Narrated by me Nadeshiko Yamato or Yamato Nadeshiko? You know what, that's not the most important thing. The most important thing is that you will have the joy - the misfortune - of following a character with as much background as a character with background in a slife of life - who spoiler alert, will end up as an Isekai hero, ah well yeah I might as well tell you the truth right away and I'm a guy just in case.
Tokyo. In a year you don't need to know about (it's still an isekai, I won't stay long anyway)
My name is Nadeshiko Yamato.
Yeah, Yamato, like the former name of the Empire of Japan, like the Japanese battleship from World War II, the largest battleship in the world—our biggest thing in common, if you know what I mean.
Nadeshiko (yes, my mother with the poetic accent. Too bad that doesn't guarantee maternal love). In short, Nadeshiko, like the fleur-de-lis, like a moe character from a shojo, a kawaii waifu from a gacha game, like an idol, or like the symbol of the perfect woman in this patriarchal society. (If the perfect woman had the weight and beauty of a 90-kilogram sack of potatoes.)
In short, I'm fat, but not fat and cute like Russell in Up. No. Fat. And half ugly. Plus, I have the sense of humor of a redneck uncle at Christmas.
And of course, I'm a geek. Yes, not like Tony Stark, Peter Parker—although I get pretty good grades at school.
Not a geek in the genre, a big, round guy, cloistered 24/7 in his room, filled with manga, light novels, comics, and premium collector figurines of Rem, Zero-Two, Harley Quinn, Wanda of course, and etc. Dragon Ball poster (or Itachi—the goat). To read on otaku forums (and sometimes participate in them), debates (insults) on the best quintuplet in The Quintessial Quintuplets. Or on who solo? in a vs. Saitama vs. Goku vs. Superman (pff, they're in the Lord's genjutsu) (not to mention the picks on Dragon Ball Evolution).
Playing Fire Emblem and Final Fantasy—VI is the best, I'm not willing to debate—and God of War, Mario Super Kart, Call of Duty, Resident Evil, GTA, etc.
And collecting Pokémon cards (by the way, my favorite Pokémon is Magikarp, because it gives me hope that even a loser, useless and ugly, can evolve into the powerful Leviathor).
And as if the cliché bar wasn't already full enough, I'm short-sighted with big round glasses. Bookworm hair or incel 2000s.
In short, I've got it figured out, I'm a real-life NPC. The kind of character you choose last in a team —and even then, not without much hesitation. The kind of character that even NPCs would rather remove from the script than talk about. Seriously, if I were a playable character in an MMORPG —which is impossible— even I wouldn't have chosen myself. And of course, I'm bullied and robbed at school. (Cliché! Yes, and more than me die.)
But all I want is to exist for at least someone.
Friday, February 13th (My birthday is tomorrow, it's funny), Racket scene no. (I can't be bothered to make up a number).
At Shohoku High School – yeah like in Slam Dunk. (Except I'm not Sakuragi or Takegi, running 20 meters already gives me palpitations.
Anyway, high school. Classic, big white building, with a big clock on top.
At 2:30 p.m., I walk furtively, hoping my tormentors —anything but kind— won't notice me, or have caught conjunctivitis. But since I'm as lucky as a cartoon villain, it was too good to be true.
And as I was walking down a hallway, I heard
—"Hey Yamapatapoffe" (at least he gives me a nickname, it's nice—right?)
—"Don't forget your daily tribute," he said in a mean voice.
Jinta Gyouki, tall, born with a baseball bat in his hand and the brain of a peanut, the charisma of a nervous wreck (though still more charismatic than the potato sack I I am).
Accompanied by whom? Surprise: Haruto Namiki, who looks like he stepped straight out of the manual on how to be a Bond sidekick in 5 chapters. The archetypal bootlicker.
And what do you see there, an intern (Seriously! This script is making fun of me). Yes, an intern there with a round, fat face, standing there with a notebook in his hand, like he thought being harassed was a bad idea for his resume —although—.
Then Namiki grabbed me by the hair —telling the intern to take notes— "Hey! Yamabouffon, you'd better do it if you don't want your balls to be smashed."
And the worst part was that the intern was taking notes.
Then, the intern asked—"But why are we doing this already?"
And then, Jinta said—"Shut up, it's in the script" (what?).
—"Wait, it's in the script?" He replied again Jinta
Then, he took out a notebook where I thought I saw written on the cover "Isekai No. (meh, I'm lazy): My Destiny: To be the Brave in another World" (And it was either that or me when I'm reincarnated as a Brave in another world). Then he flipped through it. –"Here, Chapter 1, Scene 2, Page 17, Harassed Nadeshiko Yamato or Yamato Nadeshiko –Ah! That's a stupid Japanese name– at 2:30 p.m." "You see. It's in the script."
Wait! Wait! Wait! So, all this time my life was just a simulation? A low-end Isekai that wants to be original –or parody– (but we all know that's not true).
Or maybe I'm the one who's starting to go crazy –You see, after watching The Matrix so much.
But you know what? We're not going to drag out the plot with these existential questions. useless.
Of course, I gave them my money and my packed lunch —as well as my dignity!— (At least it'll make me lose weight, unless all that fat is replaced by the weight of shame).
—"What?" exclaimed Namiki. "1,600 yen? Two onigiri? Takayaki chicken? Steamed pickled vegetables? This dish is as original as your life." (Touché, right where it hurts).
—"Sometimes I wonder why they keep robbing you," replied Jinta.
—"Maybe because you know that even if you contribute all your family's money, you'll never be able to afford this," I retorted in turn. (I warned you I was a sharp tongue.)
Of course, they beat me —even having invited the intern, who even asked if he was serious before starting. And luckily, they were starting to get tired. They left.
(But before leaving, the intern said, "I hope you have at least one original death." (But what? I hope so too, kiddo. I hope so too (in tears).
But you know, what's the worst? Is that despite all this harassment and extortion, I'm still grateful because at least they see that I exist —yeah, it's pathetic, I know.) Not like some people I could call family.
Scene #Ah ! Lazy: The fold (according to the dictionary: a group of people connected by blood ties, affection, or a good Wi-Fi connection. Honestly, only the first one is true, I think?).
In short, my family. My family? I should really say my blood-related roommates. Because, in our house, even the photo to prove we're a family has disappeared.
Well, as I implied earlier. My mother —well, the one biology tells us to call her that, —is gone, gone as if she never existed, one day when I was 6 or 7 years old— you know what, it doesn't matter. Where? It doesn't matter. (But I theorize it was in a world where she didn't have to take care of us.)
My father. He forgot everything about me (yeah, even my name, so my birthday)
"Dad, I'm home!" I exclaimed, wondering what the point was.
"Ah, you're home! Kobeni!" (that's the name of the neighbor's dog)
Yeah, I didn't correct him (I've already done it several times. Spoiler alert: it didn't work). And that was already crazy, the way he noticed my presence.
Why do I still have pocket money? He probably feels a presence and is most likely making an offering to the chubby old ghost of the house.
Then, you have my brothers —or me, in an alternate universe—:
°Shigure, the slightly intellectual older brother of the family, a philosophy professor at the University of Tokyo, like he teaches his students about the manifestations of human hypocrisy in society (but still can't see his own).
°Rekka, my youngest, the talented athlete of the family (he plays on the Junior team of the Tokyo Yakult Swallows basketball club, on the B team —well, I know that B team is pretty average, but considering the team, it's still not so bad).
And I'm the happy middle (or the anti-middle, or rather the fat guy in the middle, ha! Ha! Haha!).
My relationship with them. Well, they see that I exist, but they literally prefer to ignore me like someone ignoring an old vase given to them by a determined great-aunt (so I don't know if they're the worst). Still, at least they remember my birthday. But as for the gift.
—"Tissues? Seriously," I said.
—"But not just any tissues. Lavender-scented tissues," my brother Shigure said seriously, adjusting his glasses.
My eyes widened, turning livid, waiting for this.
—"I'm allergic to lavender," I said furiously, instinctively throwing the tissues away.
—"Ah, I remember now. It's my girlfriend Sakura who likes lavender," he said.
—"I'm sorry," he continued, clasping his hands and bowing. –"What, your boyfriend likes lavender too… Like my little Momo?" my little brother Rekka replied, looking blissful.
And he started talking about their girlfriends, leaving me hanging.
One day, Rekka gave me a T-shirt – size XL – (I know I often like to make fun of my weight, but honestly).
The best gift they gave me? A premium Pokémon gift set (oh! Oh! Oh! Calm down, they were fakes). But hey, at least it was geeky. –As for the Pokémon, well, we have a Squirtle, Vlampiro, and a Gigachu, etc. Yes, I don't know those Pokémon either.
And I'm sure they're probably sleeping on their pillows, sound asleep, thinking that at least they gave me a gift (and are therefore better than the one society forces us to call: Dad).
Are they making fun of me? Where do they have tapioca in their heads? Who knows?
But you know what, the craziest thing is that despite all this, I don't blame them, or even hate them (because after all, they are my family —according to the dictionary—).
Scene No. You already know that the author is lazy (except when it comes to making me suffer, the bastard): The day I played the hero or the day I died? (You will never know who was responsible).
The next day, my birthday (yes, that's the day that bastard chose to sacrifice me)
I walked quietly along my way. Without asking for anything else, I'd like to buy myself a double nutmeg praline (because it often happens, and I often say, that my father (according to the saying) increases my pocket money by a few thousand yen. Or maybe it's my brothers who give it to me to make up for the lousy gift. You're probably wondering what they got me today. Well, Shigure gave me a book by Nietzsche entitled: The Genealogy of Morals. As for Rekka, he gave me a basketball. And frankly, I don't know what to say because it's still the first time he's given me a bit of their world. And an X-Box that won't turn on (honestly, I wonder where they all buy that).
Anyway, I'm dying of plot pointlessness.
Okay, where was I? Ah! I was on my way to buy a double nutmeg praline (and I remind you that I asked My left to no one)
Until I heard
–"Hey! Cocotte, have you ever been told you have very pretty lips?! Would you like to practice them a little?" (Oh! No, but today's young people are not lacking in airs)
Anyway, I looked up and who did I see?
Ai Kobayashi.
A girl in the same class as me. The kind of girl who's effortlessly beautiful, – fair, milky skin and well-groomed (so most likely sweet), straight chestnut brown hair, harmonious features and a symmetrical face, lightly made up with a little blush (just the right amount), eyeliner, plump, slightly glossy lips, nail polish on her slender hands, and a smile that reveals her white teeth, and a luminous gaze. In addition to being friendly, sweet, and intelligent. Popular, therefore (otherwise it would be a waste). In short, the waifu of a rom-com What— most likely with tsundere aspects. In any case, all that is useless when you're being hooked by three macho men.
Yes, I know this scene reeks of rom-com waifu rescue and humiliation.
But it took a flashback to come back to me. A flashback where she poured syrup on my head —by accident— (and honestly, it's happened to me so many times that I hadn't even noticed). But the fact remains that she took out a tissue, wiped it off, and apologized — smiling no less. Okay, I know it was probably a mechanism, out of politeness, because courtesy obliges, or simply because it's part of her popularity. But the fact remains that it was enough to make me do one of the stupidest and most clichéd things of my life. (At least the author had the merit of giving us a flashback together)
—"Leave her alone, "You Dodecahedrals" (I couldn't think of a better one; sorry)
–"What the hell are you doing, brother? You're in the wrong plot," said one of them (No. But even the NPCs tell me that)
–"Hey, he thought he was Ryuuji in Toradora, or Ryo Saeba in City Hunter," said another (Hey! Oh! You still have to respect those goats).
Anyway, I charged at one of them –thinking that with all my weight, I'd knock him down. Fun fact: It worked.
But one of them headbutted me (I always knew that one day my big head would end up being used as a ball).
Then, he started throwing punches at me like meteors.
But I kept falling, getting up, only to fall again and again (I really watch too much Shonen).
And then I thought (all (high) –"Damn, even Seiya of Pegasus would have given up at this point."
Pause for thought
–"What am I talking about, the guy ate galaxies, literally descended into hell, and injured gods —even during his former life— just for Athena. In the end, he even ended up paraplegic." –Anything simpler than him, but he's still a goat nonetheless.
Anyway, they waited. They liked it. They laughed. And they hit me even harder.
When suddenly, Ai pulls out a woman, shakes it, and sprays it in the face of one of her attackers, then another, and another.
(Wait! Wait! Wait! Where did she learn her damsel-in-distress lessons? And I got slapped like a golmom, while the waifu had the means to defend herself? Because like a simpleton, I came to defend her. Why, hasn't she used that since the beginning? (Oh I forgot, we're in an Isekai, I swear who if I catch this author).
Scene No. Ah, you already know that the author of this work is a lazybones: and God created My Dead.
Anyway! While they were dying, all preaching their curses at her. And as one of them stepped forward to hit Ai. A voice rang out (well yeah, right when it's the girl's turn to get hurt too): "Hey, you there. Yes, you. What are you doing?"
It was a peace officer —yeah, it's only after my good daily hagra session that a competent authority comes to the aid of the widow and orphan— that I am— (and the worst part is, he'll actually end up saying that, that useless asshole)
"Hey, hey, Officer Tama, blood type O, ID 120 7-B, Shibuya Sector 4, Age: 27, Serving the widow and orphan for almost 4 years. In the name of the law, I arrest you." (Yes, that idiot gave us his entire resume even though we hadn't asked for it)
Be that as it may, after waiting for him, the crooks fled like the goloms they are
Then, Ai left —obviously.
Except that, after walking a few meters, she folded her arms behind her back, turned her head toward me, and said: "Despite your completely useless, stupid, and borderline macho gesture, and that you were really, really ridiculous. (Thank you, that's appreciated). I still want to say thank you, Nadeshiko Yamato" (smiling at me). Then he gave me an appointment.
And then, as if storm clouds had suddenly disappeared to give way to radiant rays of sunshine.
Wow, wow, wow wow! Pause, wait, pause. (The author was on Frozen or something). She thanks me, well, why not? But let her know my name (as well). Literally the most popular girl in school (well, it's true that we're still in the same class). (You see. This author is sadistic, he wants to force a life NPC like me to question himself, to want to evolve. This monster wants to transform what was teased as a basic Isekai (or parody) into a school drama, a rom-com between a fat, ugly, ugly guy and the best girl from High School. Arrest him, hang him, skin him. Where it's just me who's going crazy. Who's making a big deal out of nothing" (I thought, crying, with a cynical laugh in my head).
Meanwhile, Tama took 10 minutes to walk 20 meters.
He asked me —"Are you okay, kid?"
–"Yes." With tears in my eyes and sunshine in my heart, and a bewildered smile on my face.
And like a happy idiot, I crossed the road —wriggling around haphazardly like a happy idiot— without seeing left or right, as we're taught to the school.
—"Watch out, kiddo."
Bang! Ban! Peng! Tang! Pum! –Depending on your culture.
I was put on ice by
—"But what?" exclaimed the stunned policeman.
—"No. Truck-kun!" –the one and only– continued the exasperated officer.
Written on its front plate: "Reincarnator side 1999"
In it, a gruff, muscular guy with an imperial mustache, wearing a cap with «Most famous client (and maybe the first in real life): Rudeus Greyrat» written on it
Then, he gets out of the truck and says to the cop: "Sorry, son, Murder-kun couldn't make it, so I was sent to do the job." Then lights a cigarette, seeing my body lying on the ground.
Damn, in the end, my death, like my life, was a huge cliché. I confirm, I am indeed in an Isekai Classic.
And classic Isekai means: Over-the-cheat power, universal acclaim, and harems, hmmmmm.
Or maybe? He wouldn't dare do that? Not after putting me through so much?
He still created a waidu who's a slife of life/a popular girl who knows how to defend herself and who even thanked an NPC like me (even saying her name).
No!!! Nooo ...
Scene #5 (you'll understand later): In the in-between worlds (somewhere in the narration. Eh eh it's confirmed now).
My mind —or so I think— floated in a pure white void.
And then, I heard a voice. A deep, rhythmic, metallic voice. In short, a voice that sounded like it had been dubbed by Morgan Freeman.
—"Hello, Nadeshiko Yamato."
And that's when I saw a throne that seemed to be made of gold, silver, and ivory, encrusted with emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and diamonds.
With an intense, brilliant light that revealed a silhouette seated on it, right elbow casually resting on the armrest, cheek on the wrist of the same hand. It seemed to give a mischievous smile. And his gaze, as cold and imposing as that of a badass shonen antagonist.
And then, mechanically,
—"Lord Itachi?" (Yes, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Yes, yes! I did indeed say that.)