The memory of Jin's kick haunted Mikey's ribs every time he breathed.
Back in the gym, Marcus circled him with arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You learned something yesterday."
Mikey wiped sweat from his forehead. "Yeah. That I'm wide open against kicks."
Marcus smirked. "Good. Awareness is step one. Now comes step two—fixing it."
[Scene: The Tires Drill]Marcus dragged out a stack of old tires and lined them in a zig-zag on the gym floor.
"Step in, step out. Fast. No lazy feet."
Mikey hopped between them, nearly tripping.
"Again!" Marcus barked.
He repeated it, again and again, until his calves screamed and sweat soaked through his shirt.
"Fighting a kicker isn't about trading blows," Marcus explained. "You cut the distance. Stay on their chest. Smother them. Make their legs useless."
[Scene: Pad Work]Marcus held up the focus mitts.
"Jab. Slip. Close the gap."
Mikey threw a jab. Marcus swung the mitt like a roundhouse. Mikey ducked and stepped in, launching a right hook.
"Better! But faster."
They drilled until Mikey's legs burned more than his arms. For every punch he threw, Marcus forced him to move his feet.
"Your fists are useless if your legs are slow," Marcus growled.
[Scene: The Rope Drill]Marcus strung a jump rope across the ring, chest height.
"Stay low. Move forward."
Mikey ducked under, shuffling forward with tight punches. Again and again, he dipped, slipped, closed the gap.
Every stumble earned a cuff to the head.
"Too slow! Jin will kick your teeth in if you move like that!"
Hours passed. Mikey's arms felt like lead, his legs like stone. He collapsed against the ropes, panting.
Marcus crouched in front of him, voice low and serious.
"You've got heart, kid. But heart without strategy is just another way to get hurt. Remember—your enemy's weapon is distance. Take it away, and he's just another boy throwing kicks into empty air."
Mikey clenched his fists, the image of Jin's smirk flashing in his mind.
Distance… I'll break it. I'll break through him.
That night, long after the gym closed, Mikey stayed behind. He shadowboxed in front of the mirror, shuffling forward, slipping invisible kicks, throwing sharp counters.
With every movement, his eyes grew sharper.
He wasn't just surviving anymore.He was preparing for war.