Yuuji Tanaka was an average office worker by day—quiet, polite, and just competent enough to avoid getting fired. But by night? He trained like his life was a shonen anime. Shadowboxing until his arms went numb, meditating under cold showers, and practicing sword swings with a mop handle, all because he wanted one thing: to become overpowered. Not for fame, not for glory—just because it was cool. Like every fantasy protagonist he grew up watching, he too dreamed of hiding absurd power behind a bored expression and saying, "I was only using 1% of my strength."
At age 27, he was living alone in a modest Tokyo apartment, complete with exactly three decorations: a discount gacha figurine, a dried-up succulent he forgot to water, and a wall calendar still stuck on March even though it was August.
But Yuuji wasn't a loser. No, no. He was cool-headed, sociable, and effortlessly calm in any situation. It's just that no one ever noticed, probably because he liked to cosplay as background character #3 in the anime of life.
The truth? In high school, he had fallen in love with fantasy anime—the kind with ridiculously overpowered protagonists who say things like, "Heh. I was only using 2% of my power." So naturally, he spent his teenage years training in every martial art he could find—karate, judo, aikido, you name it.
All because he wanted to live like those characters.
He didn't train to become strong.
He trained to pretend to be weak while actually being strong.
"Peak chuunibyou," he'd say with pride.
Now, in the present, Yuuji sighed as he kneeled by a dusty cardboard box in his closet. It was Sunday. Cleaning day. The day corporate slaves pretended they had control over their lives.
He cracked open the box, and there it was—like an ancient relic of his embarrassing youth.
A worn-out, hand-bound notebook with the title:
"The Demon King is Strong and the Elves Hero is OP"
"…What in the crunchy hell was I smoking?" he muttered. "Who writes a title like this?"
He flipped through it anyway. It was bad. So bad it looped back around to being good.
It told the tale of a dark demon king who was trying to cover the world in darkness for some vague, overused reason, and a beautiful elven hero named Elvena who wielded a sword of pure light and—get this—sparkled every time she attacked.
"I can't believe I made a sparkle attack canon," Yuuji groaned, but kept reading. The cringe was addictive.
Suddenly—
Thud.
A dull sound echoed through the wall.
Yuuji froze.
Then came a muffled voice. A female voice. Fearful.
Frowning, he stepped toward his front door and peeked through the peephole. His neighbor, a university student named Airi, lived alone.
Through the tiny hole, he spotted three unfamiliar men inside her apartment. One had duct tape. Another had a knife. The third was already rifling through her things.
"Great. Real-life villains," Yuuji muttered. "What is this, a low-budget crime drama?"
He didn't even hesitate.
Instead of calling the cops, he went to his window, climbed out, and shimmied along the narrow ledge separating the two apartments—still holding the dumb fantasy novel in one hand.
Because if you're going to save someone, might as well do it with style.
Moments later, Airi's window creaked open.
The thugs turned.
And Yuuji Tanaka, Tokyo salaryman and secret martial arts nerd, slipped in like a shadow.
They blinked. He smiled.
"Evening, gentlemen," he said. "I believe this is what you call a bad decision."
And then he struck.
One kick to the chest, one elbow to the jaw, and one stylish flip that he 100% saw in a kung fu anime once.
Three men down. Airi was safe.
"Call the cops," he told her with a calm smile. "Also… you should probably learn how to lock your windows."
But just as he turned to leave—BANG.
One of the guys, still half-conscious, had pulled a gun.
"...Oh. Right. Guns exist," Yuuji muttered.
He moved instantly, disarming the man with a kick… but not fast enough.
The bullet had already found his side.
"Liver shot. Yep. That's bad."
Airi screamed.
Yuuji gritted his teeth. Blood oozed down his suit.
"Welp," he said, collapsing dramatically onto the floor. "Guess this is how I go out. Not with a bang, but with a... liver failure."
He raised the fantasy novel in his hand, stained with blood now. "Take this… legendary artifact. Sell it on eBay or something…"
"Y-Yuuji-san?! Don't die!"
"Tell them I died doing something cool…"
And just like that, the man who trained for years to be a background overpowered character died in the most ironically heroic way possible.
---
When I opened my eyes again, I was a baby.
Tiny fingers. Tiny toes. Screaming nurses. A very confused-looking noblewoman holding me.
Wait. What?
"Congratulations, Lady Autumn," someone said.
That's when it hit me.
Lady Autumn?
Did I just get isekai'd?!
No system voice. No goddess. No truck. Not even a death montage.
Just… reborn.
And my name?
Ash Autumn.
First-born son of House Autumn, a minor noble family in some fancy magical kingdom.
No cheat power. No floating menus. Just a lot of crying babies and smelly diapers.
Okay. Don't panic, I told myself. This is just like that light novel I wrote... only without the sparkles.
From the moment I could walk, I kept my talents hidden.
Why?
Because even in another world, I was committed to the bit.
The "I'm just average but actually OP" bit.
While other noble kids struggled to hold a wooden sword, I was already shadowboxing in my room at night, combining ancient martial arts with magical theory I overheard from the maids.
I even invented something I called Mana Judo.
But no one knew. Not even my parents.
And just when they started to think I was "meh"…
My little sister was born.
Ariana Autumn.
Blonde hair. Sparkly eyes. Born with a magic affinity so strong she made the crib float.
"A prodigy!" the elders cried.
"A future hero!" the maids gushed.
Meanwhile, me?
"Oh, that's just Ash. He likes to nap."
And I smiled every time.
Because I knew one thing for sure:
In a world of elves, demons, kingdoms, and sparkle attacks…
The real hero?
Was pretending to be average.