At the same moment. Senriyama. Suita City. Osaka.
KAISERS BASEBALL FIELD.
Crack!
A dry, compact sound rang out across the evening field, sharp as a blade slicing through the greyish air. The ball left the bat, spinning, tracing an exquisite curve against the sky. I stood motionless, holding my follow-through for an extra half-beat—elbow locked, wrist firm—my palm still buzzing with the aftershock of that perfect contact.
That feeling.
Familiar, yet strange, but today it cut deeper and clearer than ever before. As if, after all this time adrift, the entire world had just clicked back into place.
"HOME RUNNNN!"
"HOME RUN! WHOOOOO!"
The eruption of shouts crashed against my ears like a wave. Over a year of silence. Over a year of swinging at thin air, of long misses and forced smiles under the pitying gazes of my teammates. Finally, this moment had arrived.
I lowered the bat and turned around. My friends charged toward me like I'd just saved the world. Brutal shoulder slaps, arms locked tight around my neck, the smell of sweat mingling with laughter and ragged breaths.
"Nice one, Hoang!"
"You finally broke the seal, man!"
I laughed. The sound came out light, dissolving into the air more easily than I'd expected.
"Just luck," I shrugged, trying to suppress the excitement dancing in my chest. "After that many misses, the universe owes me one hit, right?"
My curly-haired friend threw an arm over my shoulder, eyes crinkling into a grin. "That's some dedication, my friend! To celebrate this historic homer, I'm treating you to Takoyaki!"
I paused. "For real?"
"For real. My friend."
I glanced toward the far end of the field. The wind brushed past my face, carrying the scent of damp grass and hot metal from the chain-link fence. Thanks to that hit, the whole team had turned the game around in the final inning. But my heart was racing now not just because of the win.
My eyes lit up. Takoyaki—the single greatest gift this land had bestowed upon me during those first wet-footed days after I arrived. I slung the bat over my shoulder and walked through the clamor of celebration, my mind already drowning in the aroma of crispy batter and rich, savory sauce.
---
"Mmm... This place, 'ぼんべる' Takoyaki... it's legit."
"So freaking good... Nothing beats the real thing."
A piping-hot Takoyaki ball steamed inside its thin paper tray. I skewered one with a toothpick and brought it to my lips. The crispy shell gave way with a delicate crack, revealing the tender octopus inside and the thick, glossy sauce spreading across my tongue. The heat bloomed inside my mouth—burning, yet sweet.
This was the very first thing I'd tasted when I set foot in this country.
And the only thing that had ever made me believe I had truly begun a new life.
Or... at least, I used to think so.
---
It's been months since I arrived here.
Months? How many exactly? Four, I think... no, wait—a full year already. My head's all foggy. Probably an endorphin overdose from that home run just now.
A master's student's life abroad, when you boil it down, just loops around that same monotonous cycle. Mornings to afternoons spent wracking my brain over stacks of dense documents, where the Kanji characters sprawl like they're trying to devour my eyeballs. Studying Humanities is a kind of sweet torture—just finishing one chapter is enough to make your brain feel like it's been through a typhoon.
Afternoons, I occasionally hit the baseball field, using the burn in my muscles to flush out the pressure.
Evenings, I hole up in my room with Manga, Anime, light novels, or wander the streets just to feel a flicker of existence.
Then tomorrow morning, it all starts over. Same grumpy professor, same X-ray stare that sees right through your soul.
But, whatever. This is the dream I chased for five relentless years. Five years—a stretch so long it felt infinite—now just a blurry smudge in the rearview mirror. I've been through ups and downs, nearly let go so many times, and I'm only standing here thanks to the hands that reached out and the stubbornness of my own two feet.
I made it. I'm here.
Even if a million terrible things lie ahead—sleepless nights, feeling utterly lost in a sea of strangers—at least I've touched my own sky. I'll get through the million worst things waiting down the road.
"Hoang."
"...Hey, Hoang. Hoang!"
Isao's voice yanked me out of my thoughts, like a light tap on the shoulder that pops a soap bubble.
"Huh... what?"
"What the hell are you brooding about, man? I've been calling you till my throat's sore and you're up in the clouds!"
"Ah... nothing." I gave an awkward laugh, mouth still full of hot Takoyaki.
Takahashi Isao stood there, his signature curly hair a total bird's nest. He squinted at me with a knowing grin.
"You look exactly like some Shounen manga protagonist right now. Sitting there all deep in thought, staring off into the horizon—bet you're about to awaken some crazy superpower!"
"What? I don't have magic or superpowers or anything."
"Then you don't know squat, my friend." Isao lowered his voice, his eyes suddenly turning sharp. "Superpowers are real in this world."
"You been reading too much Manga or something?" I chuckled.
"I'm serious!" Isao tilted his head, his expression oddly solemn. "It's just... the way it works is kinda fuzzy. You ever hear about 'Dream Apples'?"
"...Dream Apples? The fruit that gives people superpowers?"
"Yeah. But whoever eats one gets stuck with a thousand-year curse." Isao paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's eternity. You stop aging at the exact age you ate it. You become immortal, too. Can you believe it?"
I'd heard these rumors floating around before, but I'd never actually seen anyone with powers.
"Hmm... Sounds kinda tempting, actually. Maybe I should take a bite?"
Isao burst out laughing, slapping my back so hard it stung. "Huh? You wanna live a thousand years just so you can bury that bookworm face of yours in more research papers? You got too much free time, Hoang!"
"Who's a bookworm? I play sports for real, you know!" I glared at the curly-haired menace.
"Haha, I'm just messing with you! Don't get so worked up!"
I let out a long sigh. "Those apples... I don't think I need 'em anyway. A finite life that burns bright is way more interesting, don't you think?"
I'd smoothly changed the subject. Mission accomplished.
"Yeah, kinda like Devil Fruits in One Piece, huh? That legendary series."
"Yeah," I laughed, eyes drifting toward the crimson horizon sinking behind Osaka's low rooftops. "A legend."
The wind rustled through my hair. The sizzle of frying oil from the Takoyaki stand mingled with the boisterous chatter of customers. The scent of batter, sweet sauce, and bonito flakes floated in the air, dissolving into the atmosphere.
Still vibrant. Still so Osaka.
And somewhere amidst all that noise, those three words—"Dream Apple"—lingered silently in the back of my mind, like a seed just planted in barren soil, quietly waiting to sprout without me even knowing.
---
East of Senriyama Station. 'wellness vegetable 吹田千里山店'. Evening.
Light footsteps echoed steadily on the paved street. A female student walked with an unhurried gait, no different from any other girl heading home late: blazer neat, checkered skirt swaying with each step.
Minamoto Misaki.
Her champagne-blonde hair fell to her waist, catching the yellow glow of the streetlamps and radiating a soft halo. Her features were delicate, her eyes serene, as if she'd stepped out of a manga panel still smelling of fresh ink. She had just bought some skincare products, her mood drifting lazily in the cool night breeze.
The alley was desolate. The streetlights flickered with unease. The sound of metal rattled faintly against the gusts slipping through the concrete walls.
"Target confirmed."
A thick, oily voice emerged from the shadows. At the far end of the street, a dark figure lurked behind a utility pole, a phone screen flashing cold light.
"Which way's she headed?"
"Just keep going straight. Let her keep walking. I'm right on her tail."
Misaki froze. She didn't turn around fully, just tilted her neck slightly. The instincts of someone with different blood running through her veins screamed a warning: The air just bent. The usual bustling noise had literally vanished. As if everyone had disappeared. Even as a member of the Supernatural Academy, she'd never been in actual combat. The only thing she possessed was an ability—and a curse.
She had eaten a "Dream Apple."
Misaki's pupils suddenly flared with a pale blue light. Her irises rippled like water disturbed by a stone, thin luminous veins circling her pupils, rotating slowly and coldly. Ability: Clairvoyance. Brick walls became transparent, metal dissolved like mist. She could see everything—even things she shouldn't.
And yet, there was no one. That's right. Not a single soul. Everything looked like it was still functioning, but she couldn't see anyone. Just moments ago, when she'd left the store, a cheerful clerk had smiled and bid her goodnight. Now, not a trace.
"Eh... What the—!" She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, having accidentally glimpsed straight through the clothes of the figure rushing toward her.
But he was too fast. He moved without a sound, like some feline predator. A black shadow closed in.
"KYAAAA—!"
A baton slammed into her stomach. A terrifying shockwave rippled through her body. Misaki collapsed face-first onto the pavement, the baton still pressed firmly against her as if pinning her down. The pale blue light in her eyes flickered out, the luminous veins fading. Her entire body went limp, her vision dimming as if someone had just pulled the plug on her power.
That baton—a weapon designed to nullify supernatural abilities—was stripping away her strength. She trembled in abject terror. Apple Hunters. Lunatics driven by power and money. They were here.
"Haha, got the girl. Easy peasy!"
The man licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with sick desire.
Another figure emerged from the darkness, draped in a long black coat, carrying a briefcase. He knelt down and opened it. A chill mist seeped out, revealing an utterly ordinary-looking apple.
"Use that 'gimped' power of yours and check—is this the real deal? A Dream Apple?"
"What... are you doing... let me go..." Misaki gritted her teeth.
"Hurry it up! Our organization needs your power. We ain't got time to play guessing games!" He sneered. He knew the rules well: A Dream Apple only granted power if the eater's soul resonated with its power symbol. Otherwise, the eater would have exactly one year to live from the moment of consumption. This apple was like a soul forever eluding humanity, and they needed her "eyes" to chain it down.
"Help... someone help me..."
"Shut your trap!"
The man with the baton stomped down hard on her head.
Once.
Twice...
He was drunk on bloodlust, his laughter savage. He was torturing her at a three-way intersection that should have been crowded with people and traffic. But.
There was no one.
Only the garish glow of the streetlights. The cars parked along the curb looked like models. The lights inside the houses were on, teapots on stoves, food on tables—life seemed to be happening normally. But not a single human being. Not one.
THWACK!
An object tore through the air, slamming directly into the jaw of the man with the baton. A dry, brutal impact echoed. The man crumpled to the ground like a felled log.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Exactly twenty meters away. Hoang stood there, arm still extended from the throw. Even he was stunned. The throw had been absurdly far and impossibly precise. In that desperate moment, it felt like every rudimentary skill he possessed had been amplified tenfold. Excitement and shock raced through his veins.
Behind him, Takahashi Isao casually rested a metal baseball bat on his shoulder, his face utterly devoid of fear. He had his phone pressed to his ear with the other hand. But every call went unanswered. The main road leading straight to Senriyama Station behind him was also completely empty. It was as if they'd stepped into another world. Isao kept dialing and muttering nonstop.
"Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with Senriyama Station?! I've been calling nonstop and nobody's picking up!"
The man in black froze, his grip tightening on the apple, his eyes locked onto the two strangers who had just ruined his fun.
"What... what the hell are you..."
Hoang took a step forward, his entire demeanor a far cry from his usual bookish self.
"Let her go. Now.".
The wind howled through the alley. The streetlight flickered its last. In that moment, the gears of fate began to turn, dragging the foreign student into a world he was only supposed to see in Manga.
---