Kawasaki, Japan.In a small, messy 6-tatami room, a teenage boy lay half-buried under old blankets and snack wrappers. The flickering glow of a cheap TV lit his face.
His name was Hayato Arakawa, seventeen, broke, fat, and forgotten.
He once dreamed of creating anime, making music, and living in a world that made sense. But reality was cruel. No money. No support. No reason to keep trying.
The smell of stale pizza and burnt dust filled the air as his finger lazily tapped the remote.
On-screen, a hero shouted,
"I will protect everyone!"
Hayato snorted. "Yeah, protect your sponsorship deal, maybe."
His phone buzzed beside him, another debt reminder. He didn't even look. He had tried before, tried asking friends for help when his mom got sick from overwork. They all turned away, pretending not to know him. That's when he learned the truth: people only care when you have something they want.
Now, with his mom gone and bills piling up, Hayato survived on instant noodles and self-loathing.
The only light in his life came from the TV.
"Your end has come!"the anime hero shouted.
Hayato reached for the remote, knocking over a pizza box. The pizza hit the soda. The soda spilled into the old power socket. He blinked at the mess.
"…Eh. Tomorrow's problem."
Hours later, around 2:43 a.m., he woke up groggy, needing to pee. As he stumbled across the room, his foot caught the extension cord.
"Ugh, damn it!" he groaned, rubbing his head.
Then his bare foot touched the wet socket.
There was a sharp hiss, then a violent crack of electricity. His body stiffened mid-scream. On TV, the anime hero shouted his final line
"I am here!"
just as Hayato collapsed, smoke faintly rising from his leg.
And then… blackness.
Warmth. A heartbeat. Whispering voices. Then, light.
Hayato opened his eyes. He was wrapped in soft silk, surrounded by marble walls and candlelight. A woman in royal robes panted on a bed, face pale with exhaustion. A priest stood beside her, holding a glowing staff.
"Praise be," the maid whispered. "The third prince is born."
Hayato's mind spun. Prince? What? No way. Did I forget to turn off the TV?
He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. Looking at his hands, he froze. They're so small… He tried to cry, but his throat made no sound. Not even a whimper.
The room went silent.
"Strange," the priest frowned. "The child does not cry."
The queen turned weakly. "Is he… alive?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the priest replied, "but this silence… it's not natural."
He raised his staff over the baby's chest. The crystal flickered once, then went dark.
"…Null affinity," he whispered.
A gasp filled the room.
The High Princess Selphira, the king's eldest daughter, stepped forward in silver armor."A royal child with no blessing? Impossible. The gods would never allow it."
The priest bowed his head. "I fear the gods have turned away."
Selphira's eyes hardened. "Then this child is cursed. Bury it. Tell the king my stepmother lost the baby during childbirth."
The queen's lips trembled. "Please… he's still my son..."
Selphira's sharp glare silenced her.
Before dawn, the newborn prince was wrapped in silk and carried out of the castle. The knights stood at the edge of the cliffs of Velmoria, the demon lands.
"Are we really doing this?" one whispered. "He's still royal blood."
"The order came from the princess herself," the other replied coldly. "Disobey, and we join him."
And they threw the bundle.
The world went silent.
Hayato's tiny eyes opened mid-fall. The wind roared around him, but his mind was calm.So this is how I die again… finally.
He vanished into the fog below.
Hours later, dark shapes crept from the mist, beasts of shadow and bone. Their jaws cracked like stone.
"Human…" one growled. "Meat…"
The largest demon beast lunged, but the moment its tongue touched the baby's skin, it gagged violently.
"Filth! Bitter!" it roared, vomiting acid onto the ground. The others growled in confusion, then backed away.
The baby didn't cry. He just blinked, eyes moving slowly from shadow to shadow.What the hell is happening?
Within seconds, his consciousness faded. Then light returned.
A man-shaped figure stood before him. tall, radiant, and haloed by five glowing rings. His divine expression looked… strangely awkward.
"Uh, sorry," the being said, scratching his glowing head. "You weren't supposed to keep your old memories. Someone in the Soul Department mixed up your file."
Hayato floated in the empty void, deadpan. "So… am I dead?"
The being blinked. "You just died a few hours ago, and you're already asking to die again?"
Hayato shrugged. "So… no?"
The being sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, you survived the fall."
"Why?" Hayato frowned.
"Since your soul still holds memories from your old world, your body is rejecting it which is why you're still alive, Only your body took damage making you lose conscience but not dying. You're alive, but unstable."
"So I do have magic?"
"In a way. But until your body accepts your soul, no one not even you can sense your aura, affinity, or any of that magical stuff."
Hayato tilted his head. "So I'm basically a bug?"
"Exactly," the being said a little too cheerfully.
Hayato sighed. "Figures. Even reincarnation can't go right for me."
The being smiled faintly. "You'll grow into it. Usually, heroes are born with nothing"
"Heroes?!" Hayato cut in immediately.
"Because if they're born over powered, which is totally not possible expect in fiction" the being continued, completely ignoring him, "there's a high chance the host or in your term "mother" explodes… or dies during labor."
Hayato blinked. "Did this guy just ignore me on purpose?" he muttered.
"So," the being went on, "you'll have to train, survive, learn, and build your skills from scratch. Of course, it'll be easier for you than for normal people. Think of it as a tutorial."
Hayato groaned. "So basically, I'm a broken hero who..."
Before he could finish, the being flicked his finger. The world cracked like glass.
"I think I might've said too much," the being muttered as the void faded. "Oh well… it's not like this human could understand it anyway."
When Hayato opened his eyes again, the sky above Velmoria glowed faintly brighter. His hands were larger now, his body stronger. Four years had passed.
He stood slowly, brushing dirt from his knees, eyes dull but calm.
"That's a really messed-up way to treat a hero," he mumbled.
He looked at the endless black horizon and sighed.
"Well… at least I don't owe anyone money in this world."