There wasn't anything romantic about dying.
No tragic music. No tearful goodbye. Just the taste of blood and concrete and the stupid sound of my phone buzzing from a motivational alarm I set the night before.
"You can do it! One more day to greatness!"
Yeah, that aged well.
I died on the floor of my shitty apartment, clutching a pair of old MMA gloves I never used. Twenty-seven years of breathing, and I wasted every second of it waiting for 'someday.'
Now, someday was gone.
Then—darkness.
Then—pain.
Then... cold air.
My eyes snapped open.
Bright white ceiling. Blinking fluorescent lights. The antiseptic smell of school disinfectant.
I jerked upright. My heart pounded.
I was in a classroom.
"Kanzaki!"
A piece of chalk nailed me in the forehead.
I blinked.
"If you want to sleep in my class, do it permanently. Get out!"
Professor Yamada. I remembered him.
But I hadn't seen his face in seven years.
I looked down. My hands were... younger. Smoother. No scars. No burns from that kitchen job. I caught my reflection in the window. Black hair, sharp eyes, college uniform.
I was twenty again.
Back in college.
Alive.
'What the hell is this? A dream? Some kind of afterlife joke?'
But the pain in my chest felt real. The pain from the chalk hit. The subtle soreness in my muscles from that part-time delivery job I worked every Friday.
This was real.
Or close enough.
I laughed.
Out loud.
"What are you grinning at, idiot?" muttered someone behind me.
I turned.
Kai Murakami.
Still skinny. Still wearing a wrinkled hoodie under his uniform. Still chewing on sour candy like his life depended on it.
My best friend.
In my past life, we drifted apart after college.
He died in a motorcycle crash two years after college.
Not this time.
"Kai," I whispered.
"...You good, man? Did Yamada hit you too hard?"
I smiled.
"I'm back."
The bell rang.
Outside, sunlight spilled over the campus. Students chatted, laughed, walked like they had all the time in the world.
But I knew better.
I remembered what was coming. The slow spiral. The regret. The dreams left behind.
I wasn't doing that again.
"Hey, where are you going?" Kai called after me.
"Gotta take care of something," I said.
I headed downtown.
Past the arcade, past the ramen shop that would go out of business next year, past the bookstore where I wasted afternoons pretending to read self-help.
I stopped in front of a worn-out sign.
RYUKEN DOJO.
A martial arts school. Used to be famous, until the old man running it stopped taking students.
I stepped in.
The smell hit first. Sweat. Wood. Dust.
The kind of smell that screamed blood, discipline, and old-school pain.
A girl stood in the middle of the main floor. Short hair. Training gi. She was throwing kicks at a wooden dummy.
Sharp. Fast. Angry.
She noticed me. Scowled.
"We don't do tours."
"Well, I didn't come for a tour."
I stepped closer.
"I want to train here."
She looked me up and down.
"You look like you work out at a smoothie bar."
"Cute. Let me talk to the master."
"He's not taking students."
"Then make him."
"You deaf, dumb, or just stupid?"
I grinned.
"Maybe all three."
She charged.
Her fist came fast.
I didn't dodge. Took it square in the chest.
Pain bloomed. I staggered back two steps.
But I stayed standing.
She looked surprised.
"Why didn't you dodge?"
"I wanted to feel it."
She raised a brow.
"Masochist. Got it."
"No. Just confirming something."
'I'm alive. This is real. And I'm not wasting it.'
"Tell your master... I'm not leaving until he teaches me."
She narrowed her eyes.
"It's your funeral."
She walked to the back room.
Seconds later, the door slid open.
An old man stepped out. Bald. Thick arms. Eyes like steel. He wore slippers and carried a bamboo stick.
He looked at me.
Said nothing.
Then he moved.
I didn't even blink.
One second I was standing.
The next, the bamboo stick struck my neck.
My legs gave out.
I hit the floor, choking.
"Too slow," the old man said.
He turned around.
"Come back when you can stop that."
The door closed.
I lay there.
Breathing hard.
Pain thrummed in my bones.
And I smiled.
That night, I limped back to my dorm.
Kai was waiting outside, holding a bag of ice and a box of bandages.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"I got accepted."
"What, into a hospital?"
I winced as I sat down.
"A dojo."
"You're serious about this, huh?"
"Dead serious."
Kai sighed. Sat next to me.
I laughed.
He blinked.
"Weirdo."
Later that night, I stared at the ceiling.
'I'm back. I have time. I have youth. I have everything I gave up before.'
But strength doesn't come free.
Pain. Sweat. Blood. I'll pay it all.
Because I'm not chasing strength for fun.
I want to never be helpless again.
This time...
I'm going to become the strongest or die trying.