My Love Rival Is Me!

Awakening...[2]

He tried to stand—but his body didn’t respond. Panic flared through him as the realization sank in. He wasn’t standing in his room. He was seeing it through his own eyes—trapped inside his unmoving body. “What the hell... why can’t I move?”

He tried to move, a task he once took as a trivial matter before, to sit up and confront this madness—but nothing happened. Not even a twitch. His mind was racing, shouting commands, but his body refused to heed to his desperate commands.

“Come on... move... please.”

He struggled, screamed, begged for control—but nothing worked. His voice bounced uselessly off the silence. He was trapped, paralyzed, like a spectator inside his own body. The silence that followed was deafening, He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, nothing...

All he could do was see—his own room, his own body, and the growing horror of not being able to interact with it

“I... I thought I fell on the staircase. How the hell did I end up back here? I don’t like this one bit!, he snapped.

"I mean What the hell is all this crap?!” Renji groaned, frustration bubbling up as his voice cracked in disbelief.

“Aiiishhh, can you just shut the hell up already?”

The words froze him. He then realized , the sound didn’t come from the room—it came from inside his head. Renji’s breath hitched. His eyes darted about in terror. “W-who said that?”

A deep, mocking laugh echoed in his mind, dripping with sarcasm and amusement.

“Ha! It’s always a sight for sore eyes, putting you mortals in an interliminality state. You should’ve seen your face! For a first-timer, you really sold the performance! But then again, they always do. Hahaha!”

'Inter...liminality? Mortals...? First time...?' He whispered the words like a lost child, trying to make sense of the nonsense.

Renji’s mind blanked. None of it made sense. He stared blankly at the space before him — or was it within him? His own voice, his own thoughts, no longer felt like his.

The voice carried on, relishing its own theatrics.

“Ha! Crying about being dead, thinking you were going to heaven — priceless! I even threw in the soul lock and a little touch of ephemerality for flair. Hmmm it took quite a bit of energy, but worth every drop!."

Renji said nothing. His thoughts swirled in a fog of disbelief, rage, and helplessness.

Could anyone blame him?

From "dying" on a staircase, to floating in a void, glowing like a human torch, thinking he’d ascended to heaven — only to end up paralyzed in his own body, the splitting headaches. Ohhhh and the paralysis—that he was still stuck in!... and now this sadistic voice treating his suffering like a damn comedy show.

He just stood there — or floated, or existed, whatever it was — unable to move, unable to comprehend.

“For someone so talkative a while ago, you’ve gone quiet,” the voice sneered. “Oi Oi Oi, Don’t tell me I broke you already — we’ve still got a long, long way to go.”

Renji’s thoughts began to spiral..."Am I dead?... Is this hell?... Will I be stuck like this forever?... And who the hell is he?!"

The voice chuckled. “Alright, I’ll throw you a bone, since you gave me the best laugh I’ve had in years."

"First off, No — you’re not dead... Some call Earth hell, so I guess it is... Hehe purely depends on my mood... And me? Eh... no one important.”

“Wait, you can hear me?” A flicker of hope stirred in Renji’s chest.

“Sigh”, maybe the shock rattled him too hard,” the voice muttered mockingly.

Renji’s eyes widened. “Hold on... so you could hear me this whole time?! You— you—”

“@$^% YOU £¥~√|©✓®÷` ¥£√•£¥{£{——”

The tirade of profanities cut off mid-scream.

The voice sighed dramatically and sounded almost impressed. “Such colorful words. And here I thought I was to the rude one.”

Renji seethed internally. 'I can’t move, now I can’t speak. What the hell is this nightmare?'. His anger simmered beneath the surface, quiet but building — waiting for a chance to erupt.

And the voice?—It just chuckled softly — the kind of laugh that promised things were only going to get worse.

All of a sudden, Renji’s body—once unresponsive to his commands, slowly creaked upright from the bed until it sat down on the side of the bed, moving almost mechanically, as if pulled by invisible strings.

“I can finally move!!!” Renji shouted, his voice cracking with relief. Ecstatic, a shaky laugh escaped him—raw, relieved, almost delirious. It felt like victory, a small, radiant one amid the countless defeats he’d endured since stumbling back into his apartment.

But then, something felt off, “Wait... why am I still sitting down? Why—why—why?!”

As suddenly as he’d ascended to this brief heaven, he came crashing down again, his fleeting triumph smothered. Inside his head, the same mocking chuckle echoed—its owner perfectly at ease amid his confusion.

“Easy there, kiddo,” the voice said, amused. “I’m still holding onto the wheel for a while longer."

“W-what wheels?" It’s my body!” Renji barked back, panic bleeding into his tone. The voice only chuckled again.

Renji’s body rose to its feet, moving with an uneasy wobble as the unseen voice maneuvered him like a puppet. The unseen presence stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers with an unsettling familiarity.

“It really has been a while,” it sighed—its tone suddenly nostalgic, a striking contrast to the smug playfulness from before. He flexed Renji’s arms and rolled his shoulders, testing the muscles and joints of his new vessel. He studied his hands, his reflection caught faintly in the darkened TV screen. “How many years has it been?” he mused. Then, louder: “Hey, kid—what year is it now?”

Renji didn’t answer. He just stared ahead blankly, his mind unable to keep up with the whiplash of emotions.

“Aiish, don’t be so dramatic,” the voice muttered, feigning exasperation. “You make it seem like you’re a prisoner or something.”

He strode toward the mirror by the wall. There, he studied Renji’s reflection—a face filled with quiet turmoil, the kind that came from years of overthinking and silent endurance. His jawline was clean but softly rounded, lending him a gentle air. Slightly hollow cheeks gave his face a deliberate, lean look. His black, wavy hair fell in uneven layers across his forehead and temples, effortlessly unkempt. But his eyes... those deep-set, almond-shaped eyes carried a calm that could harden into anger at any moment. Behind that still, almost expressionless face, a loneliness lingered—one that spoke louder than any words.

“Hmm... not bad, kid. Aside from... all this,” the voice gestured vaguely at the reflection, smirking, “You’re kinda—maybe—just a tad bit handsome.” He chuckled, clearly refusing to admit any real compliment.

“If anything, I’m here to help you,” he went on, still staring at the mirror—as though speaking through it, directly to Renji’s trapped consciousness. A devilish smirk crept across his face as he said, “Careful what you wish for, kiddo.”

Renji’s eyes widened. It clicked.

He remembered the wish he had made that night—the quiet, desperate plea whispered under the blood moon. Regret washed over him like cold water. 'H-help me, how?' he thought, his voice trembling within his mind. "Who are you? And why are you doing this?"

“In due time, kiddo,” the voice replied coolly. “But first... some modifications. I can’t be caught walking around like this.”

Renji’s panic flared. 'Modifications? What modifications?!'. ‘Renji’ looked at the mirror again and smiled—a chilling, knowing grin, as if heralding some dark rebirth.

Then it began...

His jawline elongated, becoming sharper and more—aristocratic, the kind of face that demanded attention. His cheekbones rose, casting subtle shadows that sculpted his expression into something powerful, almost divine. His entire face seemed designed—carved from marble, yet softened just enough to be human.

His hair darkened and lengthened, flowing past his shoulders in smooth, silky waves. Strands brushed against his lips as if with purpose. His eyes narrowed, now glinting with a cold, predatory allure—a teasing cruelty that danced behind them. His eyebrows arched slightly, amplifying the sly, perpetual smirk forming on his lips. And that mouth—shaped into a one-sided smirk that never quite reached his eyes—radiated quiet dominance. Beneath the black shirt he wore, his frame shifted too—muscles tightening, posture lengthening, movements flowing with confidence that wasn’t his, his silhouette becoming both elegant and dangerous.

Inside, Renji screamed wordlessly, trapped within his own reflection. "What did you do?!"

“Ahh, now this...” the voice said, admiring his handiwork, “...is perfect.” Ignoring Renji’s panic, he flexed his fingers, testing the grip, the feel of breath and balance. “Much better,” he murmured with satisfaction.

He turned toward the door, his movements now fluid, casual—almost graceful.

"Now then...” he said, his tone brightening with mock enthusiasm, “Time to explore the outside world again. Honestly, kid—how can you stay cooped up in here with all the wonders out there?”

He sighed, a curious blend of mockery and melancholy in his tone. “You mortals never realize how much you’re gifted.”

As his hand gripped the doorknob, he paused, a playful glint flickering in his newly sharpened eyes.

“One more thing, kiddo...”

He smirked.

“You can call me Takumi.”