The next day, after an endless night where I didn't sleep a single hour—just staring at the ceiling—the moment of departure finally arrived.
That morning, I had no plans to go to the park. I had already said goodbye to it the day before, during my last workout. So I just did one final check of my luggage.
At lunch, the tension hung thick in the air, like a heavy fog drifting over the living-room table.
Nobody said much. We exchanged fleeting glances while plates of steaming pasta alla carbonara sat in front of us.
Once we finished eating, I went back to my room and turned on the PC for the last time.
Next to the monitor stand, I spotted my two Samsung Bar Plus Titan USB drives—512 GB each, gray and sturdy.
I decided to grab them and slip them into my backpack, just in case I needed extra space, even though my laptop already had two TB of SSD.
That's when the anxiety hit me. "God knows what else I'm forgetting," I thought, feeling my heart pick up speed.
So I did one last check to make sure I really had everything—this time for good.
At exactly 2 p.m., my dad knocked on the door and stepped into the room.
"Come on, let's go," he said from the doorway, motioning with his hand. His voice was calm, almost detached, but his eyes gave away how he really felt.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder, grabbed the suitcase, slipped my phone into my right pocket and the earbuds—fixed up by my grandpa—into the left, then headed toward the front door.
In the hallway, I saw the whole family was ready, shoes on their feet.
"You three heading somewhere?" I asked, seeing them standing there, ready to go, with slightly forced smiles.
Nicole ran straight to me, wrapping her arms around my legs. "No, Christian! We're coming with you to the airport!"
We loaded the bags into the car, and I settled into my usual spot: the back seat on the right, with a view out the window.
The whole family was already on board—Dad driving, Mom next to him, Andrea and Nicole in the back with me.
The drive to Milano Malpensa started off quiet, broken only by the radio playing low and the occasional forced small talk.
I watched the Italian countryside roll by outside the window: highway, fields, distant hills under a sultry summer afternoon.
I thought about how much I would miss all this, but also how I couldn't wait to get to Japan.
At 4:37 p.m. we pulled into Milano Malpensa airport. We parked, unloaded the bags, and headed toward the entrance of Terminal 1—the biggest and busiest, with its constant stream of travelers.
"All right, I'll say goodbye here," I said, turning to them. "Thanks for everything, really."
"Christian, don't go," Nicole said, running up and hugging me tight around the waist with her little arms, her eyes already glistening.
"Eat lots and grow big, then I'll be back. Okay?" I told her, stroking her soft hair while she held on.
"Bye, Christian," Andrea said, coming over and giving me a fist bump, barely holding back tears.
"See you in two years," I replied. "And study hard, yeah? Get better than me."
"I already am, dummy!" he shot back with a small smile.
My mom came up, hugged me tight, and kissed my cheek, tears already streaming down her face.
"Bye, Christian," she said, her voice shaking, broken with emotion.
"Bye, Mom," I answered, hugging her back.
I knew she was hurting a lot over my move, and I couldn't figure out why she had agreed to it.
She had never liked Eastern culture, especially Japanese, and she had some deep-rooted prejudices.
Knowing I was moving to a country she didn't know well—one she had so many preconceptions about—felt strange, almost like a sacrifice.
"I think she's doing it for my sake," I thought as we pulled apart and she wiped her eyes.
A moment later, my dad stepped up and held out his hand.
"Safe travels," he said, voice steady. "Don't get into too much trouble."
"Thanks," I replied, shaking it.
I quickly said goodbye to everyone again and headed toward check-in, raising my hand a couple of times without looking back.
I could hear my mom crying softly behind me while my dad comforted her, arm around her shoulders. "It'll be fine, you'll see."
I walked into Terminal 1. The cool air-conditioning hit me right away, a sharp contrast to the Italian summer heat outside, along with the constant hum of the crowd.
I looked up at the big departure screens hanging in the middle of the terminal to confirm my flight: Air China, final destination Tokyo Haneda, with a stop in Shanghai Pudong.
Flight CA842 to Shanghai was on time. My heart beat a little faster seeing "Tokyo" written there in black and white.
The Air China check-in counters were clearly marked by red signs. I got in line behind about ten people—not many, but the queue moved slowly.
When it was my turn, I put my suitcase on the belt and showed my passport and ticket.
The agent scanned the documents, weighed the bag, and attached the tag with destinations PVG and then HND.
She sent it down the conveyor belt, where it disappeared behind a plastic curtain.
"Safe travels," she said, handing me the boarding passes.
"Thanks," I replied with a smile, heading to passport control with just my backpack.
Since it was an extra-Schengen flight, heading outside Europe, I had to go through the exit control for the Schengen area.
I joined the line at border police, and when I reached the booth, I showed the open passport on the page with the Japanese visa and my boarding pass to the officer.
He stamped the page with a sharp thud, glanced quickly at the photo, and waved me through with a distracted "Safe travels".
Finally, I headed to security. I took off my shoes, emptied my pockets, and put my backpack on the tray.
I walked through the metal detector without setting off any alarms, picked everything up on the other side, and let out a small sigh of relief—at least that had gone smoothly.
I sat near the gate to wait, watching the people around me: families, businessmen, excited tourists.
My heart was pounding with anticipation, but at the same time, after the sleepless night, I was starting to feel a bit drowsy.
Boarding started right on time. I joined the line, showed my boarding pass and passport to the gate staff, went through the check, and walked down the jet bridge to the plane.
I boarded, greeted by flight attendants in crisp uniforms pointing out seats.
I made my way toward the back, found my seat, stowed my backpack in the overhead bin, sat down, and buckled up.
At 6:30 p.m., right after settling in, I looked out the window at the airport bathed in summer sunset light.
"Goodbye, Italy," I said to myself, with a smile tinged with melancholy.
At 7:03 p.m. the plane finally took off, and Malpensa quickly fell away below us, turning Italy into a glittering carpet in the growing darkness.
For the first half hour, I watched the landscape from above while a young couple next to me chatted excitedly about itineraries and food.
Eventually the guy and girl put on headphones to watch a movie on the entertainment system, and I managed to recline my seat a bit and fall asleep.
After four and a half hours, I woke up with a stiff neck and dry mouth, but at least somewhat rested.
Once awake, I didn't know what to do. I tried picking a movie on the screen in front of me, but it felt like a waste of time.
Then an idea hit me. I opened the notes app on my phone and started writing down all the goals I wanted to achieve once I got to Japan—a list to guide me over the next two years.
First, obviously: «Learn Japanese at least to N2 level.»
I was still scared of the J.TEST I would have to take at the end of the school year, the exam that would determine whether I could keep living in Japan.
Next, I jotted down the calisthenics goals I had had in mind for two weeks: «Nail a clean muscle-up» and «Complete 100 consecutive push-ups with perfect form.»
I kept going with video games and streaming, typing: «Get better at Fortnite» and «Hit 100,000 followers on Twitch.»
"Can I really reach 100,000 in two years?" I wondered as I typed quickly on my phone keyboard.
Then I wrote what John had told me the evening before, during our final goodbye: «Live every day like it's your last.
That's when I hit a creative block. For half an hour I stared at the screen, thinking about everything running through my head, but nothing seemed important enough to add.
Finally it came to me: «Quit energy drinks.»
Over the last few years, ever since I started competing seriously in Valorant back in 2023, I had chugged Red Bulls and Monsters—not because I liked them, but because I needed to stay awake for streams and tournaments.
I far preferred water, but I only drank it with meals or during workouts. Time to change that.
As the last goal, I wrote: «Make friends with a classmate.»
I couldn't just go to school and stream—I had to get out as much as possible and have a social life.
Before landing in Shanghai, since it was noon there, they served us a meal: tender veal with boiled potatoes and vegetables, plus a roll and fruit salad.
I had heard tons of rumors about layovers in China—how they were super strict, with endless checks and persistent questions—so when we landed at Pudong, I felt a twinge of anxiety.
In the end, though, everything went fine. During transit for connecting passengers, I cleared Chinese security without issues—they just asked a few standard questions.
"What's the purpose of your visit to China?" an officer in uniform asked, tone neutral but eyes sharp.
"I'm just transiting, then heading to Japan," I answered in English, staying calm and keeping it general.
He checked my passport and next boarding pass, then waved me through.
Once in Pudong's transit area—a huge, modern terminal with luxury shops and neon lights everywhere—I had four hours to kill before the flight to Japan.
I decided to wander around the building, checking out the duty-free shops with Chinese products, noodle restaurants, and people rushing from gate to gate.
I didn't buy anything except a strong coffee from an international chain, to fully wake up and gear up for the final leg.
I sat near the entrance to the new gate and, to kill time, opened the chess app on my phone.
I played a few quick online games, winning some and losing others, trying to break past my 500 Elo plateau.
After four hours that felt endless, at 4 p.m. local time they finally announced boarding for Tokyo Haneda.
I boarded the second plane—smaller this time—found my seat, and got settled.
During these last two and a half hours, I decided to study Japanese seriously: I opened the Anki app on my phone and reviewed hiragana, katakana, and simple kanji I already knew.
I also started mentally preparing the introduction I would have to give in front of the class on the first day of school, to try and make a good impression.
At 7:40 p.m. Japan time, the plane finally touched down at Haneda, with a gentle jolt from the wheels on the runway.
I turned off airplane mode, looked out the window at the lights of the Japanese airport, and felt a shiver run down my spine.
I had finally made it. After two months of endless waiting, I was back in the country I had longed for all through that never-ending summer: Japan.
My new life had finally begun, in a country still full of discoveries and with an uncertain future ahead of me.