I Want to Fly Again

One, as Sota walked toward school, he noticed Koenji standing by the entrance gate, tapping his fingers impatiently on his forearm. Sota initially thought nothing of it, assuming Koenji was waiting for someone else. He kept his pace steady, his mind still processing the events of the previous day.

Just as he was about to pass through the gate, Koenji suddenly stepped in front of him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him off to the side. The abruptness of the action caught Sota off guard, and he struggled to regain his balance.

"What's your problem?" Koenji snapped, his voice low but filled with frustration. "Why haven't you joined the flag football team yet?"

Sota's eyes widened in surprise, but he remained silent, unsure of how to respond. Koenji's grip on his collar tightened as he continued, "You're wasting your talent, Sota. I've worked hard to get this far, but watching you throw everything away like trash? It's unbearable."

Koenji's words cut deep, and Sota could feel the weight of the accusation pressing down on him. He had spent so much time avoiding the issue, trying to convince himself that he was better off not getting involved, but now… now he wasn't so sure.

"Tomorrow, we've got another game," Koenji grunted, releasing Sota's collar with a rough shove. "Take it or leave it. I don't care anymore. But don't show that face in front of Aiko or the others again." With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving Sota standing there, speechless.

From a distance, Aiko had seen the confrontation and quickly ran over to Sota, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Koenji's retreating figure. He might have been harsh, but she couldn't deny that there was some truth to his words.

"Are you okay?" Aiko asked, her voice gentle but filled with concern.

Sota adjusted his collar, the fabric still warm from Koenji's grip. "I'm fine, Aiko," he replied, his voice calm yet tinged with a newfound determination. His mind was made up, and it showed in the way his eyes narrowed, focusing on a goal that had been elusive until now.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Sota attended his classes as usual, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Koenji's words and the confrontation at the gate. As soon as the final bell rang, he didn't hesitate. He knew where he needed to go.

Instead of heading home, Sota made his way to the gym where Jack Mercer trained. The gym wasn't part of the school; it was a place Sota had been avoiding ever since his injury. But now, standing outside its doors, he felt a strange sense of resolve.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The familiar scent of sweat and effort filled the air, a mix of nostalgia and intimidation washing over him. Sota's eyes scanned the room until they landed on Jack Mercer, who was in the middle of a training session with another athlete.

Jack noticed Sota immediately and waved him over with a grin. "Well, well, look who decided to show up," he said, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "What brings you here, kid?"

Sota took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I've made up my mind," he replied, his voice steady. "I want to train with you."

Jack's grin widened as he noticed the fire in Sota's eyes, a fire that had been missing for far too long. "That's what I like to hear," he said, clapping Sota on the back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Let's whip you up into proper shape, kid."

Without further ado, Jack opened the door to the gym, ushering Sota inside. Although he still wasn't sure whether he could afford the training or not, he decided to go through with it, and then spend his savings on the first class. 

If it wasn't sustainable, then he would stop, but Jack Mercer assured him that it won't be much. By not much, Sota had no idea what Jack's view on money is, but at the very least he trusted him, even if it was just a little bit. 

After all, he's not a scammer. He's a professional football trainer in the past. And if he were able to notice his injury as well everything he needed to improve, then it's better than nothing. 

"First, I want you to do a bear crawl. Show me what you got." Jack Mercer said out of nowhere as they went to the calisthenics section of the gym. 

Without question, Sota dropped on all fours and started doing bear crawls. He went as low as he could until he felt the strain on his hips. After thirty seconds, Jack Mercer told him to stop. 

"That's good, next, show me a pistol squat. if you can't do that, then just an assisted lunge will do." He said. 

Once again, Sota obeyed him without question. First, he did the pistol squats with his left leg, which was more developed than the right one. After doing ten repetitions of it, he proceeded with his right. 

And that's when it happened... the moment he went down, his body collapsed on his own, and he fell on his back. "What just..." 

"All right, that's good enough. Now show me a step-up." He continued. 

Sota was slowly coming into the realization of how weak his right leg was. Of course, it was understandable because he wasn't able to use it for six months. Even now, his left leg compensated for his right leg every single time. 

"I see, now I got a rough idea. So you broke your tibia before, huh. I'm guessing someone put their weight on it or something. And it doesn't seem like a normal break, it looks like your bone was crushed into a couple of pieces when it happened." Jack Mercer muttered, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he talked to Sota. 

"What should I do?" Sota asked. Although he just did light exercises, he felt exceptionally exhausted since he strained his right leg a little too much. 

"No, tell me what should you do." Jack Mercer lifted his index finger, swaying it right and left as he shook his head. "Would you like to run again? Or would you like to fly?" 

At first glance, the question was completely ridiculous, but Sota knew what Jack Mercer truly meant. With a resolute nod, he answered. "I would like to fly again, sir." He responded. 

"That's the spirit."