The light creeping through Riku's curtains was soft, the kind of morning light that felt like an invitation to linger in bed. But he had no intention of doing that. His muscles groaned as he stretched, reminding him of yesterday's workout. Coach Scheyer's training regimen wasn't pulling any punches, but that was the point. Pain meant progress.
Riku pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced around his room. It was small, but it was his, a space he didn't take for granted. Growing up in an orphanage in Japan was nothing like how he'd grown up in Sweden. Lars had grown up with a regular family, distant, maybe, but there when needed. He missed his mom and dad in a way that tugged at his chest every now and then, but it wasn't the kind of sharp ache that left him dwelling. Still, there was a difference here, an unspoken weight.
Adoption wasn't that common here in Japan apparently, often leading many kids to stay in an orphanage until they were 18 years old and could take care of themselves. That reality cast a shadow over the otherwise lively corridors of the house. While the kids here laughed, bickered, and found moments of joy, there was always an unspoken understanding of what the future might hold.
Over the past week, Riku had made it a point to learn about the people he lived with truly learn, not just exist alongside them. The first door he passed belonged to Kiba and Itsuki. Kiba was a bundle of energy, always going on about basketball whenever Riku had a spare moment to humor him. His fascination with the sport was endearing, even if his enthusiasm sometimes bordered on relentless. Itsuki, on the other hand, was his quieter counterpart, a shadow that balanced Kiba's light. Together, the two were inseparable, their shared room a chaotic mix of scattered basketball magazines and tidy rows of model airplanes.
Next came Miko's room. The ten-year-old was the newest addition to the orphanage, and her timid nature made her stand out among the more boisterous personalities. Lars—no, Riku—couldn't help but feel protective of her. She'd been here just a few weeks before he arrived, and no one, not even the other kids, seemed to know much about her past. Her thick glasses often slid down her nose when she peeked at him shyly during meals, but there was a quiet intelligence behind her reserved demeanor.
The last two doors belonged to the twins, Saki and Mei. Saki's bold laughter often rang through the halls, while Mei was more likely to be found curled up with a book, her quiet presence a stark contrast to her sister's liveliness. Riku smiled faintly as he imagined Saki already scheming some prank for later in the day, while Mei would likely roll her eyes and half-heartedly try to dissuade her.
Then there was Hiro. His door was still closed, but Riku paused briefly. The older boy wasn't exactly a friend, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. Hiro was the only other thirteen-year-old in the house, and while they didn't always see eye to eye, Riku respected him. They weren't close, but they shared a mutual protectiveness over the younger kids, an unspoken pact forged not in words but in actions.
Riku continued to the kitchen, where the matron was already awake, sipping tea as she flipped through a worn notebook. She glanced up, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on him.
"You're up early again," she remarked.
"Can't sleep in with so much to do," Riku replied, pulling eggs and bacon from the fridge. He could feel her eyes lingering on him, as if weighing the change in him. From meek to confident, but quietly the transformation hadn't gone unnoticed.
She didn't press, though. She just smiled faintly and returned to her notes, leaving him to his thoughts as the scent of sizzling bacon filled the room. It was still early, but by 8:00, Riku planned to be outside, starting his routine. Teppei was expecting him by 9:00, and if there was one thing Lars had carried into this new life, it was a determination to never show up unprepared.
Riku wolfed down his breakfast, shoving the last piece of bacon into his mouth. He pushed his plate aside, stood up, rinsed it off, and left it neatly on the drying rack. He grabbed his workout bag from the hook by the door. Inside were his basketball shoes, a towel, a water bottle, and the slightly scuffed ball he'd been using all week. He was about to leave the orphanage when he nearly collided with Hiro in the hallway.
Hiro blinked at him, his hair sticking up in every direction, looking like he'd just emerged from a wrestling match with his pillow. "What's got you moving like this so early?" he groaned out, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Training," Riku replied shortly, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Big day."
Hiro squinted at him like he didn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Training? On a Saturday morning? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Riku?"
"Figured I'd give the rest of you slackers something to aspire to," Riku shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Hiro leaned against the doorframe, stifling a yawn. "Aspire to what? Waking up at an ungodly hour to run around like a lunatic? Hard pass, man."
"Some of us have goals, Hiro," Riku said, tilting his head mockingly. "You should try it sometime. Maybe join a club? Or are you planning to win the world's laziest teenager award?"
Hiro snorted, standing up straighter. "Hey, I'm not lazy. I'm just... strategically conserving energy. And clubs? Yeah, I don't need anyone yelling at me to 'dig deep' or whatever you basketball types do."
"Right. Because yelling at yourself is so much more effective," Riku teased, stepping toward the door. "Enjoy conserving that energy. Meanwhile, I'll be out there getting better."
"Yeah, yeah," Hiro muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just don't go tearing your ACL or something. Who's gonna do all the dishes if you can't even stand up?"
"Good point. Guess you'll have to step up if that happens," Riku said over his shoulder. He paused at the door, turning back with a mock-serious expression. "Don't strain yourself thinking about it."
"Don't count on it, Riku," Hiro called after him with a grin. "But hey, good luck. You're actually kinda fun to root for now."
Riku laughed softly, shaking his head as he stepped outside into the cool morning air. Hiro's usual sarcasm had its edges softened this time, and it lingered with him as he set off for his morning jog.