Death. The single constant in existence is that all that comes to be, must eventually fade away. Whether it be old, young, man, woman, person, animal, or other, everything meets its end. But nobody knows what occurs after our time expires, what awaits us on the other side.

Sure, we all have theories. But nobody will know until that final second has ticked on the clock signaling the end. And for one unusual soul, that final second would lead to a whole lot more, most of which would be… interesting, to say the least.

Well, shit. That could've gone a lot better.

He always thought he would go out in a relaxing way. Having that stroke while watching the news. Taking a sip of good old prune juice then collapsing. Falling down the stairs after a rough morning struggling with dentures.

Point is, he thought he would be old, or at least older, before Death walked in and decided "Hey, nice life, I'll be taking that now", while stabbing him with a scythe. Just goes to show how you should never trust a cat.

Ok, this may seem a little confusing so far. Backing up a minute now. It was a nice August afternoon, at least if you were a Floridian. For a New Yorker, it was torture. Nothing against Floridians, but he always thought that those who enjoyed living in weather over 90 degrees belonged in the loony bin (of course, he also couldn't see it from their point of view, because his opinion was fact). A perfect day for a dip in the pool, but he didn't have one. So he turned to his favorite old pastime: biking around the neighborhood.

After letting his mother know of his plans (with a reply of "Don't be gone for more than half an hour, young man, or it will be no dinner tonight for you!), he opened the front door and left. And yes, he still lived with his mother. After college, it helped lessen expenses by cutting down on rent money. Don't judge him.

Anyway, he walked out back towards the dilapidated old garage, filled with smaller holes and with eerie creaking always present. After grabbing his trusty old bike, the one he had saved his meager allowance months for, and his bright blue helmet, he was off to the street. While his biking was mainly as an enjoyable activity, he also did it for the optimistic hope that it would help him reduce weight.

He still didn't have the right body that he wanted. Biking could help solve that, wouldn't it? A few miles here and there a day and he would look like stupid Joe any time now (Joe was his football friend who had a rocking 160 pounds, only 62 less than his own 222 pounds. Yeah… on second thought biking might not help THAT much).

Ok, off track again. Point is, he probably should have checked the bike chain before biking. For, you see, the neighborhood devil of a loose cat decided to have a scratch on that chain (already rusted) the previous evening, causing the rusted chain to hasten in its deterioration. He never checked it because, ever the optimist, he never saw the possibility of equipment failure happening to him. Lo and behold, two miles and twenty minutes later, it snapped.

That might be an alright thing if you were, say, biking in the neighborhood park or in a parking lot. But he had already completed both of these former activities. No, he had to be heading home on Erie Avenue, the longest, busiest, and noisiest street in the city. Which also had no bicycle lane to the side out of budget concerns (if he remembered correctly, it was Mayor Sherman who said "Barely anybody bikes around anymore, so the money should instead be transferred to the education budget! Yeah…. fuck him) Needless to say, things did not end very well. Especially since a delivery truck was driving in that same section of road.

*Bang*

*Swerve*

*"AGH"*

*Crash*

*Splat*

While conscious for an agonizing and slow minute later, he could immediately tell he wouldn't make it, even without his nursing knowledge. If it wasn't the crushed ribs he could feel digging into his lungs telling him that, then it was the *snap* he heard in his neck area that sounded like a high-pressured rope giving way, or the blood draining into that storm drain over there in a hypnotizing wavy pattern. And, wait, why was his leg bending backwards like a goddamn flamingo?

After a good few screams and weak curses directed at the truck driver (driving away right at that moment, fucking coward), realization of the previous fact began seeping in and, just like that, the light went out. Final thoughts about how fucked he was and how he never was able to put his life to any use.

And that was how poor little Daniel Waldi met his end. Not at the eighty-four years of life that he expected, but rather the twenty-three years that he got. Which he wasted on planning for his future. Life sure could be a bitch, couldn't it?

Darkness. An endless pit, nothing to be seen for miles around. Falling, falling, falling-

Stop.

Ever go parachuting, leaping off the edge of safety to the unknown world below, just to feel the parachute deploy at the unlikeliest of moments and yank you back from the edge of oblivion? That was how Daniel felt right after he expired.

His mind came back first, disoriented and confused. Next came touch, sound, vision, tast-

Wait, why couldn't he see? Or feel, touch, smell, taste, move, or even breath! It wasn't supposed to work like this! He wasn't very religious, but he still expected to have gone to Heaven or Hell when he died. Where were the pearly gates? The old man with the beard? At this moment, he would even take the red horn guy. At least that would lead to some certainty!

He began to freak out, thrashing about wildly while thinking thoughts of fear. (Of course, the thrashing was in his mind. No touch or ability to move, remember?)

After what seemed like hours, he finally calmed. Not totally cool with the conditions, but understanding as to the current situation. While being trapped solely within his mind wasn't exactly fun, it was better than nothing. Besides, it could be worse. He could have survived but been crippled, or lost his memory, or something worse could have occurred. Trapped in his mind? Probably one of the better outcomes of the accident, he desperately reasoned to himself.

And so, he waited, passing time idly thinking.

Hours turned into days. Days into weeks. Weeks into months, and so on. It gave him more time to think than ever before, especially about the situation. Who screwed up in the afterlife department? Where was he? What exactly happened to his bike chain? And, hey, what would happen to his family? How hard could a person get hit and survive? What movie was better, "Endgame" or "Spider-Man: Homecoming".

Yeah… needless to say he had a lot of time on his hands.

Eventually, his sense of touch slowly returned. A pinprick of feeling in his right thumb. His foot and toes coming back and becoming moveable. His heartbeat once again able to be felt, if not heard. However, besides touch, everything else was still absent from his perception. However, after what felt like an eternity of darkness and void, he eventually started noticing immense pressure building up around him. He could feel himself moving, but didn't know where. He had absolutely no control. Eventually, he noticed a bright light.

Wait…brightness…

His vision was back!

Almost at once, he noticed his senses were returning, albeit in a poor state. He could see less than he could while drunk, hear worse than that fun month of conductive hearing loss. But, it was a start.

He heard faint voices, but slowly growing in loudness as his hearing returned.

"His name will be Alfonso vi Britannia!"

Who was that lady? Talking about a name, what type of name is that! Then, he began to take note of his surroundings. His touch registered being surrounded by a soft material. His eyes, from what he could gather, saw what appeared to be a black-haired giant looking down at him. His ears registered that it was probably this lady who just spoke.

His mind, putting together a hypothesis, promptly acted. If by acted you meant shutting down.

"H..wh...what?"

He then noticed a second presence in the room. Turning his eyes, he saw a true giant of a man. A silver beard and hair streaked with white, with truly bizarre curly...things (what?) that looked like hair. A uniform that screamed power and accentuated his look of being ready to kill someone. And dark, violet eyes that were colder than steel, looking into his own.

"...weak."

If glares could kill, then our poor protagonist would be in hell by now. This wasn't the old man with a beard he was expecting.

The giant lady seemed to take a little offense to that, putting her right hand up to her chin while maintaining her hold of the child with her left. "Why, come now Charles, he is just a newborn. Give it time." Returning to the child in her arms, she smiled. "Isn't that right my little Alfie?"

No response. Not that one was expected of a newborn. However, what they couldn't see was the attempts of poor little "Alfie" to rectify the situation with reality.

"Is this Hell? No, I mean, I've been a nice guy. I gave to charity!"

"Wait a second… dead guy living, giants, lack of senses… reincarnation? Is that it then? I mean, it would make sense. Some religions went this route. But then, why do I remember my past? Where the hell am I? And that emptiness these last few- wait, is that what the fuck that was!? Oh...Oh"

The other hulking figure, now named Charles, proceeded to lessen the glare, turning his attention to the woman with noticeably more care in his gaze. "Then it will be your job to strengthen him up, Marianne. Congratulations. '' And with that, he broke off the glare fully and abruptly turned, purple cape fluttering a little with the sudden movement, and began rapidly exiting the room.

"Alfie" suddenly felt scared, as realization dawned on him. His home, family, friends… all truly gone. He wanted out, out of whatever this madness was. He wanted to go home. And so, he began weeping.

The "mother" of the child was seemingly aware of his cries.

"Aww, don't cry. Father can be nice too," he heard the lady say, completely misunderstanding his inner turmoil. Signaling to a maternity nurse in the corner of a room to come closer, Marianne carefully gave him the child. "Please take him to be fed and then to the nursery. I will be there to see him after you have finished".

"Right away, my lady," came the nervous reply. And then, just like the bearded man a few minutes earlier, the lady got up and proceeded to vacate the room.

"Come on now, little guy. Let's get you fed."

And so he was whisked away, thoughts still focused on what he would do now.

Ten minutes after that lady had finally left, and two hours after being placed in a new room, our baby protagonist still had trouble understanding the situation.

It was a medium sized room. That's all that could be said about it. A small cradle sitting in the middle, with a fluffy red carpet gracing the floor and eggshell-white walls adorned with various patterns of purple and orange, along with two large windows on the walls and a small sky window. The white drawer sat in the corner, looking like it was just made and installed in that very day. A lazy ceiling fan spun around on an endless task.

"Alfonso" laid in the crib, staring into the blankness. His mind, now calmed, has started thinking, his usual idealism mostly absent.

He was in a foreign land, that much was obvious. Nothing that he had seen reminded him of his home, with the glimpses of the outside and the moments that he had seen of the news looking so… alien. However, this was not entirely a bad thing in his mind. This was another chance, he rationalized. A way forward rather than a step back.

His old life was nothing remarkable. Born to a middle class family closer to the poor end of the definition, he certainly saw some struggles. Financial issues, especially about his future, refused to escape his mind. While smart, he was always afraid that the shaky edifice of his "intelligence" would fall like a house of cards. While popular, he could tell that he had few genuine friends.

He never connected well, never really tried. Focused on his schoolwork to try to improve his future. Look what became of that.

His biggest fear was always towards the future. Would he make it? Probably not. All the optimism in the world couldn't stop his pessimism towards himself. However, he wasn't playing by the same rules anymore.

No, this would be a fresh start. A richer background, smarter start, and parents that wouldn't be as harsh as the old. Hopefully.

He would try to advance in this new life, make more connections and further his education, especially when it came to society. He also had always wanted to help people. So that is what he would do. He would make his mark in this strange new place, even if he thought himself unworthy of this new opportunity.

That night, under the shimmering stars of this new land, he swore to himself that he would make this life better than the last.

Author's Notes:

Hello all! My name is offtimeotaku and, as the name implies, I love anime in my free time. After reading stories of various fandoms on this website for a few years, I decided it was high time for me to attempt to contribute. Code Geass is my favorite anime so far and, even though it has been a bit since I have seen it, I decided to brush up on it and try my hand at writing a story.

I will try to make my story interesting and develop the characters as much as I can, but I do go into this without experience, so please do not be too harsh. Also, it may be a little bit before I update; I still need to plan out the story and this is more of a beginner to see if there would be any interest.

Finally, I do not claim ownership of Code Geass or any of its characters or plot, that goes to Sunrise.

That's all from me for now, have a nice day!