Dude, why do they call you 'Duck'?"

The question, innocently enough, echoed through the dusty schoolyard as the sun began its descent. The group of children playing tag paused in their game to look over at the new kid, the one who'd just arrived in town, the one with the strange name.

Duck looked up from the skateboard he'd been fidgeting with, his eyes meeting the curious gaze of the boy who'd spoken. He shrugged, a ghostly of smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's a long story," he said, his voice a smooth blend of amusement and something else - something the other kids couldn't quite place.

The children, piqued by the mystery, gathered closer, eager for a tale that could justify such a peculiar moniker. Duck took a deep breath, the w"Yeah, right," one of the braver ones scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. "You're pulling our legs, aren't you?"

But Duck's expression remained unchanged, his eyes distant as if he were lost in a memory. "No, I'm not. You see, I had this...accident. And when I woke up, I wasn't me anymore. Not really. I had this...this thing inside me." He tapped his chest, and the sound was hollow, almost metallic.

armth of the setting sun casting a gentle glow across his face. He leaned against the faded brick wall, his sneakers scuffing against the concrete as he pushed off and began to speak.

"I got the name after I... well, after I died." The words hung in the air like a sudden gust of wind, stilling the playful chatter around him. The kids exchanged bewildered glances before focusing back on Duck, their curiosity now tinged with a hint of fearful awe.

The children stared, wide-eyed and silent. The only noise was the distant hum of the city, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped the little group.

Duck took another breath, his eyes refocusing on the present. "They called it the 'Chuchu System.' It's like...it's like it's part of me, but it's not. It's like having a superpower, but one you can't control. It's complicated." He paused, his thumb tracing the pattern of chips and scrapes on the skateboard's surface. "But it's also what saved me. And it's what helped me save someone else."

The kids leaned in, their whispers dying down to a hush. Duck went on to tell them about the day he'd found a boy being bullied in an alley. The boy was smaller, weaker, and all alone. The bullies had circled him like vultures, their eyes glinting with cruel amusement. Duck had felt a surge of anger and in justice, and something within him had snapped. The Chuchu System had activated, and he'd scared them off with a display of power that was as surprising to him as it was to them.

After that, the boy, whose name was Max, had become his friend. They'd spent their days exploring the town, sharing lunches, and talking about comics and video games. Max had been quiet at first, his eyes often distant and haunted, but Duck had a way of making him laugh, of bringing him back to the present.

Years passed, and the bond between them grew stronger, a silent understanding that went beyond words. They knew each other's fears, their hopes, and their deepest secrets. Max never knew about the Chuchu System, but he knew that Duck was different, that there was something special about him. And Duck knew that Max had faced more than his fair share of hardships, that his quiet exterior masked a strength that few people ever saw.

As they grew into teenagers, the world around them changed, but their friendship remained steadfast. They faced the trials of high school together, the awkwardness of first loves, and the pressure of deciding their futures. Max had always been fascinated by the medical field, driven by a desire to help people and to make a difference. Duck supported him, even when the rest of the world seemed to push against him.

One fateful day, tragedy struck when Max was involved in a severe car accident. The doctors did all they could, but Max was left in a coma, his body a shell of the vibrant soul that had once filled it. Duck visited the hospital every day, talking to his unconscious friend, sharing the latest comic book plot twists, and whispering words of encouragement.

Years turned into a blur of hospital visits, graduations, and life's milestones that Max missed. Duck studied hard and went to college, driven by a newfound purpose. He majored in biomedical engineering, hoping to find a way to save his friend. The Chuchu System remained a constant in his life, a silent companion that whispered of its capabilities but never offered a solution to Max's predicament.

One night, as Duck pored over medical journals and research papers in the quiet solitude of his apartment, an idea struck him. What if he could use the Chuchu System to save Max? The thought grew into an obsession, and he dedicated himself to finding a way to integrate the alien technology into medical science. His grades soared, and his professors took notice.

After years of tireless study, Duck stumbled upon a breakthrough. A new technique in neural regeneration had been developed, one that could potentially revive someone from a coma. The catch? It was highly experimental, and the ethical implications were murky at best. But Duck was desperate, and for Max, he was willing to risk everything.

With the help of a few sympathetic professors and the resources of the university, he started working on a prototype device that could interface with the Chuchu System and apply its unique properties to Max's damaged brain. It was a delicate process, fraught with failure and frustration, but Duck's determination never wavered. The sleepless nights and endless hours in the lab were a testament to his unyielding hope.

Finally, the day came when the device was ready. Duck's heart raced as he wheeled it into the hospital room where Max had lain for so long. The room was a stark contrast to the high-tech lab he'd become accustomed to, the smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor setting his teeth on edge. He took a deep breath and began the risky procedure, the Chuchu System's alien whispers guiding his shaking hands.

------- see you again -------

-------have a greate life------

The operation was a tense, silent ballet of precision and hope. Duck's eyes never left the monitors, watching the erratic lines dance and spike as he connected the device to Max's unresponsive form. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. And then, something incredible happened.

The heart monitor's steady beep grew stronger, more insistent. Max's chest rose and fell with a sudden urgency. The lines on the EEG monitor grew erratic before settling into a pattern that was unmistakably alive. Duck's breath hitched in his throat as he saw the first flicker of movement in Max's eyelids. The boy's hand twitched, then reached out, grasping for something, for anything, to anchor him to the world of the conscious.

"Max?" Duck's voice was a tremulous whisper, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. "Max, can you hear me?"

The room air has charged with anticipation. The other friends, who had been eavesdropping from the shadows, held their collective breaths as the hand that had been lying so still tightened around Duck's. Max's eyes fluttered open, revealing a gaze that was both familiar and distant, as if he were looking through a foggy window.

"Duck?" His voice was weak, a mere thread of sound that seemed to carry the weight of years.

Duck's eyes filled with tears as Max's gaze finally focused on him. He nodded, a relieved smile breaking out across his face. "Yeah, it's me, buddy." He gently squeezed Max's hand, feeling the warmth of life pulsing through it. "You're back."

The room erupted into chaos as the others rushed forward, their voices a cacophony of shock and joy. Nurses and doctors flooded in, their expressions a mix of disbelief and excitement. Questions bombarded Duck from all sides, but he ignored them, his eyes never leaving Max's.

"What did you do?" Max's voice was a raspy whisper, filled with wonder and a hint of fear.

"I... I found a way to help you," Duck replied, his own voice thick with emotion. He didn't dare explain the full extent of his intervention, not yet. The reality was too fantastical, too risky.

Max searched his friend's eyes, the confusion clear in his gaze. "What do you mean?"

Duck took a deep breath, bracing himself for the truth. "Remember the accident, Max? You've been in a coma. But I never gave up on you. I've been working on a way to wake you up."

Max's eyes grew wide as the memories flooded back, the horror of the moment when the world had gone dark. He tried to sit up, but his body protested with a groan. The realization of his long slumber sank in, and the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his chest.

Duck's grip on his hand tightened, offering silent reassurance. The other friends hovered around the bed, a mix of tears and smiles on their faces. Max's mother, who had been notified of the sudden change, rushed into the room, her eyes red from years of crying. She took in the scene, her gaze lingering on the device that had brought her son back to her.

------see you again--------

------ Have a great life -------

"How is this possible?" she choked out, her voice a tremble of hope and fear.

Duck managed a weak smile, his own eyes glistening. "It's... it's a long story, Mrs. Taylor. But the important thing is that Max is awake now."

Max looked around the room, taking in the unchanged faces of his mother and friends. His mind was a jumble of questions and emotions, but one feeling stood out above the rest: gratitude. He turned to Duck, the only constant in his tumultuous journey. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Duck squeezed Max's hand. "You don't have to thank me, Max. I just did what any friend would do."

Max's mother stepped closer to the bed, her eyes never leaving Max's face. "What happened, Duck? How did you do this?"

Duck took a deep breath, his eyes darting to the device and back to Mrs. Taylor. "It's...complicated. I've been studying biomedical engineering, trying to find a way to help Max. And I think I've found it. But we need to be careful, it's not something the hospital can know about just yet."

Her eyes searched Duck's face, a swirl of emotions crossing her features. Fear, hope, and a mother's fierce protectiveness. She nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, Duck. We'll keep this between us. For now."

The days that followed were a blur of tests and therapy sessions for Max, his body struggling to relearn the basics of movement and speech. Duck was by his side every step of the way, his presence a constant source of comfort amidst the medical maelstrom. Max's strength grew with each passing day, and the fog in his eyes began to clear, revealing the bright spark of intelligence and humour that had been buried for so long.

Duck's secret remained safe, the group of friends forming a tight-knit circle of trust around him. They had all noticed the subtle changes in Duck since the accident, the way he seemed more...powerful. But they had accepted it as part of his mysterious charm, never daring to question the source of his newfound confidence. The Chuchu System remained a whisper in the back of Duck's mind, a silent sentinel watching over him as he navigated the complexities of his new life.

As Max regained his strength, so did their friendship. They shared stories of the years that had passed, Max catching up on lost time with a mix of awe and trepidation. Duck had grown into a man, his shoulders broader, his eyes filled with the wisdom of his experiences. Yet, the bond between them remained unchanged, a testament to the depth of their childhood friendship.

One evening, as they sat together in the hospital courtyard, the warmth of the sun setting on their faces, Max finally found the courage to ask the question that had been haunting him. "Duck, tell me about the system. What is it really?"

------ see you again -------