Wednesday Morning – Kagawa Residence, Tokyo
The morning light slipped through the curtains, warm and quiet.
Birds chirped faintly outside as the alarm buzzed on the bedside table.
Ryota groaned, reaching for his phone and shutting it off. His eyes were heavy, but the pain from yesterday was gone.
He sat up slowly, stretching his arms until his shoulders popped.
Ryota (mumbling): Another day... guess I survived.
He stood, walked to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face.
The reflection in the mirror looked normal again — no shadow, no glow, just him.
He brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, and put on his uniform.
The smell of toast filled the kitchen as he cooked breakfast: eggs, rice, and leftover ham from last night.
He ate quietly, checking his phone.
A message from Tetsuya blinked on screen.
Tetsuya: Yo zombie, you alive?
You good for school now?
Ryota smirked, typing back.
Ryota: Yeah yeah, I'm coming.
A second message popped in instantly.
Tetsuya: You need a ride, corpse boy?
Ryota: Nah. I'll drive. I can manage.
He grabbed his car keys from the counter and headed out.
Wednesday Morning – Dōjima Street, Tokyo
The weather was cool, the sky pale blue.
Traffic was light for once, a rare miracle in the city.
Ryota hummed softly, his car gliding through the roads.
Before heading to school, he took a detour to a familiar street corner — his small bakery shop.
The bell jingled as he stepped inside.
The scent of fresh bread and coffee filled the air.
A few early customers sat by the window, enjoying breakfast. Behind the counter, one of his employees, Aiko, waved.
Aiko: Oh, boss! Morning! Here for your daily check-up again?
Ryota (smiling): You know me. Can't help but peek in.
He checked the register, skimming through the receipts stacked neatly in a folder.
Ryota (thinking): 230,000 yen this month... not bad.
He counted the expenses in his head — rent, electricity, taxes, worker salaries.
After payments, there was little profit, but it was his.
Something he built with effort.
Aiko: Everything's running smooth. The baker said we're testing a new pastry next week.
Ryota: Good. Keep it steady, and pay everyone on time. I'll send the bills later.
He gave a short nod, grabbed a small bun for the road, and stepped back into the car.
As he started the engine, his phone buzzed again — a message from Dad.
Yori: Morning, Ryota. Did you sleep well? Any strange feelings?
You need to report any discomfort, okay?
Ryota: I'm fine. No weird stuff. Just heading to school.
Yori: Alright. Keep calm, and don't overthink. We'll talk later tonight.
Ryota pocketed the phone, his mind briefly flashing back to the mirror.
He shook the thought away and drove on.
Wednesday – Tokyo High School
The familiar sound of chatter greeted him as he entered the classroom.
Students were laughing, gossiping, comparing homework. Everything felt ordinary again.
Tetsuya was leaning on Ryota's desk, munching on a sandwich.
Tetsuya: Look who finally returned from the dead.
Ryota: Guess heaven kicked me out.
Tetsuya: Ha! Good to see you back. You sure you're okay now?
Ryota (nodding): Yeah. Just tired yesterday. Nothing major.
Tetsuya patted his shoulder.
Tetsuya: Good. We've got practice later. Don't disappear again, alright?
Before Ryota could reply, the classroom door slid open.
Their teacher, Mr. Hayama, walked in, holding a folder.
Mr. Hayama: Alright everyone, settle down. Before we start, we have a new transfer student joining us today.
The room immediately filled with whispers.
Student A: New student?
Student B: I hope it's a girl this time!
The teacher gestured to the doorway.
A tall male student stepped in.
He was striking — sharp jawline, cool blue hair that brushed just above his eyes, and a calm, unreadable expression.
His uniform fit perfectly, crisp and neat. His height towered above everyone, at least 6'3.
Gasps filled the room.
Girl 1 (whispering): Wow... he's so handsome.
Girl 2: Is he a model?
Mr. Hayama: Introduce yourself, please.
The boy bowed slightly.
Jung: My name is Chu Jung. I'm from South Korea. Please take care of me.
His voice was low, confident, polite but distant.
He gave a faint nod and scanned the room, his gaze briefly locking with Ryota's.
For a second, Ryota felt... something. A faint pulse in his chest.
Mr. Hayama: Excellent. Take a seat beside Tetsuya.
The girls whispered excitedly as Jung walked past them. His steps were calm, but his aura made everyone instinctively quiet.
Tetsuya leaned toward Ryota, whispering.
Tetsuya: Another tall guy, huh. Think he plays basketball?
Ryota: Probably. Look at that height.
Tetsuya smirked.
Tetsuya: Then I gotta check if he's any good.
Afternoon – School Gym
The sound of sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor echoed.
Dozens of students gathered around the court, excited chatter filling the air.
Girl 1: Tetsuya versus the new guy? No way!
Boy 1: Bro, this is gonna be crazy. Captain versus the transfer.
Ryota stood near the sidelines, arms crossed, watching nervously.
Ryota (murmuring): Why does he always turn everything into a challenge...
Tetsuya spun the basketball in his hands, grinning confidently.
Tetsuya: So, Jung. You said you played back in Korea?
Jung (calmly): I did. I was one of the best players in my school.
The crowd reacted with an excited cheer.
Tetsuya (smirking): Then show me. First to six points wins. No fouls, no excuses.
Jung (nodding): Fine by me.
They took their positions. Ryota sighed, muttering quietly.
Ryota: This is gonna be trouble...
The whistle blew.
Tetsuya made the first move — lightning fast, crossing left to right, then stepping back for a three-point shot.
Swish. The ball sank cleanly.
Score: 1–0.
The students cheered.
Tetsuya (grinning): Strongest player in school, remember that!
He caught the ball again, faked left, side-stepped right, and fired another three.
Another perfect shot.
Score: 2–0.
Crowd: Captain! Captain!
Ryota watched, both impressed and worried.
Ryota (thinking): Typical Tetsuya... always showy.
But something changed. Jung's expression hardened. His blue eyes narrowed, calm and focused.
When Tetsuya dribbled again, Jung moved — fast, almost a blur.
He stole the ball mid-step before Tetsuya even realized.
Tetsuya: What the—?
Jung sprinted forward, leaped, and shot cleanly.
Score: 2–1.
The crowd gasped. Tetsuya smirked, wiping sweat from his brow.
Tetsuya: So you're not just tall.
Jung: You'll see soon.
The next few minutes were intense.
Jung's movements grew sharper — dribbles switching between hands, spins, sudden feints that made even the crowd flinch.
Tetsuya almost lost his balance twice.
Jung stepped left, pulled back, and fired.
Score: 2–2.
Cheers erupted. The energy grew electric.
They traded points back and forth — 2–3, 3–3, 3–4, 3–5.
Sweat dripped from both players, the air heavy with tension.
Ryota (thinking): They're insane... It's like a real match.
The scoreboard read 5–5. One point left to win.
The gym went silent.
Tetsuya dribbled slowly, eyes locked on Jung. His grin returned.
He moved fast — left, right, spin, step back — his signature rhythm.
Jung stayed tight, mirroring every move.
Tetsuya dashed forward, crossed mid-court, and jumped.
Tetsuya (shouting): It's over!
He launched the ball from half court.
The crowd held its breath.
The ball flew in a perfect arc, cutting through the air — swish.
Score: 6–5.
The gym exploded in cheers.
Students: Captain wins! That was crazy!
Tetsuya landed, panting, grinning widely. He extended his hand to Jung.
Tetsuya: You're good, man. Real good.
Jung (smiling faintly): You too. Guess I underestimated Japan's captain.
They shook hands, and the crowd kept cheering.
Ryota finally relaxed, exhaling.
Ryota (smiling): Idiots... both of them.
The sunset light poured through the gym windows, painting the court in orange and gold.
It almost felt peaceful again — ordinary, human.
But deep inside, something faint pulsed beneath Ryota's skin, unseen and waiting.
The host remained silent... for now.
To be continued...