I rode my motorbike on the way to the gym. The one I signed up for was pretty far from home—about 30 minutes away, if the road wasn't too crowded.
The gym was on the other side of the city. I actually discovered it by accident, when a dog started chasing me and I ran past it.
37 minutes later
I arrived at the gym, parked my bike in the lot, grabbed my bag, and walked toward the front desk.
Looking around, I noticed a few familiar faces.
"It's been a while,"
Coach Chino greeted me with a smile and a fist bump. He owned the gym and was the one who first taught me the basics of working out. He is 155cm tall, brown eyes, bald, he wears white tank top, a brown shorts, a brown belt bag and a sandals, and he always gives off a positive aura around him. He look around in his 40s
"Yeah, I've been busy lately, Coach,"I said as I signed in on the attendance sheet.
"I heard today was your school's graduation day,"he said, handing me a locker key.
"It was. It actually ended just a few hours ago. I decided to come here to burn off some of the pent-up stress."
I smiled and took the key.
"That's great! Good thing you did,"Coach nodded approvingly.
"You know, keeping all those negative feelings bottled up—it's not healthy. You might end up doing something you'll regret."
He said that with a sad smile.
"Yeah…"
"Anyway, enjoy your workout!"
Then he leaned in and whispered,"Your gym crush is inside."
He winked, and I gave him a helpless smile. He always tried to pair me up with any girl in the gym.
"You and my grandpa would get along well. You've got the same antics."
"HAHAHAHA! Really?!"
"Yeah."
"Well, invite your Gramps here! I'll give you both a free one-month membership—HAHAHAHA!"
I smiled at him.
'This old man just wants another drinking buddy.'
"Sure, thanks, Coach!"
I walked over the Locker and put my bag inside.
I walked into the gym. It was quieter than usual, with only a few people inside—faces I recognized from my first month of lifting. I gave them each a quick fist bump as a greeting.
Heading toward the lounge area, I spotted her—the girl Coach had been teasing me about lately.
I think her name's Natasha. A foreigner, probably around 165 cm tall, with a slender yet athletic build. Her light brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her sharp green eyes held the kind of quiet focus that made her stand out. She had a faint scar running across her left eyebrow, like a slash of character etched into her face. Honestly? She was pretty. Cool-looking, too.
I first noticed her a while back, during one of my afternoon sessions. She loaded up a barbell with 350 lbs and squatted it for twelve reps. My jaw nearly dropped. That was the moment she caught my attention. And apparently, Coach noticed how often my eyes would wander in her direction—that's probably why he started teasing me and trying to "ship" us.
As I approached the couch where she was sitting, she looked up. I gave her a small nod and a fist bump.
That was it. Nothing more.
'I appreciate her beauty and strength—but that alone isn't enough to capture my heart.'
I took off my hoodie and placed it on the table. I needed a few minutes to recover before starting my warm-up. That 30-minute ride through congested traffic had taken its toll on me.
I sank into the couch, leaned back, and pulled out my phone. I opened the video-sharing app, mindlessly scrolling. For the next ten minutes, my feed was flooded with breaking news clips: a massive 8.8-magnitude earthquake had struck on the other side of the world. Reports said it wasn't just a one-time event—it had been escalating for the past few days.
Tsunami warnings were spreading across nearby regions, and there were even alerts for possible volcanic eruptions.
'I hope Grandpa's okay...'
I looked up and glanced at the couch across from me—Natasha was gone. I must've gotten so lost in my feed that I didn't even notice her leave.
Shaking off the heaviness of the news, I made my way to the warm-up area on the left side of the gym. Resistance bands, light dumbbells, medicine balls—it was all there. I grabbed a tension band and started warming up my shoulders.
Warming up before a heavy lift isn't just some gym bro advice—it's essential. I learned that the hard way during my third month of training. One time, I went straight for two 65-lb dumbbells without preparing my shoulders. Almost tore my rotator cuff. It was a dumb move. Luckily, I recovered after a few weeks, but I've never skipped a warm-up since.
Ten minutes later, my shoulders felt ready—loose and primed.
Time to start the real work.
Chest first.Shoulders next.Finish with some triceps.
I cracked my knuckles, looked at the bench, and nodded to myself.
"Lezz go."
TWO HOURS LATER
The dri-fit shirt clung to my back, drenched in sweat. My chest was pumped, arms heavy, shoulders torched—but in the best way possible.
I sat in the mobility area, letting my body cool down as I rested.
The gym was starting to get crowded now. The playlist had shifted to something more phonk, bass-heavy and gritty, echoing between the clangs of weights. The air smelled faintly of iron, rubber mats, and effort. I reached for the water bottle I bought from the front desk halfway through the session—forgot mine at home. I chugged the last few sips and sat down on the bench to catch my breath.
Every rep I did felt like it melted away the weight I'd been carrying all day.The image of students surrounded by their parents.The quiet worry I held for my pops.And something heavier I couldn't quite name.
The pressure from school. The uncertainty that clung to me after graduation. Even the unease from the earthquake news circling the world.All of it faded—rep by rep.
I understand why Grandma and Grandpa couldn't come—and that's okay.But the absence of the ones who should have been there…It cut deeper than I was ready for.
Where were you, Mom?Where were you, Dad?Your son just graduated.Did you even notice?Did you even care?
Three years ago, I stood beside my sister's coffin—your daughter. I haven't seen either of you since.And now, on a day that should've been shared with family, all I could feel was the silence you left behind.
But for two hours... none of that mattered.
No grief.No questions.No echoes of things left unsaid.
Just the steady rhythm of movement. The cold feel of iron in my hands. The simple, brutal honesty of pushing weight—where effort equals result, and pain has purpose.
With every set, something in me slowly loosened. The ache in my chest faded, replaced by the burn in my muscles. My thoughts stopped racing. The noise in my head began to quiet down.
By the time I sat on the bench again, everything felt lighter—not just my body, but my mind, too.
The gym was still buzzing around me—people moving, music thumping, weights clanging—but inside, I felt still.
And in that stillness, I remembered why I kept showing up.Not just for strength.Not just to escape.
But to build something out of all this silence and weight.
To become stronger—not just in muscle, but in will.To grow—into someone I could be proud of.To become a better man, even if no one's watching.
Just me.The weight.And the promise that I won't break.
...
I walked over to the resting area, a towel draped over my head. I sat down, elbows on my knees, head hanging low, letting the fatigue settle into my body.
Suddenly, a pair of shoes appeared in my line of vision—and something cold and metallic pressed gently against my cheek.
I looked up.
It was Natasha, standing in front of me, holding out a white energy drink in a can. She didn't say anything, just looked at me—calm, unreadable, like always. But the gesture spoke for her.
"...Thanks,"I said, taking the drink from her hand.
"I'll repay you next time."
"No," she replied, almost casually."It's my birthday."
'I thought she already left two hours ago.''Guess not.'
"Well then… Happy Birthday, Natasha."
I offered her a small smile. She nodded, said nothing—and turned to walk away. But just before she did, I caught the slightest upward curve at the corner of her lips.
Tss!I cracked open the can and took a sip.
"Tastes good,"I muttered to myself, letting the cool drink ease down my throat.
I leaned back again, towel still over my head.
'I'll rest for a few more minutes… then take a shower before heading home.'
...
30 minutes later
I stood up and headed to the locker room to get my bag, then made my way straight into the shower area.
I usually prefer to shower only after my body stops sweating. I read somewhere it was better that way—helps your body regulate its temperature more naturally or something like that.
'Heh. I've probably put more effort into researching gym stuff than I ever did in our actual project research. What a fool.'
I grabbed another towel and stepped into the shower.
10 minutes later
I stood in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around my waist, gripping it with my right hand to keep it from falling.
I was 180 cm tall. Tanned skin. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes under thick black eyebrows. My body had changed a lot over the past year—muscular, athletic, down to 10% body fat. Broad shoulders. Strong arms. A physique I earned through early mornings and sore nights.
To be honest, I looked good. I knew it. And that wasn't arrogance—it was just truth.
I used to be a shell of myself. Pale, thin, hollow eyes. A walking stress machine. I still remember how anxious I was walking into the gym for the first time, second-guessing everything I did. Coach Chino's encouragement helped, but what really pushed me forward was the idea of becoming someone different. Someone better.
I posed a little, snapped a photo for progress, then stared a moment longer.
I'd started tanning too—wanted to look more like Grandpa and Grandma. They both had that deep, natural bronze glow to their skin. It made them look timeless, like they belonged to the earth itself.
As more people entered the shower area, I grabbed my stuff and changed quickly—oversized brown shirt, black shorts, and the same worn-out high-top Chuck Taylors.
'I'll take a couple mirror shots outside, then head home.'
I passed through the gym again, this time filled with even more people. The lounge area was buzzing with energy, conversations mixing with the thump of the bass-heavy playlist still running in the background. I glanced around, but Natasha was gone.
Maybe she really did leave after giving me that drink. That thought stayed with me longer than I expected.
At the front desk, I handed over my locker key to Coach Chino.
"Yo, Coach! Here's the key."
"Oh, heading home already?"
"Yeah, I've got something important to do. Gotta leave early."
"I see. Take care then. And don't forget to bring your Grandpa next time!"
"Will do, Coach! Thanks!"
I strapped on my helmet, adjusted the chin strap, and swung a leg over my bike. The sun was low now, casting long shadows on the pavement.
Then it happened.
A sudden burst of red light exploded across the gym parking lot. It wasn't like sunlight or brake lights—it was pure, deep red. Unnatural. It lit up everything around me, almost as if someone had turned the whole world into a photo negative for a split second.
Then—gone.
My chest tightened. A chill crept down my spine.
"Yo! Coach, did you see that?"I called out, louder than I meant to.
Coach Chino looked up from behind the desk."Huh? See what?"
I turned around, scanning the lot. No one else was reacting. Not a single head turned. Everyone continued like nothing happened.
"…No. Never mind," I muttered, still tense.I forced myself to breathe, slowly. My heart was pounding against my chest like I just finished a PR set.
'What the hell was that?'
I shook my head, trying to brush it off. I started the bike. The engine rumbled beneath me. But the feeling wouldn't leave. It clung to me, like the humidity after a storm.
Just before I pulled out of the lot, I glanced back at the gym one last time.
Everything looked normal.
Until it didn't.
The air shimmered faintly in the gym's glass door—just for a second. Like a ripple through something unseen.
Then a distant noise pulled my eyes upward.
Birds. hundreds of them.Flying fast across the sky in the same direction, wings beating hard like they were fleeing something.
It wasn't migration season.
A breeze passed, colder than it should've been.
I looked around. No one else seemed to notice. No one looked up.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening on the handlebars.
Weird…
Then I drove off.
Unaware that something in the worldhad just begun.