Ichiro's dorm room was small but comfortable. Two single beds, two desks, and one closet they'd have to share. His half was spotless – white bedding, folded towels, and a single labeled drawer with his name on it.
He dropped his duffel at the foot of the bed and stretched, rolling his shoulders. The room was quiet, empty—no teammates yet, just faint noise from outside. The low hum of sprinklers on the pitch. Cicadas buzzing in the trees.
Ichiro sat down, exhaling slowly. He hadn't realized how tense his shoulders had gotten. His fingers still tingled faintly from the adrenaline of the morning, as he opened the System.
TASKS
-SHAPE UP – Monthly: (9/30)
OBJECTIVES:
*Run 10km every day (10km/10km)
*Complete 100 pushups every day (100/100)
*Complete 200 sit-ups every day (200/200)
*Complete 10 minutes of plank every day (10/10)
REWARDS: (upon full completion)
*5 Attribute Points
*Permanent increase in physical Attributes
PENALTIES: (upon failure of completing objectives)
*System shut down
-HOMECOMING – Special Story Task
Return to your home-country and reignite your football journey.
OBJECTIVES:
*Sign for a professional team in J1: (Completed – Gamba Osaka)
*Start an official match for the youth team
*Contribute to one goal (goal or assist) in an official match for the youth team
*Make your debut for the senior team
REWARDS:
*40 System Points
*40 Attribute Points
PENALTIES: (upon failure of completing objectives)
*System shut down
Ichiro's eyes focused on the second objective.
*Start an official match for the youth team.
It sounded so simple. So innocent.
Except there were twenty-five other boys in the academy, and most of them had been fighting for that starting eleven spot since Ichiro had left the country. Some of them had made it, while others didn't – that was the reality of academy football. It was a ruthless business.
And now, one more would have to make way.
Ichiro closed the System window and stood. Then he opened his duffel and began unpacking.
The second bed remained empty, untouched. He figured his roommate was one of the ones still in school. Ichiro didn't mind. He liked the quiet.
But it didn't last long.
The door creaked open an hour later as Ichiro was brushing his teeth, his reflection blurred slightly in the dorm's budget mirror.
Footsteps. Then a low whistle.
"Yo," a voice said. "You're Lo Presti, right?"
Ichiro spit into the sink and looked over his shoulder.
A boy with a lean frame and a mop of jet-black curls stood in the doorway. Maybe just a few centimeters shorter than Ichiro, but with a wide stance, the kind that suggested confidence that didn't need announcing.
He was still in his school uniform: a navy blazer draped over one shoulder, loosened tie, a badge on his chest that read Senri High School.
"I'm Yuto," the boy said, tossing his bag onto the empty bed. "Yuto Akagi."
Ichiro nodded. "Ichiro."
Yuto grinned and flopped down on the mattress. "Yeah, I know. Pretty sure everyone knows. The prodigal son that returned from England."
Ichiro snorted.
"No, really. You're famous already. All the second-years were gossiping at lunch. 'Lo Presti's back. Gonna take someone's spot.'" He mimicked a dramatic gasp. "Shocking."
Ichiro shrugged. "They can keep their spots. I'll earn mine."
Yuto's grin widened. "Good. 'Cause I'm one of those second-years."
Ichiro blinked.
Yuto pointed at himself. "Starting winger. Right side. And trust me, I've worked way too hard for that place. So if you want the spotlight, you better be ready to fight for it."
Ichiro didn't flinch. "I am."
There was a moment of stillness between them – tense, then lighter.
Yuto laughed and kicked off his shoes. "Good. I hate cowards."
Ichiro smiled. Just a little.
There was another knock – followed by two heads poking through the door.
One was a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a buzz cut and a sleepy expression. The other wore thick glasses and looked like he'd walked straight out of a cram school.
"Yo, Yuto," said the buzz cut. "We heading down for dinner?"
Yuto nodded and jerked his thumb at Ichiro. "Lo Presti's here. Roommate, England-boy, striker-slash-winger."
Buzz Cut grinned. "Finally! Thought they were just making you up."
The one with glasses gave a small wave. "I'm Itsuki. Center-mid."
"I'm Sho," the buzz-cut added. "CB. Second year. Welcome."
Ichiro stood and bowed slightly. "Nice to meet you."
"Cool," Yuto said, standing too. "You hungry?"
Ichiro blinked. "Sure."
The dining hall was mostly empty – school was still in session for the others – but one corner had a group of about eight boys already seated, jerseys slung over chairs, voices loud and cheerful.
Yuto led the way, tossing his tray down beside a sharp-looking boy with dyed silver-blonde hair and a mischievous grin.
"Yo, Kai," Yuto said. "The prodigal son has arrived."
Ichiro raised a hand in greeting.
Silver-hair – Kai – gave a slow, exaggerated look up and down. "He doesn't look like a prodigy."
"He scored a banger against Liverpool," Sho said, sliding into a seat. "Finals. Top bins."
"Ohhh," one of the younger boys said. "I saw that on TikTok."
Ichiro flushed slightly. "That clip's way over-edited."
"You're way over-edited," Kai said, tossing him a carton of milk.
"I'm Kai. Left-back, technically. But I play like a winger because, well, someone has to keep things interesting." He spun a fork between his fingers like it was a trick ball, loud in both voice and presence.
"He means he likes showing off," Sho muttered without looking up from his drink.
Kai grinned wider. "Says the guy who tackles like a truck."
"Because someone has to clean up after you."
"Ignore them." Itsuki said, cutting through the impending argument.
"And that's Kenji," he continued, pointing towards a small boy – practically vibrating with energy.
"Fastest guy on the field," Kenji declared. "Tiny, but I'll leave defenders spinning. First touch like a dream. You'll see."
"Ignore him too," someone said through a mouthful of noodles. He was tall, loose-limbed, and somehow managed to balance a steaming bowl in one hand without spilling a drop. "I'm Daichi. Keeper. I stop balls. I eat ramen. Occasionally I talk."
"Mostly about ramen," Sho added.
"Ramen is life."
Ichiro sat with his tray – a mound of white rice, chicken, miso soup, and one suspiciously pale-looking salad.
As the boys traded jokes, complained about school, and poked fun at each other's playing styles, Ichiro found himself… smiling.
It wasn't like Villa. It was looser here. Warmer, even if the jokes had claws.
"So," Yuto said, nudging Ichiro with his elbow. "You think you'll make the eleven?"
Ichiro looked up from his food.
"Of course," he said – his face deadpan.
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Confident."
Sho grinned. "I like him already."