Chapter Text
Location: Astroworld Festival
Time: ~9:06 PM EST
Do all men got that shit on?
"IT'S LIT!"
Some men shit.
"FEIN!"
Some men get shit on.
"FEIN!"
Like a 200 pump from Fortnite or getting banned on Twitch like Jidion.
"HEY! STOP SHOVING ME!"
Anyway, you've gotta lock in for the huzz, you hear me?
"Ow! Dude! What the hell is going on!?"
Anybody can lock in for the huzz. It's all about self-improvement, after all.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Whether it be through Mewing or Mogging that math test, reaching the pinnacle of rizz should be the goal for everyone in the audience.
"Gagh! I gotta protect my J's! I won't let you crease them, you bums—with—your—Augh!! Chat are you seeing this?!"
So get up. Touch grass. Rizz up your own future. Mog your bad habits until they uninstall themselves. Because either you make the highlight reel...
"Augh... I can't... see... Ahh... I can't breathe ... There are too many L mans on top of me..."
"Grok... is this real?"
...Or you end up on Instagram Reels.
Name: Subaru Natsuki
Age: 17
Cause of Death: Compressive Asphyxia
Epitaph - He was on the cusp of becoming the Mogging King, only making one critical mistake in his life: Going to a Travis Scott concert.
Location: ?????
Time: ????
"..."
What?
When Subaru Natsuki opened his eyes, he had a headache.
He fully expected to be in a hospital bed somewhere, hooked up to an IV drip, holding his J's like they were his newborn, and clutching his Balenciaga crossbody—the one with his "essentials."
That was the survival loadout he brought to that Travis Scott gig.
Because who knew? He might get trampled like the first 10+ people at the first incident!
Instead, he was flat on his back in the middle of a... cobblestone street?
He sat up, wincing. The last thing he remembered was the hurricane of people slamming into him at one point in time. That whole incident resulted in him trying to keep his J's from creasing, literally taking them off his pristine toes.
He remembered getting knocked to the floor and curling up around them before... uh...
Uh...
"Yo... did I die?" he muttered, tilting his head.
His voice was that of someone far more intrigued than concerned.
Seriously. Was he tripping?
Subaru squinted, shielding his eyes. This setting was... bright. The air was crisp and the sky looked like it had been run through a childhood brightness filter.
You know, the one they take off after you hit the age of 18, forcing you to start seeing the world in monotone greys, whites and blacks rather than the colourful vibrance of your youth that you're never getting back—
Nevertheless, the fact that everything looked a bit too high-res made him a bit concerned.
And the people...no, not just people. He caught sight of a demihuman with cat ears chatting casually with a merchant. A lizard-like creature, harnessed like a horse, stomped past, pulling a cart. The streets bustled with humans in medieval clothes, none of them even slightly fazed by the fantasy cosplay.
Subaru was convinced he was hallucinating.
Except he wasn't, and that was—
His mouth twitched upward.
"Ohhhh, nahhh..." he said under his breath, voice dripping with disbelief-turned-excitement. "Ain't no way... Ain't no wayyyy."
This was it.
This was a FAT W.
He got isekai'd.
He got isekai'd with his fit intact.
He stood up, patting himself down like he needed to confirm the miracle. The hoodie was still immaculate. The Balenciaga bag still strapped. His J's? Still pristine. His hair? Wavey.
He respawned in another world with otherworldly drip.
FUCK WHY AM I DOING THE ONE PIECE OF LIGHT NOVELS MAN? BUT THE IDEA IS SO STUPID IT'S AMAZING!
"Yo, this is actually a W. Nah, this is a giga-W. Main character arc unlocked type shit, for real for real."
Two passing merchants glanced his way, then exchanged a concerned look before shuffling off faster.
Subaru spun in an autistic circle, taking it all in. Every stall, every stone, every dragon-horse-thing was another dopamine hit. The fact that there wasn't a single visible boba shop didn't even register—he was already imagining himself rizzing up an elf princess or unlocking cool-ass sword skills like he was the Chosen One.
Minus uh...
Minus the child slaughter.
"..."
Maybe.
Without warning, he threw his hands in the air, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"W's IN THE CHAAAAATTTTT!!!!"
The cry startled a group of kids.
Subaru grinned.
Yeah. This world was definitely not ready for his aura.
Step one in this new world: secure food.
Step two: get rich.
Step three: mog
He spotted a fruit vendor, middle-aged, human, busy arranging baskets of what looked like apples.
"Yo, big man," Subaru called, strolling over. "Quick question— where's the nearest boba shop?"
"..."
"...The what?"
"Boba. Bubble tea. Tapioca balls? You know... the fire drink with the chewy bits. Little bit of sugar, little bit of ice type shit."
"I... don't know what you're talking about."
Subaru tilted his head, staring like the guy had just admitted he didn't know what water was. What? Was he going to say the apples in front of him were actually called "Appas" or some other subversion of reality?
"...L mans. Big L." He tapped the vendor's shoulder twice in mock pity and walked off. "I respect the grind, but you gotta get your culture up, auntie..."
The vendor muttered something under his breath about "strange foreigners," and "not being an auntie."
Subaru spent the next fifteen minutes interrogating random townsfolk.
A demi-human with fox ears got hit with: "Yo, tails!"
A knight in armour got: "Sir Drip! Got a sec?"
A little old lady got: "Heyyy shawtyyy—OHHH YOU'RE OLD!!"
All returned blank stares. By the end of it, Subaru's optimism was hanging by a thread.
"This place really ain't boba-coded... Shit's tragic," he muttered.
Then he saw it.
A swinging wooden sign shaped like a mug of ale, carved with a snarling wolf's head—a bar. Not just any bar. Judging by the crowd spilling out the door, it was a demi-human hotspot.
"Fit check, fit check," he muttered to himself, fixing up his hair and clothes before swaggering inside.
The smell hit him first: some strong ale, roasted meat, and something like wet dog. The chatter was loud, the tables packed. Wolf-men, lizard-things, and other beast-things filled the room, laughing, shouting, slamming their mugs together.
Subaru beelined for the counter, sliding onto a stool next to a tiger-headed demi-human nursing a pint.
"Ayy, big stripes! What's good? This the spot, huh?"
The tiger-man turned slowly. "...Do I know you?"
"Not yet, but we're about to be homeboys. Anyway, what's your top-tier drink here? Like, what's the S-rank menu item?"
The bartender leaned over, a bit confused. "You human?"
Subaru smirked. "Yeah, but like... Supreme Human™. Limited edition type shit. Comes with bonus rizz stat, you get me?"
The bartender's ear twitched. "...We don't serve humans here."
Subaru blinked.
"That's... lowkey racist, bro. Also, how you gonna turn down my green? L business strategy."
A nearby table quieted, several patrons turning to watch. The tiger-man grunted. "You heard him. Get out."
"Nah, hold up. Lemme just get one drink. You won't regret it. I'll mog your whole customer base with my vibe alone."
The bartender's eye narrowed. "...You're giving me a headache."
"That's not a headache, that's just my aura working overtime. You just don't know how to handle it—"
That was the last straw. The bartender grabbed Subaru by the back of the hoodie and hoisted him clean off the stool.
"Whoa, WHOA! No need to full-send me out the—"
Too late.
Thud!
Subaru sailed out the open door, hitting the cobblestones with a thud and skidding a little.
He groaned, rubbing his backside.
"Ow... that's an L toss, my guy..."
Pushing himself up, Subaru cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled back inside:
"FINE! I'M LEAVIN' A ONE-STAR REVIEW! L RACISTS! BAD VIBES, NO DRIP! FURRIES! Wait... isn't that racist toward demihumans if I call them furries?"
Subaru...
Yeah, it kind of is...
"I BET YOUR TAILS ARE ACTUALLY BUTT PLUGS!"
That's even worse!
Location: ?????
Time: About like... 6 or 7 Minutes Later?
Subaru slouched on a short flight of stone steps just off the main street, one leg stretched out, the other bent with his arm resting on it.
That last encounter with the furries really took a lot outta him, so he decided to take a rest.
Mans gotta know when to stop, you hear?
He tugged at the collar of his sweater, fanning himself a little before adjusting the strap of his Balenciaga crossbody so it sat higher on his chest. Comfort was key—even in another world, he wasn't about to look like some sweaty-ass NPC.
Still... there was a thought gnawing at him.
Something he hadn't actually processed until he'd wandered a bit more, peeking at market stalls and overhearing bits of trade talk.
His money.
Subaru sat up straighter and unzipped the bag. The scent of cologne wafted up as he dug through lip balm, hand sanitizer, a mini mirror, some condoms and a travel-size lotion until his fingers brushed paper.
He pulled it out... FAT STACKS.
He'd been planning to fan them out, maybe add a concert crowd in the background, toss it on his Insta story to flex on the haters.
Now? He stared at them in silence.
"...💔🥀... Ts pmo ngl... Ts ain't even bussin," he muttered flatly, his voice dropping to a deadpan that felt almost alien coming from him. "Not a banger at all. And I know bangers."
He flipped through the bills—hundreds, fifties—totalling to probably around 3k.
Out here, they were just coloured paper. He might as well be holding Monopoly money.
He let the stack droop in his hand.
"Yeah, nah... Ts tragic 🥀"
Sliding the bands back into the bag, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His thoughts, for once, weren't about fit checks or elf princesses. If his fat stacks were useless here, he needed a new grind. From the manga logic he remembered, these worlds didn't run on paper—they ran on coins.
Copper, silver, gold... and maybe some legendary diamond-encrusted ultra-rare currency for big-ticket flexing.
He sighed. "Bro's gonna have to start the hustle all over again. Skull emoji."
His stomach gave a low growl. He rubbed it with a grimace.
He still wanted boba.
He really wanted some boba.
But the more he looked around, the more obvious it became. This place had no clue what tapioca pearls even were. He didn't know the recipe or anything.
All he had was his fit, his looks, his cologne... and a bag full of fat stacks.
He leaned back against the step, exhaling slowly.
"This... really ain't it, chief..."
The marketplace noise rolled on despite his despair.
Tap—
Tap—
A set of footsteps drew his attention.
Odd. That sounded like two people.
Glancing up, he spotted three.
Ah. That's why. The third one was so short he barely made a sound; the guy barely came up to Subaru's knees.
They were walking in a loose line toward him, and Subaru instantly clocked the archetype: short guy, medium guy, tall guy. The classic "first gang encounter" layout from every RPG ever.
Subaru bit his lip, grinning despite himself—actually, not "despite," more like "because". If this was how he learned the combat system in this world, he was here for it. And if they were low-level exp mobs?
Easy clap.
Not that type of clap.
The shortest one caught him snickering.
"What's so funny, huh?" the little guy barked, brows furrowed.
Subaru leaned back on his elbows, grin widening. "Nothin', lil' bro. Just... appreciating the starter pack y'all came with."
The medium-sized one, closest to Subaru's height, stepped forward with a scowl. "If you don't wanna get hurt, hand over everything you've got—"
He reached for Subaru's collar.
Subaru's hand shot up, clamping around the guy's wrist before it could make contact.
"Woah, woah, woah, lil bro," Subaru cautioned. "I know what you're tryna do, but let's keep it real, you are not stretching out my hoodie. Do you know how much I paid for ts? Like an entire band's worth. It'll pmo so much icl if you stretch ts bro💔 "
The tallest one, a broad, meaty guy, stepped closer.
"Let him go," he rumbled. "Think we got ourselves a noble. Big head, big mouth... and probably big coin. That's all these highborn types care about in our territory."
The short one's scowl deepened. The medium one tugged at his wrist, but Subaru didn't let go right away. Now they all looked a little too motivated.
Subaru weighed his options. Sure, he could keep playing this like a combat tutorial... or...
What the fuck is he looking at!?
"Y'know what? Nah." He released the guy's wrist and in a blink, whether it was adrenaline, instinct, or some kind of anime-protagonist dogshit—he was a few steps higher on the stairs, looking down at them.
"Alright, let's talk about y'all's fits for a second. Because, ew. Just... EWWWWWWWW. LOOOOOOOOOOOK!"
The short one blinked. "What?"
"First off, short king down there—and I respect short kings—my guy, you look like a Goomba from Mario. Icl if I jump on your bowl-headed-ass, I could get 100 points. DEAD. ASS."
The little guy sputtered. "G-goom—what—?"
"Don't even start. I'm not done." Subaru's finger swivelled to the medium-height one. "And you? Bro. My man's dressed like an emo kid from the early 2000s. Dyed blue hair covering one eye like you're still on Tumblr writing My Little Pony fanfiction. And is that... a chain for a choker? You think that makes you look hard, lil bro? Now that's tragic.🥀 "
The blue-haired one touched his neck. "It's not—"
"Shhh." Subaru cut him off with a raised palm. "Save it for Hot Topic, bum."
Finally, his gaze locked onto the big guy.
"And YOU. Oh. My. God. Out here wearing sleeveless hand-me-downs like you're flexing... YOU'RE BUILT LIKE JABBA THE HUTT BRO! Wack ass fit. Big-ass lips. You look like you're in need to constantly shit. Don't get me started on your braids. You look like Matt Gaetz if you gave him growth hormone and AIDS 💔💔"
The tall man's crooked brow twitched.
"Actually, nah, lemme cook real quick. These fits are giving... no money. No bitches. No rizz. You're out here trying to rob strangers? That's broke people shit. That's 'can't get a job' type shit. God, why can't you tutorial bums be anything interesting!?"
The short guy's face went red. The tall guy's jaw clenched. The blue-haired one's knuckles whitened around his fists.
"And don't even get me started on the skinny situation here," Subaru continued, circling them slowly like he was inspecting produce. "You think you're robbing me? Bro, eat a sandwich. Actually, eat two. You need it. Put some HP on those bones before you challenge the main character."
The three of them were practically steaming now.
Finally, Sybau sighed.
"Anyway. That's all I got. Y'all can go cry about it now."
"...I'm gonna kill him."
Subaru rolled his eyes. "Wow. Fell for ragebait. Overreacting much? Take the L, bro."
The other two thieves glanced between them, looking just as ready to jump in—when a feminine voice cut across the alley.
"Out of the way!"
Without thinking, they shuffled to the side, almost like kids caught blocking a hallway.
A blonde girl with her hair tied high bolted past them. Maybe a teenager? Hard to say—Subaru wasn't exactly the best at guessing fantasy-world ages. But she looked young enough to where if this description of her went further, Queasy would get cancelled on Twitter.
She flashed them a grin mid-run.
"Thanks! Live strong, everyone!" she chirped, and—
Subaru's eyes caught something glinting in her hand. A reddish gem.
Before he could fully process it, however, the girl planted a foot on the wall, vaulted up, bounced off a windowsill, and started scaling the side of the building with ease.
"The hell...?" murmured one of the goons.
"...Yeah, you don't see something that fire every day, do ya?"
The big guy beside him gave a nod.
"Yeah... that was somethin'."
Subaru gave him a bombastic side-eye.
"..."
"..."
Oh wait. Weren't these guys meant to be robbing him right now?
"...Right, cool, we're on the same page—"
THWACK!
He suddenly pivoted on one foot and, with a quick motion, backhanded the big guy across the face. The slap had enough force to send him stumbling into the alley wall with a meaty thud. His head bounced once off the brick before he slid down, completely out cold.
The other two froze.
"Ton! Ton! Can you hear me? Shit! Ton's out cold!"
"You bastard!"
"That was a misinput! Calm down!"
"You—You knocked out our friend, you freak!" The blue-haired emo pulled out two knives, pointing them threateningly at Subaru. "You'll pay for that!"
Subaru's grin widened, snickering a bit. "Bro... those butter knives? They look mad dull, lil bro. You tryin' to cut me or spread jam on my toast?"
"Don't mock me!" the emo snapped, shaking with anger before lunging forward.
Subaru didn't move at first, tightening his grip on the strap of his Balenciaga crossbody to keep it from swinging. The knife's arc sliced through the air so close he felt the wind brush past his cheek.
"Yo," Subaru said, pivoting slightly out of reach, "you gotta eat a sandwich or something, bro. Or maybe hit a dojo, idk. Cuz I saw that coming from a mile away, and that miss? You're washed, buddy 🥀 ."
While keeping his smirk aimed at the emo, Subaru's brain finally ticked over to a different concern—the short one.
Where's short stack?
His eyes flicked to the smallest of the trio, who was edging in from the side for a sneak attack. Great. I am not dying to the tutorial goons.
Another thought followed, which annoyed him. Huh. My speed and strength feel exactly the same as before. No skill points? No buffs? Not very bussin', if I'm being real. Guess I'll have to figure out this system later.
Another knife slash came, Subaru spinning out of the way. He pivoted, locking eyes with the short thief.
"Outta my way! Goomba, fuck you!"
WHACK!
His foot came up in a clean roundhouse. The short guy didn't even have time to blink before he was airborne and slammed against the wall a few meters back. The Goomba was out cold.
Now only the blue-haired one stood between Subaru and the open street. Subaru, standing at the bottom of the small stone steps, looked up at him.
"Kan!" the emo shouted, teeth clenched so tight it was a wonder they didn't chip. "You're gonna die for what you did to my friends!"
Subaru tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Is your brain in your ass, buddy? I just turned a 3v1 into a 1v1."
The thief's grip tightened on his knives.
"Like, hello?" Subaru spread his arms out mockingly. "I literally just mogged your whole party, and you still think you can win? With those knives? That's NPC behaviour, lil bro. But, I mean, I should've expected that from people wearing such trash-ass fits type shit. It's like... fuck I already made a Hot Topic joke... I gotta be more creative."
The blue-haired one hesitated. Maybe it was dawning on him that Subaru wasn't afraid... or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't taking any of this seriously.
Subaru glanced down at his palms.
"Ugh. My hands are dirty now." He dug into his bag and pulled out a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.
The emo's face twisted. "What the hell are you doing!?"
"Relax, don't get your panties all tangled." Subaru shook the bottle with a casual flick. "Just getting some gunk off."
That was the breaking point.
"STOP MOCKING ME!" the thief roared, sprinting down the steps with knives poised to gut him.
Subaru, distracted, squeezed the sanitizer a little too hard—
PFFT!
A perfect arc of gel shot straight into the thief's eyes.
"GAH! MY EYES!"
The knives clattered to the cobblestones as the man dropped, clutching his face and screaming like he'd been stabbed himself, rolling on the ground in blind agony.
Subaru froze, blinking.
"...Oh. Shit. My fault, gang."
On the floor, the emo clutched his face, writhing and kicking his legs weakly against the ground.
"My eyes—! Ohhh, it burns! Please—just—make it stop!"
Subaru crouched down a little, his expression showcasing someone who was mildly inconvenienced. He looked like he was about to call the guy out for overreacting or something.
He glanced around, scanning the alley before muttering, "Yeah, nah, you're done. Early game loot check."
With a smooth motion, he plucked the knives from the floor, tucking one of them... into somewhere in his inventory.
No, seriously. Where did it go?
The emo kept crying, the sound borderline hysterical now.
"You know," Subaru started, balancing one of the knives in his hand, "one time I got hand sanitizer in my eyes when I was, like, eight? Had the same reaction you're having right now. The difference is, I had less of it and, y'know...you're probably rolling the dice on going legally blind from alcohol damage. So... skill issues, I guess."
The emo just groaned louder.
Subaru stood back up, brushing his hoodie off, then paused to admire his sneakers. Not a speck of dirt. His Jordans looked as pristine as they had when he walked in.
"Whew... not a single crease. God's plan—"
"That's enough!"
The voice came from deeper down the alley.
Subaru glanced over, and there she was. A beautiful young lady with silver hair, eyes with a blend of violet and blue. Her outfit was white with streaks of purple, a single white flower pinned in her hair.
"Please return what you stole from—"
She stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene: the big guy slumped near the wall, out cold; the smaller one sprawled on the floor like a ragdoll; and the emo, still squirming, hands pressed to his eyes.
"—Me..."
Subaru leaned casually against the nearest wall, one knee bent, arms crossed, and a smirk curling his lips.
"Yo." He tilted his chin up slightly. "You come here often, or am I just special?"
God, why am I doing this to myself?
[Re: Aura - Mogging This Verse With Otherworldly Drip.]