[Scene: Tokyo, Tuesday. 7:58 AM.]
Narration (Haruki's voice):They say every therapist eventually meets a client who changes their life.I just didn't think mine would wear a fedora and call himself God.
[INT. HARUKI'S OFFICE – MORNING]
A modest Tokyo office with personality. A stack of paperwork fights gravity. Coffee stains outnumber clients. The only living thing is a fake plant with self-respect.
Haruki, early 30s, tired but maintaining the illusion of control, types on his laptop with the slow despair of a man who knows this won't be in the DSM.
Haruki:(Typing aloud)"Case 122: Client believes he's the reincarnation of Napoleon. Progress: now only thinks half the people are out to get him. Possible breakthrough or upgraded meds."
A knock at the door. Haruki doesn't look up.
Haruki:"Come in. Unless you're selling crypto or inner peace."
The door opens. Enter: a man in a sharp black suit, sunglasses indoors, and a fedora like he lost a bet with a 1940s jazz club. He radiates unsettling calm. The type of person who speaks in riddles and has never paid taxes.
Haruki: welcome mister, your good name.
Stranger:"You may call me… God."
Haruki:(Takes a slow sip of coffee)"Of course I may. And I may also call myself Beyoncé. Let's begin."
He gestures to the couch with the apathy of a man who's already lost the day. The stranger sits—poised, composed, annoyingly graceful.
Haruki:"So. Mr. God. What brings you to therapy today?"
God:"Billions of screaming voices. Eternal judgment fatigue. And… I haven't felt joy since the Bronze Age."
Haruki:(Writing)"Client exhibits severe delusions of grandeur. Possible psychosis. Excellent spine alignment."
God:"They beg for miracles. They blame me for disasters. They think I'm Google with a halo. And the angels? Unionized. Demanded vision insurance and universal harps."
Haruki:"And how does that make you feel?"
God:(Stares)"You mortals always ask that. Do you think your little Freudian tricks can fix omniscient despair?"
Haruki:(Shrugs)"Hey, it's either this or I prescribe yoga and generational guilt."
God:"Do you not believe me, mortal?"
Haruki:"Sir, last week I counseled a man who thought he was a sentient rice cooker from the future. Compared to him, you're shockingly high-functioning."
God:(Stands, voice thundering)"You mock me?"
Haruki:"I bill you. If I can't mock you, what am I charging for?"
[Suddenly, the room goes dim. Haruki's coffee levitates. The IKEA lamp explodes. The couch turns into a floating whale for some reason.]
Haruki:(Blank stare)"…Okay. That's new."
God:"You wish to help the broken?"
Haruki:"Preferably with a clipboard and not… whatever this whale situation is."
God:"Then I give you what you desire."
Haruki:"…Wait what—"
A glowing vortex bursts open behind him. Papers fly. The whale moos for some reason. Haruki starts floating backward like a confused balloon.
Haruki (yelling):"THIS ISN'T HOW TRANSFERENCE WORKS—!"
[EXT. ANOTHER WORLD – DAY]
A peaceful fantasy landscape. Birds chirp. Flowers bloom. And then:
THUD.Haruki crash-lands spine-first on a snorting, mountainous creature.
Haruki (muffled):"…Please be a therapy pig. Please be a therapy pig…"
The creature bellows like a medieval truck horn. It's a three-story-tall boar in full battle armor, tusks glowing like divine rage.
Narration (Haruki):And that's how I got isekai'd…By a divine burnout case with boundary issues.
A local villager screams off-screen, pure panic.
Villager:"He's riding the Beast of Calamity!!"
Haruki (deadpan):"Sure. Let's add that to my resume."