Reincarnated as a Mushroom?

The checkpoint reeked of déjà vu.

Everything — from the docking dome's rust-tinted curvature to the arrangement of the thorny black flora outside — screamed repetition. Like some lazy god had Ctrl+C/Ctrl+V'd the whole location straight out of my memories.

"Must just be a coincidence," I muttered under my breath.

"What is, Irvine?" Kathrine asked, her tone half-distracted, half-feline curiosity.

"This is the same checkpoint I got stopped at last time. Right down to the scuffed panel by the entry gate."

Her brow arched in that subtle "oh no" way that only military people do when things start to smell like destiny. 'Perhaps this inspection isn't as random as I'd assumed,' she thought, though didn't say it aloud. Probably didn't want to spook me. Smart woman.

The ramp hissed as the Scythes began to file out, one boot-clomp at a time. The checkpoint's stationed Centurion stood just beyond the dome's inner airlock, radiating a psionic chill that slapped a few of our mercs in the soul and made them flinch.

That woman was Hailey. And her mind? Oh, it was loud.

"Where is he? Where is he? Where is he—?!"

She'd been spiraling since her little psychic call with her beloved Auntie Kathrine. The moment she realized the Thanatos was pinging her warp lane, she'd faked a random inspection with the subtlety of a drunk theater major. Honestly? I admired the commitment.

"Fuck. I hope I didn't overdo it. Aunt Kat's going to smell my bullshit from orbit."

As wave after wave of leather-clad, gun-swinging mercs swaggered off the ship, Hailey's hope wavered. Maybe she'd pulled the wrong crew.

Then came the announcement:

"REJOICE, O PHALANX GUARDS!" rang out a voice that sounded like it was made of ego and body spray. "FOR YOU BEHOLD THE ONE, THE ONLY, THE STAGGERINGLY HANDSOME CAPTAIN CALEB STARSTRIDER, COMMANDER OF THE LEGENDARY THANATOS!"

A few Scythes jeered. Mock applause. Someone tossed a ration bar.

Caleb just waved it off with messianic smugness. "Mockery is the sincerest form of envy!"

Hailey visibly winced. This was not the man she wanted to interact with.

But behind Caleb, stepping through the dim shadows of the boarding corridor, came two figures she did care about.

Her aunt — ever-effervescent, ever-overbearing — and the boy who'd infiltrated her dreams like mold through brick. Me.

Her lips twitched. Just slightly. Enough to betray her.

She fought to keep her expression stone-cold, even as Kathrine kept casually brushing her arm against mine with the grace of a drunk cougar on date night.

Hailey swallowed the urge to incinerate her with eye lasers. She had an image to maintain.

Then, as if summoned by plot structure, Hailey strode forward — flanked by her elite guards — toward the midpoint between the troops and the Thanatos command crew. The moment hung heavy, like a stage play waiting for its cue.

Of course, it was Caleb who opened his mouth first.

"By my ancestors and all their favorite concubines, am I witnessing an actual goddess on duty?" he crooned, placing his hand dramatically on his chest. "It is a pleasure — no, an honor — to meet such divine beauty in the broad daylight. I am Caleb Starstrider, captain, heartthrob, and purveyor of goods both legal and… delightfully otherwise."

He leaned in, whispering behind his hand. "Though I must confess, the best goods might be standing right in front of me. Fancy a sample?"

Hailey endured his wink the way one might endure a colonoscopy — necessary, but spiritually degrading.

She didn't even blink. "Charming, Captain. I propose you, your employer, and her… intriguing companion join me for drinks in my office."

Caleb's ego inflated further. "Ah, I see — discretion! Of course. No need to worry, lovely thing, I'll usher your guests out in short order so we can… debrief each other in private."

Before Hailey could manifest a weapon out of disgust, he turned and swaggered back to us.

Soon after, we were marching through the checkpoint's halls toward Hailey's office. Kathrine smirked at her niece with all the subtlety of a sex gremlin. Hailey's poker face wobbled.

Inside, the Centurion's office was slick, spartan, and surprisingly soundproof.

"Whistle-worthy digs," Caleb said, spinning theatrically. "And soundproof! Kinky."

"It sure is," Hailey replied icily. "Now if you'll excuse us — I need to show something to your captain. Over there."

She pointed toward a side door, tone polite enough to mask the threat beneath it.

Caleb, too dense to detect danger, winked at me before sauntering toward the door. The moment he stepped inside, Hailey slammed it shut behind him and locked it.

"Animal," she muttered under her breath.

She turned back, all military grace once more, and strode to her desk.

"Aunt Kathrine. Years have passed, and yet here you are. What a… surprise."

"My precious little girl!" Kathrine squealed, darting forward to yank Hailey's face into her cleavage. "Look at you! All grown up! And damn that uniform. Baby, you are stacked. That ass is chef's kiss."

"Aunty! Please! Not in front of him!" Hailey squeaked, face redder than a supernova's edge.

She shoved her aunt away, re-stabilized her emotional dignity, and looked toward me with practiced ease.

"Arcon Irvine. What an unexpected delight. So soon after our… first encounter. I must ask — what's a man like you doing on a mercenary ship? And with my aunt of all people?"

With perfect etiquette, she extended her hand.

I stepped forward, took it gently, and brushed my lips across her knuckles. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Hailey. Though I must say, I'm starting to suspect I'm cursed. Every time I enter this warp lane, I seem to find myself at your checkpoint."

Her smile cracked open, amused but wary. He's suspicious.

I rolled onward. "Coincidences abound. Turns out the family I mentioned before is actually on business terms with your aunt. I met her during a deal, she offered me a gig, and — well, here I am. No great mystery. Just bad timing."

"Well then," Hailey replied, voice smooth, "any friend of my aunt is a friend of mine. I'm technically off-duty now, and since my guards won't need me for a few hours, how about the three of us pass the time with a little game?"

Kathrine raised a brow. "Darling, I hope it's not something that'll embarrass me."

"Oh no," Hailey replied, all innocent poison, "just a casual game. And maybe a few drinks. Irvine — you in?"

I shrugged. "Sure. I'm down for whatever. If you two want to catch up without me, I don't mind wandering—"

"NO!" she barked.

Then, instantly recomposed: "Ahem. No, that's quite alright. We'll talk later."

She smiled, dangerous and bright.

"So how about it?"

There was no good reason to say no. The woman was being nice. Or trying. So I agreed.

Hailey reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a trio of shot glasses and a bottle of something thick, dark, and probably flammable.

"Aunty, would you mind pouring?"

Kathrine nodded with glee.

Meanwhile, Hailey unlocked another drawer and revealed three beautifully forged throwing knives. Polished blades, custom grips. The kind of edge you feel in your teeth when it flies past your head.

"We'll all stand behind the desk," she explained. "And toss these at that board. Simple barracks game. Nothing special — but fond memories."

Knives instead of darts, I thought. Slightly murdery, but alright.

"Sure, I'm game. Kathrine?"

"Of course," she laughed. "Played this back in basic. Accidentally hit a drill sergeant once when he startled me. Mom had to donate a fortune to keep it out of court."

Hailey stepped up first.

The board was nine feet away. She launched the first blade — solid hit. Second — glancing miss. Third — bullseye.

"Two out of three," she said, shrugging. "That means one shot."

I stepped forward to retrieve the knives.

"No need," Hailey said smugly.

She stared at the board, and with a psychic snap, the three blades launched backward through the air, stopping mid-flight and falling delicately into her hand.

"Perks of having telekinesis," she added, downing her drink.

Then she passed the blades to me.

"Alright, Arcon. Show us what you've got."

I'd never trained in ranged weapons. My fighting style was all teeth, claws, close-range destruction — the elegant art of ripping a cunt's face off.

But hey. I had good reflexes.

First throw: near center. Low.

Second throw: good height, wrong side.

Third throw: Bulls-eye. Dead center.

"Fluke," I muttered.

"Nice throw," Hailey said. "But two misses — two shots."

As she turned to fetch the knives, I held out my hand.

"No need."

Thunk.

The knives appeared in her palm without me even glancing.

Kathrine chuckled. "Show-off."

Hailey stared at me sideways as I drank.

He didn't even look.

He's strong.

And just like that, the game had changed.

Not the knife game.

The other one.

The one we were all too polite to name.

---

Author's Note: A Heartfelt Message from Me to You

Hey lovely reader,

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