I Died and Was Reincarnated as a Goth Femboy

The world snapped back into the pristine, sunlit past. Kenjiro stood in the opulent bedchamber, face to face with the younger, more vibrant Jōmitsu Ren. The immortal guardian's orange eyes, which had been filled with a weary boredom just moments before, now held a new, profound understanding. He had seen the flicker of time, the brief, shared vision of his own thousand-year-long, lonely future.

"The time spell is unstable," Ren said, his voice quiet, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You vanished for a second, but you returned. I can see it in your eyes... that determination. You met me, didn't you? The old me." He looked at Bombom, his expression no longer that of an enemy, but of a man pleading for release.

Bombom just nodded, his own expression grim. He knew what he had to do. He settled into a low, powerful battling pose, his body tensing for the fight to come. Ren saw the gesture and returned a solemn, grateful nod. "So," he whispered, a single, crystalline tear tracing a path down his cheek. "That's how things are going to be."

This wasn't a battle of malice or revenge. It was a mercy killing.

Kenjiro closed his eyes, retreating from the physical world into the dark, silent domain of his own mind. He stood before his two shadows, the two halves of his own fractured soul. The muscular brute was cracking his knuckles, a cruel, eager grin on his face. The ethereal blue boy was just smiling, a serene, chilling expression that was somehow more unsettling than the brute's open rage.

"So, guys..." Bombom began, his mental voice shaky but firm. "I need your help. This is... complicated. We have to do it exactly right."

The blue-haired boy's creepy smirk widened, and he gave a small, silent nod, his eyes gleaming with a playful, sadistic light.

The muscular shadow just flexed, his abs blinking with a faint, internal light. "You're weak," his voice boomed in Bombom's mind. "I will show them who is the strongest. I will crush him into dust." He struck a pose, his muscles bulging. "BIRL!"

Bombom sighed. Getting them to cooperate on a task that required finesse rather than brute force was going to be difficult. But he had to try. He focused, channeling his intent, his desire, his desperate need for them to understand. He opened his eyes, returning to his body, hoping they had gotten the message.

Ren rushed him. He was impossibly fast, his movements a blur of punches that was almost impossible to dodge. Bombom tried to dodge, but he wasn't quick enough. A powerful punch connected with his stomach, knocking the wind from him and sending him stumbling backward. But the attack had brought Ren into range.

The ethereal, blue-haired boy emerged from Bombom's back. He just laughed, a silent, melodic sound, and waved a hand. The floor around Ren's feet instantly froze, a thick layer of magical ice trapping him in place. The blue shadow pointed at the immobilized immortal, still laughing as if this were the most amusing game in the world.

As the blue boy began to fade, the muscular shadow erupted from Bombom's other side. It charged the frozen immortal, its massive hands outstretched, ready to perform the final, merciful act. It was supposed to freeze the heart, then shatter the brain and heart simultaneously. But the shadow, in its pure, unadulterated rage, had forgotten the specifics. It was a creature of pure destruction, not a surgeon. It grabbed Ren by the head and chest and simply... squeezed.

The sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh echoed through the silent room, but Ren, though his body was mangled, did not die. He was immortal. The shadow, frustrated that its raw power wasn't working, roared in silent fury and then dissipated, its task incomplete. Bombom jumped back as Ren's broken body collapsed to the floor. But then, with a sickening series of wet, snapping sounds, his bones began to knit themselves back together, his torn flesh weaving itself whole. He pushed himself to his feet, his body regenerating completely, leaving him as pristine and unharmed as he had been before.

"I must say," Ren said, his voice full of a profound, soul-crushing disappointment. "I almost thought you were going to succeed." He looked at his own pulsating heart, which he was now holding in his hand, and then calmly, methodically, forced it back into the gaping wound in his chest. He did the same with his brain.

Bombom, meanwhile, was concentrating again, his eyes squeezed shut, his mind a screaming vortex of frustration. He was back in the dark void, yelling at his two shadows.

"You!" he projected, pointing a trembling, mental finger at the blue-haired boy. "You forgot to freeze his heart! You just froze his feet!"

The blue-haired boy just laughed, his creepy smirk never leaving his face. "That's no fun, Bombom," he replied, his voice a melodic, echoing whisper. "Let's keep going. I want more. I want more."

The last phrase hit Kenjiro's soul like a physical blow. It was one of his own catchphrases, one of the nonsensical things he screamed when he was pushing his limits. Was this artificial shadow, this being born from a magical cube, somehow assimilating his own personality? The thought was terrifying. He pushed it aside. He had to focus. He returned to the real world, ready to try one more time.

But Ren had had enough. The hope in his eyes had been extinguished, replaced by the weary, eternal boredom of a man who could not die. He finally reached for the small, leather-bound book in his pocket. He opened it, and as he did, a strange, dark tattoo, a swirling pattern of black and red, began to spread across his body, originating from the book itself. It snaked up his arms, over his chest, and across his face, until it reached his left eye. His calm, orange iris turned a brilliant, burning red, the swirling pattern of the tattoo now glowing within it.

"This is my triumph," he whispered, his voice no longer his own, but a layered, echoing chorus of a thousand souls. He looked at Bombom and spoke a single, ancient word of power: "Kagutsuchi."

From his back, a new entity emerged. It was not a shadow, not a phantom of his own mind. It was a being of pure, elemental power. A woman, tall and regal, with hair made of living flame and eyes that burned like dying stars. She wore a long, flowing dress of black ash and molten rock. In her left hand, she held a swirling, condensed ball of pure fire, a miniature sun. In her right, she held a sword whose blade was a shimmering, incandescent flame. She smirked at Bombom, a look of pure, destructive hunger in her fiery eyes.

Bombom knew, with a certainty that chilled him to his very core, that this was not a projection, not an illusion. This was a summoned god, a being of immense, world-ending power. He gulped, his own two powerful shadows suddenly feeling like children's toys in the face of this new, terrifying threat.

he being of pure, elemental power, Kagutsuchi, hovered before Kenjiro, the very air in the opulent bedchamber shimmering with her intense heat. The miniature sun in her left hand pulsed with a terrifying, destructive energy, and the flaming sword in her right cast long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe in agony. This was no mere illusion, no phantom born of a troubled mind. This was a god.

Kagutsuchi let out a soft "tsk," the sound like the crackle of a dying star. She turned her fiery gaze not on Bombom, but on the man who had summoned her. "Ren," she said, her voice a chorus of roaring flames and shifting magma. "Why did you summon me?" Her aura, a crushing weight of pure, divine power, pressed down on the room, making the very stones of the castle crackles.