Haruto Yamato kicked a stray pebble along a Shinjuku alley, the neon glow of convenience stores and ramen shops casting jagged shadows across his worn sneakers. At thirteen, he felt like a ghost drifting through Earth Prime's bustling Tokyo, a city that pulsed with life but offered stories as dry as the history textbooks in his sagging schoolbag. Japan's manga lined bookstore shelves—somber tales of feudal lords or court poets, drawn in rigid blacks and whites like museum scrolls.
The anime on TV droned with ceremonial dances or epics about rice farmers, each episode a lecture disguised as entertainment. Movies? Art-house slogs of cherry blossoms swaying or monks chanting, boring even his patient neighbor, Old Man Sato, who claimed to love "deep" films. Haruto's sketchbook, tucked tightly under his arm, brimmed with clumsy drawings of warriors and starships, but they looked more like lumpy onigiri than the heroes in his head. He was just a scrawny kid with a plain face, invisible to his classmates at Shinjuku Middle School.
Home was no refuge. Yamato Press, his father Hiroshi's tiny publishing company, operated from a cramped office above a noodle shop in a backstreet near Shinjuku Station. The room reeked of ink and old paper, its shelves sagging with unsold copies of The Elegance of Haiku and Records of Edo Carpentry. Last night, over a modest dinner of miso soup and grilled mackerel, Hiroshi's stern voice had cut through the clink of chopsticks. "Haruto, focus on real work," He'd said, glasses glinting under the kitchen's fluorescent light. "Yamato Press is your future, not those childish doodles." Haruto's mother, Aiko, had offered a warm smile, her eyes crinkling as she slid him an extra rice ball, flecked with sesame.
"Listen to your father," She'd murmured, but her lingering glance at his sketchbook, hidden under his chair, felt like a quiet cheer. Haruto's chest ached—he wanted to make them proud, but Earth Prime's stories were a cage, and his pencil wasn't sharp enough to break free.
He turned down a quieter alley, the city's hum fading to a soft buzz of cicadas and distant traffic. The May evening air was warm, heavy with the promise of summer. His schoolbag weighed on his shoulder, stuffed with math homework and a dog-eared Japanese literature textbook, but his mind spun with tales of heroes he couldn't capture—knights battling dragons, pilots soaring through starry skies. Earth Prime's media felt like a faded photograph, and he was no artist to bring it to life.
Ping.
A sharp, crystalline sound pierced the air, like a coin dropping on glass. Haruto froze, his breath catching. His vision blurred, and a glowing screen materialized, floating in the alley's dim light like a high-tech mirage from one of his imagined stories. No buttons, no device—just crisp white text on a translucent panel: Entertainment System: Level 1 Activated. Welcome, User Haruto Yamato. XP: 0/10,000. His heart thudded against his ribs. He waved his hand through the screen, expecting it to dissolve like a dream. It held firm, cool to the touch, a single tab pulsing with golden light: Shonen Manga Library.
Haruto's fingers trembled as he tapped the tab. A cascade of vibrant covers exploded into view—Naruto, One Piece, Dragon Ball—titles from a place called "Earth," not Earth Prime. Their colors popped, reds and blues so vivid they made Japan's manga look like faded ink. He selected Naruto, and pages flooded his mind, sharp as if he held the book: a blonde ninja with a defiant grin, orange jumpsuit blazing, charging through battles with fire in his eyes, chasing dreams against impossible odds. Haruto's breath hitched, his fingers twitching with the urge to draw. This was it—the spark he'd been craving, stories that roared like a summer festival, alive with heart and heat.
The screen flashed, new text scrolling: Quest: Read 5 shonen manga chapters. Reward: 50 XP, Unlock Skill: Manga Illustration (Beginner). Another message followed: Quest: Complete daily fitness regimen—10 push-ups, 10 sit-ups, 10 bodyweight squats, 1 km run. Reward: 2 XP, Physical Enhancement (Level 1). Instructions: Warm-Up: 5 min dynamic stretching (arm circles, leg swings, high knees). Cool-Down: 5 min static stretching (hamstrings, quads, shoulders). Recovery: Hydrate, sleep 8 hours, 2 rest days/week. A final line glowed: Goal: Become the Most Handsome Man on Earth Prime.
"Fitness?" Haruto muttered, glancing at his twig-like arms and flat chest, barely filling out his school uniform's white shirt. He could manage two push-ups before collapsing, and a kilometer run sounded like climbing Mount Fuji. "Most handsome?" He snorted, touching his plain face—round cheeks, unremarkable eyes, a nose too small for heroics. But those manga… they were worth any pain. He pulled his sketchbook from under his arm and flipped to a blank page, pencil scratching out Naruto's spiky hair in the alley's fading light. His lines were wobbly, smudged by sweaty fingers, but a strange confidence guided his hand, like the system was whispering secrets from Earth's artists.
The next morning, Haruto woke before dawn, the system's screen hovering in his mind like a persistent friend. His small bedroom, cluttered with peeling posters of Earth Prime's dull historical anime, felt stifling. He slipped on worn sneakers and a faded blue tracksuit, tiptoeing past his parents' room to avoid waking his stern gaze. Yoyogi Park was a short walk, its gravel paths quiet under the Tokyo skyline's first pink light, the air crisp with dew and cherry blossom petals. He started with the system's warm-up: five minutes of arm circles, leg swings, and high knees, his movements awkward as early joggers glanced curiously.
Ten push-ups—knees on the ground, two sets of five—left his arms trembling like jelly. Ten sit-ups burned his core, his back sticking to the grass. Ten bodyweight squats made his legs wobble, knees creaking. The 1 km run around the park's tree-lined loop was torture—a shaky jog for 400 meters, then walking, gasping, as his chest heaved. He collapsed on a bench, sweat stinging his eyes, and stretched as instructed, easing his hamstrings and shoulders, the cool-down calming his racing pulse.
The screen pinged, its chime bright in the dawn: Fitness Quest Complete. 2 XP gained. Total XP: 2/10,000. Haruto panted, sprawled on the bench, a spark of pride flaring despite the ache in his limbs. He'd survived—barely. A jogger, an older woman with a kind smile, tossed him a bottled water. "Keep at it, kid," She said, and Haruto nodded, too winded to reply.
Back home, he showered and sank onto his bed, the system's manga library calling. He devoured Naruto chapters, each page—ninjas clashing, friendships forged in battle—lighting a fire in his chest. The system chimed: Reading Quest Complete. 50 XP gained. Skill Unlocked: Manga Illustration (Beginner). Proficiency: 50/1,000. Haruto grabbed his sketchbook, sketching a ninja with a flowing scarf, rough but spirited, the lines sharper than yesterday's. Each stroke earned 5 proficiency points, the system tracking his effort. A new quest appeared: Draw 5 manga pages. Reward: 50 XP, 50 proficiency.
School was a blur of monotony—math equations, history lectures about Earth Prime's feudal wars, classmates chattering about the latest ceremonial anime. Haruto doodled in his notebook, ignoring whispers. After school, he returned to Yamato Press's office, the noodle shop's savory aroma wafting upstairs. Hiroshi was buried in spreadsheets, muttering about unpaid invoices. "Help with inventory, Haruto," He snapped, not looking up. Haruto nodded, shelving books, but his mind was on his sketches.
That evening, as cicadas buzzed outside his window, Haruto overheard his parents in the kitchen, their voices low over the clatter of dishes. "Yamato Press is drowning, Aiko," Hiroshi said, exhaustion heavy in his tone. "One more bad quarter, and we're finished." Aiko's reply was soft, reassuring, but strained. "We'll find a way."
Haruto clutched his sketchbook, its pages filled with Earth-inspired ninjas, their eyes blazing with defiance. Could his manga—Earth's manga—save the family? The system's screen glowed, daring him to try: Total XP: 152/10,000. Proficiency (Manga Illustration): 100/1,000.
Haruto grinned, exhaustion giving way to a flicker of fire. He flipped to a new page, pencil scratching under the dim light of his desk lamp. Earth Prime's sleepy stories were about to meet their match, and he'd be the one to light the spark.