I sat motionless on my desk, staring intently at the last line on the page.
Don't you dare give up!!
It looked childish in my handwriting—almost like insects strewn about—but the words carried more weight than I could ever explain.
I leaned back, glancing around the room that had once been my entire world. The faded posters on the wall, the scuffed wooden desk, the old alarm clock with a crack down the middle. It was strange… how quickly everything had slipped back into place, like I'd never left.
Kenji's words still echoed faintly in my mind—"You're talented enough, Riku. Why bother overdoing it?" In my old life, I'd agreed with him. I'd laughed, shrugged, and coasted through, thinking talent alone would carry me somewhere. Now I knew better.
I flipped to a fresh page and started writing again. Not a list of dreams, but of habits. Habits I planned to incorporate this time around.
Wake up early.
I picked up my clock and set an early morning alarm, 5 a.m. instantly before getting back to the notebook.
Run every morning.
Stretching and strength training.
Help Mom.
No slacking.
*****
It wasn't much, but it was something. A direction. A start.
I had knowledge of what I should do to create a good base for my physique from my past life. It should be easy enough to put together a training regimen that fits a 12 year old's growing body.
Lunch was only an hour away, so I spent the time mapping out what I should actually do to get the maximum benefits without hampering any aspect of my growth. I couldn't just start lifting weights or sprinting full-speed like before. My body wasn't ready. The muscle memory that used to come naturally now felt… clumsy. Unfamiliar. Even walking felt slightly off, as if my legs didn't belong to me.
Still, that didn't mean I'd wait.
When lunch ended and Maki left to visit her friend next door, I laced up my sneakers and stepped outside. The sun was fierce, the sky a wide, endless blue, the streets basically devoid of people. I stood there for a long moment, breathing it in—the smell of hot pavement, the faint rustle of leaves, the way the air shimmered with heat.
Then I started to run. Or so I wanted to... but soon after beginning I realized just how long would be my road to success. My body uncoordinated, stamina in tatters and the unfamiliarity of the effort made it so the best I could do was slowly jog along the sidewalks.
My legs moved awkwardly and unevenly. My lungs burned faster than I expected. My heart pounded in my ears, and within minutes, sweat clung to my back. But I didn't stop. Not this time. I ran through the narrow streets, past the park where we used to play, past the small grocery store with the ice-cream parlor, until I reached the riverbank at the edge of the neighborhood.
The same river I used to skip stones across as a kid.
I bent over, hands on my knees, breathing hard, feeling both exhausted and… alive. My body ached, but there was something deeply satisfying in the struggle. Like every drop of sweat was proof that this wasn't a dream.
'A 5-minute break to bring myself back to life.' I thought to myself laughing, or more like wheezing, at the hilarious irony of my joke.
Somehow, I returned home without fainting or collapsing midway, so I did the only logical thing that came to my mind right after entering the house, collapse face first.
Mom audibly gasped when she saw me drenched and panting and lying face down right in the living room. "Riku!? What's wrong!?"
"Just… need... some air," I said, looking up at her. I gave her the best smile I could muster and said, "Your son just died and came back to life, and you won't even give him some cold water to drink?"
She gave me a look telling me that I would be dead if I wasn't looking halfway there already, "Choose your next words very carefully, Riku Tanaka."
'Oh shit! My full name?'
"Sorry Mom, I was just out for a run and didn't realize how tired I was until
I came back."
"A run?"
"Yes Ma'am!"
"In this heat?"
"Umm... yes ma'am?"
She stared at me for a long couple of seconds before sighing, "It's still pretty hot outside... you could've suffered a heatstroke!"
"Hehe, sorry Mom." I really missed this. Her.
Another chance to experience being her child was probably what I would enjoy the most.
*****
That evening, over dinner, Mom mentioned that Dad was away on another business trip. "He'll be gone for two weeks at least," she said, ladling miso soup into bowls. "He has to go around the Kansai region for meetings again for the expansion project in that area."
Dad had built a distribution company from scratch and was now one of the biggest names in Tokyo trying to create branches all over the country. Even as a kid, I remembered how often he was gone. Always calm, always polite—but his presence was something I'd taken for granted. This time, I caught myself listening more carefully, as if these small domestic details mattered in a way they hadn't before.
Maki complained that dinner was boring without him, and Mom laughed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. The sound of their laughter filled the room, soft and warm. I watched them quietly, realizing how rarely I'd truly noticed these moments before.
The next few days settled into a rhythm. I woke up with the sound of my alarm, slipping out of bed while the sky was still a faint blue. The air was cooler then, and the streets were quiet except for the rhythmic sounds of the birds singing their songs. I'd stretch by the window, then jog the same loop through the neighborhood—slowly at first, until I found the pace that matched my breathing.
After the run came push-ups, squats, and some dynamic stretches. My arms shook more than I wanted to admit, but each day felt a little steadier, a little stronger.
By the time I washed up, Mom would be in the kitchen already, humming as she chopped vegetables, and Maki would shuffle in half-asleep. Sometimes, she'd stare at me like I'd grown a second head.
"You're weird lately," she said one morning, poking my arm. "Since when do you wake up early on purpose?"
"Trying something new," I said with a grin.
She squinted at me suspiciously. "You're acting like Dad."
"Then maybe that's a good thing," I said, and she laughed before running off to watch TV.
Mom noticed it too. The way I offered to help without being asked, or the way I cleaned up without complaint. "My sweet little boy has grown up overnight," she said once chokingly, almost to herself. I just smiled and gave her a warm hug.
Evenings became my quiet hours. After helping with dinner and dishes, I'd retreat to my room and go through the day in my head—what felt right, what needed work. I'd stretch, sometimes do a few light exercises, then tackle the leftover homework before bed, knowing 'Studies are going to be a piece of cake.'
It was funny, in a way. All the things that once felt like chores now grounded me. Each task a small anchor tying me to this new reality.
The days slipped by faster than I expected. The aches in my muscles dulled into a steady, pleasant burn. My body started to feel like mine again, like it remembered what it was meant to do.
On the last night of summer vacation, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The rhythmic clicking of cicadas was now replaced by the faint hum of crickets. The air smelled faintly of the rain that had passed earlier that evening.
Tomorrow would be the first day of school.
A small, nervous excitement stirred in my chest—the kind I hadn't felt in decades. The uniform folded neatly on my chair, my bag ready by the desk. Everything was set, just like it had been all those years ago.
But this time, I wasn't just another kid meandering through the motions. This time, I had a purpose.
I turned off the light, letting the darkness settle around me, and whispered to myself "Oh, I can't wait!"