• • • • •

Zeus's POV

3 years ago...

"Pa, am I doing it right?"

I stepped back, ducking and punching the air countless times. What I'm doing right now is foreseeing someone's move in front of me that only I could see. In my imagination, I dodged again and didn't hesitate to use my full strength to throw a jab on somebody's face from below. I imagined it was my opponent from my upcoming fight on stage.

"Yes, but you got to hit it harder and improve your keenness in reading your opponent. Got it?" father showed me a sample of how should I be fast in dodging and throwing a punch, "You're already fast enough but be faster this time."

This technique is called shadowboxing practice, in which I would throw punches into the air as if I am fighting an opponent. Typically, this is utilized in boxing to prepare the boxer's muscles before their training engages in more strenuous physical activity.

But how can I perform other exercises when I have been practicing shadowbox for how many hours now? I deserve a break.

"But, Pa. I'm already tired. I've been shadowboxing for like... five hours now. Can I take a rest?" I stopped punching and went to my father to face him. I know if faced him, he'd take the hint and would eventually give me mercy. I'm his weakness after all since I'm his son.

"You'll do that after running five laps," he said, crossing his arms.

"Oh, come on! Please, let me breathe at least!" I begged.

In this sizzling gym, I could feel my sweat streaming through every inch of my body. I took a long breath, sweat flowing from my brow while waiting for his reaction. My father stared at me as if I were a stubborn person. I don't really care... Let's say I'm concerned, but not overly so. I won't take his look seriously since I know he's acting in my best interests, my aspirations, and my pleasure.

"Haha, joking. Okay, take a rest for now," he smiled and so did I.

"Hah, finally!" I felt really happy that I got to rest now. I found the nearest chair which was the wood weight bench and immediately got there to take my time sitting and resting.

I was complaining, not because I hate boxing, but to take a serious rest at least. Shadowboxing should be taken at least fifteen minutes or half an hour. Yet I had to do it for five hours. Do I have to box until I die? My training's just so different.

Later on, my father, who is also my coach, came up behind me and patted my shoulder while handing me a bottle of water. I hurriedly popped the bottle's cap and drank all of the water, essentially eating and washing in it.

"You're doing as what I've expected, son. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Pa. I'll be sure to bring that WBC belt for you!" I said, breathing out after drinking the water. I am satisfied now.

"Haha, silly. Don't overdo it, all right? There is always next time," he went nearer to the door, maybe to prepare to step outside, "Boxers fear defeat. The thing that makes them the strongest is their will to overcome their fear."

I nearly choked on what he had just said. Is he a saint or something? He seldom used such profound words, and this is the first time I've heard them. I recoiled in horror.

"Damn, Pa. You preacher now?"

"Shut up, boy. Now take a rest. That will be your assignment for the rest of the day. Don't forget to do squat punches before sleeping, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll do that. You have my word," I said, taking off my sport shoes and changing them to sneakers.

Before he went out, he stopped at the door and faced all of the trainees practicing inside the gym, and announced, "All of you... go home and take a rest for now. It's still 5 pm so in the meantime, do what you want. The gym will be immediately closed and will be open again tomorrow same time... 8 in the morning."

Following that, all of the trainees stopped performing physical activities and walked to their own lockers to change clothes or relax. Some took showers in the rear of the gym's shower area, while others teased one another.

"And my son..." he lowered down his voice and winked at me, "... see you at home later."

I smiled and nodded at him as my response. Not too long after, he headed home first.

As for me, I went to my locker to get my bag and my gloves. I need these gloves to practice punching in my room at home later. I also have my own punching bag hanging in my room, it was my favorite kind.

I tend to practice all the time. Nobody's pressuring me and no one's forcing me to pursue boxing so hard. Both my mother and father supported me with my early career, so I am very thankful to both of them. Although my mother doesn't really pay attention to my fights, my father was always there to cheer me up. She's always busy with her work and I can't blame her for that.

I was all right with it.

Instead of waiting for the trainees to depart the gym, I ran to the exit to hurry back home instead, leaving them there. I don't have time to wait for all of them. Besides, the key is not on me, it's on Coach Tariman, so it's his responsibility to lock the gym afterward.

I've been interested in boxing since I was three years old. Of course, it's not something that sprang into my head out of nowhere. Someone influenced me and I was inspired by him. And I believe he was the reason I was born.

Let's see...

I first saw him on television, which was quite a typical hobby for a kid like me---to always watch TV. Since I disliked moving around as a child, I was always watching sports since I had nothing else to do. I was too lazy to move around even standing up.

My father wasn't always at home, so it was up to my mother to look after me. But she's always preoccupied with her work at her office, so basically, she's not really looking after me. She had her own office within our house, where she could work discreetly and unbothered. We weren't actually that close despite living in the same house, but I was cool with it. She couldn't even feed me a single grain of rice. However, I was grateful for it. As a result of that, I met my hero.

As a three-year-old kid, I was always busy watching a basketball game on television. I like how I enjoyed watching the players run merely for that interesting ball. I can't remember what I did, but I accidentally pressed the "next" button on the remote, which took me to the next channel at the moment. Despite the fact that I appeared inattentive, I saw a familiar eagle-browed man on stage. His brows were similar to mine, as were his eyes. They were too fierce, broad, and hawk-like.

The man boldly stepped up within the boxing ring, regardless of the fact that the large red gloves he wore bothered me. I was speechless at how glad he was when he held the large gleaming belt he was carrying.

For the first time in my toddler life, I saw a light when I first glanced at the man I didn't know I would adore.

The loud applause, the lights, and the middle of the ring, the determination, and the passion. Every one of those things... I wished to reach them someday. I, as well, aspire to be at the top like that person.

"Oh, my son?"

Following the voice was a sound of a closing door. It means my father was already at home. I had no idea but I ran onto him and embraced him tightly, saying, "I want to be like you, Pa!"

After his long stare, he laughed and carried me in his arms. He looked curious so he asked, "You want to be what?"

At that time, his eyes were strolling around the room. He appeared to get a glimpse of the television in the living room, where the channel showed himself on top of the boxing ring. That might be why he changed his happy smile into a very delighted one.

"So you want to punch-punch like me, huh?" he laughed again, tickling me.

That's the starting line of my life. I had no idea my father was a famous boxer until I saw him on TV, even though that game was a replay.

Day after day, he was always making plans regarding his career. Another month had passed after his fight, I heard he had another fight coming up so he was busy again for preparation. That could be the reason why he's always not at home. But I was fine with it. I can watch him on TV anyways.

My mother sometimes allowed me to come to watch my father fighting live at the venue but she's always busy so I didn't really get the chance to at least see my father fighting in person. So I was really excited about it when I heard my father's fight will be in the next three days, I had to see him on stage again... even though I can only see him on the television.

The day finally came and I went to my father's room to get his boxing gloves kept inside his cabinet. While watching him fighting, I imitated his moves, following a loud cheering on my own.

Not to brag but... he won. He's always the winner in his every fight so it's literally no surprise. It felt like I also won the fight, it was the great feeling I ever had.

After watching my father's fight, I watched another clip of him again. Again and again, never-ending until I got addicted to boxing. After watching his fight over and over, every day, I finally thought about starting my own training as a young kid.

I wanted to be like my father.

When I was around six years old, my father retired from being a boxer because of his age. He said that's where always one person leads the end of their journey.

But life must go on.

His career in boxing may be over but at the same time, a new journey awaited him as well. He was satisfied with the boxing journey he had, it was the life he ever wanted. So then, he decided to be a coach in a gym he established when he won his twentieth match. He was in his twenties at the time when he had his twentieth victory.

That's the gym I used to train at now.

I mean... right now, he's also busy training these guys in the gym. He's not the only coach though, in fact, there were countless of them. Because my father was famous back in their generation, a lot decided to check out this gym after knowing he decided to be a coach. And they signed to be part of the coaches, some also signed to be one of the staff. They were quite well-experienced though and fortunately, some of them were his high-school friends.

Yet my father's always on full-time.

Let's say, he's training all these three men, and at the same time, he's also training me. How would he be able to teach us at the same time when he's not taking a rest too?

An organization would pay my father his salary. I have no idea what kind of organization it is but all I know was that it was a huge pay, good for a three-month ordinary wage.

It was a pretty huge sum.

Walking through the alley, there was a vending machine beside the store so I thought of buying a can of juice to soothe my mood upon going all the way back home. While I inserted a coin, I heard a voice at the back of the wall... right in this solemn street.

"Ahh, please. I want the money you borrowed from me right away. You see... I'm so tight with money nowadays, so please understand. And I need the money for my son's school fees. I want to ---"

Was that a voice? I thought there'd be no people around here. The street seemed to be an expiring place though.

This area was always quiet. I have no idea why, but I think it's because the people living here got quite so old that they couldn't bear another child to provide care and support.

After passing this street, there'd be this lively place. And that area is where our house is located.

But thinking it through, I heard a voice right in this subdued alley. It's piqued my interest.

"It doesn't mean you were once famous, you're going to threaten us. Use your brain and stop being an idiot for once. We will repay at once so can you please stop calling us now?" said the voice of a man on the other line of the call, which I heard because of this thin wall.

I didn't mean to overhear their conversation but their conversation seemed so wrong.

"Threaten"? The person was just asking for money POLITELY. Where's the threat in that?

"Thank you. Thank you so much," gladly said the man who asked for his money.

And so, the phone call ended.

The other line of the phone came from a man's voice. He sounded so untrustworthy person that my blood almost boiled with anger because of his attitude. If it were me whom he's talking to, I would rather beat him up than just thank him.

He has no respect.

Yet I felt a little disheartened to this man who's asking for his money.

Because...

The one asking for the money...

...was my father.