shattered life, REBORN

The morning air was sharp, crisp against his skin as Hiroki sprinted down the long stretch of road before the sun had even begun its ascent. His breath came in steady puffs, his feet pounding against the pavement in rhythmic determination. Three months ago, he would have never imagined himself like this—pushing beyond exhaustion, welcoming pain as proof of progress. But now, every step carried the weight of his resolve.

The First Three Days: Rage Over Reason

The first three days of training were a mess. Hiroki fought with nothing but fury, his strikes fueled by the memories of betrayal that haunted him like a specter. Every punch, every kick, was driven by anger, but there was no form, no strategy—only raw emotion. He swung wildly, his movements sloppy and desperate, his breathing uneven. It wasn't long before Peter D. Rasel stepped forward and stopped the session.

Peter stood before him, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable. Then, in a tone both calm and absolute, he spoke:

"When adrenaline is controlling your body, your chances of winning are less than one percent. But when your mind controls your body, your chances multiply. In a fight, the more calm and focused you are, the better you can predict your opponent's next move. Strength means nothing without control. Fighting is not about brute force—it is about skill, precision, and the mind that wields them. You must master yourself before you can master your enemy."

The words struck Hiroki deeper than any punch. For the first time, he realized he had been fighting ghosts instead of refining himself. That night, he lay awake, replaying Peter's words over and over in his head.

The First Month: Breaking and Rebuilding

The next day, Hiroki started his new routine—one that would become his foundation. Before the sun rose, he was out running, his legs burning as he pushed himself farther each day. The first two weeks were brutal. His body ached, his lungs burned, and every morning felt like war against himself. But he endured. He endured because he refused to stay weak.

His training regimen extended beyond running. Under Peter's strict guidance, Hiroki spent hours drilling basic combat movements—footwork, stance, balance. Over and over, until they became second nature. His meals were carefully planned, nourishing his body to adapt to the demands of his training. The results came faster than expected. His body, once weak and frail from months of neglect, hardened. Muscles formed where there had been none, his reflexes sharpened, and his endurance increased tenfold.

Peter tested him daily, forcing him to move faster, react quicker. Hiroki's punches became sharper, his kicks more controlled. Every mistake was met with correction, every improvement acknowledged with silent approval. By the end of the first month, Hiroki no longer relied on rage—his movements carried intent, his strikes had purpose.

The Second Month: Weight of Progress

The second month came with new challenges. Peter intensified the training, adding weight resistance to Hiroki's daily regimen. Ankle weights, wrist weights, a weighted vest—each one forcing him to push past his limits. Every movement became a struggle, but he refused to falter.

Kickboxing was reintroduced into his training, forcing him to relearn every strike, every counter, but this time, with discipline. Peter was relentless, correcting him with precise detail, ensuring Hiroki understood not just the 'how' but the 'why' behind every move. It wasn't just about hitting—it was about efficiency, control, and adaptability. Alongside this, Hiroki developed an interest in Judo. The art of using an opponent's strength against them fascinated him, and after persistent requests, Peter agreed to teach him.

Judo required patience and control—qualities Hiroki had struggled with. But under Peter's guidance, he absorbed every lesson quickly, throwing and locking opponents with an instinct that surprised even Peter himself. Hiroki's rapid improvement wasn't just from talent; it was fueled by an unwavering goal—never to be powerless again.

The Third Month: Cold Endurance and Mental Clarity

By the third month, Hiroki's transformation was undeniable. He had gone from an impulsive fighter fueled by rage to a disciplined warrior shaped by precision and control. But Peter introduced one final test—ice baths every morning.

At first, the freezing water was unbearable. Every nerve in Hiroki's body screamed, his breath hitched, and he nearly jumped out more than once. But Peter made it clear: this wasn't about enduring the cold—it was about mastering his reaction to it. Pain, discomfort, fear—all of it was just a sensation. It could be ignored, conquered. It took weeks, but eventually, Hiroki sat in the ice bath without flinching, his body adapting, his mind sharpening to a level he never thought possible.

Every day, he pushed himself further, his endurance growing alongside his skill. He trained tirelessly, sparring with Peter, analyzing weaknesses, and refining his techniques. His strikes became cleaner, his movements precise. He was no longer the same person who had arrived at this house three months ago—he had shed his past self, forged anew in discipline and perseverance.

Two Weeks Before School: Words of a Warrior

The night air was cool as Hiroki and Peter walked through the quiet streets of the city. The neon lights flickered above them, the distant hum of life filling the air. This was a rare moment of peace, a break from the grueling training. But Peter had one last lesson to impart.

"Discipline is not about following orders. It is about knowing when to act and when to restrain. The strongest fighter is not the one who throws the hardest punch but the one who chooses when to strike. Control over your body starts with control over your mind. If your emotions rule you, you will always be at their mercy. But if you rule them, then nothing—no fear, no pain, no hesitation—can stop you."

Peter paused, glancing at Hiroki. "Do you understand?"

Hiroki nodded, his expression firm. "I do."

Peter smirked. "Then show me."

Then, the air shifted.

A group of five men loitered ahead, their eyes locked onto a girl who was desperately trying to pull away from their grip. Her fear was evident, her struggle futile as they whispered cruel words, laughing at her distress.

Hiroki's body moved before his mind fully processed it. His heartbeat was steady, his breath controlled. There was no hesitation, no fear.

This was his test.

Peter stopped beside him, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Well then," he murmured, "let's see what you've learned."

To Be Continued...