Re:Birth, Misfit's Metamorphosis (HIATUS)

Chapter 2.

"I'm telling you, Appa's aren't a real thing ! They're Apples! A-P-P-L-E-S!"

"I have no clue what in tarnation 'apples' is supposed to mean. These right here are unmistakably Appa's."

"Nuh-uh! What kind of ridiculous name is 'Appa' anyway? Everywhere else I've been, they're called Apples. Why you gotta be all fancy and change it up?"

"Why you gotta stir up a ruckus with this nonsense? You buying or not?"

"Appa's just irk me! Gimme three of 'em."

"Sure thing."

This ludicrous bickering had become a daily ritual ever since I found out that apples went by a different name in this world. Not exactly a world-shattering issue, I know, but it was irrationally getting under my skin. And it wasn't just Apples – it was "Banina," "Orage," "Piche," "Peah," "Strowberry," "Tometo," "Solt," "Peppa," and on and on. It was as if the universe decided to play mix-and-match with every food name in existence. How evil was that?! I get it, this is a different world and all, but c'mon, this was pushing it.

Anyhow, I ended up getting into fruit fights with a seller named Kadomon over naming conventions. Thankfully, as long as I cough up the coins, he lets me escape unscathed – we're practically best buds now... if it weren't for his whole "shoo you out pronto" routine.

I wandered out of the marketplace, humming a tune from back in the day on Earth, clutching a sack of what should've been apples – sorry, Appa's. All things considered, I couldn't really complain, life's treating me swell. Sure, it's a tad uneventful and boring, but hey, no complaints about my cushy living arrangements. My only problem came in the hygiene department – a quick flick of [All Fiction] and I'd be all clean again. Yet, thanks to the System's ominous warning, I was a tad reluctant about unleashing that power for such a small reason. So, every few days or so, I'd use [All Fiction] like I was starring in some action flick, off to save the world.

I arrived back at my favorite alley with my new bag of Appas, I didn't really know why or when I decided to make this alley my home base, there was an inexplicable comfort in being here, and I couldn't put my finger on exactly why. Seated on the ground, I munched on my Appas in silence while fiddling around with my [Imagination Manifestation] ability. Soon enough, the three thugs from a while back approached me.

"""Sup, Boss!"""

They chimed in unison once more, as if they'd rehearsed it enough times to make it second nature.

"Hey, Ton, Chin, Kan."

I greeted them with a polite nod, remembering their names. Ton was the beefcake of the trio, towering and sturdy. Chin was the string bean, sporting a jailhouse jumpsuit – go figure – and that "iconic" knife. Kan was the odd one out. I'm not being derogatory here; he was literally a dwarf.

"You guys here for the usual?"

Since our first run-in, these misfits had oddly decided that I was some kind of undercover big shot. Like, a retired mob boss or something? I couldn't quite fathom what exactly they imagined me to be. Moreover, I barely had a grip on this world's context, so I guessed they were just way off the mark. How could I explain my whole multiverse-hop without sounding absolutely insane?

"Y-Yeah, that's right."

Ton's voice came out shaky, accompanied by a nervous air. With his affirmation, I got to my feet, patting off my high school uniform and giving them a grin. In the days following our initial meeting, the trio would swing by every now and then, almost as if trying to keep the peace. It didn't particularly bother me – I could handle a conversation or two, as long as it didn't veer into the talkative or obnoxious range.