The next day passed as if it were merely a repeat of the previous one. Classes, trivial conversations, teachers trying to keep the class awake, and during break, more whispers about soccer and about him. For Isagi, nothing truly new had happened—just the routine of an ordinary student.
When the final bell rang, he grabbed his backpack and left the school without haste. The sun was already tilting in the sky, painting the bustling streets golden, and the warm breeze of late afternoon carried the familiar scent of the city.
At home, he tossed his backpack onto the bed, quickly swapped his uniform for light training clothes—a white t-shirt, sports shorts, and a pair of worn-out sneakers—and headed out again, this time with a clear destination, after informing his parents, of course.
The subway wasn't crowded at that hour. Sitting with his earphones off, dangling around his neck, he rested his head against the window, watching the reflections blend with the darkness of the tunnels. His thoughts drifted between the previous night's training and a great idea to strengthen his legs. Later, he'd also talk to his parents about helping him pay for a gym membership and enrolling in some martial arts classes, something he had practiced in his past life as well… He really had a lot to do.
When he finally got off at the station near the coast, the air changed. The salty sea breeze filled his lungs, carrying the constant sound of waves crashing. The walk to the beach was short, and soon the open horizon stretched before him, the sea shimmering under the last traces of sunlight, the golden sand beckoning like a silent challenge.
There weren't many people around since it was late afternoon. Perfect for him.
Isagi took off his sneakers and socks, leaving them near a rock.
"Here we go…"
He started running.
The sand gave way under his feet, absorbing some of the force that, on a regular field, would propel him forward. Each movement demanded more from his hips, his core, his legs. But that was exactly what he wanted.
The sound of the waves matched his rhythm.
The wind hit his face, salty, refreshing.
Soon, his muscles began to burn earlier than expected. The resistance of the sand was brutal, draining his energy quickly, and within minutes, he was already sweating. Still, he didn't stop. He gritted his teeth and stayed focused, thinking about how many players would skip this because it was uncomfortable.
He sped up.
Each step felt like a small burst, as if he had to pull his body from the sand every second.
His heart pounded, the air scraped his throat, but his eyes gleamed.
When his breath started to falter, he stopped just long enough to bend over, rest his hands on his knees, and catch his breath, sweat dripping from his chin onto the sand.
Then he ran again, this time alternating directions, simulating sudden changes as if he were on the field. Running straight was tough, but changing sides was even harder. The sand became an unpredictable enemy, and he had to adjust his balance every second.
The training continued like this until the sky began to darken for real. The sunset had already sunk into the sea, and the first shades of blue painted the horizon.
Panting, Isagi finally stopped, collapsing onto the damp sand near the water's edge. The sea crept forward, gently soaking his legs, cooling his heated skin.
He took a deep breath, watching the constant motion of the waves.
During class today, he had come up with this idea. Running on sand is one of the toughest workouts because the ground doesn't offer the same stability as asphalt or grass. With every step, part of the force you put into your foot "sinks" instead of propelling you forward. This means your muscles have to work much harder to produce the same movement.
For the legs, the effect is immediate: quadriceps, calves, glutes, and even hip muscles are forced to contract more intensely because the ground doesn't return energy. Plus, since balance is constantly challenged, the stabilizing muscles—those deeper ones responsible for keeping the body steady—are engaged the entire time.
In soccer, this kind of training has several direct benefits. For example, since sand demands more force per step, when you return to a regular field, your muscles feel lighter and more explosive, allowing for faster sprints and greater endurance in long runs. The unstable nature of sand also mimics situations of physical contact or uneven terrain on the field. Training this way helps a player keep their body stable even when pushed or needing to change direction suddenly. Most importantly, the core and lower back work alongside the legs to stabilize the body. This translates to more powerful shots, steadier dribbling, and better injury prevention.
And despite being exhausting, sand cushions the impact of steps. This allows for intense training without overly stressing the knees and ankles, reducing the risk of injuries.
In the end, running on sand creates a kind of "natural overload." If a player gets used to performing well on terrain that saps energy with every movement, when they return to grass, where the ground is firm and responsive, they'll have more speed, power, and control than before.
He decided not to bring a ball yet because he wanted to get used to moving on sand during the first week.
Isagi sat for a few minutes, letting the sea cool his legs and his mind. His breathing finally steadied, but his body still trembled slightly from the effort. When he noticed it was dark enough for the beachfront lights to start coming on, he stood up slowly, brushing off the sand stuck to his body.
He grabbed his sneakers and socks by the rock, putting them on without much hurry. He began walking toward the station. The night breeze was cooler now, carrying the scent of the sea mixed with the smell of street food starting to be sold at the kiosks. For a moment, his stomach growled softly, but he decided to hold out until he got home.
The subway was emptier than before. Upon entering the train car, he found an empty seat and plopped down, resting his head against the backrest. The gentle vibration of the train, combined with his exhaustion, nearly made him close his eyes completely.
As he stared at his reflection in the window, half-faded by the tunnel's darkness, thoughts began to surface. He remembered his past life, how he sometimes wasted training sessions or let opportunities slip due to a lack of discipline, relying entirely on his exceptional talent and putting in little effort to reach his former level of soccer. Now, that couldn't happen again.
The subway continued its journey, stopping at station after station. People came and went, but to Isagi, everything felt distant.
When the metallic voice announced his station, he stood up, adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, and exited the car. The city air greeted him again, but this time, there was no longer the warmth of late afternoon—just the calm of the night.
He walked through the lit streets until he reached home.
As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by the aroma of freshly prepared dinner. His parents looked at him from the kitchen, surprised by the late hour. After greeting them, he sat at the table while his father turned off the living room TV and joined them. The meal was simple: rice, grilled fish, and some steamed vegetables. But to Isagi, in his state of hunger, it felt like a feast.
As they ate, the silence was filled only by the clinking of cutlery and the faint sound of the breeze coming through the open window. But he knew he needed to speak. He took a deep breath and broke the quiet rhythm of the dinner:
"Dad, Mom… I wanted to ask for something."
Both looked up at him, attentive.
"I'm thinking about starting to go to a gym. I want to improve my physique more comprehensively, beyond field training." He paused briefly, organizing his words. "I also thought about picking up martial arts again. It'd be great for working on reflexes, balance, and discipline…"
Iyo tilted her head, surprised.
"Martial arts? Don't you already have enough on your plate with school and soccer practice?"
"That's exactly why…" Isagi replied without hesitation. "I haven't been pushing myself hard enough to achieve my dream. I want to make the most of my time. If I want to reach my goal, I can't just rely on what I'm already doing. I need to strengthen myself in every way."
Issei observed him for a few seconds, resting his elbows on the table. "And what exactly are you asking for?"
Isagi set down his chopsticks for a moment, staring at his plate as if the answer were written there.
"A loan. At least until I figure out a way to pay for it myself. The gym and martial arts fees will be a bit heavy… but I promise I'll take it seriously."
Silence settled over the table for a few seconds.
Iyo and Issei exchanged a glance, then looked at their son, more determined than ever. Issei sighed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You seem pretty serious about this. It's not just a whim, right?"
"No. I really want to work harder to become a soccer player."
Issei leaned back in his chair and gave a faint, almost tired smile.
"Always so determined… Alright. We'll see how much we can help. But you'll have to show us you're not wasting this effort."
Iyo sighed but didn't seem opposed.
"I just don't want you to overdo it to the point of getting hurt. If you're going to do this, do it responsibly."
Isagi bowed his head in gratitude.
"Thank you. I won't let you down."
---
The alarm blared at five in the morning, cutting through the silence of the room.
Isagi opened his eyes with difficulty. His entire body felt heavy, as if still stuck in the sand from the previous day's training. The urge to roll over and sleep more was almost irresistible… but he had already made his decision the night before.
He forced himself to get up. His feet met the cold floor, and the chill helped shake off some of the drowsiness. He quickly changed: a simple black t-shirt, sports shorts, and his worn-out sneakers. He tied back his messy hair with his hands, grabbed his backpack with a towel and water bottle, and left the house quietly to avoid waking his parents.
The street was still half-dark, the streetlights fading as the sky began to lighten. The morning air was fresh, almost cold, contrasting with the stuffy warmth of the previous night.
The gym wasn't far, about a fifteen-minute walk. He used the walk to wake up, observing the closed shops, the flickering streetlights, and the few early workers heading toward the station.
When he finally arrived, he found the gym's facade still new, with a sign glowing in red: *Saitama Fit Center*. It wasn't a large or luxurious gym, but it looked clean and well-equipped.
He pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. The space was nearly empty. Only an older, muscular man was arranging weights, with short black hair parted to the right, blue eyes, and faded stubble on his chin. He wore a dark long-sleeve shirt and light pants.
The man set down the dumbbells he was organizing and looked up as the glass door closed behind Isagi.
"Oh!" he said in a surprised but welcoming tone. "A new face around here. Welcome, kid."
Isagi approached, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. "Good morning. I… came to sign up. I want to start training."
The man flashed a wide grin.
"That's what I like to hear!" He extended his hand. "Fujio Uzaki. Owner of this humble gym."
Isagi shook his hand respectfully. "Yoichi Isagi. It's a pleasure."
"Yoichi-kun, huh?" Fujio repeated, as if testing the name. "Great! You'll see, we don't have luxury here, but we've got everything you need to get stronger."
As he led Isagi to the reception, Fujio struck up a conversation almost automatically, as if he enjoyed filling the silence. "You know, I'm not from around here. I came from the Kansai region. An old friend offered me this gym, and I thought, 'Why not?' I studied physical education with the goal of becoming a fitness instructor, so it felt like fate. You're my first client today—I just opened the gym yesterday."
"Really? So I'm the first? You could give me a discount for that…"
"Call me Fujio, I'm not *that* old. As for the discount? How about… 20%?"
"That's perfect for me! Thanks, Mr. Fujio!"
As they talked, they reached the free weights area. Fujio leaned against one of the benches, looking at Isagi. "Stop calling me 'Mr.' Just Fujio is fine, or no discount for you."
"Alright… Fujio."
"Good. Now I'm curious about something too. What brought you here so early?"
Isagi took a deep breath before answering, his eyes growing more serious. "Soccer. I want to go pro. But I know training on the field alone isn't enough. I need to strengthen my body in every way."
Fujio raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Hm, I like that determination. It's not every day I see a kid your age with such clarity about what they want."
He gave Isagi a light pat on the shoulder.
"Here's the deal: today, I'll give you a light adaptation workout. No overdoing it on the first day, or tomorrow you won't even get out of bed."
"Got it," Isagi agreed.
Fujio led him to one of the warm-up machines and nodded.
"First, treadmill. Ten minutes of light running, just to warm up the body."
Isagi hopped on without complaint, started the machine, and began his pace. For him, running was almost second nature, but Fujio's voice nearby made the atmosphere less quiet.
"So, Yoichi… you play soccer, right? What position?"
"Striker. I want to be a center forward, actually. But I still have a lot to improve to get to that level."
"Center forward, huh?" Fujio grinned, crossing his arms. "Well, I can't teach you how to score goals, but I can make your legs like steel."
When Isagi finished the light run, Fujio guided him through various exercises:
Each exercise came with quick explanations and practical tips from Fujio.
"Keep your spine straight, no hunching."
"Breathe. Don't hold your breath."
"Good job, kid. That's it!"
Even when panting, Isagi never stopped early. When his muscles burned, he gritted his teeth and pushed through. Fujio, used to seeing beginners give up quickly, watched in silence, clearly impressed.
After nearly an hour, Fujio called it a day.
"That's enough for today. If I let you keep going, you'll wake up tomorrow unable to get out of bed. Your body needs to adapt."
Isagi wiped the sweat from his forehead with his towel, still breathing heavily but with a small smile of satisfaction.
"Got it… but I wanted to keep going…"
"Are you crazy?" Fujio laughed loudly. "You're one heck of a teenager, the first time I've seen a newbie this determined. Reminds me of when I started. I like it. Seriously."
Isagi looked at him, surprised. He hadn't expected such direct praise.
"Thanks… I just don't want to waste time."
"And you won't." Fujio grabbed a water bottle and tossed it to him. "I'll make sure of that. You just need to keep showing up early like this."
They sat on a bench for a few minutes to rest.
The initial silence was broken by Fujio, who seemed to enjoy talking.
"Did you know I have three kids?" he said suddenly, adjusting his long-sleeve shirt. "The oldest is nineteen and just started college. Part of why I moved here was because of that—better universities around here. My middle kid is seventeen, in his third year of high school, a bit older than you. The youngest is about your age, fourteen, and goes to a private school. And my wife… ah, my wife is a gem. You know, opening this gym was only possible because she believed in me."
Fujio's eyes lit up when he talked about his family, and Isagi listened attentively.
"And you, Yoichi?" Fujio tilted his head, curious. "Got a girlfriend?"
Isagi gave a light laugh, scratching the back of his sweaty neck.
"Nah… not even thinking about that now. I want to focus entirely on soccer."
Fujio raised his eyebrows and let out a loud laugh.
"HAHA! Alright, alright! But let me tell you, kid… when you do get one, you'll need someone who can keep up with an athlete's routine. It's not easy."
Isagi smiled back but didn't say anything.
Fujio stood up, extending his hand.
"So, partner… welcome to Saitama Fit Center. I'll be on your case until you get really strong."
Isagi shook his hand firmly. "I'm counting on you, Fujio."
---
Isagi left the gym after sorting out all the details of his schedule and paying the membership fee. Sweat still clung to his skin, and the towel over his shoulders was soaked.
The street was now fully awake.
The sun was rising in the sky, casting orange hues on the facades of houses and shops, and traffic was starting to build at the main intersections.
Isagi walked back, adjusting his backpack, thinking this was just the first of many days like this.
Fifteen minutes later, he turned the corner to his street. The house was quiet as usual in the mornings, but the front door opened before he could step inside.
His father, Issei, appeared in the doorway, dressed in his usual dark suit, tie neatly adjusted, and a briefcase in hand. He paused for a moment, surprised to see his son up so early.
"…Went for a run?" he asked curiously, adjusting his glasses.
Isagi took a deep breath, raising a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
"Actually, I just got back from the gym."
Issei looked at his son for a second, and a faint smile appeared, sincere, almost too proud to fit on his face. "Hm. So you really went through with it… Didn't think it'd be this early in the morning."
"Yeah, I looked up the gym's hours online and found one nearby that opens at five. It's easier for me, even if I have to wake up early for it."
His father gave a low chuckle, a short but approving sound. "That's good to hear. Keep it up."
Isagi just smiled back, climbing the first steps of the stairs to the upper floor. His father, ready to head out, watched his son disappear down the hallway for a moment. Before walking toward the street, he murmured to himself, still smiling:
"That kid… he's growing up faster than I thought."
As the sound of his father's footsteps faded down the sidewalk, Isagi closed the door behind him and headed straight to his room. He still had to get ready quickly for school, take a cold shower to shake off the lingering fatigue, put on his uniform, and head out…
__________________
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