooded his mind. It was the same panic he felt as a toddler in his last life, when he'd nearly cracked his skull on the concrete attempting to fly. Luckily, he was fine, but the lesson remained. A reminder that no matter what world he was in, he was trapped within the mundane.
Upon being reborn, he was convinced that the supernatural existed. It had to. People didn't just get reincarnated on a whim, after all.
So he spent the last seventeen years searching for it. Studying until his vision blurred. Training until he passed out. All based on a single, fragile hope that his life could be turned around by the impossible.
That he could one day escape this prison called reality.
To have all the power and the freedom in the world.
The bar dug into his sternum, spots dancing in his vision. The rational plan, to tilt the weight to the side and slide free, vanished from his mind. He was too busy drowning in the pure terror of imminent death.
'No. NO!'
The thought was pure animalistic terror. To die here, in a dusty run-down gym, with maybe a single person who would ever care about his death… it was just too much.
In a frantic burst of energy, he pushed harder than ever before, digging deep into reserves of strength he didn't know he had. The veins in his temples felt ready to burst. A copper taste filled his mouth. Clearly, he'd bitten his tongue. His world narrowed to the bar, the burning in his chest, the chill of the bench against his back.
His teeth were clenched hard, the veins on his neck pulsating as his expression contorted into an ugly rictus of strain.
And then—
"Hyaagh!"
He raged, funneling over a decade of frustration into this one moment. For those few seconds, nothing in the world mattered to Kousei except getting this barbell off him.
Something within him cracked… and shattered.
A roaring heat, like a furnace door blasting open, erupted from his core. Suddenly, the bar felt weightless. It shot up with ease, slamming into the rack with a deafening CLANG that echoed in the empty gym.
Kousei lay gasping, his heart drumming against his ribs, chest heaving.
"What… the fuck… was that?" he wheezed.
He laid there for several moments, trying to process the surge of strength he'd just felt.
'Is this that thing where people use 100% of their strength in a moment of desperation? But… shouldn't that tear my body apart? And… what is that sound?'
He slowly sat up, clutching his chest. His muscles didn't feel torn. And for some reason, he could hear a soft crackling in his ears. Like a cozy fireplace.
Looking down at his own body, he saw it.
Slowly writhing around his body, was a hazy white aura. Tiny motes of it fell off him periodically, disappearing into the air.
He slowly blinked. Then blinked again.
His breath hitched. His gasp became heavy breathing. Then it grew even further into a ragged, panting laugh.
His smile was nearly manic, tears welling in his eyes.
After seventeen years… he'd found it. The key to this prison.
"Finally," he whispered to the empty gym. "I found you, Magic."
~~~
As Kousei stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his chestnut brown skin dripping with shower water, a thought occurred.
'This world isn't normal.'
He knew that already, of course. Unlike in his past life, this world had those born with naturally differing hair and eye colors. It wouldn't be odd to see someone with pink hair down to the eyebrows, with bright red eyes.
At some point, he'd theorized that this was an anime world. Like one of those isekai novels he'd read.
'Too bad I don't know which one.' He lamented. 'Maybe a magical girl anime? Those usually have magic that goes under the radar...'
He shrugged, walking out of the bathroom and sitting on his bed.
Closing his eyes, he reached for the other reason he was certain the supernatural existed.
A power he had since he was a child.
With a soft shhh of displaced air, a book appeared. It hovered at chest height, bound by aged leather, with no title or markings. It was about the size of a hardback novel, but thicker.
"Still no clue what the hell this thing is," he muttered quietly to himself.
He didn't always have memories of his past life. They trickled in from day to day, as if he was slowly remembering them bit by bit.
And one day, when his past life's memories finally crystalized in his mind, it sent a shock straight to his core. At that time, he was so distraught when he realized he'd died young — when he realized he'd never see his old family again — that he'd fallen to his knees in despair.
Then, at that exact moment, this book manifested in front of him.
It was… useless. It had a few supernatural abilities, but they all were super mundane.
The first ability was that he could control the book telekinetically. Float it, spin it mid-air, turn its pages, you name it.
The second ability was barely an ability. He could summon it and un-summon it at will, such that no one could steal it from him.
The third ability was just as boring. He could turn its form to look like any book he'd touched before.
And the last ability? It had some use… if he wanted to be a writer, that is.
Put simply, he could transfer his thoughts straight to the paper. The words would simply appear the moment he thought of them.
That's it.
If this was his 'cheat ability' acquired from reincarnation, he had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do with it. Or maybe it was one of the worst cheat abilities in the history of the multiverse.
For years, he'd only filled it with notes on everything he could find about the supernatural… which was mostly just ramblings of various mythologies and mysteries throughout history.
Now, though, maybe he could use it for something else?
"Maybe I could use it like a personal magic book…? Like a, uh…" He trailed off, trying to think of the word.
He snapped his fingers as the thought came. "A Grimoire! Yeah, I'll call it my Grimoire, from now on." Kousei decided with a nod.
This… it might be useless as an implement for magic, but it could be used as a tool.
A foundation for his dive into the true supernatural.
'No more crackpot theories. No more bullshit. Real magic.' He decided with a clench of his fist.
With a thought, his grimoire flipped open to the first page. All the years of research he'd done into mythologies and magic vanished, and what was left were only countless blank pages.
"Alright," He said, most definitely not giggling giddily. "Let's do this."
Focusing, he let the inkless words flow from his mind onto the first page.
[Log: Initial Magic]
–Catalyst: Extreme physical duress combined with perceived mortal threat. (possibly responds to emotion?)
–Sensation: Activation of a latent, metaphysical organ. Subsequently releases an internal energy from every part of the body.
–Manifestation: A hazy, white aura. Audible low-frequency crackling sound. Increase in warmth across the body.
–Effect: Dramatic amplification of physical strength and durability. No post-use tissue damage observed.
–Limitation: Drains the user's stamina. Had to be shut off after an unknown time period before it began to physically hurt.
–Working Theory: Energy is endogenous. It reinforces existing physical applications within a localized field, primarily the user's own body. Essentially, it makes things it interacts with stronger.
–Temporary Name: 'Reinforcement Magic'?
He paused, reading over the entry. He'd likely rewrite it a bunch later on, or even remove it entirely as he learned more.
But for now… it made him feel like a real… magic… user? Wizard? Mage? Magus?
Magician?
Kousei smiled, shaking his head. At the end of the day, that didn't matter. What did matter, however, was that it was time for field work.
Drying himself off, and putting on some clothes, Kousei slowly made his way to the center of the room. Then, he sat down on his floor, a timer on his phone.
Closing his eyes, he could feel it now.
It was there, deeper within him, like a door he didn't know existed. All he had to do was open it, and the energy would come flooding out.
So he did.
'Warmth.'
He opened his eyes to see the aura again, writhing across his body in gentle motes of white light. He pressed the timer on.
Standing up slowly, he began to move.
He started simply, establishing a baseline. A normal push-up. Ten. Twenty. Even after thirty, his muscles didn't even feel a little strained.
Raising an eyebrow, he looked over to his wall. Then he walked over to it and pressed a palm flat against it. Without this magic aura, obviously nothing would happen. It was a wall, after all.
But with it? He focused, and with a soft crunch, his fingertips dented the plaster.
He yanked his hand back, staring at the five small divots.
"This… this is insane." A laugh, half shock, half delight, bubbled up. "My strength has been multiplied several times…"
Emboldened, he moved to open space.
With a jab, the aura moved along with his fist, trailing light. The punch made the air crack, far stronger than any punch he'd thrown in either life. He kicked, and his leg was a blur, the air snapping as it broke the space where his foot had been.
He grabbed his wooden desk chair and effortlessly lifted it with one hand. It felt like styrofoam.
He was grinning like a fool again.
Forty-five seconds in, the warmth began to dim to a slight cold. At fifty-five, it was still just as bright, but now it felt off. At sixty-two, it began to hurt.
Kousei quickly shut it off. He sagged, flopping onto his bed, breathing heavily.
With a flick of his hand, the grimoire came to float in front of him. New words scrawled themselves beneath his first entry.
[Test 1: Controlled Activation.]
–Duration: 62 seconds.
–Observations: Amplification factor didn't seem too outrageous. Definitely around the level of a peak-human, but it's unclear if it is stronger than that. Further testing required. Speed and coordination also enhanced. Perceptual time may be slightly dilated.
–Stamina Cost: High. Even without strenuous movement, the feeling of weakening over time is evident.
–Recovery Period: TBD.
The grimoire disappeared with a thought.
In the gloom of his bedroom, Kousei looked at his hands. There was no magic aura on them, just the faint calluses from years of his relentless training.
Training that had finally paid off.
Even now, he could feel it — the door within himself.
He thought of his past life, in which he'd died without any chance. A virus that took his life before he could even grow old. At that time, he could only cry himself to sleep, knowing that with each day he grew weaker and weaker.
Utterly helpless.
But in this life… he'd done it.
The immutable laws of this prison called 'reality' were finally shaken.
A slow smile graced his lips, devoid of any earlier mania, and simply full of a quiet content certainty.
Never again would he have to simply face reality, as so many had told him before.
Now? Now he could fight it. Break it. For once in both lives, he was the one who had a chance to be in control.
He glanced at his phone's clock. 3:17 AM.
'Just a few more tests.' He told himself. He might be getting ahead of himself a bit, but who could blame him?
In the face of literal magic, what person would ever focus on their sleep schedule?
The door inside him beckoned, a siren song of possibility.
Sleep, of course, was impossible.
Now? Now was the time for action.