I Died and Was Reincarnated as a Goth Femboy

The world swam back into focus with a dull, throbbing ache behind Kenjiro's eyes. He pushed himself up, the rough cobblestones of the medieval market square cold against his palms. The last thing he remembered was the overwhelming surge of power, the satisfying crunch of stone as his shadows obliterated the ogres, and then... nothing. He was back in his own, slender body, the phantom strength a fading, dream-like memory.

"Oh," he said, his voice a little shaky as he got to his feet. "It seems I got exhausted." He offered a weak, tired smile to his party, who were gathered around him, their faces a mixture of awe, concern, and raw, undisguised shock.

Lyrielle was the first to speak, her voice trembling as she stepped forward. She did something she rarely did: she looked him directly in the eye, her own emerald-green eyes wide with a profound worry that cut through his usual tsundere defenses. "Y-you had two big, open w-wounds in your back, Bombom," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Where the shadows came from. Are you sure your body can handle using both of them at the same time?"

The raw sincerity in her voice, the genuine fear for his well-being, made his chest feel tight. He gave her a thumbs-up, forcing a confidence he didn't feel. "I'm super sure," he lied. "I don't know what the second shadow wants, but he's artificial, right? I got him from that cube in the pyramid, after he..." His voice trailed off, the image of Matsui's explosive, pathetic end flashing in his mind.

"Look, Bombom," DragonSlayer said, his usual antagonistic tone gone, replaced by a gruff, almost reluctant concern. "You can't use both of them at the same time. The speed you healed... that wasn't normal. It's like your body is eating itself to fuel them."

Gluteus Maximus nodded, his massive helmet a dark silhouette against the flickering torchlight of the medieval city. "We need to have the alchemist and Ryo examine this back at the guild," he rumbled, his voice grave. "Try not to use them together again."

Bombom let out a long, frustrated sigh, a plume of white vapor in the cold air. "Alright, guys..." he said, the lie tasting like ash in his mouth. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that if he was pushed into a corner again, he would unleash everything he had, regardless of the consequences.

SynchroNoice, who had been standing silently this whole time, seemingly processing the insane battle he had just witnessed, suddenly stepped forward. He looked at Bombom, a strange, intense look in his eyes. He made a soft "boop" sound with his mouth, and then, with a solemn nod, said, "Noice."

Kenjiro's eye twitched. The tension of the moment, the seriousness of the conversation, was completely shattered by the sheer, unadulterated weirdness of his newest party member. "Is that all you're going to do?" he asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.

SynchroNoice struck a heroic pose, puffing out his small chest. "No! Check this out!" Two faint, shimmering after-images of himself peeled away from his back, mimicking Bombom's shadow summoning. He began to punch the air with a furious intensity, his movements a bizarre, flailing dance. But there was no impact, no surge of power. It was all in his mind. All he was actually doing was punching at nothing, making little "pfftt" and "swoosh" sounds with his mouth, a fine spray of saliva flying from his lips with every imaginary blow.

The entire party just sighed, a collective wave of secondhand embarrassment washing over them. With the immediate threat gone and their most pressing new mystery established, they began to walk toward the massive castle that dominated the city's skyline. The enemy, the master of this time-warped illusion, was probably hiding there.

"Ugh! Why are we going to the middle?" DragonSlayer complained, falling into step beside Bombom. "Shouldn't we look at the borders first? Secure a perimeter? Do some reconnaissance?"

"That's because you're an idiot," Bombom said flatly.

A vein throbbed on DragonSlayer's forehead. "W-WHAT?! WATCH WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY, OR I WILL KILL YOU!"

"You are an idiot," Bombom repeated, not even looking at him. "Didn't you ever read comics or watch movies? The main villain is always in the biggest, most obvious building. It's storytelling 101. We don't need to spend time wandering around the edges. The budget for this episode is probably low." He crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.

DragonSlayer scoffed, spitting on the cobblestone street. He looked at Bombom, his expression deadly serious. "But we are not in a comic or a movie."

Bombom just smirked. "Who's the leader here?"

A sweat droplet trickled down DragonSlayer's temple. "...You," he grumbled.

"So who's the one that gives the calls?" Bombom pressed.

"...You," the warrior repeated, his voice full of a weary resignation.

"That's why you're below me," Bombom declared, flexing his still-slender, weak-looking muscles with a triumphant grin.

They continued their walk, the argument settled, and finally reached the massive, iron-banded gates of the castle. But as they approached, the gates began to glow with a faint, purple light. Runes swirled across their surface. The way was magically sealed.

A figure seemed to melt out of the shadows near the gate. It was a woman, dressed in the classic, pointed hat and flowing robes of a witch. Her hair was a vibrant, bubblegum pink, and her eyes were the same startling shade. In her hand, she held a twisted, gnarled wand. A second figure appeared at her side, a small, creepy-looking boy with messy green hair and unsettlingly intense green eyes, holding a smaller, cruder-looking wand.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" the pink-haired witch cooed, her voice a strange mix of playful and menacing.

The green-haired boy just gave a creepy, wide-toothed smirk. "Should we kill them, mistress?"

"Yes, my dear apprentice," the witch replied with a nod. "I believe we should." She waved her wand in a lazy, elegant arc, and a shimmering, magical projectile shot out from its tip. It was a giant, pulsating pink heart, and it flew directly at Bombom with unerring accuracy. He had no time to dodge, no time to summon his shadow. So he did the next best thing. He grabbed the nearest person—SynchroNoice—and shoved him directly into the path of the spell.

The heart-shaped bolt of energy slammed into the small man, and his eyes immediately glazed over, his pupils dilating into two, perfect pink hearts. He stood there, a dopey, lovesick grin on his face.

The witch let out a tinkling laugh. "Ooh, that's new. Using your own friend as a shield. How delightfully wicked."

Gluteus, DragonSlayer, and Lyrielle stared, completely shocked by Bombom's ruthless, pragmatic move.

"Nice," Bombom said, pushing the now-useless SynchroNoice behind him. "Now he won't do that stupid sound." He stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles, ready for a fight. But before he could move, a thick, thorny vine erupted from the ground at his feet. It wrapped around his body, lifting him into the air and pulling him away, over the castle wall and toward a nearby house inside the courtyard.

DragonSlayer's shock instantly turned to rage. "Hey! Give me back my Bombom!" he roared, charging toward the house.

The hover-drone, which had been capturing the whole thing, followed him. The chat immediately exploded.

"DragonSlayer really is a simp."

"Yeah, he said 'my Bombom'!"

"I think that was cute of his part."

The last comment was immediately met with a wave of digital bullying from the rest of the chat, a bizarre, unspoken rule of Bombom's audience being that DragonSlayer was to be perpetually mocked.

That left only the pink-haired witch at the gate, facing off against Gluteus, Lyrielle, and the poor, love-struck SynchroNoice, who was now trying to blow kisses at her.

The thorny vine tightened its grip, pulling Kenjiro through the air with a sickening lurch. He caught a brief, chaotic glimpse of DragonSlayer charging after him, a look of pure, unadulterated panic on his face, before he was yanked over the high stone wall of the castle courtyard and into the shadows of a small, ivy-covered cottage. The world spun, and he landed in a heap on a dusty, wooden floor. He looked up, his heart hammering against his ribs, and saw the creepy, green-haired apprentice from the gate standing over him, a wide, unsettling smirk on his face.

"Mistress will be with you shortly," the boy chirped, his voice a high, reedy sound that grated on the nerves. "She just has to take out the trash."

Back at the castle gate, "the trash" was preparing for a fight. Gluteus Maximus, seeing his leader and the party's main damage-dealer unceremoniously abducted, knew he had to act. He was a tank. His job was not to deal damage, but to absorb it, to stand as an unbreachable wall between the enemy and his more fragile allies. He dropped his massive shield, the impact against the cobblestones ringing out like a challenge. He had no other option. He had to delay the witch until DragonSlayer could deal with whatever was in that cottage and return to help. He looked over his shoulder, giving a small, almost imperceptible nod to Lyrielle. She nodded back, her face pale but her eyes determined. She understood.

The pink-haired witch, who had been watching DragonSlayer's frantic charge with an amused expression, turned her attention back to the remaining party members. She let out a high, tinkling laugh. "Hahahaha, look how he walked to save his girlfriend," she cooed, her pink eyes sparkling with a cruel, condescending light.

"It's a boy," Gluteus corrected her, his voice a deep, polite rumble that held no trace of fear.

The witch's jaw dropped. "W-what? A Lily doing here, in a place like this?" She shook her head, a look of genuine confusion on her face. "Doesn't matter. If you want to save her... I mean, him... you must defeat us."

SynchroNoice, who had been standing silently this whole time, his eyes glazed over with the heart-shaped pupils of the witch's charm spell, suddenly shook his head as if waking from a dream. "I want to marry you," he declared, his voice full of a dopey, lovesick sincerity.