Beads of sweat raced down Takeda's forehead, his heart beating at light speed. This is what it means to feel alive, at least his definition. Shoulders sore from the match that lasted 11 more rounds than he expected. Takeda stood center of the square ring; his arm being held high by the referee. The audience was so loud that he could barely hear himself think. Eye swollen shut and blood on his body; some his own, and some his opponent. Another male lay unconscious in the corner being looked at by nurses. This is what he loved.
Takeda started boxing when he was just a young child, at the time it wasn't really a choice. Takeda's father taught him; he also taught his mother how to box. Work was stressful and beer eased the pain for Mr. Ikki, however it made life harder for Takeda. At the age of 12, his mother finally had enough and left the man, taking the young Takeda with her.
Not wanting to ever feel helpless, the boy took up boxing, this time with a coach that wasn't piss drunk all the time. Takeda was a natural, like his father, and his father before him. Now 18, Takeda, has plans of going to the big leagues.
