"Booster Fighting World Championship," came an unexpected voice. Startled, James turned to see Mr. Otomi standing in the doorway, his expression heavy with sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," James stammered, hurriedly placing the picture back on the shelf and retreating to the sofa.

Mr. Otomi sighed and walked over to the photo, gazing at it for a brief moment. Then he turned to James, his usual energetic demeanour returning. "Let's get going, Jamie!" he exclaimed, ready to embark on their training.

James was taken aback by the abrupt transformation in Mr Otomi's demeanour, but he obediently followed his mentor out of the flat. As they walked through the dilapidated estate, James couldn't help but ask, "Where are we going?"

Mr. Otomi remained silent, leading the way toward a desolate, overgrown area behind one of the tower blocks in the estate. As James observed their surroundings, he voiced his concern, "Where are we going, Mr. Otomi? There's only bushes here."

"Jamie, don't be alarmed," Mr Otomi replied as he walked over to the bushes and unveiled a chain-linked fence. With a bit of effort, he tore it open, revealing a vast, sandy court stretching out like a football pitch. "I don’t know if you know this, but many moons ago, this estate was thriving," he began, addressing James. "We didn't have to worry about money for services because we had the money."

James gaped in amazement at the hidden training ground. "I can't believe something like this was here the whole time," he said, excitement coursing through him.

Mr Otomi couldn't help but smile at James's reaction. "A lot of great fighters were born here, James. Let's hope you join them." Nostalgia filled his eyes, and James was more determined than ever to start his training.

Setting his duffel bag on the court, James watched as Mr Otomi observed him taking out the booster boots from the bag. James then began to put them on his feet. It was Mr. Otomi who broke the silence this time, asking, "Where's your neuro link?"

James appeared puzzled. "Huh? Neuro link? What's that?" he inquired.

Mr. Otomi chuckled at James's ignorance. "How do you think we tell the boots to jump when we want to? You're lucky I have a spare in my bag." He reached into his bag and produced a metal band that ran from temple to temple. Mr. Otomi tossed it to James. "Click the red button until a red light comes on, then hold it next to your boots until it turns blue. After that, you can put on the neuro link and the booster boots."

James felt somewhat embarrassed about his lack of knowledge but followed Mr Otomi's instructions carefully. "The light turned blue, so can I put them on?" he asked.

Mr Otomi nodded approvingly. James proceeded to slide the booster boots onto his feet and attach the neuro link to his temples. As he got ready to unsheathe his sword, he asked Mr. Otomi, "Should I also get my sword out, Mr. Otomi?"

Mr. Otomi shook his head and replied, "No, Jamie, today we're only focusing on movement." Although his enthusiasm remained, it was evident that something weighed heavily on the old man's mind.

Mr Otomi meticulously set up a perimeter, using cones to section off half of the court. He explained his plan to James, saying, "Today, I just want you to get used to boosting. So, all you have to do is try not to get hit." A friendly smile crossed Mr Otomi's face as he reached into his bag to retrieve his own booster boots, neuro link, and sword.

James wore a look of sheer horror as he stuttered, "What do you mean, Sir?" 

Mr. Otomi chuckled as he geared up. "James, the best way to learn is through experience." 

James stood in shock while Mr Otomi finished preparing. "3... 2... 1..." Mr. Otomi counted down, then boosted toward James with his sword drawn.

Mr Otomi's sword sliced through the air, forcing James to leap backwards into a corner of the court. With a taunting tone, Mr. Otomi asked, "Good job dodging, boy. Now, how are you going to escape?"

As James struggled to regain his composure, the rush of adrenaline was palpable. He knew Mr. Otomi was an exceptional mentor, but this training exercise was far more intense than he had expected. In a momentary pause before the next attack, James sidestepped nimbly, narrowly evading Mr. Otomi's swinging blade. The force of the movement propelled Mr Otomi forward, and James instinctively activated his booster boots, launching himself into the air. Darting across the court, James couldn't believe what he had just accomplished; it felt natural as if he had been doing it his entire life.

The look of amazement in Mr Otomi's eyes was impossible to miss as he observed James gracefully navigating the air using the boosters. He paused, his sword poised for action, and a genuine smile crossed his face. "Well done, James!" Mr. Otomi exclaimed, his voice filled with admiration. "You've surpassed my expectations. I can see a younger me inside of you."

James landed on the opposite side of the court, a whirlwind of exhilaration and disbelief enveloping him. He gazed at Mr. Otomi, his eyes shimmering with newfound confidence. "I can't believe I did that," he gasped. "It felt incredible like I was in complete control of my body. The boosters, the dodges...everything just clicked."

Mr. Otomi nodded with a sense of pride. "Yes, James. You've unlocked potential within yourself. Your natural talent, combined with dedication and hard work, will lead to improvement. May I ask, James, why do you want to become a Booster Fighter?"

James was taken aback by the question, momentarily lost in thought. "I never wanted to be anything. I've never had a goal or a dream," he began, his voice tinged with a sense of realization. "Living around here, having a dream makes you seem foolish. That's what I believed, until a couple of days ago. Me and Sam stumbled upon Tobias Starling and Albert Merrick having a mecha fight in a field, and it blew me away. After witnessing masters at work, I finally knew what I wanted to do. I know what Mecha Fighting represents, but I also know I can be the one to break down the discriminatory borders." James concluded his speech, his passion palpable.

Mr Otomi regarded James with intrigue. "So, where does Booster Fighting come into this?" he inquired.

"Booster Fighting is the key!" James exclaimed, his enthusiasm unabated. "It will be my path to compete for money and, eventually, to afford a Mecha suit. It offers me real experience and fighting skills, bringing me closer to my sole life's dream."

Mr Otomi looked amused. "It takes a very special person to boost correctly the first time using the boots. I have no doubt you'll go far."

James beamed at Mr Otomi's comment. "Well, I have three years to make it count," he declared, a blazing passion in his eyes.

"Now, Mr. Otomi, can you answer my question?" James inquired, looking at the older man.

Mr. Otomi seemed to withdraw from the conversation, staring off into space and remaining unresponsive. "Sir?" James asked with concern.

"That's the end of training for today, James. Go home," Mr Otomi abruptly announced, his demeanour once again veering into a state of melancholy. "We'll train again tomorrow."

With a mix of worry and curiosity, James watched as Mr. Otomi left the court, not removing his gear or concealing his sword, which James now recognized as another Katana. "I hope Mr. Otomi is okay," he thought to himself. James stayed at the court for another three hours, practising his boosts as night descended, before finally returning home.

Unlocking his apartment door, James called out, "Hello?" Knowing he wouldn't receive a response. "I guess she stayed with her boyfriend again," he mumbled as he entered the kitchen and found a plate of food and a note from his mum. "Left with David to go see London! Won't be back until Sunday, money in the cupboard for food. - Love Mum Xx," the note read. James reacted with apathy, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the bin before retreating to his room with the cold meal.

Sitting on his bed, James contemplated the events of the day. His encounter with Mr. Otomi had left him with a jumble of emotions. The older man's odd behaviour and the unanswered question about the girl in the picture weighed on his mind. Concern for his mentor lingered, but James understood there was little he could do at the moment. Instead, he chose to focus on his training and the path he had set for himself, determined to see it through.

As he finished his meal, James reflected on his conversation with Mr Otomi earlier. The mention of Booster Fighting had sparked a fire within him. It was a stepping stone towards his ultimate goal of Mecha Fighting, a chance to gain experience, earn money, and prove himself. He knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but he was determined to make every moment count.

James decided to take a break from his thoughts and turned his attention to his room. James looked at the crest Tobias had given him, a symbol of belief and encouragement. He held it in his hands, feeling a sense of responsibility and determination. With newfound resolve, James began planning his training regimen for Booster Fighting. He knew he had to improve his physical strength, agility, and combat skills to stand a chance in the underground sport. He would need to dedicate himself to daily workouts, practice his footwork and swordsmanship, and study the techniques of renowned Booster Fighters.

As the night grew darker, James turned off the lights and lay in bed, his mind still filled with thoughts of Mecha Fighting and his aspirations. He couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and purpose, despite the unanswered questions and uncertainties that lingered. He knew that this journey would be a test of his resilience and determination, but he was ready to face the challenges head-on.

The following day, James woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. He quickly got dressed and prepared himself for another day of training. Despite the unanswered question about the girl in the picture and his concerns for Mr. Otomi, he pushed those thoughts aside for now, focusing on his immediate goals.

As James arrived at the training court, he found Mr. Otomi already waiting for him, clad in his gear and wielding his katana. However, something seemed off about him. He appeared distant, lost in his thoughts. James couldn't help but feel a pang of worry, but he decided to respect Mr Otomi's privacy for the time being.

"Good morning, Mr. Otomi," James greeted him, his voice a mix of politeness and concealed concern. The atmosphere was unusually sombre, Mr. Otomi's silent acknowledgement hung in the air like a heavy fog. They embarked on another day of rigorous training, their focus zeroing in on boosting techniques, footwork, and the art of swordplay. James was determined to push his abilities to their very limits, his commitment unwavering as he sought to establish himself as a skilled Booster Fighter.

Throughout the session, Mr. Otomi's mastery of the craft remained as impressive as ever, but the infectious enthusiasm and boundless energy that typically radiated from him were conspicuously absent. This absence didn't escape James's notice, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something burdensome weighed on the old master's mind.

As they took a brief break, James cautiously approached Mr Otomi, concern etched on his face. "Is everything alright, Mr. Otomi? You seem... different today."

Mr. Otomi sighed deeply, his gaze distant, as if gazing into a past known only to him. "There are some things that burden me after all these years, James," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "And sometimes, they can't be easily shared. But do not worry, my young friend. I am here to guide you, regardless of my own troubles."

James nodded understandingly, recognizing that life often carries hidden burdens and unresolved dilemmas. He chose to focus on his training, channelling his own emotions and uncertainties into becoming a stronger, more capable Booster Fighter.

Days bled into weeks, and the grind of training continued. Under Mr. Otomi's seasoned tutelage, James's abilities in Booster Fighting flourished. After an intense mock battle between the two, they stayed behind for a breather. Sitting on a bench within the training court, the golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm, amber glow over the surroundings.

Amid the quietude, James found an opening for a candid conversation. "Mr. Otomi," he began, his voice a blend of gratitude and curiosity, "I truly appreciate everything you've done for me. Your guidance and training have been invaluable. But there's something that's been troubling me all along. Who is the girl in the picture?"

Mr. Otomi's eyes flickered, revealing a combination of surprise and intrigue. "Go on, James," he encouraged, his voice inviting further discussion. "What's on your mind?"

James felt compelled to address the matter further. "It's about your reaction when I asked about the girl," he clarified, his voice filled with curiosity and empathy. "You seemed distant as if lost in your thoughts. And ever since that day, you've been different, as if something is weighing heavily on you. I want to understand, Mr. Otomi.”

In response, Mr Otomi sighed heavily, his eyes locked on the ground, seemingly hesitant to revisit the past. "You are perceptive, James. I can't deny that something has been troubling me deeply. That girl in the picture... she was someone very dear to me. Her name was Emiko."

James listened intently, his gaze unwavering, recognizing the significance of the revelation. "What happened to her, Mr. Otomi?"

A profound mixture of sorrow and regret took hold of Mr. Otomi's eyes as he began to recount the tale. "Her name was Emiko," he started, his voice trembling with emotion, "and she was a gifted Booster Fighter. Filled with passion and an unyielding determination. We trained together, we fought together. She carried dreams of breaking down the walls of discrimination in our society, just like you, James." He paused for a moment, gathering his emotions. "But during a critical match, something went horribly wrong. Emiko was pushed to her limits, and in the final moments of that match, she attempted a crucial boost strike, but her boosters malfunctioned. The result was a devastating injury.”

Tears welled up in Mr. Otomi's eyes, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air. “She later passed away in the hospital. The picture you saw was taken right before that fateful match, after I had won the BFWC Men's belt. She was the love of my life.”

James sat in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the depth of the story and the pain etched across his mentor's face. The realization that Emiko was not only Mr. Otomi's dear friend but also the love of his life filled James with a profound mix of empathy and a renewed determination to fulfil their shared dreams.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Otomi," James whispered, his voice brimming with heartfelt sympathy. "I can't even begin to imagine the pain you've gone through.