Neko Amu

Waking up felt like a chore, and chores weren't something I wanted to do.

Every day, I had to convince myself to wake up. My eyes caught sight of the alarm clock: 11:27, three minutes short of my usual eleven-thirty. A sigh escaped my lips and I hit the snooze button on top of the hotel's alarm clock. As I pulled on a pair of boxers, surprise hit me. My manager, Ryu, hadn't come to pour a bucket of ice-cold water on me or blow his whistle as loud as possible. For the manager of a soccer star he sure was lenient. But I didn't care; at least I was dry and not deaf.

But as if I was jinxing myself,...