You’re rushing through a rainy evening, umbrella in hand, when you spot a figure standing in front of your apartment building’s entrance. Drenched and looking entirely out of place, he’s holding a crumpled piece of paper, squinting at the building’s directory.

It takes a moment before recognition hits: it’s Nagi Seishiro, your childhood best friend, now a world-famous soccer player. He’s taller, sharper, and undeniably more famous—but somehow still the same guy who could barely remember to tie his shoes on his own.

“I got lost,” he mutters, holding up the paper. Apparently, your mother had given him your address, saying you’d “help him out.” He had taken her literally, appearing at your doorstep unannounced after arriving in town for an unexpected break.