The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds as Kaito rubbed his tired eyes. His arms ached. His legs ached. His pride hurt even more.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
He had only survived the first day of training with James by sheer stubbornness. But that stubbornness hadn't stopped him from collapsing multiple times on the mat, gasping for air, or making a fool of himself trying to copy James' movements.
Breakfast and Banter
James was already at the kitchen table, flipping pancakes like it was nothing. Muscles rippling, calm and confident. Kaito shuffled in, careful not to bump into anything.
"You look like a zombie," James said, smirking. "Did you sleep at all?"
Kaito groaned. "I tried… but my arms are killing me."
"Good. Pain means progress." James slid a plate toward him.
"Eat up.
You'll need energy if you want to survive today."
Kaito eyed the pancakes skeptically. Eat, survive… James really does make training sound like war.
The First Real Drill
After breakfast, James led him to the living room.
"Today, we start with footwork and balance. Without these, you'll get knocked down in a second."
He demonstrated a stance — low, balanced, fists ready — then moved with swift steps, almost gliding across the floor.
Kaito tried to mimic him. Immediately, his feet tangled. He stumbled, slammed into the wall, and almost dropped his water bottle.
"What… what am I doing wrong?" Kaito panted, red-faced.
James chuckled, shaking his head.
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Yes, everything. Your stance is too stiff. Your weight's off. Your focus is… somewhere else."
Kaito felt a flash of frustration. Why is this so hard?
"Just… try again," James said, his voice calm, almost teasing. "Don't fight the floor. Move with it. Feel it. One step at a time."
Kaito nodded, took a deep breath, and tried again..
Step. Trip. Fall. Step. Step. Step. Almost… balance.
James let out a low whistle. "Better. Much better. You'll get there… eventually."
Kaito blinked. That "eventually" felt like a mountain.
But somehow, it motivated him.
A Tiny Victory
Hours passed. Sweat poured. Kaito's muscles burned like fire. His movements were awkward, jerky, but slightly more controlled.
Finally, James tossed a small padded ball at him.
"Catch it while moving. Don't think. React."
Kaito tensed. The ball came flying fast.
He flinched, twisted, and… caught it.
"Ha! Got it!" he shouted, barely believing it.
James clapped slowly. "Not bad, Hoshino. Not bad at all."
Kaito's chest swelled — not with arrogance, just a small spark of pride.
Maybe… I can do this.
Evening Reflections
That night, Kaito lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
His body ached in places he didn't know could ache. His ego was bruised from repeated failures. And yet… he felt different.
I asked for help. I tried. I didn't give up. Maybe this is the first step.
He rolled over and looked at the small punching bag in the corner.
Tomorrow… I'll do better.
For the first time, Kaito felt the faintest glimmer of hope. Change wouldn't be instant. Confidence wouldn't appear overnight.
But if he survived James' training… maybe, just maybe, he could stand up for himself at school.