Saturday mornings were supposed to be sacred. A time to recharge, a time to embrace freedom, a time to sleep in like a responsible teenager.
Instead, Kai Phillips found himself in the back seat of his dad's Honda Civic, sulking into his hoodie like it was a shield against reality.
"Early October. Cold enough to freeze your ears off. Grey skies. Damp roads. And where am I? Not in bed, not finishing the anime backlog I curated to perfection, not even scrolling through memes. No, I'm on my way to watch a bunch of middle-aged men pretend they're in the Premier League."
Kenta, twelve years old, far too cheerful for this hour, and currently demolishing a family-sized bag of crisps, turned toward him with a grin. "You're just scared you'll catch football germs."
Kai's head tilted slowly. "Football germs? That's not even… you know what? Yeah. That's exactly it. Football germs. Symptoms include uncontrollable chanting, arguing about offsides like it's politics, and the inability to talk about literally anything else."
Kenta giggled. "You're already infected. You're ranting about it right now."
Kai gaped, pointing at him. "That doesn't count! This is… anti-football propaganda. If anything, I'm the cure."
Ade, hands firm on the steering wheel, let out a low chuckle. "You two will give me a headache before we even get there. Kai, give it a chance, son. You might be surprised."
"Surprised by what?" Kai shot back. "A pulled hamstring? A dad falling over and suing the company? Maybe a dramatic halftime speech about spreadsheets and overtime pay?"
Kenta burst out laughing, nearly choking on his crisps. Ade shook his head, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.
Kai leaned back, sighing dramatically. "Honestly, this is cruel and unusual punishment. Saturdays should be about three things: food, anime, and doing nothing. Football wasn't even in the top ten before—" He stopped himself, his voice trailing, his chest tightening faintly.
Before…
The word lingered in his head. Before his death. Before reincarnating. Before this second chance.
Kai frowned, dragging his hood further down over his face. He wasn't in the mood to think about that. Not today.
The Honda rattled into a car park beside the local sports ground. Kai expected something pathetic: a sad pitch, a handful of players, maybe a tumbleweed blowing across the grass.
Instead, his eyes widened.
There were people. Lots of people. At least fifty by his rough count. Families standing along the sidelines, mums chatting, kids dribbling balls, dads stretching and warming up on the pitch. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter. Someone was even selling tea from a flask.
Kai muttered, almost against his will, "Huh. Not bad."
Kenta pounced instantly. "What's this? Mr. Football-Hater actually impressed?"
Kai snapped his hood tighter. "I didn't say impressed. I said 'not bad.' That's, like, three levels below impressed. Minimum."
Still, he couldn't help noticing the details: the crisp white lines painted on the pitch, the players moving with surprising sharpness for "office workers," the genuine energy radiating from the small crowd. It wasn't the Premier League, sure, but it also wasn't the joke he expected.
Kai's ears twitched. Not literally, but that sixth sense, like when an anime protagonist feels the villain's aura before they appear. Something ominous was coming.
He glanced at the entrance, narrowed his eyes, and muttered, "Three… two… one…"
"KAI!"
The universe never missed its cue.
Kai's soul deflated on the spot. "...Of course."
Ethan Hunt, his self-proclaimed friend, self-certified headache, and eternal thorn in his side, came bounding across the car park like an excitable golden retriever. Behind him walked a smiling woman (his mum, obviously) and a tall man with a confident stride who went straight for Ade.
Kai muttered through gritted teeth. "You've got to be kidding me. Did I break some cosmic rulebook? Is the universe contractually obligated to throw Ethan Hunt at me every week?"
Ethan skidded to a stop in front of him, grinning wide. "What's up, Kai? You've been avoiding me all week. Thought you could ghost me forever?"
Kai sighed the sigh of someone watching his doom arrive in slow motion. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was practicing social distancing."
"It's 2022, mate. That excuse is expired." Ethan winked.
Introductions began immediately. Ade and Mr. Hunt shook hands firmly, laughing like old comrades. "So this is your boy, eh?" Mr. Hunt said, nodding at Kai. "Sharp-looking lad. Must've taken after his mum."
Kai blinked, momentarily disarmed. Compliments always threw him off guard. But before he could recover, Kenta piped up, "Nah, he just got the moody part from Dad."
Laughter erupted around him. Everyone laughed. Ade, Mr. Hunt, Ethan's mum, even Kenta holding his belly.
Kai stood in the middle of it, hoodie half-covering his scowl. "This is cruel. The betrayal is coming from inside the house."
Ethan elbowed him lightly. "Cheer up, Kai. At least now you don't have to sit alone."
"That's not a good thing."
"Sure it is. Misery loves company."
Kai groaned. This was it. The point of no return. He was officially trapped, once again, in the Ethan Hunt Zone.
Somehow, despite all his protests, Kai found himself standing beside Ethan on the sidelines as their dads jogged onto the pitch. The crowd clapped and cheered lightly, the players grinning like kids about to have fun.
Kai yanked his hood down further, muttering under his breath, "This is the worst timeline."
Ethan grinned, hands in his pockets. "Get ready, Kai. You're about to witness greatness. My dad's got a left foot like magic."
Kai snorted. "Magic? The only spell he's casting is Accio retirement fund."
Ethan laughed, unbothered, and the match whistle blew.
Kai tried to steel himself, tried to pretend he didn't care. But the truth was, despite the hoodie, despite the sarcasm, despite himself…
…he could already feel it. The crowd, the energy, the movement on the pitch, it was pulling him in.
And Kai hated that more than anything.