That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”...Did we just get new members?”

Finn, who had just thoroughly enjoyed his exhausting, breathless Shimaidon with both Sona and Serafall, was completely speechless. The moment he finally closed his eyes to rest, his consciousness was forcefully pulled into the pristine, infinite white space where the collective minds of every ’Suzuki’ gathered.

”THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK!”

The moment he materialized, a chorus of voices echoed through the void. Every single Suzuki present bowed respectfully to Finn—the Suzuki of the DxD universe. They all knew exactly what he had just accomplished. By triggering an evolution identical to the True Demon Lord ascension in the Tensura universe, Finn had drastically elevated the baseline power of their entire hivemind.

While the Suzuki of the Tensura world had triggered his Sage evolution through some very enthusiastic ’snu-snu’ with a dryad, Finn had evolved by systematically slaughtering ten thousand living souls. It was a brutally cruel, irredeemable method. Yet, not a single Suzuki in the white space judged him or looked at him differently.

They were all fragments of the exact same soul. They all shared the same fundamental selfishness. Regardless of the universe they were dropped into or the identities they assumed, they would do absolutely whatever it took to reach their goals.

Occasionally, they would reflect on their actions. Was it really worth doing all these cruel, manipulative things? Wouldn’t it be easier to just sit back, let the native protagonist handle the villains, and coast toward a peaceful ending?

But whenever they thought about the fated protagonists of their respective worlds, the Suzukis fell into silence.

”It isn’t like... the protagonists are bad people,” one Suzuki muttered.

”No, they aren’t bad at all. They’re genuinely kind,” another agreed.

”But...”

The peace those idealistic protagonists fought for fundamentally clashed with the peace the Suzukis desired. With the exception of older, pragmatic leads like Rimuru, most shounen protagonists were naive teenagers fueled by pure idealism. They wanted to defeat the bad guys and save everyone. But what about the corrupt politicians? The hidden villains dressing up as allies? The societal rot that festered in times of peace?

None of the Suzukis considered themselves heroes. They fully embraced their own hypocrisy. Their ultimate, shared goal was simple: to live an incredibly comfortable, luxuriously peaceful life. To achieve that absolute peace, they had to ruthlessly eradicate any potential threats, seizing control of their second lives—just like Finn, who was currently enjoying the spoils of his conquest with the Sitri sisters.

”You know... even if we just joined, there isn’t really much we can do to help you guys...”

Four new Suzukis had just synchronized with the network. Unlike Finn, who was rewriting the hierarchy of gods, or the others who had reincarnated as ninjas or sorcerers, these three came from mundane, modern worlds. They possessed no innate magical talents, no world-ending bloodlines, and no immediate prospects for godhood.

As for the fourth one, fortunately, it seemed he came from the world of magic.

”Don’t worry about it. Every world has something unique, right?” Finn assured them easily. ”Any knowledge, mundane skills, or resources you can share are completely fine. Even if you can’t compare to my combat power, the network benefits us all.”

The three new Suzukis breathed a collective sigh of relief. They were honestly just glad their worlds were relatively normal.

Of the three, one young man was particularly grateful for this newfound network.

His name was Suzuki Tanaka. 23 years old. Profession: Programmer.

He worked at Jigokumeguri System Engineering, a seemingly normal software company in modern-day Japan. But the reality was grim. The company skirted the absolute borders of being a ’black company’. Employees were routinely pressured into brutal overtime. Suzuki frequently slept under his desk for days at a time just to meet crushing deadlines.

Fortunately, the pay was decent, and the workplace possessed a strange sense of freedom. More importantly, he worked under some incredibly talented and kind seniors—namely, Kobayashi and Makoto Takiya. They taught him the ropes and kept him sane. Suzuki originally planned to endure the grind for three years, build his resume, and then jump ship to a unicorn startup.

How did he know which startups would become unicorns? Because the current year was 2013.

Upon connecting to the white space and gaining his past memories, Suzuki realized with a shock that he wasn’t just in the past—he had been reincarnated into the slice-of-life, Yuri-comedy universe of Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid.

What can I even do in a world with dragons who disguise themselves as maids? Suzuki had wondered.

Unlike Finn, who was born into a noble Devil family, Suzuki Tanaka was a mundane orphan. He had scraped and clawed his way through life just to secure this programming job, knowing that the tech boom would eventually lead to a comfortable income.

But now?

I have my own AI.

Thanks to Finn’s ascension, Suzuki had just unlocked the Manager skill. The complex coding tasks that usually stole days of his life and ruined his spine could now be flawlessly executed by the hyper-intelligent AI in a matter of minutes. He could automate his entire workload, coast through the corporate grind, and spend his free time exploring the supernatural mysteries of this dragon-infested world.

Best of all, today was Friday. The glorious weekend was practically within his grasp. He was already planning his relaxing two-day break.

BAAAAAAAMM!

”...”

Suzuki’s peaceful daydream violently shattered as a massive, towering stack of manila folders and printed code was slammed directly onto his desk. The dull thud made his stomach churn.

”Hey, Suzuki. I’ve got some personal errands to run this weekend, so I need you to finish my workload for me. You can handle that, right?”

”...Yamashita-senpai?”

Suzuki slowly looked up. Standing over him was Yamashita, a generic, thoroughly incompetent senior developer with a smug smirk plastered across his face.

”Look, you’re still young and full of energy,” Yamashita patronized, forcefully clapping a heavy hand onto Suzuki’s shoulder. ”As your senior, I’m just thinking about your future! You need to gain more practical experience. So, take my project and knock it out for me, okay?”

It was the classic, toxic trap of corporate seniority.

Suzuki didn’t think the seniority system was inherently evil. Experienced mentors were invaluable. But parasites like Yamashita actively abused the culture, dumping all their heavy lifting onto the juniors while they coasted to the bar, cashing checks they didn’t earn. It was an unofficial tradition in black companies.

If this had been yesterday, Suzuki would have just lowered his head, gritted his teeth, and accepted the abuse. Despite possessing the memories of a past life, he knew Japan’s economy was stagnant. As an orphan with zero financial backing, enduring the unfairness of the corporate ladder was just the harsh reality of survival. Twenty percent of the capable workers carried eighty percent of the dead weight.

I just have to endure, the old Suzuki would have thought.

”Oh, by the way, this whole stack is due first thing Monday morning. So I expect it perfectly compiled and on my desk before the morning meeting. Got it?” Yamashita added carelessly, already turning to leave.

But Yamashita didn’t expect the reaction he got.

The junior programmer didn’t nod submissively. He didn’t scramble to organize the folders. Suzuki just sat there, staring dead ahead at Yamashita in absolute, chilling silence.

Yamashita paused, his smug expression twisting into an ugly scowl.

”What the hell is with that look?” Yamashita snapped, his voice echoing loudly across the open-plan office. ”You should be incredibly grateful I’m entrusting you with this! How dare you look at your superior like that, huh?! Who the hell do you think you are?! You’re just a junior! Shut up, do the work, and fix your damn attitude!”

As Yamashita’s aggressive shouting escalated, the commotion drew the attention of the remaining office workers.

A few desks away, Kobayashi—who was still typing furiously at her own keyboard—frowned.

”Oi, Yamashita, knock it off—” Kobayashi started to interject. She despised useless employees shifting their burdens onto the capable ones, and she had a soft spot for Suzuki. He was talented and actually kept up with her pace.

But Kobayashi’s words caught in her throat.

Suzuki slowly pushed his chair back. He stood up, towering over Yamashita. His face was entirely devoid of emotion.

”Ha?! Why are you looking down on me?!” Yamashita barked, puffing out his chest to hide his sudden intimidation. ”Do you want to get beaten down right here, kid?!”

Yamashita kept yelling, his face turning red with manufactured outrage.

Suzuki didn’t say a word. He just leaned back slightly, and then—with the terrifying, optimized physical precision calculated by the Manager—he violently snapped his head forward.

CRACK!

At the 2006 World Cup, Zinedine Zidane delivered the most famous headbutt in history. In 2013, Suzuki Tanaka delivered a flawless recreation directly into the bridge of his senior’s nose.

”Guwah!”

Yamashita shrieked pathetically, blood spurting from his nostrils. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed backward, hitting the office floor like a sack of wet cement.

Suzuki stood over the groaning, dizzy senior, casually straightening his tie. As he looked down at the bleeding parasite, Suzuki knew one absolute truth: from this day forward, he was never bowing his head again!