Part-36
Sweat beaded on James' forehead as he delivered the final thundercp of his session. Twenty blows echoed through the training area, eae adding a precious point to his "Thundercp Skill." It had climbed to a respectable 54/100 – a signifit improvement from where he started.
His palm throbbed – a dull ache that pulsed with every beat of his heart. It was a far cry from the soft resistance of the pillow he'd used at home. The pung bag, with its unfiving vas exterior, offered a brutal hoy about his progress. Here, there were no illusions, ive softo mask the impabsp; The pain was a harsh teacher, but James weled it. It was a reminder of the physical toll his training demanded, a tangible sequence of pushing his limits. Ahere was a straisfa in the ache. It was a badge of honor, a testament to his dedication and a promise of future growth. With a satisfied sigh, James unched his fist and headed for the exit, his steps lighter despite the throbbing in his palm.
As he pushed open the gym doors, he brushed past Ryan, unaware of the other boy's scrutinizing gaze. Ryan, fueled by a mixture of curiosity and suspi, couldn't help but notice James' obsession with spping the pung bag. It was an odd trainihod, to say the least. Ryan knew James had some training in karate from years ago, evidenced by the occasional flicker of defensive reflexes during their cafeteria enter. Here, however, James was entirely focused on perfeg a single move – the sp. It was as if he was training for something very specifiething that didn't quite fit the mold of traditional martial arts.
"Why isn't he practig karate?" Ryan muttered to himself, a frown creasing his forehead.
Intrigued, Ryan decided to do some digging. He knew James wasn't a fighter anymore, so there had to be a reason behind this sudden fasation with sps. He started with a simple online search, sc James' social media profiles and any other publicly avaible information. However, James kept a low profile online, no clues about his newfound training regimen. Uerred, Ryan delved deeper. He started digging into James' past, searg for any hints of martial arts training or unusual experiences. He even sidered questioning some of James' cssmates, hoping to glean some insight. But James wasn't very social, and his cssmates knew little beyond his quiet demeanor and good grades.
Frustrated but uerred, Ryan decided to employ a more old-fashioned method – observation. He po keep an eye on James, hoping to catch a glimpse of his training outside of the gym. Perhaps, Ryan thought, he could exploit this strange obsession to his advantage. After all, any weakness otential on.
Meanwhile, oblivious to Ryan's maations, James walked home, his mind already formuting pns for his raining session. He o find a way to improve his stamina. Maybe some light jogging, or perhaps push-ups. The possibilities swirled in his head, fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He wasn't just some boy with a strange power anymore. He was James, the boy who was learning to trol his power, to hone his skills, and maybe, just maybe, to stand up to bullies like Ryan.
