After Soo finished showing Noah the footwork drills, how to shadowbox, and how to hit the heavy bag, he grabbed him before Noah could leave. "Oh, and one more thing. Jog three miles every single morning."
Noah nodded but ignored him and left, drenched in sweat like he had just stepped out of the shower.
At home the lights were off. His mother had already gone to bed and left a note on the table: "I made food, it's in the fridge."
He heated the food and ate it like it was his first meal. Then he took a quick shower and collapsed into bed.
When he woke it was already noon. It was the weekend, at least. He yawned, pulled himself up, and felt sore and stiff all over. It had been ages since his body had handled real physical work.
Noah stood on the sidewalk edge, sneakers barely tied and his hoodie half-zipped. The morning air bit at his skin. He hated conditioning. He hated mornings. He hated the new routine. But he hated being weak more.
He stretched, tightened his laces, and was about to start running when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He answered. "Hello, who is this?"
"Hellooo!" the voice shouted.
Soo. The same loud, relentless voice that had pushed him all day yesterday.
"Just reminding you to do your jog and exercises. Come to the gym later. We're picking up where we left off."
Noah hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He had thought today was a rest day, but he sighed and started his run. His muscles screamed. After three miles he staggered back home, soaked and gasping, feeling like he might pass out any second.
He ran into the bathroom and vomited a few times, then cleaned up. In the kitchen he made breakfast and chugged water until he felt steady. He watched TV while his food settled and then went over the workout schedule Soo had given him.
After a shower he collapsed to the floor and slept for a few hours. Another call woke him. Half-asleep, he answered from under the covers.
"Noah, where are you? Don't tell me you forgot," Soo yelled, louder than before.
Noah snapped awake. "N-no, of course not. I'm just running a bit late. I'll be there."
He dressed, grabbed his bag, and biked to the gym. Soo was waiting inside.
"Hurry up and get your gloves and tape on," Soo said.
Noah set his bag down and did as he was told.
"Before we step into the ring, bag work first," Soo continued.
Noah slid his hands into the gloves. The leather felt stiff; his shoulders ached and his legs were heavy, but Soo's tone left no room for excuses.
"Feet apart. Hands up like yesterday," Soo said, tapping his chin with a knuckle. "You're not hugging the bag. You're fighting it. One-two. Crisp. Go."
Noah jabbed and crossed. The bag barely swung back, as if it was laughing at him. His arms already felt like lead.
"Again. Faster," Soo snapped. "Your punches sound like you're clapping at a recital. Hit it like it owes you money, or insulted your mother."
Sweat stung Noah's eyes. He gritted his teeth, set his stance, and hit again. This time the bag groaned and swung back further.
"That's better," Soo said, almost smiling. "Keep that up for three rounds. Don't die on me before we enter the ring."
The first round felt endless. Noah's lungs burned, his gloves weighed a ton, and iron tasted at the back of his throat.
"Keep your guard up!" Soo barked, circling.
Noah forced his arms higher. Sweat soaked the tape on his wrists. His body screamed, but he threw another jab-cross.
Thud. Thud.
Soo kept his face blank. "Again. Even faster. More power."
He obeyed. Repetition after repetition. Vision blurred with sweat, but then something clicked. His breath matched his punches. The weight in his arms eased.
One-two, one-two.
His hips began to turn with each strike, snapping them harder than before. He didn't think about it; his body just moved.
Soo blinked. "That's... Is it adrenaline?"
When they started, Noah's punches had been sloppy, his feet stuck. Now, without instruction, he rotated his shoulders and pivoted his lead foot like he'd been training for weeks.
"Stop." Soo raised a hand. Noah froze, gasping.
"Have you ever boxed before?" Soo asked.
"No," Noah said between breaths.
Soo studied him. "Then why do you move like a pro? Your form is near perfect."
Noah looked down. "I... I don't know. It just feels natural. My body moves on its own."
Soo tossed him a towel and pointed to the empty floor. "Shadowbox. Ten minutes. I'll be back. Don't stop. And don't forget, I have cameras."
He went into his office and closed the door.
Noah groaned but got into position. At first his body felt like wet cement, then rhythm found him. Jab, slip, cross. Step back. Hook. His feet glided instead of stamping, each punch sharper than the last. His stance narrowed to its balance point without a word.
Soo watched from the monitor, eyes narrowing. "This kid," he muttered, "he's one of those. He has the talent to copy. He corrects himself without knowing."
After ten minutes Soo returned and handed Noah water. Noah's breathing was ragged, but he smiled like it hurt.
"Good enough," Soo said, though his head was buzzing with questions. "Ten-minute break, then the ring. Hydrate."
Noah drank like he was drowning. The water felt cold but his throat burned. Oddly, his arms weren't as heavy. His legs, once jelly, felt steady. He flexed his fingers and watched the veins pop under his skin.
Soo tossed a clean towel and leaned against the wall, watching him like a hawk. "You ready?" he asked.
Noah blinked. "Ten minutes already?"
Soo pointed at the clock. "It's been ten. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm fine," Noah lied, and hauled himself up.
They walked toward the ring. The ropes shone under the gym lights and every sound felt magnified.
"Are you waiting for an invitation? Get in here," Soo said from the center.
Noah climbed in, his sneakers squeaking on the springy floor.
"So, what now?" he asked.
Soo cracked his knuckles and raised his gloves. "Spar with me."
Noah froze. "W-wait. It's only my second day. My mom doesn't want me sparring."
"Is she here?" Soo asked.
"No."
"Then what's the problem? The windows are one-way. I'm not trying to kill you. You need to learn to face an animate opponent if you want to defend yourself."
Noah swallowed. If his mom found out, he'd feel guilty, but he had no choice.
Soo rolled his shoulders and raised his gloves. "Hands up, chin down. Stay light on your feet. Do what you did shadowboxing."
Noah tried to mirror Soo. For a moment Noah's stance felt wrong, then a switch flipped. Knees bent, weight balanced, gloves at his cheekbones.
Soo watched him. "Yeah, he's a copier, and a good one. He perfects technique on the fly. But it's still at an early stage and imperfect."
"Touch gloves," Soo said.
They bumped fists.
As Soo stepped in, Noah's chest tightened and he shuffled back. His body wanted to run.
"What are you doing? I haven't even thrown a punch," Soo said. "Are you scared? You can't be afraid."
Noah tried to calm himself while Soo closed in like a predator hunting its prey.
"Relax," Soo said quietly. "If you panic, you lose. Breathe."
Noah nodded. His heart hammered. Soo's movements were minimal, but pressure radiated from him. A quick jab snapped by Noah's head. He flinched, too slow. Soo's arm had already snapped back by the time Noah even reacted.
"Wake up!" Soo said, throwing another jab that stopped an inch from Noah's eye. Noah flinched again.
"Watch my shoulders, not my hands. Predict, don't chase. If you can't react, pray. Next one I'm landing."
Noah reset and focused on Soo's torso and hips. The world narrowed. He read microshifts, feet pivoting like water around stone.
A jab came. He slipped outside. His head moved before he thought. He popped a jab that tapped Soo's glove.
Soo smirked. "Good job."
The compliment sparked a surge of adrenaline. Noah tracked Soo's weight transfer, his shoulders, and core. He mirrored and refined. Jab, cross, slip, pivot. The exchanges sharpened and sped up.
Soo pushed with things he hadn't taught Noah yet: hooks and feints. Noah absorbed and improved, copying faster each time.
"He's accelerating," Soo realized. "His neuromotor adaptation is off the charts. But at this rate-"
Noah's breaths grew ragged. His gloves trembled. His brain roared with data. Then a spike hit behind his eyes. He staggered. The ring tilted. His gloves slipped.
"Wha-"
He blacked out and collapsed. Soo caught him under the arms and eased him to the floor.
"...Damn," Soo muttered, checking his pulse. Steady but shallow. He exhaled hard. "Subconsciously adapting, copying, and analyzing overloaded his brain. His nervous system tried to keep up and hit its limit. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing."
Soo hoisted Noah over his shoulder and carried him out of the ring. "I hit the jackpot..."