The city's Martial Arts Tournament was just a month away.
Mikey woke before dawn, lacing up his sneakers, wrapping his hands, and heading to the gym. Marcus was already there, pacing by the ring.
"Time to push you past yesterday's limits," Marcus said, voice low and commanding.
Mikey nodded. Sweat already started to bead on his forehead. This is it. I have to be ready.
[Footwork and Distance]
Jin stood in the ring, bouncing lightly on his feet.
"You've improved, but can you handle more than punches?" he taunted, launching a series of spinning and side kicks.
Mikey dodged, slipped, and closed the distance, firing counter hooks into Jin's midsection.
"Good," Marcus said from the sidelines. "But your stance is still predictable. You need to move, mix it up, keep him guessing."
Hana stepped in, holding her notebook.
"Your timing is solid, Mikey," she said. "But he's fast. Use feints. Mix short and long attacks. Don't give him an opening to kick."
Mikey swallowed hard. "Got it."
He shadowboxed under her guidance, weaving in punches, ducking, stepping forward—his movements sharper, more fluid than ever before.
[Strength and Endurance]
Marcus set up a brutal circuit:
Heavy bag combos for stamina
Medicine ball throws for core strength
Tire jumps for agility
Mikey barely kept up, his lungs burning and arms trembling. Each exercise pushed him closer to the edge.
"You think you're tired now?" Marcus barked. "Try fighting three rounds in a tournament and tell me that."
Mikey gritted his teeth, pushing past the pain. He had survived worse.
[Mini Sparring Showdown]
By evening, the gym was quiet except for Mikey and Jin.
"Final round for today," Marcus said. "Show me what you've learned."
Jin attacked with lightning kicks, each one sharper and faster than before. Mikey dodged, slipped, and countered with precise punches.
For the first time, Jin's kicks weren't terrifying—they were predictable. Mikey blocked, closed the distance, and landed a clean right hook that staggered him back.
Jin smirked, impressed. "Okay… you're actually ready for a fight now."
Mikey smiled faintly, blood pumping. For the first time, he felt prepared, not just strong, but smart.
Marcus clapped from the side. "Good. You've got heart, skill, and strategy now. The tournament won't know what hit it."
Mikey raised his fists, looking at the city skyline through the gym's window.
I'm not just fighting for myself anymore. I'm fighting to prove that I can stand my ground. That I can protect what matters.
And with that, the countdown to the tournament began.