After breakfast, Mom hummed softly as she washed dishes in the kitchen. I could hear the TV echoing as Maki laughed at whatever she was watching in the living room. Sitting by the window, I was staring outside, watching the pulse of this summer that refused to end. My thoughts still muddled and confused.
It felt so… familiar. Too familiar.
Every sight, every sound, every smell—it was all exactly as I remembered. The rhythm of the morning, the way the floor creaked near the entryway, the faint scent of detergent mixed with miso—it was my childhood, alive again. And me? I was caught somewhere between nostalgia and disbelief, like a ghost haunting my own life.
After cleaning up a little, Mom handed me a list of chores before I could think of sneaking back upstairs. "You're not spending the whole morning cooped up in your room," she said, flicking my forehead lightly. "It's summer vacation, Riku. Go out, get some sun. You'll turn as pale as the walls if you don't." She practically pushed me to the door saying, "That is the only thing I want you not to inherit from your father."
I mumbled a quick "Yeah, yeah," and grabbed the garbage bag, stepping outside. The cicadas screamed louder as if mocking me. The sunlight hit my face, warm and blinding, and for a moment, I felt dizzy again—like my body hadn't quite adjusted to being twelve. My limbs felt both too light and too clumsy. Even walking felt different; I had to remind myself how long my stride used to be at this age.
The neighborhood was just as I remembered it—quiet, sun-baked, and lined with hydrangeas that bowed under their own weight. The same old houses, the same barking dog near the end of the street, even the same old Mr. Takagi tending his garden and nodding when he saw me pass. It was as if time itself had pressed pause all those years ago, waiting for me to return.
I dropped the garbage off in the dumpster and lingered by the vending machine at the corner. The hum of it filled the silence. I stared at the bright row of cans—Cola, Pocari Sweat, orange soda—and for some reason, the sight nearly undid me. All these small, ordinary things… I'd forgotten how much life they once held.
How much I'd taken them for granted.
"Riku?"
A familiar voice came from behind, filled with a mix of surprise and amusement. I turned, and there he was—Kenji Nakamura. Tall for his age, even back then, with sun-browned skin and a grin that never quite left his face.
"Man, you look like you just saw a ghost," he laughed, popping open a can of cola. "By the way, you still coming over to play Nintendo later?"
The sound of his voice sent a strange wave through me. I hadn't seen Kenji in… God, almost twenty years. In my last life, we'd grown apart after high school. Not dramatically—just drifted. But before that, we used to be the best of friends. His easygoing nature, borderline lazy was inline with my own thoughts—maybe something that fed into my worst instincts.
"You're talented enough, Riku. Why bother overdoing it?" He used to say that all the time. And back then, I'd listened.
But no matter what, I was extremely happy to see him and so, I smiled brightly. "Haha sorry. Just… spaced out a little."
"Still the same old Riku," he said, grinning.
We started walking down the familiar road together, the cicadas growing louder as the sun climbed higher. Kenji chatted the entire way, switching between topics so fast it was almost dizzying—our classmates, summer homework he hadn't touched, and the latest baseball game on TV.
I laughed when I was supposed to, nodded when he looked at me, but part of me was just… watching. Observing him, us, everything. It felt strange to be here again—talking about things that once felt so important, so big. But now, knowing where life had taken me, they felt like tiny pebbles compared to the landslides that came after.
Still, there was comfort in it. In Kenji's easy laughter, the sound of gravel crunching under our sneakers, the smell of sun-warmed tar and grass. For a while, I let myself drift along with it, pretending I was just another kid enjoying the last few days of summer vacation.
When we reached the park, Kenji sat down on the swings, his can of cola half-empty.
"So, you coming by later? I borrowed that new Mario game. It's crazy fun. We can even do two-player!"
I hesitated. The answer should've come naturally—Sure, why not? That's what I always said. That's what I did. But now, I couldn't.
I looked at him, smiling a little. "Tempting… but I've got something to take care of today."
Kenji blinked. "Huh? What kind of something?"
I chuckled, scratching the back of my neck. "You'll laugh if I tell you."
"That makes me wanna know even more!" he said, kicking at the ground with a grin.
"It's nothing big," I said. "Just… you know, trying to be productive for once."
Kenji groaned. "Dude, it's summer. You're supposed to be lazy. What happened to the Riku I know?"
I shrugged, glancing up at the sky and said with a completely straight face. "He was kidnapped last night."
He stared for a second, confused, but then laughed out loud. "What!?" It took a while for him to control himself, but eventually he did and replied smirkingly, "Just don't come crying to me when you realize you missed out on the best level in the game."
"No promises." I said jokingly this time and both of us snickered together at our own stupidity for a while.
Parting ways after talking for a while longer and finishing our drinks, I watched him walk off, shoulders loose, hair straighter than arrows, humming some tune that would've stuck in my head years ago. And as I turned back toward home, a strange mix of emotions hit me—warmth, regret, and a kind of quiet determination.
For the first time since waking up here, I realized, even though I knew I shouldn't and couldn't afford to... but now I truly didn't want to waste this. If this was really a second chance—whatever that meant—then I wasn't going to spend it coasting through life again.
When I reached back home, I walked straight up to my room and closed the door behind me. I stood there for a long while, just staring at everything—the books, the baseball glove, the stacks of old notebooks. My heart was pounding, not from fear anymore, not even confusion, but from something sharper. Clearer.
Anticipation? Excitement? I didn't know.
So I just sat down at my desk, grabbed a pencil, and started writing on the back of an old worksheet. Not a plan, not really. Just fragments of thoughts. Things I wanted to do. Things I should've done.
Get stronger.
Train every day.
Focus on baseball.
Stay true to myself this time.
Don't you dare give up!!
The pencil moved faster, my handwriting uneven, but my mind steady. Somewhere in the distance, Maki's laughter echoed again, and the hum of some machine being whirred to life came, as if marking the start of something new.
I looked at the sunlight filtering through the curtains, tracing the edges of the room that had become both familiar and foreign, and smiled faintly to myself.
'Alright,' I thought. 'If I really got another shot at this… then this time, I won't waste it.'