August 20th, 2016.
The day Kenta is supposed to be at the gym by noon; gets prepared, focused, and ready for his fight. Instead, he's inside his parents' fruit shop, hunched over a stack of crates, arms burning as he drags them toward the storeroom.
The shop smells like ripe peaches and cardboard, afternoon heat sticking to the back of his neck. And from behind him, Goto Moriyama, his father, keeps barking instructions:
"Kenta! Don't scrape the floor! Lift… Lift the crates! Don't drag!"
Kenta bites down a reply and keeps working. One more crate, one more tray of oranges, one more thing that isn't supposed to be happening today.
By the time he pushes the last box into place, sweat slicking down his back, he wipes his hands on his apron and approaches the counter.
"Dad," he says, breath steadying. "I should go. Coach wants everyone at the gym by…"
But a loud rumble cuts him off. Another mini-truck pulls up outside, brakes hissing.
