<blockquote>


    “I died screaming at an anime figure, naked, drunk, and alone.


    Some guys get heaven.


    I got cherry blossoms and fake-ass smiles.”


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    Takashi Hoshino, 28. NEET. Addicted to porn, gacha games, and rageposting.


    Last seen screaming about a broken limited edition figurine of "Mikako Asakura" on stream before collapsing in a puddle of spilled instant curry and gin.


    <hr>


    APARTMENT – NIGHT


    A trash den. Walls covered in bishojo game posters, pizza boxes forming a modern art installation, and a plastic “Mikako Asakura – Cherry Kiss Edition” figure on his desk… cracked.


    TV blares soft moaning from an idle hentai VN.


    TAKASHI (slurring):


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "How the fuck… how the ACTUAL FUCK… do you snap a collectible arm in bubble wrap?! You know what I paid for you?!"


    He grabs the figure.


    Stares.


    Throws it.


    Trips.


    Hits the corner of his desk. Skull cracks. Blood spills into half-eaten yakisoba.


    <blockquote>


    You have died.


    But you already knew that, didn’t you?


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    SAKURA HIGH COURTYARD – MORNING


    Pink blossoms swirl in the air. Chimes play. A bird chirps just right.


    Takashi wakes up on a school bench. Clean clothes. Trimmed nails. No hangover.


    Camera angle: perfect tilt-up with bloom filter.


    Takes him all of five seconds to figure it out.


    TAKASHI (whispers):


    “…No.


    No fucking way.”


    A cheerful voice hits his eardrums like a shotgun blast of sugar:


    <blockquote>


    “Mr. Sasaki! You’re spacing out again!”


    </blockquote>


    Kana Aoi – the Childhood Friend


    <ul>


    <li>Ponytail. Toast-in-mouth energy.</li>


    <li>She’s holding a perfectly wrapped bento.</li>


    <li>And her smile flickers—just once.</li>


    </ul>


    <blockquote>


    [AUTOPLAY ENGAGED]


    [BAD END FLAG SET: “PEEPING INCIDENT”]


    [SKIP?] – [DISABLED]


    </blockquote>


    Takashi looks around.


    NPC students loop animations.


    Dialogue boxes appear before he speaks.


    He checks his reflection in a nearby window:


    Mr. Sasaki.


    The middle-aged, pervy gym teacher who dies in most routes.


    He’s not the hero. He’s not the rival.


    He’s the joke.


    TAKASHI:


    “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.”


    “Welcome back, Player 2.”


    <hr>