Hiroshi Shirotaka, a brilliant young genius, finds himself trapped in a world that fails to challenge his intellect.
Seeking respite from the monotony of everyday life, Hiroshi stumbles upon the captivating story of Ai Hoshino, the popular idiol who...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the quiet streets of early morning Tokyo, rain pattered softly against the windows of a small, weathered ramen shop. The faint glow of the lantern outside barely cut through the mist, but inside, the warmth from the kitchen filled the air with the rich scent of broth.
A hunched, elderly woman ladled a steaming bowl of ramen, the noodles glistening, the soft-boiled egg perfectly nestled on top.
She shuffled over to the lone customer seated by the window, his eyes following the gentle fall of rain outside. The man, in his thirties, with a neatly trimmed beard and tired eyes, looked up as the bowl was set before him.
"Enjoy your meal, darling," the granny said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of someone who had served this dish countless times with care.
The man smiled, his face softening. "Thank you," he murmured, his fingers already wrapping around the chopsticks.
As he took his first bite, savouring the familiar comfort of the flavours, a soft chime rang in the background. The bell above the door tinkled as it swung open, letting in the brief sound of rain from outside.
"Welcome," the granny called out, her voice steady and welcoming as always, already preparing for her next customer.
The man paused mid-bite, his attention shifting from the steaming bowl in front of him to the soft sound of footsteps approaching behind him. Each step grew louder, deliberate, until they stopped just a few feet away.
Without turning around, the man smirked, lowering his chopsticks. "Took you just three hours to track me down after I activated my phone number again, after all these months."
A soft laugh followed, laced with familiarity. "Like I'd miss the chance to reunite with a colleague, right?"
The man finally looked up and glanced over his shoulder. "I guess you're still the same brat, Hiroshi Shirotaka."
Hiroshi grinned, his sharp features and youthful energy contrasting with the man's wearied look. "I see time hasn't mellowed you out either, Sekito."
Hiroshi leaned casually against the counter, glancing up at the granny with a familiar smile. "One miso ramen, extra pork, please," he ordered, his voice light but confident. He then slid into the seat directly across from Sekito, folding his arms on the table.
"So," Hiroshi began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "how's it going? You just disappeared for months, and now here you are, popping up again like nothing happened."
Sekito chuckled, a sound more filled with irony than amusement. "Funny, isn't it? While I was going downhill, you just kept rising higher and higher. Climbing that ladder of fame."
He paused, his tired eyes locking with Hiroshi's youthful gaze. "I'll admit," he said, shaking his head slightly, "I never expected you to go this far in the entertainment industry."
