Author’s note: If you’ve never read a number of Japanese and Chinese reincarnation novels then this might be a bit confusing. I’m not sure if I could describe it as fan fiction or a spoof or something else.
The grappling hook missed the top of the wall when it was tossed around by the rising winds and punishing rain. The wall was covered in deep shadow as the incoming typhoon blocked out the sun.
The sound of the steel hook hitting the wall, and then the ground, was barely heard by the thin, black clothed man who threw it from the base of the Zhang Palace’s outer wall much less by any guards or people in nearby buildings.
So extremely focused on trying to judge the gusts of wind was the young man that he barely looked at the grappling hook as he reeled it in and prepared for the next toss.
Standing out in the street he gave not a single glance at the nearby noble estates, or down the Royal Procession that to a gate a few hundred paces away.
His body staggered as he awkwardly threw the grappling hook again with his pipe cleaner arms. On this, his fourth try, he finally managed to lodge it on a merlon at the top of the wall.
With a distracted half tug he tested how well the hook had been lodged before starting to swarm up the rope.
Unfortunately many 12 year old boys were stronger than him so climbing a wet rope as the winds of the typhoon grew harsher wasn’t the easiest task. On the other hand he was also extremely light since his obsession had also robbed him of weight, not just strength.
The one extremely lucky stroke was that as he’d left home he’d seen and remembered to bring thick gloves and the grappling hook he’d bought the week before.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d left his blood drying on the walls of the castle when he tried all night to climb it with bare, and eventually bloody, hands alone.
What could have been a climb taking less than a hundred breaths instead became a long grueling struggle only ended when bloody gloves ripped almost in half reached the top and pulled the young man over the top.
A soft dull thud announced him rolling down onto the walkway at the top of the wall. Despite his exhaustion he was up on his feet in a moment as his burning eyes peered inwards at the estate and castle of Emperor Zhang Yi.
With all the guards driven indoors he couldn’t spot a single patrol on the grounds. Like a racing bloodhound he was down a nearby stairway and across the outer grounds towards Imperial Princess Zhang Xianhui’s courtyard.
The Imperial Princess’s courtyard was deep in the warren of courtyards surrounding the main castle on all but the south side which contained the extravagant entrance to the castle.
Ignoring how deeply soaked he was by the rain, or how well lit he occasional was by lightning flashes, he quickly moved through the lanes and pathways between the many courtyards.
Even though he occasionally stumbled he never lost track of his path in the dark. Occasional light came from the nearby buildings.
He barely avoided a patrol’s vigilance after hiding in the shadow of a small stable. He’d mistaken their lantern for yet another light and almost walked into them.
Less than a quarter hour after climbing the wall he was outside the mostly empty courtyard of the Imperial Princess. Only a few servants remained to tend it while the Princess sought shelter in the main castle.
Even though the Princess was 20 years old this year she had a famous fear of storms. A typhoon had tossed a branch though a closed wooden storm window and broken her left arm at age 5. Ever since then she would pack her guards and servants and head to windowless secure quarters in the main castle when storms hit.
In a few heartbeats he had found a side of the outer walls of the courtyard that had no lights showing from the shuttered windows.
A second grappling hook and rope was quickly arranged and tossed towards a nearby chimney. He tried to time it with the peals of thunder but that proved far beyond him. However no one seemed to react as the hook grabbed the chimney on it’s first try.
Ignoring his red and slightly bloody palms he was up the rope in a moment. The short climb was greatly aided by the fact that he could jump and only have to climb a few more feet.
Arriving at the top he swiftly coiled and tied a loop around the chimney before peering down into the courtyard. Only the west side inner windows seemed to show light.
He quickly tossed the end of the rope down. However, he saved his palms some pain by carefully dropping down without using the rope.
The elaborately carved door easily marked the correct door. With no princess there were no guards since they depended upon the security of the royal grounds. The guards were only bodyguards, given to protect her, not the minor treasures the 17th child(8th Princess) of the Emperor might be given.
The thin, young man was still in a hurry. He quickly went opened the door and went inside. Leaving the door ajar he used the lightning flashes to find the doors to the inner rooms.
Peering in them one by one he quickly found his target. The wardrobe room of her highness.
His eyes seemed to burn with their own light but that gave no help to seeing more than vague impressions of the room so he swiftly flung open several shutters while ignoring the rain brought in by frequent gusts of wind.
Now the lightning flashes were absolutely required to fully see into the drawers as he pulled them open. The bottom ones were pulled out all the way, the next up a bit less, until they formed terraces of clothing while he waited to the side for the lightning.
A series of flashes brilliantly lit the room and the young man dropped to his knees as he clearly saw his target for the first time.
The dozens of brand new panties made by the Royal Seamstress for the Imperial Princess two days earlier.
Never worn, they were the highlight of the Royal Seamstresses 40 years of experience and skill. His eyes were flashed and his nose flared, they were now all his!
Swiftly bowing to the vague outline of the drawer in the deeper darkness after the flash, he pulled out a bag from beneath his clothing. Next his mostly destroyed gloves were put into a pocket and a pair of almost glowingly pure white silk gloves were quickly pulled out and worn.
Reaching into the drawer he carefully pulled each pair of panties and placed them carefully in the bag. It took close to another quarter hour to pack the 20 pairs of panties in the bag with the exacting precision he wanted.
The bag was then wrapped to his chest by straps under his clothing and then his mission was complete.
Compelled by his obsession he heaved a sigh of relief and said his first words of the night towards the bag on his chest.
“I have finally saved the ultimate panties from being worn, and tainted.”
With that bizarre line he was off.
Up the rope.
Down the outside wall.
And then off towards his escape route with the 2nd rope left swinging in the heavy winds.
There was no alarm, the only patrol that passed the 8th Princesses courtyard in the 15 minutes was unlucky to pass by on the far side of the building. Unlucky because of their rather gruesome fate the next day.
The man was soon back at the main wall with none the wiser. Up the stairs he went to his grappling hook.
This time he carefully climbed backwards over the edge of the walls. He was fully concentrating on not letting his chest hit the wall or rub on the rope and didn’t notice a thing.
A small slip on the rope near the bottom left him staggering as he hit the ground. He stepped back and sighed as he relaxed. He was safely away with his most valuable treasure to date.
The heavy 4 horse coach rushing along the road hit and instantly killed him.
Truckion opened eyes to find himself standing in a field of flowers. An old man in a white robe and a naked tiny flying being were staring at him from a few paces away.
“Hello, I am the Creator and…”, the old man took a step forward and started to talk only to be stopped as Truckion panicked and started to pat his chest.
Ripping off the light blue robe he was wearing he started with just silent tears as he stood there naked and realized his treasures were gone.
A long, long time later, after many tears, far too much sobbing, and a truly disgusting, and inhuman, amount of flowing snot, the old man tried again while the tiny being seemed to be trying to finally stop laughing.
“Hello Truck-kun, I’m the Creator of all the Universes and due to a not so small error I’m in need of someone to do a number of very necessary jobs for the lesser Universal and world gods. You were picked because you were perfect for both the initial series of jobs and a final job”
“Are you sure you are God? My name is Truckion not Truck-kun, I think a god would get it right.”
A long squabble between the not very bright Truckion and, a now much less patient creator, started up.
The details were still a bit confusing to Truckion even after the 6th explanation but he mostly had it drilled into his brain by his formerly loving creator.
– He was now reborn as a type of Divine creature with the name Truck, which he was told he’d understand one day. Then about a half day into the explanation he was told to never mind, since he might never get it.
– His job was to collect the souls of certain newly dead people and transport them to the gods of other places, or even deposit them in new bodies himself. The majority of gods couldn’t do much outside their own realms, so they required someone the Creator approved, or local gods at the other side.
– He would be often required to make those persons newly dead. Which he didn’t have a huge problem with because it was just killing not a serious crime like destroying panties
– His treasures, and more, would be returned to him, along with special bonuses if he completed the tasks properly.
– And finally to accomplish his tasks he had the ability to transform into extremely complicated objects, a strong ability to hide his presence, some powers of illusion and last the ability to slightly fog or adjust people’s memories. [None of those abilities required deep thought on his part, thank the Creator.]
A full day later Truckion had a tenuous grasp on his new abilities and the Creator finally introduced him to the tiny flying person beside the Creator.
“Truck-kun, this is Persalse. She’s a continental class God from a particular universe. Your first job is to collect the soul of a woman for her. The woman will be reborn as a hero to help people in her new world,” said the Creator slowly.
“Hi, Truck-sama, I’m happy to be working with you.”
Truckion wanted to ask what continental class meant, but even he understood that would lead to another day of explanations so he settled with the shortest answer possible.
A moment later, without warning, the two of them were standing in a forest near a paved road. The paved road was straight for a few hundred paces then turned at each end so they couldn’t see further along it.
A few strangely loud horseless carriages were traveling along the road at a pace slightly twice as fast as a person jogging.
It wasn’t the first time Truckion had seen horseless carriages. They were used outside the capitol to haul goods from smaller cities to it. However, those were much quieter and used demonic slaves to power them. These seemed to have furnaces in them and occasionally omit screams from metal chimneys.
The operators of the horseless carriages were even stranger. They seemed to be a human like bears. They wore clothes, carried tools and drove the vehicles.
Truckion sent a confused look at Persalse.
“Ah, Truck-sama if I remember right your home world doesn’t use steam power. Here, I’ll show you the form I need you to change shape to,” as she lightly tapped him on his forehead before he could react.
A small torrent of information should have rushed into his head and explained a number of things. But his panties obsessed mind couldn’t make heads, or tails, of it so it sat in his head like a block of wood.
Persalse had already assumed he’d understand and was watching the road for her target. The Creator had sent them a few minutes ahead on their target’s path.
A few heartbeats later, while Truckion was still confused, she spotted her the woman and her friends’, two other bear people, vehicle.
“Truck-sama, after the woman passes us I need you to use your power and change into a vehicle like theirs. We’ll follow them and look for an opportunity to get her soul.”
It was only then that she looked over and thought she understood how confused he was.
“Don’t work Truck-sama, just use your power and it will shape-shift you to the guideline I gave you.”
However he’d already forgotten his confusion over the information block and was presently considering one very important question. It didn’t seem like the right time to ask though and he thought maybe he could figure out the answer himself.
They waited for the woman’s vehicle to pass, and no others in sight, before stepping onto the highway.
Truckion wasn’t quite sure what to do, but after trying to will himself into looking like the other vehicles he suddenly shape-shifted into one along with a fake male bear man driver, somehow he was both the vehicle and the driver at the same time. Apparently his powers were quite literally foolproof.
One additional surprise existed. He could see both all around himself, and see himself from any angle at the same time. It was extremely confusing so he ignored it as soon as he adjusted, there was a more important question to ponder.
Setting off after the woman they pulled back into sight of her vehicle after the turn a bit down the road.
At Persalse’s urging he followed behind at a moderate distance.
Gradually the forest thinned out and farms appeared alongside the road. The appearance of the animals and buildings wasn’t much different than his world for some reason. Only the people working the farms were all bear people. Others might wonder about the similarities, but Truckion had a more important question on his mind.
Almost two hours passed before the woman’s vehicle slowed and drove up to a beside a building on the side of the road.
“Truck-sama, please slow down a lot and pull into the refueling stop too,” requested Persalse. “We need to find a good time to kill her but not her friends.”
As they slowly moved up to the building the woman unexpectedly left her companions. They went into the building while she crossed the parking lot to a tiny shed at the back, alongside a small grove. The building gave every indication of being an outhouse similar to those on Truckion’s home world.
As she entered it Truckion sped back up.
“Truckion please slow down, we can get out and kill her while she’s separated from her companions.”
Truckion though didn’t slow down. It seemed like he hadn’t even heard Persalse. Instead he was still deeply concentrating on his question as he lined up with the outhouse.
He slowly picked up even more speed until his body was moving faster than any of the local machines could.
Crashing through the outhouse he took a quick swerve to miss the edge of the grove and headed back across the parking lot to the road.
A small light floated out of the wreckage and flew to Persalse’s hand while the crushed outhouse slowly oozed various fluids.
Truckion glanced back at the scene as he rushed onto the highway and finally couldn’t hold in his important question.
“Do bear women have panties?”
After another instant teleport they were standing before the Creator again in the field. Truckion was back in his own body, and he could feel under his robe that his treasures were returned to him.
Persalse seemed rather uncomfortable and left with her hero’s soul as soon a possible.
“Truck-kun, your first mission seemed to go smoothly. Oddly, but still smooth in the end. So here is your first reward.”
An instant later he was somewhere else, and something other than human.
It took him minutes to grasp what had happened. Somehow he had become the top piece of cloth, of a stack, on a table in a small cottage. Similar to his previous shape-shifting he could see both himself and his surroundings at the same time.
A white haired bear woman slowly shuffled into the room and sat at the table. Reaching into a kit on her left while grabbing him with her right hand she placed both before her.
A roughly half-cross (T) shaped leather pattern was laid out over him. Moments later scissors were cutting into his side as they slid to the edge of the pattern and followed along it.
He could feel the warmth of her hands, the pressure of the scissors, but no pain, as she cut him along the pattern.
Soon he was shaped to her satisfaction and the needle and thread was prepared and then stabbed into him. Again there was no pain, just pressure.
In less than 5 minutes he had been reshaped, with excellent and loving skill, into a pair of panties.
The moment he realized what he had become, he lost himself in ecstasy. It had taken 19 years and death to become what he treasured the most.
A heartbeat passed and he was suddenly shifted again. This time back to the top cloth on the stack.
The old bear woman grabbed a larger pattern and him and repeated it all over.
All afternoon he was slowly, carefully and lovingly reshaped into various different sized panties before repeating it yet again.
After that afternoon of bliss he was given new missions. Sent along with various types of gods to different worlds or even different eras of worlds to collect future heroes and leaders.
Each mission wore at him a little. It wasn’t the killing so much as being away from his reward time. He rarely knew much about the heroes though the gods often tried to chat with him about them.
The first time he was honestly upset at his job was when he was in a nation called Japan on a strange futuristic world for the first time. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a technology world, but the island seemed to be a unusual mix of eras.
There was no god with him. He was merely required to kill one very obese middle aged man. However the man didn’t leave his home for weeks at a time so it was impossible to kill him as a truck.
On a more positive note he finally thought he understood why the Creator called him Truck-kun after he’d learned more about the local culture and language during the wait. Why the Creator would use that language for his name didn’t occur to him though.
Finally the targets parents died and soon after he was driven from his home by his siblings.
Truckion had learned a bit more about the man with his powers during the wait and even he was a bit disgusted by him. For some reason the man liked worn panties instead of pristine unused panties.
Truckion wasn’t happy to be dealing with a deviant like that but it was still a mission he was required to do. And he did feel at least the man understood a bit of the Truth even if he’d strayed into heresy.
A few hours later the mission was complete and he was at his reward, the creation of a set of exquisite panties in a magic world. He stayed as those panties until they were bought by a small non human magician with long blue hair.
A trace of his divinity might have rubbed off on those panties.
More missions, with longer rewards, came and went. On worlds, in strange planes, even shape-shifted into a ship traveling between the stars. He was a charioteer and chariot in a primitive land of bronze weapons. He was a kraken pulling a swordsman off a ship. He was a motorcyclist who helped send an entire busload of people off a cliff and onto their next heroic life.
However his dissatisfaction was growing slowly. He craved his rewards while slowly being more and more disturbed by the missions.
A mission without a requesting god came. He was sent to Japan as an old man, in a slow tractor, in a rural area. He was both the man and the tractor, an ability he’d long since adapted to.
A young man that reminded him a bit of his past self was wandering along a road while holding his new treasure.
When a young girl crossed the road he apparently caught sight of Truckion in the corner of his eye and dashed to save her from being hit.
Unfortunately he died. Not from being hit by Truckion. But from his heart failing in shock. Those around him seemed more amused by how he died than shook up.
Truckion was perhaps the only one sad as he watched the farce play out and the young man’s soul drift into the afterlife.
The reward afterwards was the best so far but far too short for Truckion to be truly happy. He was able to hop around between pairs in a huge closet of panties. There were types he’d never seen before, and every single pair came in a dozen or more colors.
There were literally thousands of different pairs of panties in a special closet of the daughter of a Baroness in the capitol of a galactic empire. Every time she wore a pair it would be destroyed after, and replaced with a new set.
Seamstresses of stellar renown would send her pairs to get her endorsement since many young noble ladies followed her style advice.
It was paradise for Truckion.
“Creator, I’d like to retire and have as my final reward being panties somewhere in the afterlife. Or if that is impossible can I please reincarnate without this obsession. Maybe in another life I could be happy without being constantly being torn away from it.”
“I understand, and I’ve prepared a final mission for you.”
A moment later Truckion was standing in a storm between two mansions on a broad but primitive road.
Ahead was a giant wall with a rope swinging from it. A young thin man was struggling as he climbed down.
Even Truckion understood what he was supposed to do.
Shape changing into a 4 horse coach, he rushed towards the man as he reached the ground. He closed his eyes and senses as he felt the impact.
A while later Truckion opened his eyes to see the Creator and his field again.
But this time Truckion wasn’t wearing a blue robe. He was a pair of panties floating in the air.
From that day on the multiverse gained a new lesser Multiverse class god, the god of panties, Truckion.
And if you’ve ever walked past a pair of new panties in a store and felt they might be just a bit divine, perhaps you are sensing a bit Truckion’s divinity.