Yuuya Morita didn't expect much from life.
Then again, life hadn't expected much from him either.
At twenty-two, he had already perfected the art of wasting potential. Once upon a time, he was the "bright kid" in middle school, the one teachers praised. But by high school, he was just another tired boy hiding in the back row. University? Dropped out in his second year. Job hunting? Failed interviews stacked higher than his convenience store ramen cups. Girlfriend? Don't make him laugh.
Now, his world was a dingy one-room apartment in Tokyo, littered with half-eaten snacks, tangled charging cables, and laundry that hadn't moved in three weeks. His most loyal companions were a cracked laptop and the flickering fluorescent light in his ceiling, which buzzed just loudly enough to remind him it still worked.
It was a pathetic existence, but it was his.
He slouched on the floor, back against the wall, holding a lukewarm convenience store hotdog. Steam had long abandoned it. The bread was tough, the sausage rubbery, and the mustard uneven. Still, it was cheap, and it was food.
"Dinner of champions," Yuuya muttered, half-smiling to himself.
On the TV, an anime rerun blared: some chosen hero with shining armor and a legendary sword, slaying monsters while beautiful girls cheered his name. The audience clapped and gasped on cue, as if trained. Yuuya chewed mechanically and rolled his eyes.
"Must be nice," he said. "Get a goddess to bless you, get a cheat skill, get adoring fans. I'd settle for a skill that gave me free food."
The hotdog didn't laugh at his joke.
He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and sighed. "Man… if I could get reincarnated, I'd want something simple. No world-saving nonsense. No demon lords. Just a house, some cash, maybe a dog. Yeah, that'd be the dream."
He bit into the hotdog again—and that's when it happened.
Something lodged in his throat.
Yuuya froze, eyes widening. He coughed once, twice, but the chunk of sausage stuck fast. His hand shot to his throat. He wheezed, gasped, fell sideways onto the floor. His vision blurred, his chest convulsed.
This couldn't be happening. Not like this.
He clawed at the carpet, kicking, tears forming in his eyes as oxygen abandoned him. The TV cheerfully played on: the hero had just slain a dragon, and the girls were declaring their love.
Yuuya's last thought before darkness swallowed him was bitter, almost laughable.
Really? I'm dying to a convenience store hotdog? Figures.
And then—nothing.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing Yuuya noticed was that the buzzing fluorescent light was gone.
Instead, he floated in an endless void. A vast sky stretched infinitely in all directions, painted in colors he couldn't name. Blue bled into violet, which shimmered into gold, as though the heavens themselves were swirling paint on a cosmic canvas.
The second thing he noticed was the woman standing before him.
She was tall, elegant, and radiant, with flowing silver hair that cascaded like moonlight and eyes as deep as a starry night. Her gown glittered with constellations that shifted when he blinked. A golden halo hovered faintly above her head, and her faint smile carried a weight of timeless amusement.
"Welcome, Yuuya Morita," she said, her voice melodic yet smug. "You have died."
Yuuya blinked. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then croaked out, "Yeah, no kidding. Choked on a hotdog. Real glorious way to go."
The goddess's lips curved higher. "Indeed. A pitiful end for a pitiful life."
Yuuya's jaw dropped. "Wow. Straight to the jugular, huh? Don't hold back, lady."
She clasped her hands delicately, her silver hair flowing without wind. "I am Elyssia, goddess of reincarnation. It is my duty to guide lost souls such as yours to their next life. And in your case… you have been chosen."
"Chosen?" Yuuya repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Listen, I watched enough anime to know where this is going. You're gonna tell me I'm going to some fantasy world with swords and magic, right?"
"Yes."
"And you'll give me some kind of overpowered skill to compensate for my pathetic real life, yeah?"
"Yes."
"…Alright. What's the catch?"
The goddess chuckled. "Perceptive. Very well. I shall explain."
She raised her hand, and golden script flared into existence in the air between them. It looked like a video game menu, glowing and crisp.
[Reincarnation Gift: Junk Forge]
Allows user to transform a worthless or broken item into a superior item.
Upgrade results are random, ranging from D-rank (poor) to SSS-rank (divine).
Limit: May only be used 7 times per week.
[Reincarnation Gift: Limitless Satchel]
Infinite storage capacity.
No weight limit.
Preserves items indefinitely.
Yuuya read it twice, then slowly raised his head to stare at Elyssia. "…You're kidding me."
Her smile was beatific. "Do I appear to be jesting?"
"You're giving me… trash magic. Trash magic with a cooldown."
"It is not trash," Elyssia said smoothly. "It is a chance. You may turn garbage into greatness."
"Or garbage into slightly better garbage," Yuuya snapped. He jabbed at the floating menu. "Random upgrades? That means I could waste one of my precious seven tries a week turning a cracked spoon into, what, a shinier spoon? Meanwhile, some other guy out there gets fireballs, or flight, or instant mastery of the sword?"
"Correct," Elyssia said serenely.
Yuuya's eye twitched. "This is a scam."
"You should be grateful," Elyssia said, folding her arms beneath her chest. "Most souls do not receive any blessing. You, however, shall have two. [Junk Forge], and [Limitless Satchel]."
"An infinite backpack doesn't make up for gacha trash magic!"
"It depends on how you use them," Elyssia said. Her eyes glimmered mischievously. "Luck is a form of strength, you know. And perhaps, fate smiles upon you more than you think."
Yuuya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "So my cheat power is a slot machine. Great. Just great. At least tell me I can abuse this somehow. Seven times a week… can I roll all at once?"
"You may use the skill at any time. The limit resets every seven days."
"Awesome," Yuuya muttered. "So I get seven shots a week at not dying. Meanwhile, everyone else is chucking fireballs around like confetti."
Elyssia tilted her head. "You sound disappointed."
"Oh, you noticed?" Yuuya shot back.
She chuckled again, clearly enjoying his frustration. "Very well. Enough explanation. It is time for you to begin your new life. The world of Eldoria awaits."
Before Yuuya could protest further, a circle of light opened beneath his feet. He yelped as it dragged him down, weightless, like being flushed through the cosmos.
"Wait—! At least give me a tutorial!"
His words vanished into the void. Elyssia's final words echoed after him:
"May fortune favor your rolls, Trash Hero."
When Yuuya came to, the world was no longer void. Instead, harsh sunlight stabbed at his eyes. He groaned, rolling onto his side. Grass tickled his cheek. Birdsong filled his ears.
He sat up blearily, blinking at the endless blue sky above him. A warm breeze brushed past, carrying the scent of flowers and earth. Rolling hills stretched around him, dotted with trees and a cobblestone road cutting across the landscape.
It was beautiful. Vibrant. Alive.
"…Oh no," Yuuya whispered.
This was definitely not Tokyo.
He clutched his head and muttered, "Crap. It's real. I got isekai'd. I actually got isekai'd. And all I've got is… trash gacha magic."
His stomach growled.
He patted himself down, realizing he was wearing rough-spun clothes instead of his T-shirt and sweatpants. A satchel hung from his shoulder — a plain leather bag. He peeked inside and nearly toppled over.
It was endless. An abyss of infinite space. He tossed in a rock. The rock vanished. He thought about it, reached back in, and pulled the same rock out like it was nothing.
"Okay," Yuuya admitted grudgingly. "The bag is actually kind of sick."
Still, hunger gnawed at him. He pulled out the convenience store hotdog — the same one he'd died eating. He stared at it in horror.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
It looked as rubbery and pathetic as ever. But a thought struck him. Slowly, reluctantly, he whispered:
"…Junk Forge."
Light flared around the hotdog. Yuuya squinted as the sausage warped, twisted, and reshaped in his hands. When the glow faded, he was left holding—
—a slightly warmer hotdog.
Yuuya stared. Then, very softly, he said:
"…I hate this skill."