Yamo stepped out of the bathroom, steam still clinging to his skin.
The mirror above the sink reflected a version of him that felt unfamiliar.
His frame was slimmer, shoulders narrower, muscles reduced to faint outlines beneath his skin. Not sickly, but stripped down—like something essential had been peeled away.
He dried himself in silence, dressed, and moved into the kitchen.
Breakfast was already laid out. Simple. Toast, eggs, coffee for Peter and big bowls of rice with kidney beans for Yamo.
But unlike usual, there weren't two bowls but 6. Yamo smiled gently and looked towards the sound of his mother.
May's footsteps could be heard somewhere deeper in the apartment, the steady rhythm of laundry being handled. Ben had already left for the factory.
Yamo sat down slowly. He picked up his fork, then paused.
Normally, he would already be planning his day by instinct—routes, timings, shortcuts.
How to refill the vending machines before school. How much weight he could carry in one trip. How much energy he could spare without anyone noticing.
Today, every one of those calculations failed the moment he tried to make them. His body wouldn't allow it.
The vending machines alone required him to haul crates that weighed more than he could currently lift. Before, he would have flown them up in the early morning, unseen.
Now, even carrying them by hand would draw attention. Asking Peter for help would raise questions. Asking for the money back from yesterday felt even worse.
He took a bite of food. Chewed. Swallowed.
'This is inconvenient,' he thought calmly. 'But not catastrophic.'
Yamo accepted his new reality quickly. Perhaps because, at some point during his walk home, he had already seen the grand possibilities of the dimensional store.
The first element was God Ki, followed by the techniques of others, and finally, Senzu Beans.
Having somewhat of a second life or literally being able to revive and wish for something, almost eliminated Yamo's frustration of having lost his accumulated training.
The system's presence hovered faintly at the edge of his perception, inactive but ready. Yamo didn't summon it immediately. He finished eating first, letting his thoughts settle.
Today was the class trip—Oscorp.
The same trip where Peter would be bitten. Where everything would start changing for him... and for this family.
Yamo clenched his fingers lightly against the table.
Peter gaining powers didn't bother him. If anything, it reassured him. This world followed rules, even if they were cruel ones.
The problem wasn't Peter becoming stronger. The problem was that Yamo couldn't keep up anymore.
From the day Yamo heard his parents' names, he knew that one day his father would die.
Death's natural, and Yamo isn't naive to force someone to live only for himself, but that was meant for diseases and old age, not murder.
Over the past years Yamo often thought about the consequences of saving his Father. If Peter didn't even became half as great a superhero he could be, it was worth it.
Yamo could still fill the void by himself even if Peter completly gave up and chose to stop being a spiderman permantly.
But now... it was dangerous. What if the original story took place? The guilt would eat at Yamo so much, that....
Yamo pushed his plate aside and finally addressed the system.
'Inventory,' he thought. 'You have one, don't you?'
The response came instantly.
[Inventory function available.] [Locked.]
Yamo expected that.
'Conditions.' A new line appeared.
[Inventory Lv.1 Unlock Requirement:] [Cost: 10 Store Points]
Yamo frowned slightly. 'What does Level 1 give me?' The panel expanded.
[Inventory Lv.1 — Subdimensional Storage] – Capacity: 1m × 1m × 1m – Time Flow: 10× slower than external world – Access Method: Visual portal (User-only) – Retrieval Speed: Instant – Physical Interaction: Allowed
Yamo leaned back in his chair. One cubic meter was almost as large as his room.
'Ten times slower time flow. That's invaluable' He didn't smile, but the tension in his chest eased slightly.
With that, he could store supplies like food, equipment and money. Eventually, even training tools and special items from the system.
It would solve half his logistical problems without needing flight, planning and time like the vents near his apartment where he stashed his fighting clothes and the duffel bag with money.
'Ten points,' he thought. 'That's not cheap, but it's achievable.'
Recognition generated points. Even negative attention counted. He had learned that already.
The vending machines.
He pictured the empty slots. The complaints. The irritation from students when they found them dry. Normally, that would have been a problem.
Today, it was an opportunity to earn Points. Peter walked in just then, dropping his bag by the door.
"Route's done," he said. "Also, people are gonna be pissed."
Yamo looked up. "Because the machines are empty?"
Peter nodded. "Big time. Though… we're gone all day for the trip, so no one can really blame you."
Yamo let out a small, sheepish smirk. "That's convenient."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "You're plotting something."
"Maybe."
Peter shook his head and grabbed a piece of toast. "Whatever, just don't involve me. Today is our class trip"
**
Yamo followed Peter toward the bus stop, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. The bus was already there.
'Everything feels weird today.' Yamo felt deeply uncomfortable since his daily routine broke and so many things changed over night.
Normally, at this hour, Yamo would be finishing his second errand—filling the vending machines—already ahead of the day while everyone else was just starting it.
The yellow bus hissed as its doors folded open. A few students glanced over. Then a few more.
One girl near the front squinted. "Wait… is that Yamo?"
"No way," another whispered. "He takes the bus to school?"
"He doesn't take the bus," someone else said. "He literally runs everywhere."
Peter stepped on first, flashing his usual polite nod to the driver. Yamo followed a moment later.
The moment his foot hit the first step, the whispering turned into open commentary.
"Oh my god," someone near the back said loudly. "The Neanderthal discovered technology."
Another voice chimed in. "Next thing you know, he's gonna use a phone instead of sending smoke signals."
Laughter rippled through the bus—not cruel, not sharp, just amused.
Yamo didn't react. He walked down the aisle at an even pace behind Peter, eyes forward, posture relaxed.
A girl leaned toward her friend and whispered, not quietly enough, "He looks kinda sick, though."
"Yeah," the friend replied. "Like… tired-sick, not fake-sick."
"Maybe that's why he's not running today."
Yamo heard it all.
Peter slid into a seat halfway back and glanced up as Yamo sat beside him. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Yamo said calmly. "Just upgrading my transportation methods."
Peter snorted. "Wow. Progress."
From a few rows back, someone called out, "Careful, Yamo! If you sit too long, you might forget how legs work!"
Yamo turned his head slightly. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."
More laughter.
Mary Jane twisted around in her seat, one arm draped casually over the top. "I gotta say," she said, grinning, "seeing you on a bus is deeply unsettling. What's next? Crosswalks?"
"Baby steps," Yamo replied. "I'm easing into civilization."
Peter leaned back. "He's being brave today. On that note, let's capture this moment" Peter opened his backpack and pulled out a camera.
Yamo eyes widened 'just like in the original story' "I-is that dad's old camera?'
Peter carefully examined it and turned it on and flashed a photo down. Mary Jane twisted her body more, looking at Peter.
"Wow tiger, you came prepared" She said. Peter slightly blushed. Yamo smirked looking at Peter and MJ.
'He is more confident than in the original films and storys, but he is still a teenage boy' Yamo felt the slight gaze from somebody on him.
Across the aisle, Gwen Stacy looked up from her notebook. She didn't laugh or was talking like the others on the bus.
She studied Yamo for a second, eyes narrowing just slightly—not suspicious, just observant.
"You alright?" a different girl asked Yamo "You never take the bus." Yamo met her gaze after looking at Gwen for a second.
For a brief moment, something stirred—an echo of familiarity mixed with something heavier. A memory that didn't quite exist yet. Gwen smiling, Gwen screaming, Gwen falling—
The images didn't form properly. They dissolved before he could grab them. Yamo was extremly knowledge about Dragon Ball, but Marvel not so much, but Spider-man was one of the things he knews some stuff about.
"Didn't feel like running today," Yamo said to the girl asking him. 'I know that Petey usually dated Gwen first and then MJ second'
The girl continued to talk to Yamo, but he looked away from her and outside the window, quickly killing the conversation.
MJ blinked. "Wow. Mr. Popular is ignoring someone? Who are you and what have you done with Yamo?"
The girl didn't look away from Yamo. "Hmpf!" She felt insulted and angrily looked away. The girls friend said "Even Neanderthals take rest days."
Yamo smiled faintly and her childish insult. Yamo continued to look out the window while thinking.
The bus lurched forward, engine rumbling as it pulled away from the curb. The moment passed. Conversations shifted. Attention drifted elsewhere.
Someone else argued about whether Oscorp would actually let them see anything cool.
Yamo leaned back against the seat and looked out the window as the city slid by.
'So this is what it's like,' he thought. 'Not being ahead. Just… being present.'
He felt lighter in a way he didn't like. Smaller. But the world kept moving regardless.
Beside him, Peter fiddled with his backpack zipper. "You know," he said quietly, "if people keep seeing you take the bus, the legend might die."
Yamo glanced at him. "What legend?"
"That you're secretly part cheetah."
Yamo huffed. "I'll survive."
Peter hesitated, then added, more softly, "If you don't wanna run today… you don't have to. You know that, right?"
Yamo looked back out the window. The reflection staring back at him looked thinner than it should have.
"I know," he said.