Tokyo – Haneda Airport
"Son, are you off the plane?"
"Just got to the gate."
Shiro Sakamaki stood at the bustling entrance of Haneda Airport, dodging rushing travelers while scanning the crowd for someone—anyone—there to pick him up.
As one of the busiest airports in Japan, handling over 200 domestic flights daily, the sheer volume of people was staggering. A lesser soul might've been overwhelmed. Shiro was just annoyed.
"That's good. Make sure you're eating well, and if you're short on money, tell your mother. We're not broke."
"I'm not a kid, Mom," Shiro replied, dodging a suitcase rolling far too fast. "I can take care of myself. And I've got skills, remember? A few part-time gigs and I'm set."
"Nonsense!" she barked, suddenly shifting gears. "You're starting high school now—your priority should be finding a girlfriend. Don't let money distract you from the real mission!"
Shiro froze mid-step. Wait, what?
Before he could respond, she continued at full speed. "If you find someone you like, bring her home! Or bring a few! Our country's open-minded."
Why does it sound like she's recruiting, not parenting? Shiro glanced around, praying no one overheard.
"Mom," he said slowly, "can we not do this now? We'll talk later if anything... happens."
A deep sigh echoed through the phone. "You've been training under that teacher since you were a toddler. I just worry you'll end up like him."
Shiro winced. "You mean the three-hundred-year-old hermit?"
"Exactly! Still single! Do you want to kill your mother with stress?"
Shiro chuckled helplessly. "You're seriously exaggerating."
"I'm serious! I heard the girls in Japan are very mature—go get me a grandson! Or at least someone who knows how to use a baby sling!"
"…What."
"Okay, fine, fine, I'll stop. Is your ride there yet?"
"Not yet. Still scanning." He used the moment to breathe. His mom's energy was a whole different boss level.
"Alright then. Call me later. And remember, if she has a good family background, that's a bonus—"
"Bye, Mom." He hung up before the matchmaking got any weirder.
Shiro pocketed his phone and sighed, eyes sweeping the terminal once more. Still no sign of his ride. According to his mom, her best friend was supposed to pick him up. But after an hour of waiting? He had his doubts.
He scrolled through their chat, found the number she'd sent, and hit call.
Two rings.
"Who the hell is this? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a life-changing moment?!"
Shiro paused. The voice was loud. And tipsy. Definitely not someone waiting in airport traffic.
"…Hello, Aunt Chihiro? This is Shiro—Rena's son."
Silence.
Voices and clinking glasses echoed from the background. Definitely an izakaya.
"Wait—uh—give me a second!"
A shuffle. Then a cleared throat.
"Right! Shiro! Oh dear, I totally… got caught up with something. I'll send you the address. Just come here directly, okay?"
She forgot. Unbelievable.
But he kept his tone polite. "It's no problem, Aunt Chihiro. I'll find my way."
"Thanks, sweetie. I'll send it now—Tohru! Another round—wait, no, I'm on the—beep."
Shiro stared at his screen, then sighed.
"Just like Mom. Chaos in human form."
Still, he wasn't fazed. While this was technically his first solo trip in this life, he wasn't exactly new to Tokyo.
Because Shiro Sakamaki was a time-traveler.
In his previous life, he'd dropped dead at his desk after endless project overnights. Classic overworked adult ending. When he opened his eyes again, he was reborn into this world.
Ironically, he didn't mind. He'd been an orphan back then. This life gave him something precious—family. A noisy, eccentric, but loving family.
And when he turned three, he awakened a "system" during his apprenticeship ceremony.
Which sounded impressive… until he saw what it did.
Unlike the cool cheat systems in novels, his had one feature: a monthly check-in. And the rewards? Absolute garbage.
He still remembered his first one: a box of Condoms. His teacher caught him holding them and nearly banished him to spiritual purgatory out of sheer embarrassment.
His training was hell. Study by day, meditation by night, barely a sliver of social life. He resisted at first, but his teacher's "motivational tactics" were extremely persuasive.
In time, he adapted—and even thrived. Deep down, he swore one day he'd surpass the old man and finally have the last laugh.
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