"It's been a while since the two of us went out like this, huh?" Takeshi smiled as he walked alongside Dirga toward the parking lot.
Dirga grinned and nudged his uncle playfully. "How about we bring Aoi along too? A night out won't hurt, right?" He raised his eyebrows twice, exaggerating the gesture to make it look like he was begging.
Takeshi sighed dramatically, but his lips curled into a smile. "Alright, alright. Let's eat out tonight. Hopefully, Aoi isn't home yet."
…
"Aoiiiiiii!"
Dirga's voice echoed across the schoolyard as he spotted his cousin exiting the school gates.
"Dirga? Otou-san? We're eating out tonight? Something to celebrate?" Aoi tilted her head, curious. She was still in her cheerleading uniform—Dirga remembered from his past life how popular she had been. Aoi was the definition of a school idol.
"We're just in the mood. Let's grab some ramen. I'll explain later."
"Hmm... ramen?" Aoi's brow furrowed as she paused in thought.
Dirga watched her twitch her eyebrow—she was thinking hard. He was about to tease her, but—
"Okay. Ramen it is."
That was fast. Dirga blinked, confused. It wasn't like Aoi to give in without a fight.
"Let's go, Oji-san!" she chirped.
With that, Takeshi started the car, and they made their way through the cozy streets of Osaka.
…
"This is the best ramen in town," Takeshi announced as they pulled up in front of a shop with a glowing neon sign that read:
"RAMEN YEAHHH!"
The vibe was modern yet quirky—warm lights, upbeat music, and a long line of satisfied customers. It felt alive.
"Wait, is this the one Masa Ojisan owns?" Aoi asked as she hopped out of the car.
"Yeah," Takeshi replied with a grin. "It's run by Masaki."
Dirga raised an eyebrow. He didn't recognize the name. "Masaki-san?"
"Oh, right. You probably don't know him yet," Takeshi said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Masaki Tsurugawa. He's an old friend of mine. Used to come by the house all the time—before he opened the restaurant."
Dirga's eyes widened. Masaki Tsurugawa?! That name—it rang loud in his memories.
A legend.
A Japanese player who made it overseas in Europe, playing in competitive leagues until an injury cut his career short. Even after that, he coached in Europe's second division, producing star after star. A coaching savant.
Rumors said he had returned to Japan quietly. Some said he vanished. Some said he opened a ramen shop.
And now, here he was.
This was the man being considered as Toyonaka Horizon's Legendary coach.
"You know him, Renji?" Takeshi asked with a chuckle.
"I've heard of him," Dirga said, still stunned. "The 'Sun of Sendai'... a legend."
Takeshi laughed. "Well, he's also a pretty damn good cook."
…
They stepped inside, and a wave of savory aroma hit them. The restaurant was packed, yet everything ran like clockwork. One man stood behind the counter, arms a blur of motion as he served five customers at once.
"Oi! Takeshi, Aoi—and this must be Dirga?" the man called out in a calm voice, not once breaking rhythm.
"Yes, my name is Dirgantara Renji!" Dirga bowed deeply.
Masaki Tsurugawa stood tall—really tall. Easily 200 centimeters, with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline. He looked like he belonged on a battlefield, not behind a ramen counter. Yet despite the intimidating frame, his aura was warm, welcoming.
"A nice and talented kid, huh? Sit anywhere. What'll you have?"
They placed their orders, and Dirga watched in fascination as Masaki worked. His movements were fluid—refined like a point guard running plays, his coordination impeccable. No wasted motion. The ramen was served swiftly, steaming hot and fragrant.
The first bite hit like lightning.
Incredible. Dirga blinked. The texture, the depth of the broth, the perfect balance—it was nothing like the ramen he remembered. Had he eaten here in his past life and just missed this taste? Or maybe… it was because Masaki himself had cooked it this time.
"You've got talent, Dirga," Masaki said suddenly, eyes glinting behind round glasses. "But talent's nothing if you don't tailor it."
Dirga froze. The way he said it... it felt like he could see right through him.
Could he see my stats? No, that's impossible. Just sharp instincts?
Masaki squinted, a sly smile curling on his lips. "I'll be seeing you again… hehehe."
Dirga shivered. He's like a predator in disguise…
Meanwhile, Takeshi and Masaki had already started chatting—joking, debating politics, reminiscing. They spoke like old war buddies, and Dirga began to suspect the deal between them was already sealed. Masaki Tsurugawa would join the team. Sooner than expected.
"And how are you doing, Aoi?" Masaki asked.
"I'm okay, Masa Ojisan. I didn't know you could cook like this… or that you opened a restaurant!"
Masaki grinned. "Life throws tangerines at you sometimes. You either juggle or eat."
Dirga stared at him. What kind of answer is that?
"Dirga here's aiming for the NBA, you know," Takeshi suddenly added.
"I already knew that," Masaki said, wiping his hands. "How could I not know about Dirgantara Renji… the Sun-to-be."
Dirga blinked. "You… know about me?"
Masaki smirked. "I see the shine, kid. You've got something special. Just gotta make it yours."
His confidence bordered on narcissism—but somehow, it was charming. Maybe that's what it takes to be legendary.
…
The night wore on, filled with laughter, ramen, and the quiet promise of something more.
"Great meal, Masa," Takeshi stood and stretched. "Let's talk again soon."
"Anytime," Masaki said with a wink. "I'm always around."
Dirga caught it—Masaki was holding back laughter. And Takeshi? He was trying too hard to keep a straight face.
These two think I'm just some clueless middle schooler…
"Thank you for the meal, Masa Ojisan," Aoi said, bowing politely.
"Yeah. Thanks again," Dirga added.
Masaki raised a hand. "You're welcome anytime. Especially you, Dirga."
As they left the shop, Dirga glanced back.
Masaki Tsurugawa.
Legendary player. Master strategist. Ramen chef.
And soon… his coach.