Heron woke up and was not naked. Well, that was good.

  Still in his office clothes, his tie threatened to strangle him as his white button-up was still half-tucked in his slacks. The sky was a bright, soothing blue with a few stray clouds floating in the sky and—

  Heron blinked. Once, twice, three times.

  Okay… he had recently gone to the eye-doctor and his vision had been 20/20; excellent for a man in his mid-30s.

  So why was he seeing three moons?!

  Snapping straight up, he groaned at the lower back pain that came from sitting at his desk for far too many hours of overtime. His fingers laced between the soft grass as he glanced around his surroundings. Eyes widening, his breath caught at the base of his throat.

  Holy moly, where was he?!

  Clutching his forehead with one hand as he leaned back onto the other in the grassy clearing, he tried to recall his last memory. No, it wasn’t his boss yelling at him or his coworker calling him a dimwit. No, it was something else. Something far more important.

  That’s right! The kid he had saved.

  There had been a truck and a little boy that shouldn’t have been playing in the streets, but his ball had rolled out. The truck had shown no signs of braking and stopping. Of course Heron had thrown himself in harm's way in an effort to save the kid.

  Heron breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t died in vain. Wait a second—

  He thought harder, crossing his arms and legs as he sat in the grass. Oh dear. From his perspective, as his soul had been floating away from his body, it turned out the truck had swerved. If Heron hadn’t jumped out to save the boy, the kid would’ve been fine and Heron would still be alive.

  Heron didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he laughed a hearty laugh.

  Well, that was that. It’s not like he could change the past. What was done was done, and Heron had always been a man that accepted things quietly, whether willingly or unwillingly. Besides, there were no second chances—

  Hold on. So where the hell was he?

  While he didn’t see the sun, it was bright out and the warmth was mild, similar to room temperature. The bottom of his pants was slightly wet from the dew on the grass. Standing up and patting down his slacks, he turned to look at his surroundings more clearly. A few stray butterflies flying around. Trees and more trees. One big boulder next to him in the grassy clearing. The air smelled like nature, like what one would expect to smell when out camping or hiking.

  If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he was in heaven. But everything felt too familiar; the way his body felt, the way his lungs filled, and the ache in his back.

  What were the kids calling it these days? It’s-a-kite? Oh, isekai?

  He knew what anime was; he wasn’t that old. Heck, he’d even seen a few of them himself by his lonesome on the weekends when he wasn’t doing overtime! Though his favorite pastime was playing a cozy, farming game made by a beloved indie developer. Still, he had a vague idea of what this ‘isekai’ was. Dubbed as reincarnating in another world, he wondered if he had been spirited away or if this was still Earth. Probably not since there were three moons.

  Besides, there was a truck involved at the time of his death, and he felt very much alive—the sweat in his pits told him so.

  First things first, he’d best get out of this forest. Who knew what kind of dangers lurked here? Whether it was wolves or bears, Heron was not well equipped to survive, let alone come out unscathed in the perils of a world that he had reincarnated in. Given the nature of most isekai plots he was familiar with, he prayed he hadn’t been isekai’d into another world with magical beasts such as slimes, goblins, or ogres. But there were three moons in the sky so who was he to decide what genre he had reincarnated into.

  It was not like he had spawned into this world with a sword or magical powers… unless?

  Glancing around to ensure there were no witnesses around to see the kind of nerdy action he was about to perform, he waved his arms dramatically. Committed wholeheartedly to an anime pose.

  Nothing.

  Guess magic was out of the question. Maybe it was too much to ask the isekai god to have given him cool powers, or something more useful than what he had died with which was simply his clothes. They didn’t even let him keep his briefcase!

  He was stranded with nothing to his name except his suit and tie, so Heron figured he better get the hell out of here. Fast. Heron walked with purpose, striding with the goal of finding salvation at some rural village or better yet, an urban city. He was going to find a road, possibly a crossroads with a sign, and ideally a traveling merchant who could point him in the right direction.

  So there was definitely a sun of some sort, just not one that Heron could see.

  Because this invisible sun was coming down, somewhere he couldn’t see, and the sky was now a dark orange to a deep purple. Heron was sweatier than he would like to be and his heart was pumping the best it could for an office worker who hadn’t done cardio in years. He was also beginning to feel a tad restless. Though it was hard to tell if time operated the same in this place with three moons, surely it had been half a day since he started walking. By now, he would’ve expected to have come across a road. Or a town. Or even another person?

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  But no. He was alone. Too alone.

  Sure, there were butterflies, bees, and insects. Likely small critters that he couldn’t see. Possibly larger animals he had yet to come across. But he was beginning to feel… concerned. Night was coming and Heron did not like the way the forest spoke to him as the dark evening crept up on him like a shadow. Even in the city where he lived his first life, the sounds of cicadas chirping would keep him up sometimes. But the silence here was stifling. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether he’d be more afraid of spending the night in complete silence or encountering a stray bear. Probably the latter, but nonetheless, neither option was Heron’s preference.

  Heron’s stomach growled as if it were filing a complaint to his brain. He was also parched, but when he had come across a lake earlier—even without taking a survival class—he knew it wasn’t safe to just drink from random water sources. He’d thought about it hypothetically on what he would need to do to acquire clean water. He’d need to be able to start a fire and boil the water. The problem was he had never started a fire from scratch before nor did he have a pot to boil the water in. He was royally screwed if he didn’t come across a friendly village.

  The moonlight spilled from the three moons above, and Heron glanced up. He breathed in the sight; the sky was broad and the dark, deep blue shone with stars sprinkled like dust across the horizon. It was a fine night for a terrifying experience such as this.

  Heron froze in his tracks. He stared, expression sullen as he swallowed. His heart lurched and his eyes zeroed in on the boulder.

  The same, exact boulder from earlier when he had awakened in this strange place.

  With each step, he recognized the clearing. The trees and more trees. The grass still had his butt-print. Sitting down in the exact same spot, he crossed his arms and legs. Well, this was not good. He’d spent the entire day walking, just to find himself in the same exact place as where he started? Either he was terrible at walking straight or there was an unexplainable reason as to how he had gone in a full circle.

  Laying back in the grass, he stared at the sky, his head resting in his palms. He was exhausted and felt it deep in his bones. His chest heaved as he inhaled and exhaled. Perhaps it was a cruel joke that the isekai god was playing on him—presumably there was one since Heron had reincarnated in another world. Giving Heron a chance at a second life but not spawning him in a village was quite rude indeed. He didn’t even get to start over as a newborn baby or begin with overpowered abilities. He sighed; life wasn’t fair, but it was what it was.

  Heron wasn’t the type to complain, but he was getting awfully thirsty. Thinking back to the lake, his only thought was if only he could have had some clean water. Staring at the darkened yet sparkling sky, the thought of water filled his mind. Oh, how to obtain it? Closing his eyes, he wondered what it would take to make some. The image of a pot boiling water over a stove proceeding with the water cooling down came to Heron’s mind. The problem? He didn’t have a pot or a stove; he didn’t even have a fire! The modern world sure had it easy—

  Splash.

  Sputtering, he wiped his face off, the sudden wetness alerting him as he sat up quickly. What was that? His face was drenched and he glanced around his surroundings.

  Nothing.

  The sky showed no signs of clouds or even a hint of a random downpour. He patted the grass around him. None of it was wet. So where did the water come from? Did it fall out of the sky? And why had he been smacked by it? Heron pondered, could it be the isekai god playing a prank on him? What other explanation could there be?

  Heron searched for the answer, considering any and every possibility. Then it clicked.

  “Ah!” Fist to his palm, Heron lit up, an idea dawning on him.

  The dots connected, and even though it was a thin thread connecting the logic jump, Heron was willing to test that theory. He had nothing better to do anyway. While he thought the logic couldn’t possibly be—but if it was, then maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

  “Um, summon water?”

  Nothing.

  Hmm, maybe he had imagined it, but it sure seemed like water had appeared earlier when he had wished for it. Thinking back, he had imagined a pot of clean water after it had been done boiling and had cooled down to room temperature so it would’ve been ready for drinking—

  SPLASH.

  This time, Heron saw it clearly. Right before it hit his eyes. A glob of water had been floating above him, formulated from thin air when it had suddenly dropped on him. Wiping his face with his sleeve, Heron stood up. Now he had to really test the theory. And if he was going to try again, the least he could do was try to dodge if the ball of water tried to pelt him again. Before envisioning the process of making clean water, Heron wondered—could this be magic?

  After all, he was summoning water, right?

  Cupping his hands together, Heron visualized the water resting in his palms. He imagined it would fill the shape of his cupped hands; ideally it would overflow with pure, clean water that was enough to drink. His eyes slowly widened as a blue glow appeared at the center between his palms.

  From the speck of shine, a tiny bulb of water formed and it grew until Heron felt the wetness touch his skin completely. Soon, the liquid filled the cup he made with his hands. The water wavered in his cupped palms as he let out the breath he was holding.

  It wasn’t much but it was enough to quench his thirst. Normally he would’ve been worried about drinking straight from his hands, but he was too thirsty to care. And whether or not the water was purified, it was probably better than drinking lake water. Probably.

  Heron stood up with his hands still wet, clasping his chin thoughtfully. He should be in awe of the super cool magical powers that he had just discovered. And he was. But really, he was just trying to hold back a yawn. Either he was getting old or there was a hidden cost to his magic. He could tell this was a different kind of exhaustion, but he brushed the feeling off.

  A feeling swelled in him, and for the first time today, the corner of his lips curled. What other magic could he cast? Maybe he was actually all powerful? Like one of those overpowered main characters that would end up saving the world?

  His stomach bellowed like a starving grizzly bear that had just awoken at the end of winter. Well, even heroes needed to eat. Heron was getting ahead of himself. Now that he was in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t help but think back to his first life. How easy he had it when he could go to any convenience store on a whims notice and grab a meal. There was also his favorite bakery where he loved having their fresh, melon bread for breakfast.

  Squinting into the dark, he sat down once more. His eyelids felt heavy, but the pang in his abdomen felt heavier. If he could summon water, was there anything stopping him from summoning something else? Maybe he could summon that melon bread he was desperately craving?

  Staring down at his hand, Heron then slowly closed his eyes and tried to envision the melon bread of his dreams. Warm, fluffy, and sweet. The golden crust of sweetness and the perfect roundness of the soft bread. He felt the weight of it in his hand, the sugary aroma filling his nostrils as he opened his eyes.

  Blinking, the blurriness dazed him as he felt his vision sway. His eyes rolled up—no, his back was now pressed into the ground, the feeling of grass surrounding his body. He’d fallen over without noticing, and the sensation of warmth that was on his hand had since rolled away. The night sky was beautiful with all its stars and three moons who seemed to be smiling down on him. His last thought?

  He hadn’t gotten to eat his melon bread yet.