March mornings in Japan were crisp, the kind of cool that bit at your skin just enough to wake you up. Riku jogged lightly down the path to the park, his breath visible in the early air. The world was quiet, save for the rhythmic thud of his sneakers on the pavement. His muscles burned, but it was a good kind of pain—the kind that told him he was finally doing something worthwhile with this body.
This body, he thought, flexing his fingers briefly as he ran. There was strength there, raw and untamed. Lars had always been strong in spirit, but his old body? It had been practical, not impressive. This one, though? It held potential. At 13 and already 6'0", his frame was brimming with power and still growing. If only the old Riku had done something with it.
"Lazy bastard," Riku muttered to himself, shaking his head with a faint smirk. The old Riku hadn't been bad, but he'd been adrift—floating through life without purpose. And now, here Lars was, determined to make up for every wasted second.
The park came into view, the faint outlines of the court visible through the morning haze. He dropped his workout bag onto a bench and pulled out his water bottle. The world was still waking up, but Riku? He was ready.
Coach Scheyer's regimen wasn't flashy, but it was brutal in its simplicity. Lunges were first, each step deliberate, the pull in his thighs grounding him. Air squats followed, his body sinking low and rising steadily, over and over. Push-ups burned through his arms and chest, while pull-ups tested his shoulders and back. Then came the dreaded crawls—bear crawls and crab walks across the court, movements that made him feel ridiculous but left his muscles screaming.
The circuit was about building foundations—no shortcuts, no frills, just the basics done to perfection. Squats, deadlifts, and presses would come later, once his body could handle the load. For now, it was all about mastering control and resilience.
He paused for a drink, sweat dripping down his face as his breath evened out. The soreness from earlier in the week was fading, replaced by a different kind of burn—one that came with progress. He was getting stronger. He could feel it.
A shadow fell across the court, and Riku glanced up to see Teppei Kiyoshi approaching. Teppei was hard to miss. At 6'6", he towered over most people and with hands that could palm the ball like it was a toy. His stride was relaxed but purposeful, a bag slung over his shoulder, and that easy grin visible even from a distance.
"Morning," Teppei called, his voice carrying over the quiet.
"Been at it for a bit," Riku replied, grabbing his ball and tilting his head toward the court. "Figured I'd get a head start. Don't want you thinking I'm slacking."
Teppei's laugh was warm, matching the glint in his eyes as he dropped his bag onto the bench beside Riku's. "Slacking? After seeing you like this? I think the entire team would faint if they heard that."
Riku shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "Gotta keep people on their toes."
"Fair enough," Teppei said, leaning casually against the bench. His eyes flicked to the court, where the faint outlines of Riku's footprints in the morning dew hinted at his earlier work. "Looks like you're putting in the hours. But tell me something, Riku are you just working hard, or are you working efficiently?"
The question caught Riku off guard, and he blinked at Teppei, processing the challenge behind his words. "Guess you'll find out when we hit the court."
Teppei's grin widened. "That's what I like to hear. Let's have some fun!"
Teppei Kiyoshi lazily palmed the ball in his hand. His easy grin widened as he glanced at Riku. "Alright, let's play a quick game to five. I need to see where you're at."
Riku caught the ball Teppei tossed his way, narrowing his eyes. "And here I thought we were just working on drills today."
Teppei chuckled, his towering 6'6" frame moving fluidly as he stepped into position. "We are. But this is part of it. A game tells me more than any drill can."
Riku smirked, dribbling experimentally. "Fine, but don't complain when I surprise you."
Teppei grinned, sliding into a defensive stance. "Let's see what you've got, then."
Riku dribbled, testing Teppei's reactions. Teppei's long arms extended slightly, his footwork light and deliberate, cutting off any easy drives. Riku hesitated for a moment, then made his move—a sharp crossover followed by a burst of speed toward the basket. Teppei moved to cut him off, but Riku pivoted mid-step, spinning and pulling up for a short jumper.
The ball swished through the net.
"1-0," Riku said, exhaling sharply. His heart raced, not from exhaustion but from the thrill of the challenge.
Teppei's grin widened, his eyes growing hungry. "Nice move. My turn."
Teppei grabbed the ball and checked it to Riku before backing him down toward the post. Riku dug in, using his size and strength to resist Teppei's push, but Teppei was unbothered. His movements were calculated, each pivot and shoulder fake forcing Riku to adjust. Then, without warning, Teppei spun, his back now to Riku, and smoothly banked in a hook shot.
"1-1," Teppei said, jogging back with a casual ease that irked Riku slightly.
On the next possession, Riku went for speed again, driving hard to the right. Teppei, however, anticipated it, sliding effortlessly to block the lane. Riku adjusted mid-stride, pulling up for a contested floater. Teppei's hand was there, tipping the ball away before it could leave Riku's fingers.
"Not bad, but predictable," Teppei remarked as he grabbed the loose ball and transitioned into offense. Riku sprinted back on defense, determined to make up for the block.
Teppei advanced to the paint, Riku meeting him head-on. Teppei faked a spin and Riku bit, shifting his weight. With a single, fluid motion, Teppei stepped through and laid the ball off the glass.
"2-1," he called out, bouncing the ball back to Riku.
Riku's next possession was a battle of wills. He jab-stepped, feigned a drive, and then took a deep breath before launching an awkward three-point attempt. The ball soared and hit the rim, bouncing high into the air. Teppei was already in position, plucking the rebound with his Vice Claw, one hand controlling the ball as if it were an extension of himself.
Riku sprinted back, planting himself in front of Teppei to cut off the fast break. Teppei slowed, his eyes scanning Riku's stance. "Let's see if you can stop this," he said, his voice low but teasing. He faked a drive, drawing a slight shift in Riku's weight, before pivoting sharply. Riku recovered quickly, his arms extended and his body poised.
Teppei spun on his pivot foot, using his size to create just enough separation. Launching himself upward, he brought the ball down with a thunderous dunk that rattled the rim and sent a vibration through Riku's chest.
"3-1," Teppei said, landing gracefully and tossing the ball back to Riku.
The next possession saw Riku trying to drive again, this time with more patience. He feinted left, then crossed over, using his body to shield the ball as he approached the basket. Teppei stayed with him, his long arms cutting off the angle. Forced to improvise, Riku twisted mid-air, tossing up a reverse layup that spun perfectly off the glass and into the net.
"3-2," Riku said, his chest heaving as he bent down to catch his breath.
"You're making me work," Teppei admitted, but his tone was light, as if he wasn't quite done yet.
Teppei took control again, this time moving with more urgency. He posted up against Riku, his back like a wall as he edged closer to the basket. Riku pushed back, his muscles straining, but Teppei's movements were deliberate. With a sudden burst, Teppei turned and launched another hook shot, the ball arcing high before swishing cleanly through the net.
"4-2."
Riku wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind racing. He wasn't going to let Teppei take the last point easily. He drove hard again, pushing his body to its limits. Teppei met him at the paint, their bodies colliding as Riku attempted a spin move. Teppei held his ground, forcing Riku to retreat and attempt a fadeaway jumper.
The shot hit the back of the rim and bounced out. Teppei didn't hesitate, grabbing the rebound and transitioning into offense in one fluid motion. Riku chased him, determined to cut off the drive.
Teppei slowed at the three-point line, his eyes narrowing. He dribbled twice, then surged forward. Riku matched him step for step, planting himself in front of the basket. But Teppei's experience shone through. He faked a drive, then stepped back for a mid-range jumper. The ball swished through the net, ending the game.
"5-2," Teppei said, holding out a hand to Riku. "Good game."