Gah!
I jolted awake on the plane, heart hammering.
The woman next to me—a middle-aged lady with thick glasses and an open book on her lap—looked over with a mix of worry and curiosity.
When she saw me jerk upright, she asked gently, though a little alarmed, "Everything okay, young man? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I leaned my head back against the seat and pressed a hand to my face. "I left the trophy, the peripherals, the Osu! plushie, and my clothes back at the hotel."
I couldn't believe it: the Wooting 60HE mechanical keyboard I had waited months for, the Wacom CTL-472 graphics tablet—both still in Tokyo.
And the trophy—that gleaming gold piece with the Osu! logo engraved on it and wings on either side, the symbol of my World Cup win.
I had poured blood and sweat into earning it, endless hours of practice, sleepless nights perfecting combos, and now it was all sitting in that hotel room.
The day we left for Kyoto, we weren't supposed to stay the extra two days, so I had only taken the bare essentials.
At first I panicked: the gear alone had cost me 250 euros, and the trophy was priceless.
I pictured disaster—the cleaning staff tossing everything in the trash, or worse, someone stealing it to flip online.
Then I took a deep breath of the plane's stale air and calmed down. "Tomorrow I'll contact the Osu! staff and try to get it all back."
The rest of the flight dragged on, the steady drone of the engines lulling me into a half-sleep.
I suddenly remembered to text my dad about my arrival.
I pulled out my phone, turned off airplane mode for a second—hoping no one noticed—and typed: «Hey, I'm back today, should land in Milan around 6.» Sent it, then switched airplane mode back on.
I dozed off again while waiting to land.
At 6:12 the plane touched down at Milan Malpensa.
Jet lag hit me like a fist: it was 13:12 in Japan, and my body had no idea what time it was supposed to be.
Passport control and skipping baggage claim—since I only had my backpack as carry-on—brought it to 6:30.
But at the arrivals exit, my dad was nowhere in sight.
The parking lot was a massive maze, row after row of cars. Spotting one white car among hundreds wasn't easy.
I paced back and forth with my backpack, scanning every vehicle.
Finally I called him. "Dad, where are you? I can't see you."
"I'm in sector P2, row 7, by the pillar with the blue sign," he answered in his usual calm, practical voice.
I spotted him in the distance, next to his white Volkswagen Tiguan, arms folded, face neutral.
He had shown up right on time, dressed like he was heading into the office for a regular workday—white button-down shirt, smart trousers.
Except this time, despite the professional look, he wasn't going to work.
He had taken the day off—something he always did, using up every vacation day he had—to pick me up without rushing and handle a few personal errands.
"Always so formal," I muttered as I loaded my backpack into the trunk, smirking to myself.
I climbed in, settled into the seat, and we pulled onto the A8 toward home.
Dad stayed quiet the whole drive, eyes on the highway traffic.
In the rearview mirror I could see his serious expression, gaze fixed ahead.
The silence felt heavy, broken only by the radio's traffic updates.
Then, out of nowhere, a sudden smile lit up his face.
"Congratulations, Christian," he said, pride in his voice that I hadn't heard in years. "Your brother already told me you won."
"I'm keeping everything—that was the deal," I said, a little defensive, remembering our bet before I left.
"Of course, a deal's a deal. And I'll stop badmouthing video games now, even if I'm still not a fan," he said, eyes still on the road.
His words landed hard; my dad, the guy who had always grumbled about "those electronic games" stealing my study time, was admitting he had lost to them?
We pulled up to the condo building where we lived on the fourth and top floor.
The second I opened the door, everyone pounced.
Mom was first.
"Christian! You're home!" she cried, looking me over from head to toe like I had just come back from war.
"You had me so worried. Are you okay? Did you eat properly? You didn't get sick, did you?" She squeezed me tight.
My little brother Andrea, thirteen, gave me an enthusiastic high-five. "I watched the final on my laptop—you were insane!"
My little sister Nicole, only six, wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged my legs.
"Hi, Christian! I missed you. Can I see the shiny trophy?" Her big curious eyes made me smile.
"Uh, the trophy might take a little longer," I said, hoping the Osu! staff would get my stuff back without any hassle. I didn't want to disappoint her by admitting I had forgotten it.
Even Dad finally loosened up, dropping the stiff posture.
He stepped closer and held out his hand for a firm shake. "I knew you'd do it. Congratulations again."
"But didn't you send me there because you thought I'd lose?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow.
"No, that's not it," he admitted. "It was just an excuse to keep Mom from saying you couldn't go. She was terrified at the thought of you alone in Japan."
I shot him a sideways look. "I'm not sure I buy that."
"I swear, the money thing was complete bullshit," he said. "Yeah, I hate video games, but I'm not the one to stand in the way of your dream. You've got real talent, and you just proved it."
My dad seemed to have changed even more than I had in that one week.
I had lived a ton of new experiences: Japan, new friends, intense matches against pros from all over the world.
He had maybe taken a hard look at how rigid he had been once my brother told him I had actually pulled it off.
"Are you drunk or something? You don't even sound like yourself," I teased, trying to lighten the air.
He laughed—a deep, genuine laugh I hadn't heard from him in forever.
He switched topics with his usual no-nonsense tone. "Speaking of which, the prize money? Nothing's hit your account yet. I checked this morning."
"It'll probably take up to a week—they're not gonna scam me. It's an official tournament," I said, totally sure of it.
I hung out and chatted with everyone for a while, then headed to my room.
It was exactly how I had left it: desk buried in cables, empty energy drink cans scattered around the setup.
My side was still way tidier than my brother's, though.
Opening his door always felt like stepping into a circus—completely buried under an insane pile of random junk.
You would push past the divider between our beds and enter a cave of cables and cans, except for the bed area, which stayed neat just because it only held schoolbooks, a photo, and a lamp.
First thing on my list was contacting the Osu! staff. It was 9 a.m. here in Italy, which meant 4 p.m. in Japan—perfect timing, no risk of bothering anyone.
I dialed the international number. "Hello, this is Christian Iori—my nickname's Pantera Grigia," I said in English.
"Oh, the world champion! Congratulations, Mr. Iori. How can I help you?" came a warm, professional voice.
"Thanks. The last few days I spent away from Tokyo, and I forgot a couple of things," I explained. "Any chance I can get them back? I've got all the room details."
"Of course, we can arrange that," she assured me. "We'll coordinate with the hotel and handle the shipping."
"You'll just need to wait about a week," she added. "Time to collect everything, pack it properly, and send it to an international courier."
"That's totally fine—thanks so much for the help." I hung up with a huge sigh of relief.
A week wasn't a big deal; actually, I was planning to take a break from Osu! anyway and just enjoy the two months of summer ahead.
Relax, play with friends, and most importantly, figure out how to move to Japan for good.
I sat down at my desk and fired up the setup, then remembered I didn't have my keyboard anymore.
I dug out my old Trust Gaming GXT 865—half the keys didn't light up at all, the rest barely glowed.
Not ideal, but it would do for now.
I opened Discord. In our friends' server voice channel, Bonzo and Diruz were already online.
Just like with China, we never used real names—only nicknames. Unwritten rule of the group.
Bonzo was a friend I had randomly met on Valorant with Diruz back in 2023.
We were all hovering around the same rank—Ascendant, grinding to climb—so we just kept queuing together.
Bonzo—real name Lorenzo Bettinelli—was two years older than me. He was training to be a chef in Milan, even though he couldn't stand it; his parents had basically forced him into it when he said he wanted to quit school altogether.
Diruz, or rather Cristian Di Roma—who had the same name as me, but without the "h"—was three years older than me.
Summers he worked part-time as a lifeguard in Bubbiano, the quiet little town where he grew up, and the rest of the year he went to a private school to make up for the year he had failed.
In 2024 we got really tight—we just clicked.
That year we put together our own Valorant team, Frois—a stupid name that came from some random meme on the server.
The lineup was: Pantera Grigia, Zenchidori, Pego_pro, Diruz, and Bonzo.
We had a sub, John, who only jumped in when someone was missing—otherwise we couldn't enter tournaments with an incomplete roster.
He played on an ancient Lenovo laptop that barely held 30 fps and lagged nonstop on hotspot.
He would fill whatever role was open and almost always died first, but he gave it everything and took it like a champ.
Mathew and Bonzo were our Duelists, the fraggers—aggressive entries, rack up kills.
I played Controller: smokes to block sightlines and lock down areas.
China ran Initiator, scouting with recon utilities; Diruz was Sentinel, anchoring sites with traps and gadgets.
The only one who could actually hang at the highest levels was Mathew: back when the rest of us were stuck in Ascendant, he had already hit Immortal 2.
In early 2025 he became the first person I knew to reach Radiant, and now he's even cracked the global top 250, still queuing with Bonzo and Diruz.
He carried us hard, while China and Diruz—the oldest in the group—called the shots as IGLs.
"Hey guys, I've got an idea," Diruz said one afternoon after practice, when it was just the three of us in voice.
"What's the idea?" I asked, tweaking my mouse DPI.
"Let's hit up Milan Games Week!" Diruz burst out, hyped like a little kid.
"I'm not sold," Bonzo grumbled, even though he secretly wanted to go. "We're supposed to be grinding Valorant, not gawking at famous streamers at some convention."
"You've got a point," I said, "but it could be cool to finally hang out properly. You two have already met IRL, but the three of us never have."
In the end Diruz's excitement won us over, and we spent the whole Games Week weekend at Bonzo's place in Vigevano—a little town about fifty minutes from Milan and thirty from Bubbiano.
We crashed in his room on air mattresses and sleeping bags, though we actually spent most of the time doing VOD reviews, dissecting every mistake we had made in our matches.
Bonzo's dad drove us to the fair for free the next morning.
We wandered the halls packed with booths running demos of upcoming games, cosplayers in full anime getups, and live tournaments with real prizes on the line.
We spotted famous streamers we had only ever seen on screens—now signing autographs and posing for photos in person.
I even got to meet Predage, the guy who had raided me the day I was ready to quit Twitch altogether.
I shook his hand in the few seconds we had: "Thanks for that raid—you basically saved my streaming career."
Those two days were packed but a total blast: we tried VR demos, roamed the booths, and caught the Isybank University Master, a big Rocket League tournament.
"What are they doing here?" I muttered to myself when I saw them in voice.
We were still cool with each other, but ever since I had told them I was dropping Valorant to go full-time on Osu!, we didn't talk nearly as much.
We used to grind endless sessions, climbing ranks until dawn; now we only checked in now and then to see how things were going.
I still talked to Bonzo a lot, though.
On weekends, around four in the morning right before crashing, it would just be the two of us hopping into chess—something we both loved.
He had gone to a proper chess academy for two years but quit to focus on Valorant.
Back then he won a few local tournaments and hit a peak rating of 1200.
I was purely casual—picked up openings from YouTube tutorials and sat at around 300.
In the whole year we had been playing each other, I had never managed a single win. The best I ever got was one draw, and that was only because he blundered out of distraction.
Beating him felt impossible; his favorite Ruy Lopez always backed me into a corner.
We usually kept it to private calls, so seeing both of them jump into the server voice chat put me on alert. Maybe they had something big to tell me?
Bloop—I joined.
"Hey guys, how's it going?" I said, tweaking my mic.
"Good, you?" Bonzo answered, voice rough.
"Doing great, buddy," Diruz said, warm as always.
"I'm good too—just got back from Japan. Jet lag's killing me, but it was worth it."
"Even though Bonzo hates Osu!, we threw a watch party for the final live on Twitch—huge congrats on the win," Diruz said, laughing. "We were screaming our heads off when you closed out that last map."
"Me, Diruz, and Mathew finally hit Radiant and got zilch for it. You just pocketed twenty grand!" Bonzo added, clearly messing around.
"How's Twitch treating you guys?" I asked, steering the convo.
"Rough for both of us," Diruz sighed. "Even in the top 300 we can't get any traction. Streams barely pull five to ten viewers."
"I actually just hit thirty thousand followers this week," I said—not trying to brag.
"No shit!? If I'd known, I would've ditched Valorant for that little rhythm game too," Bonzo said, faking regret.
"Anyway, we've shifted focus to YouTube now," Diruz explained. "We pull clips from our live VODs and turn them into proper edited videos—kill highlights, tournament runs, that kind of thing."
"'We turn them'?" Bonzo cut in. "I'm the one editing your stuff too, you lazy ass!" We all cracked up.
"So what's with the public voice channel?" I asked, cutting to the chase. "That's not your usual move."
"You remember that game that was supposed to drop in 2017 but got delayed forever?" Bonzo asked, his voice all cryptic.
"You mean Fortnite?" I said, thinking back. "That battle royale with the building mechanics—looked so promising, but it never actually came out?"
"Yeah! It's finally releasing next week—eight whole years later! They've fixed all the bugs with the building system," he burst out, buzzing with excitement. "Wanna try it together?"
"Hell yeah!" I shot back. "Let's set up an all-day live marathon. Maybe even rope in the rest of Frois."
Fortnite had been announced back in 2017 with massive hype from Epic Games.
It was pitched as a fresh take on battle royale—100 players dropping onto an island like in PUBG or Warzone, scavenging weapons and resources, fighting to be the last one standing.
What made it stand out was the core building mechanic: gather materials on the fly and throw up structures in real time for cover.
Picture getting shot at and, instead of ducking behind a tree, slapping together an entire fortress in seconds.
But endless technical problems with the building system—lag, exploits, balance issues—caused delay after delay.
They had aimed for a 2021 launch, but the Covid-19 pandemic stretched development even further, until they stopped giving any official date at all.
Then, a month ago, they announced it was finally ready, and the community lost its mind.
I had completely missed the news, buried in Osu! practice.
I spent the rest of the day just hanging out on the server, talking with the guys about what they expected from Fortnite and messing around with random Steam games.
Before heading to bed, after shutting down the PC and saying goodnight to everyone, I stepped out onto the little balcony off my room and stared up at the starry sky while a cool breeze brushed through my hair.
"Could Fortnite be the next game I go pro in?" I thought, already picturing tournaments and a whole new scene to take over.
The Japan win had been incredible, but settling into mastery on just one title wasn't my style.
A confident smile spread across my face as I went back inside.
It was time to become a legend on that battlefield too.