Another day, but this time with plot!

Makoto woke the next morning to the sound of bells.

High, chiming notes drifted through the shutters of the tiny inn room he’d “borrowed” after sneaking past curfew.

He stretched, bones popping. “Still male. Still gorgeous. Still unemployed. Yep, new world problems.”

The mirror over the washbasin showed an unfamiliar face—sharper jaw, eyes too bright for the hour. He tried to smile and immediately startled himself. So that’s what confidence looks like. No wonder people think it’s dangerous.

Downstairs, the inn bustled. Women in armor ate breakfast; men poured tea. A few glanced his way, whispering.

He waved cheerfully. “Morning, everyone! Don’t mind me, just violating social norms.”

An elderly woman at the counter frowned. “You’re the stray the temple mentioned. Sit before you draw attention, boy.”

He sat. “Already doing that. Attention’s my cardio.”

She sighed, sliding him a bowl of rice and grilled fish. “Eat. Then find work suited to your… constitution.”

Makoto tasted the fish. “Delicious. So, what’s a suitable job for a man? Court jester? Professional ornament?”

The innkeeper eyed him over her spectacles. “You joke, but courtiers pay well for a charming face.”

“Tempting,” he said, “but I prefer my freedom. Even if it comes with malnutrition.”

◇◆◇

Outside, morning light turned the cobblestones gold. The town—Hanasato—stirred awake. Women shouted orders, smithies roared, banners of crimson and gold snapped in the wind.

Men hurried between errands, heads bowed. A few wore veils.

Makoto strolled through like a tourist. Every scandalized gasp was fuel. Back on Earth they told me to smile more; now they tell me to smile less. Progress!

Near the fountain, a small crowd had gathered around a posting board. Adventurers—all women—read mission notices. Goblin raids, lost relics, one about a runaway wyvern.

Makoto elbowed his way forward. “Excuse me, ladies. Any postings for reckless idiots with zero credentials?”

A tall elf in silver armor looked down at him. “Do you have a guardian permit?”

“Nope.”

“A license?”

“Unless sarcasm counts.”

She sniffed. “Then you have nothing. Men aren’t allowed to take commissions.”

Makoto put a hand to his chest. “Wow. And here I was thinking gender discrimination was an isekai exclusive. Turns out it’s a multiverse feature!”

Her glare could’ve melted ice. “Careful, boy. You mock the Matriarch’s law.”

He grinned. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

She turned away muttering about “incorrigible males.” Makoto leaned against the board, scanning the papers anyway. His eyes caught on one nearly hidden behind the rest: “Missing Relic — Temple of Bloom — Reward: 500 gold.”

He tugged it loose. “Perfect. High pay, vague danger. Classic protagonist bait.”

A voice behind him drawled in a southern accent that previously would have been enticing to Makoto, now it's… unsettling “You planning to die friend?”

Makoto turned. The speaker was a lean young man with sandy hair and a tired smile, balancing a basket of herbs.

“Name’s Rei,” he said. “You must be the new troublemaker. Word spreads fast.”

Makoto offered a hand. “Makoto Aihana. Professional disappointment.”

Rei shook it. “You talk like someone who doesn’t value his safety.”

“I talk like someone who values irony more.”

Rei snorted. “Fair. But seriously, you don’t want to cross the temple. That relic’s sacred.”

“Sacred usually means valuable. Valuable means leverage. I like leverage.”

Rei studied him a moment. “You’re either brave or suicidal.”

“Why not both?”

◇◆◇

They walked together toward the edge of town. Rei needed herbs from the forest; Makoto needed a direction.

The road wound through bamboo groves humming with cicadas. Magic lights hovered among the leaves—spirit wisps, Rei called them.

Makoto poked one. It squeaked indignantly and darted off. “Cute. Do they bite?”

“Only if you’re rude.”

“Oh, good. I specialize in that.”

Rei laughed quietly. “You really don’t fear them, do you? Most men flinch at spirits.”

Makoto shrugged. “Spent my last life afraid of everything. Didn’t help much.”

He glanced at Rei. “So you ever wonder why it’s like this? Women ruling, men protected to death?”

Rei hesitated. “History says the Demon Queen’s curse centuries ago. Men lost their battle aura; women gained divine favor. The matriarchy formed to protect us.”

Makoto whistled. “Nice origin story. Shame no one updated it in five hundred years.”

Rei smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong. But people here believe the balance keeps peace.”

“Peace is overrated.” Makoto kicked a pebble. “Equality’s more fun.”

◇◆◇

By midday they reached a clearing where ruins poked from the grass—stone arches carved with blooming lilies.

Rei knelt to harvest herbs. “These are spirit leaves. Good for medicine, bad for rash decisions.”

Makoto wandered toward a cracked pedestal at the ruin’s center. Strange runes shimmered faintly. He brushed away dirt, revealing the carving of a sword-shaped bloom.

The air pulsed. For a moment, blue petals swirled around him—the same as the field from his rebirth.

A whisper echoed: ‘The thorn chooses its stem.’

Makoto blinked. “Excuse me?”

The ground trembled. A hidden chamber opened beneath the pedestal, stairs descending into darkness.

Rei jumped up. “What did you—?!”

Makoto grinned. “Guess I pressed the plot button.”

“Makoto, wait!”

Too late. He was already halfway down, torch flaring to life with a snap of magic.

◇◆◇

The chamber smelled of dust and old incense. Murals lined the walls—women wielding blades of light, men kneeling beside them offering crowns of flowers.

At the far end rested a small crystal orb, faintly glowing.

Makoto approached. “So this is the missing relic, huh? Looks fragile. I like it.”

He reached out—and blue lightning flashed. Pain lanced through his arm. Symbols flared across his skin, blooming into the same flower-shaped mark from the meadow.

“Ah—!” He staggered back, shaking his hand. The orb dimmed again.

Rei rushed down the stairs. “Idiot! Are you trying to get cursed?”

Makoto flexed his fingers. “Too late. Pretty sure I just unlocked my tutorial power-up.”

The mark pulsed once more, then settled like ink.

Rei stared. “That’s… impossible. Only priestesses can touch relics.”

Makoto smirked. “Guess I’m special. Don’t tell the Goddess; she might revoke my membership.”

A low rumble echoed overhead—temple bells, distant but urgent.

Rei blanched. “They’ll come looking. We need to go.”

Makoto pocketed the orb. “Then we’d better run fast. Heroes get caught in Act Three, not Act One.”

◇◆◇

They burst from the ruins into blinding daylight. Far behind, the bells kept tolling.

Rei panted, “You’re insane.”

Makoto laughed breathlessly. “Correction: I’m genre-aware.” He held up the orb. “And now I’ve got something to bargain with. Step one of rebellion: acquire shiny MacGuffin.”

Rei groaned. “Step two is what, exactly?”

Makoto looked at the sky where twin suns burned above the mountains.

“Step two,” he said, grin widening,

“is making the world regret giving me a second life.”

◇◆◇

(Decided to switch up the spacing between paragraphs)