Reincarnation at it's finest

Ashes

The boy walked into the building with an upbeat step, beaming proudly to even be where he was. He stepped forward with his right foot, angling his entire body upwards without bending his new, clutching the book in his hand passionately, and touched down, moving one step closer to victory.

After seeing the awkward glance from the receptionist, he continued on his journey from the doors of the mighty building into the abyss that was the lobby, to finally make it towards the front desk. With as much willpower necessary for slaying a dragon, he pushed onward, making it to the receptionist, who stared at him somewhat amused.

"Hello! My name is Soran Kijima, and... I'm here to uh... share my pitch for a new manga!" he chattered, trying his hardest to look as awe-inspiring as physically possible. The receptionist seemed very amused at this 12 year old hafu, thinking he could barge right in to one of the largest anime and manga companies in the entire world and assume they would take his little fanfiction.

"I... see. Well, I guess I could schedule a meeting with one of our team members if you are willing to stay here.. for awhile." the receptionist said almost mockingly. Soran happily sat down on one of the chairs, and was fine with just staring at the wall as ideas ran through the open sea that was his head, or what he thought was, at least.

A man walked in with a cold demeanor, holding a can of gasoline. Soran, waved to him, though he was confused why he was holding the gasoline. The receptionist saw him and opened her eyes with disbelief. "You again-" she hastily dialed security. "Hello?! Is this security?! Yeah, it's the guy again, he has gasoline,"

The man started sprinting and dumping the oil over the whole building, shouting terrible phrases such as "Die! All of you! You all deserve painful deaths!" Soran was extremely startled. But.. he felt like he could do this. He walked toward the man and looked at him with the scared expression of a young boy, and whispered.

"Calm down.. it's okay." The man seemed mentally disputed, but he drew a box of matches and struck it, and before anyone could do anything, the fire had settled. And all that remained was ashes.