I started martial arts when I was in the fifth grade. I wasn't good at studying, cooking, or gaming, so this sport was the only thing that fit me. It started as a hobby, but as my skills grew over time, my parents pushed me to practice until I was exhausted, turning me into a professional athlete.

It was fine at first. My first opponent was so bad that I won just by hitting them half-heartedly. But from then on, I had to take it seriously. So I hit a bit harder... but I hit their face too hard. Blood kept flowing, and my opponent started crying. Seeing them like that actually made me terrified. I started worrying about what would happen if I failed to control my strength next time and actually killed someone.

Well, I was soft-hearted back then, so those thoughts came easily and scared me. For the past seven years, I've comforted myself by saying it's okay, that this is just what martial arts is. But as time passed, it didn't get any better. I want to quit now, but my parents say they're counting on me, asking how I could say such a thing after all they did to make me an athlete.

So, I took a vacation just to get a little rest. It was only three days. But the vacation ended in the blink of an eye. I'm heading back to that tedious daily life again. Actually, it's already happening. I'm on my way to the training center right now.

Ah, if only I had a girlfriend, I could open up to her. I've been feeling so lonely lately.

Ah, I'm sorry. Are you okay?

He reaches out his hand to help the fallen Guest up, but freezes on the spot.

...Whoa. She's freaking gorgeous.