The Hikikomori and The Ex-Pro

Chapter 2: The Beginning of an Ex-Esports

My name is Shin Nakamura. My current status: job seeker.

At twenty-four years old, you'd think I'd have my life figured out. But here I am, scrolling through endless job listings, my resume feeling like a joke. Who hires a retired professional gamer, anyway?

I'll tell you how it happened. How I, ZENITH, the star player of the legendary Dragons, got thrown away like yesterday's trash. It all comes down to one thing: my damn, backstabbing team.

This is the story of how they ruined everything.

Back then, I was twenty-two and in my third semester at Tokyo University. Life was normal. Boring, even. Until that one conversation in the campus cafeteria.

"Bro, did you hear? Gun vs Gun is getting a remake," my friend said, leaning in conspiratorially.

My eyes went wide. "The 5v5 shooter from 2000? They're remaking that?" My enthusiasm was through the roof. That game was a classic, the one that started it all for competitive shooters.

I leaned forward, a huge grin spreading across my face. "Bro, I have an idea. How about we form our own team?"

My friend's face lit up. "That's a great idea! Let's start looking for more members."

Finding the other three members was surprisingly easy. My friend and I spent that same night in the university's computer lab, drafting a post. We didn't just ask for players; we declared our ambition.

"Looking for more than just players. We're building a team to conquer the new Gun vs Gun remake. Serious inquiries only. We're aiming for the top." I posted it on every major university gaming forum and social media group.

By the next morning, our inbox was flooded.

The first to join was Kenji, a quiet engineering student known in the online community for his brilliant, almost robotic, strategic mind. He said he was tired of playing with randoms who couldn't grasp complex tactics.

Next came Ryo, a hot-headed guy from the kinesiology program. He had the fastest reflexes I had ever seen, but a temper that got him kicked from most casual teams. He saw our post and said he was ready to get serious.

The final piece of the puzzle was Haru. I had played with him a few times before. He was a natural support player, the kind of selfless guy who would always take a bullet for the team. When he saw our post, he didn't hesitate. "If you're leading, Shin, I'm in."

We met in person for the first time a week later in a small, noisy internet cafe. The five of us—different majors, different personalities—just clicked. We spent hours playing, our communication flowing like we'd been together for years.

Looking at the four of them, my friends, my team, I felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. This was the beginning.

"From now on," I announced, my voice filled with a confidence I didn't know I had, "we are the Dragons."

Back at my apartment, the door barely closed behind me, I booted up my PC. The familiar hum of the fans was a comforting sound. I clicked on the Doscord icon, and our private channel, "The Dragons' Den," loaded instantly.

I slipped on my headset, adjusting the microphone. "Test, test... is my voice coming through?" I asked, leaning close to the mic.

"Good," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Have you all installed the game yet?"

"Almost done, Shin," Kenji said.

"Just finished," Ryo announced.

"Same here," Haru confirmed.

"Me too," Kaito added.

"Good, I'm done too," I confirmed, my heart pounding with excitement.

My cursor hovered over the newly created desktop icon. It was the stylized 'GvG' logo, updated for the modern era. I took a deep breath and double-clicked.

The screen went black for a moment, then erupted with a cinematic. It was the main menu of the remake, but the art style, the music—it was all a perfect, modernized homage to the original. A wave of nostalgia, warm and powerful, washed over me. This wasn't just a game. It was the start of something big.

We played and we kept playing, our skills sharpening with every match. We started entering local tournaments, climbing the ranks until we faced our first real challenge: a notoriously difficult team called The Magi Can.

"Shin, on your left, don't—" Kaito yelled, his voice crackling with panic through the comms as he got separated from Haru.

"Yeah, yeah, I see him," I muttered, my focus absolute. My crosshairs settled. And then... click. A clean headshot.

We won, 15 to 10. We cheered so loud that night, our shouts echoing through the apartment, until a neighbor banged on the wall and told us to shut up.

That victory was just the beginning. We went on to dominate the local scene, winning ten more local tournaments and fifteen city-wide championships. Sponsorships started rolling in. And with them came a coach.

But something about him felt... off. He was all about the money, not the game.

Then, the day came. The day we'd been waiting for. Our first global tournament. The energy was electric. In our waiting room, I gathered my team.

"DRAGONS!" I roared.

"ROAR!!" my four friends shouted back, their voices full of fire.

Just then, the coach called us over. "You five, come here."

He looked us each in the eye, a cold smile on his face. "I want you to throw the match against Butterfly City."

Of course, I refused. "What?! What are you talking about? We've come this far!" I said, my voice rising in disbelief.

"Follow my orders," the damn coach said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look at this. They're offering us double the prize money to lose."

I stared at him, horrified. But then I looked at my friends. I saw the hesitation in their eyes.

"Shin!!" Kaito pleaded, grabbing my arm. "Let's just take the deal!"

"What are you talking about?" I shot back, my voice shaking with anger. "Have you forgotten everything we've worked for this past year?"

"This is for the money, Shin!" Kaito yelled, his eyes pleading.

"This isn't about the money! It's about our skill! It's about the game!"

My blood boiled. Before I could think, I swung my arm and punched Kaito. Hard.

He stumbled back, then lunged forward, his fist connecting with my jaw. Kenji, Ryo, and Haru were on us in an instant, their arms wrapping around us, pulling us apart.

"Stop it, you two!!" Haru yelled, his voice strained.

"Okay," I said, my voice flat as I shoved their hands off me. I ripped the Dragons esports jersey over my head and threw it to the ground. The fabric, once a symbol of our unity, lay there like a discarded rag.

"I'm done!!" I roared, the words tearing from my throat.

And that was it. From that day on, I was no longer a pro gamer.

Shin let out a long, heavy sigh, the bitter memory of that day replaying in his mind for what felt like the thousandth time. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of the past, and picked up his phone as it buzzed with a new notification. A delivery order.

The screen read: "One pizza with extra, extra mozzarella."

Once the pizza was out of the oven, he slid it into the designated box, the warmth seeping through the cardboard. He grabbed the order and headed out, mounting his trusty delivery bike.

A short ride later, he arrived at a large apartment building. He glanced at the address on his phone, then up at the building numbers. "This should be the place," he murmured.

He walked to the correct door and reached out, pressing the doorbell.

Ding dong.