New memories throbbed inside Takeru's head. He cannot recall every single and yet, these strange and different memories are innate to him. While he could remember the peanut butter and jelly breakfast he had this morning, he could not recall his first words or the meals he had when he dislocated his leg three years ago. Not like he is going to need them. All he needs are the important memories to imitate the body he stole.
Takeru stopped time as he ran towards the basketball court. He returned it to normal just before he entered the locker room in a corner where no one can see him suddenly appear.
"...and Takeru, right on time - that's rare," Coach Melvin, a balding 40s-something guy, said. Taller players that are beside the coach snickered in laughter. Takeru recognized those dolts. Dash and Bolt, a pair pretentiously-named assholes who did nothing but torment him with occasional backhanded comments during practice and their breaks in the locker room. The coach listed other names, and as he did, Takeru felt a tug on his shoulders. He turned to see John, his pale and blonde friend.
"Can't help but agree with the coach, it's rare to see you come to practice early. Any reason why?"
"Just got lucky, I guess," Takeru replied, but he knew what really the truth is. And that is the usage of time-stopping powers. "Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Except this." John opened his backpack to reveal three fresh pairs of cartoon-printed boxers. "Finally, my mom bought me my first boxers. No more white-tighties for this guy."
"I prefer briefs to boxers," Takeru said, although he knew the real Takery would say otherwise. He lowered his head beside John's ear, "I prefer the tight fabric wrapping around my balls."
The coach coughed. "If you two rookies are done whispering with one another, all of you should get your butts to the court and start practicing. Odds on home, even on away." He blew on the whistle hard, its shrill sound bouncing on all of the locker room's walls.
"Good luck," John said to Takeru.
"You need it more than me," Takeru replied back but not before slapping John on the ass. It's true. John may have an avid interest in basketball, but he's not much of an apt player for it. His coordination is that of a freshly born giraffe. His aim is horrendous, and he's deaf to commands. The coach knows this and as such, John acts more like a waterboy than an actual player for the team.
As for Takeru, he's good if not for his timidity. He'll think thrice before making a decision. And by the time he makes his move, the chance has already passed by, leaving him in the ditches. But with a new controller on the reins, a controller who easily silenced the doubts and second thoughts in his head, he excelled at today's match. Takeru dribbled past his opponents, some of which are twice as taller as he. He reached Bolt, a towering idiot who has always blocked his passes in the past. But today, Takeru made easy prey of his multiple openings. He zipped past him and passed the ball to their shooting guard. It didn't take too long for them to score more points than their opponent and win the match.
"Holy fuck," John exclaimed as he brought Takeru a cup of water. "First you came in early, and now? You're a beast! You carried the match. What the hell happened with you?"
Takeru huffed. He is drenched in sweat and his throat is parched. But the cold cup of water seemed to quench the thirst and some of the fatigue. His legs are throbbing and sore from the pain. He overexerted himself out there in the field. But that is okay, they won in the end. "I told you. I'm feeling lucky today."
Takeru's luck didn't stay long. Because after a steamy shower where he got the chance to look at the other player's packages (including John's pitiful wiener), Dash and Bolt hollered them over as they were about to leave. Dash, the raven-haired beef acted like the leader with the blonde-haired Bolt following his every whim. In a way, they are like Takeru and John. Except, they're far more muscular, older, and snarkier.
"You were good back there," Dash said. "A little too good. What did I say about hogging the spotlight, huh?" Dash pushed Takeru to the bench and Bolt did the same to John.
"I was only playing," Takeru said. He could end this drama with a single whisper but he let it continue and see where it would lead him. "It's not my fault your performance was subpar."
With that sentence, it felt like a vein had popped out of Dash's temple. "What the fuck did you say, you little shit? I fucking dare you to say that one more time!"
"Aside from being a shitty center, you're also one deaf idiot."
"That's it!" Dash raised his fist and moved it for a powerful punch headed straight to Takeru's face. If he was a second earlier, his fist could have connected. Takeru uttered the runic tongue and the world stood still. What did he do next?