That wasn't a particularly momentous day.
As he usually did during class, Hideo looked at the clock on the wall with a certain boredom and a disinterested look, as if he wanted to detach himself from the world around him. He held the pen between his fingers, twirling it with the dexterity of someone who no longer paid attention to the movement.
He wasn't one to intervene in conflict situations, much less the one unfolding a few steps behind him.
"Don't even think about looking at us, weirdo," said a mocking voice, whose owner Hideo didn't even care to remember.
Rolling his eyes listlessly, he could barely hide his annoyance. Ken Takakura, the boy sitting in the row behind him, was once again the target. The same group of people were bothering him, now throwing crumpled paper balls at him, as if his very existence were a legitimate target.
"Try putting a magnet inside," laughed another of the bullies, not even caring if Ken heard him.
Most of the class, as usual, remained indifferent. It was more comfortable not to look, more comfortable not to be burdened with a problem that, in the end, would always be handled by "someone else." And Hideo, although he didn't want to admit it, shared that cowardly philosophy.
But, like a bitter reflection, he remembered. He remembered how, in the past, the teasing had been directed at him. Not as serious, true, but hurtful just the same. And he remembered that on a couple of occasions they had stood up for him. However, that empathy had already vanished… and since then, the weight of the stares had become unbearable.
The clattering of papers suddenly stopped. Hideo, curious, barely glanced back. What he saw surprised him.
A girl he didn't remember from his class, probably from another year, was sitting nearby. He'd fixed his eyes on the bullies, wordlessly challenging them, with an intensity that even an adult couldn't easily sustain.
The bullies hesitated, looked away, and stopped laughing.
How odd.
Later, when school was over, Hideo said goodbye to a couple of classmates he used to chat with. Friends? Maybe not so much, but enough to make the walk home feel less lonely.
His only wish was to get home and sink into the routine: read, sleep, turn off his brain. After all, it was the weekend. There was nothing wrong with getting away from it all for a bit.
However...
As he walked down the quiet street, a dry sound startled him. Something had fallen right behind him. He turned around with a start. No one was there. Just an object on the asphalt.
A magazine. No, more like a manga.
He raised an eyebrow. He bent down and picked it up. The volume had scratches from the fall, but nothing serious. On the cover, he saw a girl with a fierce gaze next to a thin, ethereal white silhouette.
"Dan Da Dan"
It was a compilation volume. The first, to be exact.
Confused, he looked around. No one. Not a soul. Where the hell had it come from? He stuffed it into his backpack, thinking that if it belonged to someone, he could return it later. Although, to be honest, he'd read it first.
Back home, after greeting his mother, he locked himself in his room. The manga rested on his desk, staring at it as if it were breathing.
"Ridiculous…" he muttered to himself, but opened it anyway.
Page after page, he devoured the story. But the shock paralyzed him.
The names. The locations. The faces.
Everything matched. With what he knew. With what he'd experienced.
"This has to be a joke..."
But it wasn't. It was too real.
Hideo searched the internet for the author, the manga, any reference. Nothing. As if it didn't exist.
And then, the truth hit him like a hammer blow.
"I'm living in a fucking manga..."
A background character. Barely an extra in a forgotten panel. That was his role. That was his doom.
Fate seemed cruel to him. As if some god had taken pleasure in throwing that revelation at him and then laughing from on high.
The silence in the room oppressed him. That was when his laptop screen flickered. Nothing was open, but a message in white letters on black emerged:
[Reader has been chosen! Starting narrative link...]
Hideo froze. The text glowed like liquid fire.
"...What...?"
The monitor crackled, and a neutral, cold voice echoed in his head.
[Welcome. From this moment on, your role in the story will change.]
His heart pounded. Hallucinations? A dream?
[Mob Awakening System activated.]
An invisible menu appeared in his mind, floating in the air. It showed no stats, no level bars, no RPG quests. Just an empty space… and a section titled:
[Name: Hideo Yamato]
Available Skills: [Locked].
Beneath it, a flicker.
An electric shock ran through his right arm. Instinctively, he raised it, and for a second, he swore a bluish spark gathered at the tip of his index finger.
He flinched, turning it off instantly. His breathing was ragged.
—…This can't be happening…
But it was. The manga, the revelation, and now this.
[Goal: Become involved in the main events of the story.]
[Penalty: Permanent death of the user]
[Note: The role of a background character is destined to disappear.]
The message disappeared, leaving a terrifying silence.
Hideo collapsed in the chair, staring at his trembling hand. He didn't know whether to feel terrified… or excited.
Because deep down, he had just gained a power.
A power capable of breaking the script.