Waking up in the hospital almost gave me another heart attack. For a second, I thought everything was just a dream. Thankfully, I wasn't hooked up to any machines keeping me alive, or I might've pulled the plug just to meet some heterochromatic angels. As soon as I came to, the doctor told me I'd fainted from stress—not exactly news to me. God already made it clear He's my sworn enemy by giving me these eyes. I'm sure His grand plan was to kill me right after giving me a glimpse of paradise. Joke's on Him; if He'd succeeded, Lucifer would've been the least of His worries compared to my wrath.
Apparently, I'd been out cold for five days. It was Saturday now, which gave me two days to devise the perfect strategy to win the heart of one of the three queens of my world. Step one? Break that cursed mirror at home for the forty-fifth time, I don't have time to get depressed by these eyes.
I needed inspiration. Cranking Mozart at full volume was non-negotiable. But more importantly, I had to channel the strategic genius of Sun Tzu. His line, "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting," was practically my motto. To conquer love, I'd have to think like the legendary Chinese general who wrote The Art of War.
People these days twist his wisdom to suit business, habits, team leadership—you name it. But let's be real: the only true war in this world is love. To succeed, I had to become a true warrior. And the first rule of a great warrior? Stay unshaken. That's easy enough as long as I avoid mirrors. Once, I jumped out of my bedroom window after catching a glimpse of my depressing eyes. Unfortunately, the second floor wasn't high enough to break any bones—just left me with sore legs and a week's worth of self-pity.
Back home, I decided to dive deeper into my Sun Tzu transformation. I needed to immerse myself in Chinese vibes. Without a second thought, I grabbed 10,000 yen and headed to Chinatown, about five kilometers away. If I was going to feel like a true warrior, I'd need a battlefield. My brilliant idea? Pick a fight.
"How?" you ask. Simple: I'd disguise myself as a clueless tourist and wander into the shadiest alleys. My costume? A loud floral shirt, some uncle-level brown shorts, a junky old camera, a tacky hat with random country flags, sandals, sunglasses, and a fake mustache to add a dash of "distinguished traveler."
Arriving in Chinatown, I went full tourist mode—loud chatter, snapping pictures of literally everything. I even photographed a weirdly pyramid-shaped dog poop that looked like something a blind Egyptian architect might design. Adorable. Despite my best efforts, it took a while for anyone to notice my "obvious" tourist vibe. So, I stepped it up.
I wandered into a shady bar—a spot no tourist in their right mind would dare enter. The moment I walked in, the room fell silent, and all eyes were on me. Perfect. A guy at the counter ordered a "Chuhai kakuteru," giving me the most brilliant idea. To cement my cover, I confidently asked for a "Chinchin kakuteru." For the uninitiated, that translates to…well, let's just call it a "Cocktail of the ahem Male Variety."
Cue the drunken laughter. I'd nailed it. From across the room, three shady guys gave me a look that was equal parts threatening and weirdly flirtatious. When I stepped outside and turned into an alley, they followed. It's showtime baby.
I waited behind a dumpster, gripping my kendo stick. When they approached, I stepped out dramatically. My sunglasses hid my intense glare, but trust me, it was epic.
"Hello, Mr. Tourist," said the leader, a one-eyed thug.
"No time for nonsense. Victory favors those willing to pay the price," I shot back, fully channeling Sun Tzu.
The thug chuckled. "Relax, man. My friends dared me to follow you, but now…I think you're kinda cute. Wanna grab a drink?"
His buddies gave enthusiastic thumbs-ups. The whole situation was spiraling out of control. Then, in a moment of impulsive brilliance, I swung my kendo stick, slicing off his eyepatch.
What I saw left me speechless: his eyes. Heterochromia. One was a striking blue, the other a light hazel—and the blue was bleeding into the hazel, creating a sectoral effect. It was a solid 9.5 on my scale. Almost perfect.
Tears welled up as I stood there, stunned by the beauty of his gaze. For the first time, I truly understood war—and it was breathtaking. This man was perfect. Gorgeous. My resolve crumbled. So what if he was a guy? So what if he was older? He was flawless. Maybe, just maybe, I could spend the rest of my life with him.
"Your eyes… I've never seen anything so magnificent. They're beautiful. Perfect," Koji said, taking the man's hand gently. "My name is Koji, but you can call me the man of your dreams, if you prefer." He sealed his declaration with a kiss on the man's hand.
The man's eyes shimmered, and he looked genuinely moved.
"Y-You like my eyes? They've always been a source of embarrassment for me. I can't believe you think they're beautiful," he stammered, on the verge of tears. "My name is Riki."
"A name as lovely as the man who carries it," Koji declared dramatically. "It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say God made you to be my other half—the yin to my yang, the wing to my plane, the ember to my fire!" Koji removed his hat with a flourish, tossing it aside for emphasis. "How old are you, my beloved?"
Riki blushed furiously.
"I can't believe I'm hearing a declaration like this from someone I just met in a dark alley… but I'm genuinely happy," Riki said, taking Koji's hand in his. "I'm 28, Koji. And you?"
Damn it, I forgot I'm in disguise. I'm 12 years younger than him! My sense of age difference conveniently fails me when I'm the younger one. Will he mind that I'm only 16? Maybe I could stay in disguise forever... no, that won't work. He'd find out if we dated. Okay, I only have one chance. The only thing that could save this is if he's into younger guys. That'd be our salvation.
"Actually," Koji said, pulling off his fake beard, "I look older than I am. I'm really just 16."
Riki immediately let go of Koji's hand.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yeah, this ends here," Riki said, stepping back and regaining his composure. "I'm at least a halfway decent person, man."
"Riki! This is ridiculous! Age is just a number! I don't care about such a small difference!"
"Get lost. Prison sentences are also just numbers, and I'm not interested in finding out mine. Good luck finding your ideal someone, Koji. Goodbye." Riki turned and walked away, leaving Koji kneeling on the ground.
Koji clenched his fist, staring at the pavement.
Maybe I overstepped, trying to date a man 12 years older than me. But I've calmed down now. I'm here to channel my inner Sun Tzu. Those eyes are all I needed for my plan. I have a clear vision of the battlefield now. I just need to hold onto it until I get home and put together a strategy. I'll miss you, Riki.
END OF CHAPTER 3