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He who leaps yonder
Expecting LitRPG
Finds dissapointment.
There was a man named Haruhi Watanabe, who lived in some place called “Japan” by many.
“Urgh… Another spreadsheet?” Watanabe himself had spread himself on the table like one of his beloved spreadsheets. Thankfully his unshaven face and bloodshot eyes were hidden from view of others by the cubicle walls that besieged him on all sides. His messy hair spread on the keyboard, a few crumbs of dandruff falling through the keys. He looked at the bottom right corner of the monitor.
It was 7:48 PM, Sunday. 12 minutes until he was free, no time to finish his new assignment. Watanabe would have to work at home lest his boss chew him out for failing to meet his unreasonable demands. He closed his eyes to rest them a bit. Even in total darkness however, a parade of numbers began marching forward in front of his eyes. ¥432.720.000.000, net income last year. ¥2.662.923.000.000, total assets of Tamana Co., Ltd. in 2023. ¥87.000, the amount of money Watanabe lost when Watanabe dropped his wallet into the sewer that one time. He’d rather not remember the last number, so he opened his eyes. 7:49 PM, still Sunday… 7:50. 7:50 PM, Sunday.
I should occupy myself with something else, thought Watanabe. He straightened himself and stretched his sore muscles while firmly remaining on the office chair. As if he was about to commit a crime, Watanabe got up and swiftly scanned the area around him. All he could see was a jungle of cubicles with the occasional human head present in its midst. No managers were in the area though, so Watanabe sat back down and pressed his favorite combination of keys: Alt and Tab. The dreadful cells of Excel were washed away and an internet browser (not Edge; even his employers weren’t cruel enough to make them use Microsoft Edge) popped into view.
On the internet browser, Watanabe opened a private tab and navigated himself onto a webnovel site that had somehow not been blocked by the company’s filter. He quickly entered his username and password to be greeted by his precious list of followed works. One of his hands was still on the Alt-Tab keys while his other was navigating with the mouse to select what he should read in the ten minutes he had.
“That Time I Died and Reincarnated as a Truck in Another World with a Level 99 Vampire Lady Companion Who’s Really Attracted to Metal Objects That Aren’t Silver”? No, that one had very long chapters. “Reborn as a Vending Machine, I Now Wander the Dungeon”? No, he’d like to read that one once he was a bit less tired. “Starting My Adventure in Another World with a Beautiful Goddess; I Had a Cheat Skill I So Became the World’s Strongest Adventurer”? This one seemed good, so Watanabe clicked on it and navigated to the newest chapter.
Chapter 3: Meeting the general!
A general of the Demon King: Ebony Darkness Dementia von Raven.
She’s an opponent that outclasses a newcomer like me.
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Yet, I have been left face-to-face with her in a deserted street, with goddess Terra standing behind me.
“So, you got anything to give, huh?!”
I replied to her with a puzzled look.
“Money, dosh, anything! I’m mugging you!”
Look at her. Does she not know that I have [Purify Evil], perfect for countering foes such as her?
“Come mug us then!”
Terra called out to her, raising her Earth Staff. We-
“Watanabe!” Upon hearing his name being called, Watanabe alt-tabbed his way back to the spreadsheet. He grumbled, his reading session having been cut short in the most exciting moment. He had caught a glimpse of an illustration under the last sentence, that of the deuteragonist and harem member Terra casting a spell. Her godlike design was quite appealing to Watanabe, so he was disappointed to have missed out on seeing it once more.
“Watanabe!” The Watanabe in question finally turned around to see his neighbor Takahashi from one cubicle over. “The lads are going out for an after-work drinking party. Want to join?”
Watanabe wasn’t in a drinking mood, he mostly just wanted to collapse on his futon and go to sleep, so he shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t have the cash for it this month.”
“I see.” Takahashi yawned. He wasn’t in the best of shapes either. “Good night.”
“Good night.” Watanabe looked at his monitor. 7:59 PM, Sunday. It was close enough. He closed the computer and finally got off the office chair. He looked outside the window. It wasn’t dark outside, and no stars were visible. Darkness wasn’t to be found in Tokyo, for everything was illuminated 24/7. He could see a torrent of people streaming to-and-fro on the street at such a late hour.
Watanabe headed to the elevator to join the crowd of passersby down below. It took him half a minute to get down to ground floor due to how high his office was. Getting out the door he was assaulted by a cacophony of noise, from traffic to chatter. Watanabe felt like a woodpecker was pecking his head every time he heard a phone ring or a printer print back in the office too. However, the metropole was as quiet as solitary confinement compared to the office. He integrated himself to the flow of the crowd and began his long march home. Watanabe’s brain was completely turned off until he felt his pocket rumble.
Ring, ring! It was his phone. Was his manager calling for something again? Watanabe opened the phone without looking. “Hello?” he asked in a voice reminiscent of a long rotten corpse. He was in the middle of traffic, so he had to ask “Hello!?” again.
BEEEP! There was a loud noise right next to his ear. What was it? Watanabe soon realized that he had stopped right in middle of a busy intersection to answer the phone. There was a truck which had stopped right next to him. The loud noise was the giant metal beast blowing its horn and telling Watanabe to naff off the road. He had no choice but to oblige the beast which could drive forward and isekai him at any moment.
“Hello?!” shouted Watanabe again into the receiver.
This time he could hear the voice on the other hand now that a truck wasn’t shattering his eardrums. “Hello? Are you there, Haru?”
“Mom?” Watanabe bowed down in apology even if his mother couldn’t see it “I’m so sorry, I almost got hit by a truck there and couldn’t hear you.”
“My little Haru, haven’t I told you to be careful while walking?” Watanabe continued walking and talking on the phone despite his mother’s advice. They exchanged a bout of the usual small chat before his mother asked a question. “Your sister’s taking a holiday and coming over this Christmas. We’d love to have you back in Osaka as well, Haru.”
“Ah…” Watanabe scratched his chin. “Mom, I do have paid vacation days available, but my boss would just fire me if I took one of them. Sorry, I can’t come over this year either.”
“I see… I hope you have fun with your friends after work then.” Watanabe didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that he didn’t have any friends in Tokyo. “Your sister’s calling me now. See you, Haru!”
“See yo-”
An employee from a convenience store had placed a water-filled bucket on the sidewalk. Watanabe hadn’t noticed it. He tripped on the bucket, sending him flying head-first into the pavement.
There once was a man named Haruhi Watanabe, who died in some place called “Japan” by many.