The piercing sound of the whistle sliced through the warm afternoon air. "Go!"
Kenji Asahina reacted instantly, a fraction of a second quicker than the rest. Years of competitive gaming reflexes had given him that jump. But reflexes were all he had.
From the moment his feet hit the track, he felt the familiar, miserable mismatch. His brain issued a command with the speed of fiber optics, but his muscles responded with the sluggishness of wet sand.
"Pull, Asahina! Pull!" Coach Tanaka roared.
Kenji gritted his teeth. His lungs burned, not from exhaustion, but from utter inefficiency. He felt the heat radiating off the eleven backs that quickly pulled away from him. It was the heat of their youthful, natural strength. He was the only one left behind, his legs feeling like lead weights.
He collapsed onto the grass at the finish line. The rest of the class was already panting and laughing; their ordeal was over. Kenji's was just beginning.
"Last place again, Kenji," said Ren, his classmate and a natural athlete. Ren's face was flushed, but he exuded a healthy, easy power. He offered Kenji a hand. "Man, you're fast off the blocks, but you drop dead after ten meters. You really need to work on your stamina."
Kenji took the hand, shame and jealousy bubbling in his gut. "I know," he gasped. "I just can't... I can't push harder."
He could have spent years at the gym, but he didn't have the time. He had to work, study, and escape into games. And in those digital worlds, he was a master. But standing in the harsh reality, he felt trapped in a body that wasn't his. A body that lied about his inner potential. He had to find a way to close the gap.