The report pertaining to the university was undoubtedly splendid. So, Vin wondered, "why am I here sparring instead of preparing for the recruitment?"

"You're spacing out!" Yelled Soap, drenched and stark, all except for his soaked underwear. He was inside the training room, violently swinging his wooden sword at his competitor, Vin.

Soap had developed a sixth sense for identifying when Vin was plagued. He canceled his barrage, collected a towel, and dabbed his face. "Somethings on your mind, wassup?"

Dripping from his forehead to the sole of his feet, Vin parked his hands on his waist. He skimmed toward the ceiling, where his gaze typically strayed when he was in thought.

His hair was cut down to three inches and styled neatly. Brushed upward and allowed to drift to either side, with an undercut that resembled his dream appearance.

After a nourishing diet, his skin returned to a healthy brown. His physique was still a work in progress, and while he'd beefed up, he was still slender compared to his fantasy bod.

Also, in underwear, just about every tattoo could be seen. A full sleeve of ink on both arms, starting from his wrist and extending to his shoulders and back. They were comprised of everything Vin found meaningful or reminiscent of.

The truth was, he didn't want to omit his past, just mask it. So, his arms were a love letter to his time in his coma. Everything he felt while under was translated into shapes and objects.

Since he'd felt suffocated, water was the primary backdrop. Bubbles, clouds, planets, stars, musical notes, and all sorts of emotions were drawn onto him. It covered almost every inch of his skin.

The main attraction was on his back. A large, fully shaded phoenix. Its wings extended over his shoulder blades and parked at the center of his chest. More tattoos overrun his ribcage, legs, and anywhere else that he had scars.

Soap was honest and advised Vin to stay clothed around strangers because they could mistake him for a delinquent. Nevertheless, Vin was content with the outcome.

His body wasn't the issue at the time; it was doubt. A college semester at Season's university lasted about four months. He'd noted the days since classes started and realized less than two months were left to enroll.

While awake, he hadn't touched a skateboard, and he worried the failure from his dream would repeat itself. He understood his own concerns well but couldn't put them into words to convey them to Soap.

The mentor flung a towel that landed on Vin's head, chortled, and sipped from a water bottle. "You haven't changed at all."

"Dry up; I want to show you something," continued the man. Vin did just that and equipped his winter attire before entering the chilly hospital ward. The two took an elevator up to the top floor, where Soap unlocked a room.

As soon as the door opened, sunshine pranced onto the two boys and warmed them. It was an entirely glass, furnished office with massive, open windows that allowed a fresh draft to enter. Soap explained he was promoted within the company and acquired a hot crib to use however he saw fit. The first thing he did, was invited Vin in.

Soap roamed over and crashed onto a gray leather couch. "Get comfortable," he counseled while stretching out his limbs.

Vin situated directly across from him on a similar seat, then pitched his head back into the cushion. Both of them sat peacefully for some time, enjoying the feeling and sound of the high, open breeze.

Half an hour later, Vin tore down the blanket of silence. He had plenty of time to think and began to cast his reflections. "I need money," he plainly stated.

"I have plenty of it," Soap muttered in exhaustion. "How much do you need?"

"Enough for a skateboard," answered Vin.

A grin slipped across the man's face, and he cheerily murmured. "This might be the first time you've asked me for anything."

Surgically enhanced, purple irises gazed frankly at the elated male. Vin, who suffered a loss of vision after being comatose, refused to wear glasses or contacts, so Soap paid for an operation. His tattoo artist suggested the color and pierced his ears after calling him 'plain looking.'

"I'm glad. I'll take you shopping after a nap," Soap promised.

Vin thanked him, but another imperative query wiggled from his mouth before he could revoke it.

"Why are you always helping me," he questioned. Perhaps because he didn't give it any thought, the sentence was released fluidly.

"Err," Soap sounded. "To be honest, you were irritating at first. But, one day after our physical therapy session, I discovered you swinging a branch around."

"Honestly, I should have stopped you. But you reminded me so much of my old self. Except, you didn't give up after your accident, and I did."

He bent forward, met his student's lavender eyes, then smiled. "Put simply. I'm rooting for you, Vin."

They were few words, but despite that, they were highly relished. The afternoon was tranquil, and after their snooze, the two spent the evening shopping for a skateboard.

None of the local shops sold a quality board that could compete professionally, so they resorted to ordering a custom spec online. The delivery would be less than a week, and Vin could recreate the same longboard deck he'd seen before waking up.

At the same time, Soap assisted Vin with registering for Seasons University, 'SU.'

Vin didn't have a track record to attach, but according to Soap, sending an athlete profile and photo was a prerequisite. Hence, Scouters knew who and how many would participate in the recruitment period.

All these were details that were omitted from Vin's dream. After all, he only knew as much information as the TV in his room provided.

<>

With the new semester starting soon, Vin planned to train for the next two months and rekindle the competitive spirit he bore at a young age.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He was no stranger to hard work. The comprehensive training he and Macy endured in their youths mentally prepared him for what he had to do.

A week passed, and instead of a skateboard, a letter arrived. It began with "Dear Gavin Dance Jr" and quickly resembled an acceptance letter. Without so much as stepping on a track, he'd been drafted into his dream school.

It was unfulfilling, and he understood that the manner in which he was addressed meant they knew his father. He was undoubtedly being subjected to second-hand clout.

Even more infuriating, the board Soap paid for still had yet to arrive after a month. He offered to buy a local deck so Vin could at least practice a little before classes started, but he refused to accept any more money. Vin knew it'd just go to waste since students couldn't bring personal items.

Really, Soap seemed the most irate over the matter since it was the first genuine favor Vin had requested of him. He swore and yelled into the heavens, "I won't let you get away with this!" Vin wondered who he meant by 'you' since it was an online retailer.

Anywho, the pair continued sparring as per usual and incorporated yoga and balancing maneuvers into their workout to prepare Vin. Soap also kicked up his 'social training' and started hosting more events with teenagers.

Once class registration opened, the man also helped with creating a schedule.

They sat at a window desk in his office and slowly completed the process. The website was user-friendly, if not lacking professionalism. Ads for men's vitamins popped up every minute, every color of the spectrum filtered the webpage, and the dialog looked like someone's hip grandson wrote it.

Four-year Course, three semesters each, 12 in total!

Requirements for Graduation Credit Hours Forget about it! Just last all four years! Electives 1/Semester Internships 1/Semester

Major (Main Study) (Select One) Skate: Skateboarding, Inline skating, Speed skating. Automotive: Cars, Trucks, Karts, Motorbikes, F1. Winter Sports: Snowboarding, Ice skating. Aerial: Wing Gliding Mixed Martial Arts: Weaponry, Hand to hand. Foot Racing: Street circuit, Parkour.

Minor (Secondary Study) (Select as many as you want!) Skate: Skateboarding, Inline skating, Speed skating. Automotive: Cars, Trucks, Karts, Motorbikes, F1. Winter Sports: Snowboarding, Ice skating. Aerial: Wing Gliding Mixed Martial Arts: Weaponry, Hand to hand. Foot Racing: Street circuit, Parkour.

The design definitely appeared to be catered to the generation applying.

This process was done on a large holographic screen so Vin and Soap could touch and interact with the interface as needed. Once the class selection page appeared, Vin wavered in front of a big question. This is whether or not he'd continue his impulsive learning of swordsmanship.

It was one matter to practice alone with his teacher and another to compete nationally against devoted competitors.

Soap sensed his hesitancy and consoled him. "You've been looking at this page for a while."

"I can't decide for you, but I can at least offer you my perspective." Soap smiled, tapped the display, and selected 'skate' for Vin's major.

Next, he pressed 'Mixed Martial Arts for the minor, which triggered a confirmation box.

Are You Sure?"

YES NO

"In my professional judgment, Vin, you're worthy of pressing yes."

"But," he said in a grave and weighty tone. "I'm begging you to press no."

Vin's face swerved from concern to surprise. He rotated toward Soap, who'd been illuminated by the outside light, and gloomily grinned.

"You're a good kid. I support your dream of becoming a pro skater, but I can't in good conscience encourage you to become a swordsman."

"This career, this path-" he said, grabbing Vin's arm. "I've seen what it does to people. You aren't ready."

The man's touch was swatted away, and Vin's face tightened. "It's just swordplay. With special effects," he grumbled angrily. "Do you think. I'm weak!?"

It always hurts being told you're incapable of doing something. And for Vin, who'd always been denied anything except for skating by his father- Well, he just expected something different from his mentor.

Soap ran his hand across the shoulder he had tattooed. He'd mentioned the ink was to hide a painful memory but never explained what transpired. "It's more than just cute effects and clashing," he said.

"You intentionally avoid hitting me too hard with the training sword. Because it hurts, right?"

"Could you honestly attack a stranger, a woman? Attack with the intention of incapacitating them?"

Vin's fierce expression attacked the man plenty. And he'd been too hot-headed to consider the question. He just thought, "He's just like dad."

"No, worse. At least dad let me use the skills he forced me to learn."

Enraged, Vin shouted, "I can!" Then, he confirmed the notice and locked himself in to also compete in MMA.

Soap diminished, he slumped in his chair, and his mouth melted. "It was always your choice," he mumbled.

Class Schedule

CLASS TIME

1.Career Management (Yes, this is mandatory.)

8:00am-10:00am M/W/F

2. Competitive Skate

12:00pm-3:00pm M/W/F

3. Culinary

9:00am-11:00am T/TH

4. Competitive Arena

1:00pm-4:00pm T/TH

It was set. Even though Vin's sole purpose was to skate and gain his father's attention, he felt a new obligation to prove his teacher wrong.

Vin completed the rest of the form alone. And once finished, he fled the office. The quarrel ended there, and the matter was never revisited.