3 Seventeen

Yu Pengkai didn't know when he dozed off, but he woke with a jolt. And yes, it was quite literally a jolt that sent him flying out of his seat.

It was as if a bolt of static electricity rippled through him as he opened his eyes to the simultaneously distant yet all too familiar surroundings.

His heart skipped a beat. He surely must have still been dreaming.

"Oops. Didn't mean to shock you or anything," the girl brushing her hair grinned, smoothing out her neon pink jacket. "No pun intended."

Yu Pengkai lookly blankly at the girl, his lips slightly trembling. Subconsciously, he opened his mouth a few times as if to speak, but nothing came out. All he could do was stare, almost as if he was afraid that she would disappear in a single blink of the eye.

"Sis..?" That word seemed near foreign, rusty from nine years of disuse, and his voice came out in a hoarse croak.

Even if this wasn't real, seeing his twin again was strangely comforting. For so many years, all of his memories of her were buried alongside that black and white coroner's report, forever frozen when he was nineteen. He was beginning to think that she had never forgiven him for leaving the family. And for that reason, even after death, she refused to come to visit him in his dreams. But here she was.

She was exactly as he remembered her. Young. Bright eyes. A teasing smile. Extremely questionable fashion sense.

How could someone with so much energy ever leave the world behind? How could a mere car accident be enough to snuff out her life? And most importantly, how could he have thought a tournament was more important than seeing her for one last time?

"Woah there, Punk. You look like you've seen a ghost." She reached out and squished his left cheek with a firm pinch. "What's gotten into you. It's a school day, and we're gonna be late if you don't hurry up."

Shakingly, Yu Pengkai reached out and pinched himself again as hard as he could, wincing from the immediate pain. "Ow!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide as he realized for the first time that this might really not be a dream.

"Sis…" his nose soured, his words coming out in breaks. "I… I'm so sorry. I missed you… so much." The barrier he kept around himself for years cracked as he flung himself towards her, pulling her into a crushing hug, as if to make up for all the years he lost with her.

"You're really not okay huh, Punk," she peeled him off with a look of disgust, flicking him soundly on the forehead. "I thought you would be scrambling to get to school, but geez, you're boring." She stuck out her tongue. "What a loser. Welp. Happy April Fools' Day. I tried."

He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but tears clouded his vision as the warmth from the embrace lingered at his fingertips.

She turned away, shaking her head. "To think I woke up at 4 AM for this prank too," she groaned, yawning. "Whatever, I'll see you in two and a half hours for school."

Although he hadn't caught it last time, now hearing the mention of school, he briefly froze before clinging to her sleeve just as she was about to walk out. "Wait, how old are we?"

She spun around, her eyes wide. "Bro, I get that you were up all night playing your stupid video game since Mom and Dad aren't around to scold you for it, but I didn't think it would make you go insane this fast."

He cringed at the mention of his parents.

She put her hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. "Are you alright?" Looking at his earnest expression, a look of genuine worry crossed her face. "Last time I checked, we just turned seventeen."

Yu Pengkai froze, remembering the words he had said to himself before he woke up in this strange dream.

"If he had the chance to tell his seventeen year old self to never download this game, he would."

"Ahahah, got ya there," he feigned a grin, trying to hide his emotions and worries. "Happy April Fools' Day, Sis."

She rolled her eyes in annoyance before turning out the door.

Seeing her disappear into her room, Yu Pengkai slumped back into his chair. It was rock hard, a second-hand rolling chair that could barely be adjusted for height. Compared to the cushiony gaming chair he received from the sponsors, this chair made sitting pure torture.

But that torture was incomparable to his current state of uncertainty.

"If you could go back in time, would you end up here again?" The voice echoed in his mind again and again, almost as if stuck on repeat.

So what was this?

A chance for him to live a life away from Kings of Valor? An opportunity to mend his ties with his family?

Or was this really all a dream? And he would wake up again in the morning to find himself back in the corridor, all alone.

Or better yet. They all say that your entire life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die, almost like a movie replaying for a final showing. But sitting in this rock-hard chair, he somehow felt more alive than he ever had for the past few years.

So what was this? The question came circling back, forcing the wind out of him as if slowly choking him.

He habitually reached for his phone, wanting to confirm that he really was his seventeen year old self. Apparently, even all these years ago, he kept his phone exactly at his left hand side of the desk, approximately a foot away from his computer.

Unfortunately for him, however, he found a brick in its place—a black Nokia. Back in 2020, a flip phone had become such an artifact that seeing one here took him aback. He had admittedly forgotten that these bricks dominated the entire world back in 2009.

Were iPhones even out then, he thought to himself while flipping open the Nokia, seeing the blocky text: April 1, 2009.

He leaned back, temporarily forgetting that this was not his usual gaming chair. The chair creaked in protest, but he was too caught up in his thoughts to notice.

"Bam!" The chair met the floor with a loud thud, and his reflexes were barely enough to keep his head from ramming into the corner of his bed.

Now, something told him that this was not what usually happened in the rebirth stories he once read as angry footsteps sounded outside his room.