When fiction becomes reality.

'Issei's' body twitched over the plain white sheets. His muscles spasmed, and he thrashed uncomfortably in his sleep. His face twisted in a grimace as if he were going through an intense nightmare.

Then, abruptly, his eyes fluttered open, and an extreme headache hit him like a speeding truck.

'Ughh...!'

'Issei' groaned, half asleep. His hand reached up to grab his head, massaging the creases of his temple. He turned and rolled around in bed to settle in a comfortable sleeping position, hoping that the headache would disappear as suddenly as it came.

However, contrary to his expectations, the headache grew intense with each painful passing moment. His turning and twisting did little to alleviate the agony. All it managed to do was succeed in shifting the thin cyan cotton blanket draping over his sleeping body until it slid down the bed and pooled on the floor.

Finally, unable to bear the suffering, he pulled up his sluggish body and sat up, his groggy eyes unfocused and partially open.

'My body hurts too,' 'Issei' frowned. His bones creaked in protest as he shifted to his seated position, a murky fog rolling across the surface of his sea of consciousness.

With much of his body somewhat slacked, 'Issei' stared blankly at the empty white wall ahead, his eyelids weighing heavy with drowsiness despite the mental agony.

...

...

'...Wait, White!"

'Issei's' eyes widened when he noticed the abnormality. His breath hitched, and his heart jumped in his chest as his head jerked across, sweeping a general outline of the room.

Despite the low lighting, 'Issei' could easily make out the outline of the room. And as his mind registered more and more of the surroundings, his body became proportionally tense.

This...This wasn't his room. 

His room's walls were painted in a mix of different shades of blue, white, and lavender, especially the ceiling, which was completely blue.

'Not...white...'

His room didn't have a single-person bed like the one he sat on currently, and it was in the center of the room, not pushed into a desolate corner.

His study space was in the far right corner of the bed, near the bookshelf, not beside the bed.

...And his room was, overall, bigger than whoever this room belonged to.

'Where am I?'

This question almost immediately popped up in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the details before he retired for bed last night.

'I'd just finished doing the math assignment. Went to refill the bottle from the kitchen, returned, and scrolled the internet for a few. Grabbed the first volume of DxD and started re-reading it on the bed. Then, tired from the assignments, I must've fallen asleep halfway...'

His mind struggled to piece together the fragments of memories as the disruptive phantom pain lingered. Concurrently, he also thought, 'Have I been kidnapped?'

It'd justify his waking in this unfamiliar surrounding. Mayhaps someone has breached through the house security and kidnapped him in hopes of demanding ransom from his parents.

However, 'Issei' quickly discarded that idea. It was a ludicrous idea that made no sense. First of all, for one to be able to breach through the mansion's defences and reach his room on the third floor, they must've been not only extremely skilled, but also possess some amount insider knowledge or they were insider themselves....

In both cases, why would they bear with the hassle of smuggling him out without waking him up?

Why would they bother climbing the extra stairs when they could just loot the safe on the first floor and be on their merry way? If they possessed such knowledge- surely they also knew that he ain't worth much. They ain't gaining much by keeping him at gunpoint. Only a fool would think they could blackmail 'that man' and force him against his wishes- and that too for someone as insubstantial as his son.

"Heh..." A hollow chuckle escaped his lips...

...And 'Issei' froze. His heart, which had just showed signs of slowing down, leapt in his throat. The hairs on his arms stood on end as he heard his voice. Why did he sound so different...so wrong...

'Issei' shook his head and coughed reservedly, clearing his throat. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he tried to shake off the previous hallucination, and repeated, "Must've caught Co...ld..."

'Issei' breath hitched, and his body froze as he closely listened to the thin, high-pitched, squeaky voice that emerged from his vocals.

Trembling, he looked down and raised his hands, instantaneously noticing a subtle but noticeable difference in the size of his digits. 'His' hands- the one he gazed at silently- held small calluses at the base of his fingers. He didn't recall having them.

Dread filled his veins at the implication.

"I...Thi..." 'Issei's' voice cracked. He pushed away the rising discomfort and scrambled off the bed. He turned to the exit and dashed for it- stumbling and almost falling at the change in his instinctive height perception.

'Fuck...' He cursed. He barged open the single door and stilled. Ahead was a narrow hallway that extended to either side of him. The right path descended to the lower floors, which he guessed should be occupied by the other residents. And the left lead to the bathroom, which he presumed would have a full- or at least a half-body mirror.

'Issei' stepped outside and hesitated, a flicker of recognition shining in his eyes, 'Have I seen this somewhere?'

Not finding any answer from his recent memories, He put that aside and tentatively walked inside the bathroom, his footsteps light and silent. The last thing he wanted was for the people living downstairs to wake up before he even figured out his situation.

With some difficulty, he found the light switch and jabbed it with some force, his chest rising with uncertainty.

The bright light illuminated the small room as he stepped before the mirror.

"No..."

He inhaled sharply. His eyes contracted violently as he stumbled back, his hands rising to touch his face. "No...No...No..."

The mirror did not reflect him. Gone were his shoddy black hair and murky hazel eyes. Instead, it reflected a lanky young man- around his age- with wild auburn hair and matching round eyes.

The natural downward frown he had inherited from his father had been replaced by a large frozen smile that seemed full of life.

His complexion had grown a shade paler, and he was now a few centimeters shorter than he recalled being...

'Growth is an irreversible phenomenon.'

'Issei' recalled reading this statement back in elementary or middle school. Looking at the unfamiliar face greeting him back as his reflection, he felt all his doubts clearing away. Yes, as much as it does not make sense, there was no doubt about it.

"I...I've been transmigrated." He whispered.

As soon as the he- whatever he was now- understood his situation, a new volley of questions surfaced in his mind. The who's, why's, and how's were the obvious- and as much as he wished to know the answers, he knew he wasn't about to get them.

But amid them, one thought made him pause, made him nauseous.

'If I am in this person's body, what happened to the real owner? Did I inhabit a dead body or,' 'Issei' blood turned cold, 'my presence killed this person.'

...

"Ack!"

He rushed to the sink and grabbed its ends, his fingers turning red as his stomach churned violently. The acrid taste filled his mouth as did the acidic content.

"Blargh!" 'Issei' bent low and emptied the stomach's content in the bowl. His throat burned, and his chest ached as more of sourness rose in his throat.

His knuckles turned white, and his vision blurred as he fought off a new wave of nausea when a voice cut through the silence of the night.

"Issei, you're still awake!" His eyes snapped towards the door as a sleepy, feminine voice called out from the lower floor, "Did something happen, son?"

'Shit!'

'Issei' spat the remains into the bowl, composed himself, and turned on the faucet before addressing said woman- possibly this body's mother, "N-No...Nothing!" He shouted in perfect Japanese, his voice firm despite his growing confusion, "I was just taking a pee!"

"Oh, Ok. I thought Why is there noise coming from this late in the night?" This voice replied, "Guess it was just the faucet making sounds."

"Y-Yeah..."

"If it's nothing else, then I'm going to bed. Good night, son."

"Uh-huh...Good night."

With the voice gone, 'Issei' looked up at his reflection. This time, he noticed the similarities between the 3-D reflection and the 2-D pixalated protagonist.

Brown hair, brown hair, lanky build- this was Issei Hyoudou, the Red Dragon Emperor and much polarizing protagonist of the ecchi light novel he was reading before his sudden transmigration.

"Well...Fuck me..."

-------

Somewhere in the realm of forests and snow.

A monocle-wearing old man with a long, white beard lounged comfortably inside an establishment. Beside him stood a beautiful silver-haired woman who could easily be passed off as her daughter. She had a stern expression as she lectured him, but the old man- who could have easily been misunderstood for a wise old monk anywhere else- paid her no mind.

He wasn't interested in her nagging, for his old eyes were glued to the fine strippers' performances. "Hehe." A perverted giggle escaped his lips as his trained eyes narrowed on one particular woman performing on the other end of the hall. She was a tall and buxom woman who had much going for herself.

Rossweisse noticed her lord's gaze and stomped her feet in frustration. The young valkyrie could never understand her lords' - The Allfather's antics. She felt he should act like a person of his age and stature- not like some teen going through mood swings.

Oh, well, she wasn't about to waste her time expressing her opinions to him- If she did, she'd only get teased. But she had to remind him that they needed to return to Asgard. So, as she was about to speak, Lord Odin straightened his back.

The perversed expression that shadowed his face moments ago was gone, replaced by a serious and impassive indifference as he started blankly ahead. Rosseweisse gulped, "A-Allfather..."

He did not reply. He just stared ahead as the golden monocle freely hanging by the socket of his left eye glimmered with a brilliance of millions of different colors. The Wise and All-knowing lord of Asgard opened his nigh-omniscient eyes and peered through the countless lies and falsehoods as his gaze locked on at the nerves of the wold- the Yggdrasil.

He acutely sensed the small tremble that raced through its trunk before all returned to normal.

"So it begins," Oden sighed solemnly, a hint of helplessness seeping into his voice as his monocle returned to normal. "The final stretch of the cycle of inevitability."

He grabbed his trustee cane propped beside him and stood up, "Let's go, Rose."

.................

 A/N: Writing is sooo fucking arduous.