Devil Fruit System in MHA

Kael's eyes flew open, his heart pounding in his chest—except, something felt off. No pain. No bullet wound. Just an overwhelming sense of confusion. He blinked and slowly sat up, taking in the strange scene before him.

He was standing in a vast lobby, the size of a football stadium, yet somehow intimate. Towering white pillars stretched endlessly into a void above, vanishing into nothingness. The space was an odd mix of cozy and disorienting: scattered across the floor were every kind of seating arrangement imaginable. A giant beanbag chair sat lazily next to a row of sterile hospital chairs, while a small corner resembled a perfectly intact internet café, complete with glowing monitors and worn-out keyboards. Everything looked random, haphazard, but surprisingly comfortable.

At the far end of the massive hall, a giant red arrow hovered above a desk, its neon letters blinking: "Reception". The sign was pointing at a counter where a young man in his twenties sat slumped forward, fast asleep, with his cheek mashed against the desk. His golden hair was a mess of spikes, and a slight trail of drool glistened beside him.

Kael took a cautious step forward, marveling at the vastness of the space, which somehow felt both infinite and claustrophobic. He couldn't shake the feeling of unreality, like waking up in someone else's dream.

He approached the reception desk and rapped his knuckles lightly onto the surface. "Uh, hello?"

The man behind the counter twitched and slowly lifted his head, groaning. He lazily rubbed one of his eyes—a striking, deep purple—with the palm of his hand. "I'm up. I'm up. Don't go around making noise like that, man," he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

Kael glanced at the man's nameplate: Tarou.

"Hey, uh… Tarou, right?" Kael asked hesitantly. "Where am I? And what happened to the guy who shot me—"

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His words trailed off, and his face went pale as his brain made a connection he really didn't like.

Tarou gave him a sad, almost pitying smile, the kind you give someone who's just figured out the punchline to a very cruel joke. "Looks like you figured it out, Kael." He gestured around the room with a lazy wave of his hand. "Welcome to Transcendence Inc. You, my man, are dead. Kaputski. Expired. Annihi—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Kael cut him off, holding up his hands in a mix of frustration and panic. "I'm dead. No need to keep going with the synonyms." His voice wavered as the weight of the situation sunk in. "But… why am I here? What does Transcendence Inc. do?"

Tarou stretched his arms over his head, his joints popping lazily, and leaned back in his chair, which creaked dangerously under the pressure. "We're basically the HR department for souls," he said with a casual shrug. "We handle reincarnations, next steps, transitions to the afterlife, yada yada. The usual post-death formalities. Think of it as customer service, but, like… for dead people."

Kael stared at him, wide-eyed. "Reincarnation? So, I get to come back? Like… pick a new life?"

"Eh, sorta," Tarou replied, reaching under the counter to pull out a form—crumpled and coffee-stained. "You don't exactly get free reign. More like… options." He tossed the form lazily onto the counter, not bothering to smooth it out. "We offer you some choices, depending on what's available. Could be a dog, could be a tree. Could be a potato, if things are really slow."

"A potato?" Kael echoed, his voice rising an octave in disbelief. "I don't want to be a vegetable! I had so much I wanted to do!"

Tarou yawned, his head nodding as if he was fighting off sleep. "Yeah, you and everyone else, buddy. Look, most people get a second shot at life, but it's not exactly a VIP experience. You roll the dice; you see what you get. Maybe you will come back as a hero or a millionaire. Maybe you come back as a housecat or a goldfish. It's a bit of a gamble."

Kael's mind was spinning. This couldn't be real. A second ago, he was fighting for his life, and now he was here—wherever "here" was—talking to some slothful receptionist about his future as a potential potato?

"Of course, it does also depend on what you did on Earth," Tarou continued, his voice flat, as if reciting a well-worn script. "Not like, you know, the whole good or bad thing. That doesn't really matter. We just figure out which god gets your case. They get the final say on where you go."

Kael blinked, trying to make sense of it all. Tarou's robotic delivery wasn't helping. Now that he thought about it, this guy had probably explained this routine thousands of times.

"Oh," Kael muttered, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. "So, you're telling me there's still a chance. Maybe I'll get assigned to some god of machinery, or creativity, or—"

Tarou cut him off with a shake of his head, the fake customer-service smile plastered across his face. "It's already been decided, Kael. Your case has been handed off."

Kael's heart sank. "To… who?"

Tarou leaned forward, dropping his voice slightly as if delivering some grand secret. "The god behind your case is… interesting, I'll give him that. More neutral than anything. He's not here for punishment or reward. He just wants entertainment."

Kael felt a pit form in his stomach. "Who—who is it?"

With a tired sigh, Tarou slid a crumpled, stained form across the desk. Kael hesitated before picking it up. The name at the top of the page read:

GOD OF SHUT-INS – HIBIKI KOMORI.

"Huh? But I wasn't a shut-in! I had a job, friends, and I even went to the club sometimes!" Kael protested, recoiling at the very idea that he could be mistaken for a NEET.

Tarou just shrugged, clearly unmoved. "Yeah, well, that's what everyone says. But you'd be surprised how broad the definition's gotten these days." He let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his temple. "Honestly, it's a mess up here. The whole Isekai Department? Overrun. It's been inflated like crazy, and every time they trim the budget, cases end up… let's say, mis-assigned."

Kael blinked in disbelief. "Mis-assigned? How does that even happen?"

"Welcome to celestial bureaucracy, my man," Tarou said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Too many souls, not enough staff. Gods taking on side gigs, part-timers everywhere. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if you were supposed to go to the God of Adventurers or something, but nope—you landed with Hibiki. Happens all the time."

Kael's mind raced. "Wait, so you're saying I might've been meant for someone else, and I just… slipped through the cracks?"

"Basically, yeah." Tarou leaned back, his chair creaking under the motion, adding to his nonchalant attitude. "But hey, Hibiki's chill. He's not going to turn you into a potato or anything. If anything, he's your best shot at a good second run. He's not stingy with the fun, just… a little hands-off."

Kael frowned, his grip tightening on the blank form in his hands. "What does 'hands-off' mean in this context?" he squeaked out, half-expecting some bizarre twist.

Tarou glanced at him, that tired look never leaving his eyes. "I mean, he's got fairies to handle most of his business with contractors like you. You'll probably only see him once, and that's in a few minutes when he calls you into his… uh, office." His voice trailed off, a faint grimace tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Kael's nerves flared up again. "Wait—what do you mean by fairies? Like, actual magical flying pixies with wands and stuff? Cinderella-style?"

Tarou snorted, though his exhaustion kept it subdued. "Not really. They look like regular people, just… about a foot tall. And a little more, uh, spirited."

"Spirited?" Kael asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know. Energetic. Maybe a bit too much sometimes," Tarou said with a casual wave. "I should know—I used to be one."

Kael blinked. "You… were a fairy?"

"Yep. Worked under the Goddess of Sloth and Sleep. Best gig I ever had, honestly," Tarou said, a flicker of fondness lighting up his otherwise deadpan face. "Did a whole lot of nothing, which was kind of the point."

Kael stared at him, at a loss for words. The absurdity of it all was almost too much to take in.

Ding.

"And there's the call to his office," Tarou announced, sounding almost relieved. "Just head over to the left, past the café—make sure to grab a snack if you want. They've got some amazing pastries here. Then take the elevator up to floor infinity."

Kael blinked at the absurdity of it all. "Floor infinity? Is that, like, a real place?"

"Sure is," Tarou replied with a casual shrug. "It's where all the fun stuff happens. Or, you know, whatever Hibiki considers fun." He gave Kael a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just try to relax. He's harmless, I promise."

Kael took a deep breath, still feeling the weight of his situation. "Right. Floor infinity. No pressure." He shot Tarou a half-hearted grin before setting off toward the café, glancing around at the bizarre mix of seating and decor. It was strangely comforting in a chaotic way.

As he walked, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of god Hibiki would be. Would he be whimsical and carefree, or aloof and distant? Whatever the case, Kael hoped he could find some sense of direction—or at least a good snack—before facing whatever lay ahead.