My name is Tanaka Kenji, and my life was the human equivalent of plain rice crackers.
Nutritious? Sure. Exciting? Absolutely not.
I worked as a data entry clerk for a mid-level manufacturing firm. My job consisted of taking numbers from one spreadsheet and putting them into another, slightly different spreadsheet.
My biggest excitement of the week was deciding between pork or chicken cutlet for Friday lunch.
I was a master of flying under the radar, of being present but unnoticed, of achieving the zenith of a peaceful, unremarkable life.
And how did such a life culminate?
In a death so profoundly, cosmically stupid that it would have been funny if it weren't happening to me.
It was Tuesday. I was walking home from the convenience store, clutching a bag containing a new brand of instant ramen I'd mustered the courage to try.
The sky was overcast. The world was quiet. It was, in all respects, a perfectly average evening.
Then, I saw it.
A single, bright yellow banana peel, lying on the pristine sidewalk with the audacious prominence of a Shakespearean actor center stage.
'How cliché,' I thought, my mind a detached, analytical machine even in the face of absurdity.
'Who even eats bananas on the go anymore? It's all about protein bars.'
I, being a sensible and moderately coordinated adult, carefully stepped over it.
A small, smug smile played on my lips. I had defeated cliché. I had triumphed over narrative convenience.
What I failed to account for was the universe's deep-seated love for irony.
My foot landed squarely on a stray marble~ a marble, for heaven's sake, who even owns those anymore?~ that was hiding in the shadow of a lamppost.
My ankle twisted with a sickening crunch that was more sensation than sound. My body pitched forward, the world becoming a tilting carousel of gray sky and concrete.
In that slow-motion fall, my life didn't flash before my eyes.
Instead, a single, crystal-clear thought echoed in the cavern of my mind.
'The ramen... it's going to get crushed.'
Then, darkness.
***
I awoke~ or rather, I became aware~ in a space that defied description. It wasn't black, nor was it white.
It was... beige. The visual equivalent of elevator music. I was floating, formless, in a vast, dimensionless waiting room of the soul.
'So,' I thought, my consciousness humming with a strange calm.
'This is it. The great beyond. It's... underwhelming. Fitting, I suppose.'
"Ahem! Hello? Candidate #B-7421? Tanaka Kenji?"
The voice was high-pitched, flustered, and sounded like it belonged to someone who had just spilled coffee on their keyboard minutes before a major presentation.
A figure flickered into existence before me.
He represented as male~ was dressed in a stark white, ill-fitting bureaucratic uniform, complete with a ridiculously small hat perched precariously on a mess of silver hair.
A stack of floating digital tablets whirred around him like anxious hummingbirds, their screens flashing with error messages and angry red text.
He was frantically tapping on one, his brow furrowed in despair.
"Are you... God?" I asked, my mental voice flat.
"What? No, no, no! Stars above, no," he sputtered, not looking up from his tablet.
"I'm Provisional Divine Attendant, Third Class, Celian. I handle... Well, I usually handle minor soul placements. Flower reincarnation, mayfly rotations, that sort of thing. But there's been a... a slight... a teensy, tiny, system wide hiccup."
He finally looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. He had the face of a man who accidentally sent a company-wide email complaining about his boss.
"A hiccup," I repeated.
"Yes! A glitch! A whoopsie-daisy of cosmic proportions!" He waved his hands, causing the tablets to bob erratically.
"You see, you weren't scheduled for reincarnation for another forty-seven years! Natural causes, in your sleep! Very peaceful! But the system registered your... ahem, unconventional demise as a 'critical existence failure' and fast-tracked you here.
My terminal froze, and when I tried to reboot it, I... I may have accidentally selected the 'Isekai Hero Package' for your soul."
I processed this. Isekai. Being sent to another world.
It was a popular genre in the web novels I read to pass the time. It always involved trucks, not bananas and marbles, but the principle was similar.
"I see," I said. "And this is a problem because?"
"Because you're not qualified!" Celian wailed.
"The Hero Package is for... well, heroes! Paragons of virtue! Dying young athletes! Self-sacrificing firefighters! Not... not..."
"Data entry clerks?" I offered helpfully.
"Precisely! The metrics are all wrong! Your Karmic Heroic Potential is in the negative! Your Charisma stat is 'Adequately pleasant but forgettable'! You're a background character, Tanaka-san! A background character with a pre-assigned, walk-on role!"
He shoved a tablet in my face. On it was a character sheet for generic fantasy RPG.
There was a pixelated image of a young man with brown hair, brown eyes, and utterly unremarkable features.
His name was 'Bobinious,' but it was crossed out and sticky not was attached that simply read: Bob.'
Name: Bobinious "Bob"
Race: Human
Role: Background Character (Town - Maplewood)
Fate: Killed in Bandit attack (chapter 3)
"My role is a 'Background Character'?" I asked, a strange feeling blossoming in my soul. It wasn't disappointment. It was... hope.
"Yes! And your fate is to die in a bandit attack in the third major story event!"
Celian scrolled through the text.
"Look! 'Provides minor world-building commentary to the Hero in the tavern, then is tragically cut down to establish the stakes.' It's all right here! It's a solid, if brief, role!"
A slow smile spread across my nonexistent face. It was perfect.
A quiet, unassuming life in a fantasy world. No pressure. No destiny. Just a simple existence, ended quickly and cleanly.
After a lifetime of mediocrity, it was a fitting end.
"I'll take it," I said.
Celian stared at me. "You... you'll take it? You understand you'll be murdered by bandits?"
"It sounds peaceful," I said with utter sincerity. "No spreadsheets."
"But that's not the worst part!" he cried, his fingers flying over another tablet.
"The system already processed the skill allocation! I can't reverse it! The Seven Divine Gifts of the heavenly Hero, the ones meant for actual Chosen One, have been irrevocably bound to your soul!"
He spun the tablet around. My new character sheet had been updated Dramatically.
<<< SKILLS >>>
• Ultimate Appraisal Lv. MAX:
Perceive all information about any target: person, object, or concept.
See through all deception and obfuscation.
• Absolute Stealth Lv. MAX:
Become undetectable by all physical, magical, and divine senses. Presence, sound, scent, and manage signature are completely erased.
• Infinite Inventory Lv. MAX:
A personal pocket dimension with infinite capacity and instant retrieval. Time within is stopped.
• Instant Transmission Lv. MAX:
Teleport to any visualized or previously visited location instantly. No cooldown. No mana cost.
• Mirage Crafting Lv. MAX:
Create illusions that are physically, magically, and spiritually indistinguishable from reality. Can affect single or mass perception.
• Physical Apex Lv. MAX:
Possess the absolute peak physical condition possible for a human form. Strength, speed, durability, and regeneration are unbound by natural limits.
• Soulbond Contract Lv. MAX:
Create unbreakable, magically enforced agreements. Can dictate terms and penalties on a conceptual level.
I stared at the list. It was absurd. It was game-breaking. It was the kind of power set that would make a god blush.
And it was attached to me, a man whose greatest achievement was a perfect attendance record for three years running.
"You have got to be kidding me," I said, my hope for a quiet death crumbling.