Muscle Memory
While Kang Haneul, the boxing club manager, went to fetch a mouthpiece, Jung Hyunwoo was preparing for pad work with Seo Yeonha's help.
"How do the gloves feel?"
"They're fine, except the hand wraps are a bit damp."
"That's a relief. You said it's been a while since you trained, right? Don't overdo it. Let's start light."
Orthodox. Seo Yeonha held up the pads, adjusting to Jung Hyunwoo's right-handed stance.
"Ssshp."
*Thwack!*
As always, he started with a light jab. Hyunwoo's movements were fluid. He tentatively slid his left foot forward—the leg that had once been completely paralyzed—and threw a few more jabs.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Then, as if finding his rhythm, he lightly bounced on his feet and followed up with a straight right.
*Crack!*
The kinetic chain—pivoting from the toes, rotating through the hips, and transferring his center of gravity—was absolutely flawless. Even in the countless amateur tournaments Seo Yeonha had competed in, it was rare to find someone with such form. To exaggerate only slightly, he was already at a level where he could place in a tournament tomorrow.
I have to convince Dad to drag him to our gym, even if I have to beg, Seo Yeonha thought as she held the pads.
His movements are a bit unpolished, but his fundamentals are incredible. And he has serious power for someone throwing so lightly.
Did he say he trained in boxing for two years? If that was true, whatever gym he went to had taught him exceptionally well. Even now, as they continued the pad work, his guard never dropped. When he threw his lead hand, his rear hand stayed glued to his chin. When he extended his rear hand, the opposite happened. It was the movement of a well-oiled machine.
Can he keep up with this? How about this? And this?!
Forgetting her own advice to take it easy, Yeonha gradually increased the intensity, testing Hyunwoo. Whenever he threw a good punch but showed a slight hitch in his recovery, she would deliberately tap his forehead with a pad.
When he momentarily lost his footing like a toddler taking its first steps, she would lightly slap his cheek. Each time, Hyunwoo glared at her with a fierce, murderous look, but Yeonha was already too absorbed to care.
"Let's stop here."
"Whew... Hey. Are you kidding me? You said we were going light. What was that?"
"It's your fault. Why do you keep hesitating in the middle of your combos when you're doing so well?"
"It's just because it's been a while."
"It didn't feel like that... Are you hurt somewhere?"
"..."
It was a fleeting moment. No one else in the gym caught the look that crossed Hyunwoo's face, except for Yeonha, who was standing right in front of him.
"Are you...?"
"My body is perfectly fine. More importantly, help me get this headgear off. I can't see well."
"...Hold still."
The gym, which had been filled with the grunts and sweat of individual training, had grown quiet, with only the murmur of their conversation echoing through the space. Watching Hyunwoo's pad work, Kim Haryun whispered to the coach in a low voice.
"Coach. That kid... he's actually really good."
"Of course our Hyunwoo is good. That's a given."
"Our Hyunwoo? Do you know him well?"
"Met him today for the first time."
"..."
Hearing this, Kim Haryun and the other third-years standing nearby felt a pang of betrayal. The coach always called them ridiculous nicknames like "Chrome Dome" or "Big Nose," yet this new transfer student was already "our Hyunwoo."
"We can do that much too."
"Pfft! Yeah, right! Did you not see his punches? The sound is completely different from yours, completely different! His weight distribution and balance control are perfect with every single strike. That's how you throw a punch. Not standing stiff like a statue like you guys do.
Honestly, what's the point of me teaching you day in and day out if you can't absorb any of it? If you guys were even half as good as Hyunwoo, we would've won a tournament ages ago—"
"Stop. Please stop, Coach. It hurts my feelings."
Pitter-patter. Behind the dejected third-years, a tiny figure came scurrying back, clutching a mouthpiece.
"Here's the mouthpiece! Do you know how to mold it?"
"I know."
"..."
"What are you staring at?"
While Jung Hyunwoo prepared the mouthpiece and popped it into his mouth, Kang Haneul stared intently at his face.
Ptu. After about thirty seconds, Hyunwoo spat out the molded mouthpiece and asked irritably,
"Why do you keep staring?"
"Hmm... It's nothing."
After studying Hyunwoo's face for a moment longer, Kang Haneul walked over to the coach.
"The mouthpiece is molded. I think they're ready to start."
"Alright. Lee Jeongho, Jung Hyunwoo. Are you both ready?"
"Yes."
"Yes, Coach."
Lee Jeongho looked fully warmed up as well.
"Keep it light, boys."
"I plan to."
"Of course."
The two of them stepped into the ring at the same time.
Having fully functional legs actually feels foreign.
That was the first thought that had crossed his mind the moment he hit the pads earlier. Throwing a jab wasn't much of an issue, but the rear hand was a different story. Whether it was a straight or a hook, the feeling of his weight shifting heavily onto his left foot after extending the punch felt incredibly alien.
How did it feel before I got injured?
He had probably done it with the sensation of rooting his feet firmly into the canvas. Yet, he had to do so without breaking his flow. There couldn't be a long gap between consecutive movements. Otherwise, he risked getting countered, much like how Seo Yeonha had kept tapping his face with the pads earlier.
Still, he wasn't worried. To put it bluntly, only someone of Seo Yeonha's caliber could actually touch his face; the idea of getting cleanly hit by a scrub like Jeongho was utterly unimaginable.
My senses will probably return once I get some sparring in.
Tap, tap. Someone tapped on his ankle as he sat on the corner turnbuckle. Looking down, he saw Seo Yeonha peering up at him.
"Hyunwoo. Are you really not going to wear headgear?"
"Yeah. I don't need it."
"You know it's not embarrassing to wear one, right?"
"Quiet."
His reason for refusing headgear was simple. Perhaps due to his habits from MMA, wearing headgear made his vision feel restricted and claustrophobic. Of course, the unpleasant stickiness of sharing sweaty gear also played a part.
Once all preparations were complete, Lee Gwangwu called them to the center of the ring.
"We'll do three rounds of three minutes each, but I might stop it early depending on how things look. Just so you know."
Too bad, but I can't let that happen. There won't be any room for him to intervene. I'm going to pace myself and drag this out for the full three rounds.
"If anyone throws an elbow or a knee, it's over instantly. Keep your emotions out of this, alright? You know the rules. Now, touch gloves and let's go."
Tap. Receiving a glove touch from Jeongho that was absolutely dripping with emotion, Hyunwoo took two or three steps back and settled into his stance.
For the first round, he raised a high guard and calmly observed his opponent. Jeongho was going to get thoroughly thrashed in the remaining rounds anyway, so he might as well let the guy enjoy the sparring session for now. Besides, Hyunwoo needed to get his eyes re-accustomed to tracking incoming punches, so he decided to play defense first.
*Thud, thud!* Jeongho's one-two. A basic combo. Since it didn't hurt at all, Hyunwoo backed up to the corner and absorbed the blows on his guard.
He rolled his shoulders inward, keeping his eyes peeled through the gaps in his guard while subtly moving his upper body. He blocked the occasional body shot with his elbows and slipped the sloppy, uncoordinated hooks by slightly raising his hands and utilizing head movement. Not a single clean strike landed.
"Time. That's three minutes."
Ah, is it over already?
As the round ended, Hyunwoo looked forward, intending to offer Jeongho a few pointers.
"Haaah... Haaah...!"
For some reason, even though he was the one who had spent the round taking hits, the guy who threw them was gasping for air as if he were about to pass out. Seriously, how can he be that exhausted after barely moving?
"Box."
The next round began. Perhaps because his stamina was already depleted, Jeongho didn't throw wild punches like before.
Then it's my turn to press forward.
This time, adopting a textbook cross guard, Hyunwoo stepped forward and closed the distance rapidly.
Tap, tap-tap. He tested the waters with a few jabs against Jeongho's tight guard, and then—
*Crack!* He drove a straight right directly through the center of the guard.
"Ugh!"
The heavy impact vibrating through his knuckles after so long was absolutely exhilarating. He followed up the straight with a combo. He deliberately avoided targeting the wide-open midsection, choosing instead to throw feints to keep him on edge.
This sparring session was meant to help him regain his own senses. He also wanted it to be a constructive experience for Jeongho, so he had no intention of ending it too quickly or anticlimactically.
Slip. Stung by the successive punches and fooled by the body feints, Jeongho's guard naturally began to unravel. Hyunwoo lightly tapped Jeongho's nose with a series of gentle jabs, silently signaling to him: Your face is completely exposed right now.
Good, this is good.
As Jeongho tightened his guard once more, Hyunwoo mixed in side steps, peppering him from various angles. Again, he refrained from landing any actual clean, damaging blows.
"...Time. That's three minutes."
Three minutes passed already?
Had three minutes always been this short? Back in the cage, five minutes used to feel like an eternity...
"Haaah... Haaah..."
Jeongho was now slumped in his corner, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
Even I'm feeling a bit winded after two rounds.
Still, his physical conditioning was far better than he had anticipated. Fortunately, it seemed the original Jung Hyunwoo of this novel had at least engaged in some form of regular exercise.
Before the start of the final round, Lee Gwangwu approached Jeongho.
"You can throw in the towel. There's absolutely no shame in it."
"Haaah, haaah... No. I can... I can keep going."
"...Alright. Hyunwoo, do you mind if we take an extra minute of rest before starting?"
Lee Gwangwu turned to ask him.
"Sure, that's fine."
It was fine by him. Sparring was only fun when the opponent could actually offer some resistance.
After a full two-minute break, the third and final round commenced.
Squeeze.
Well, look at this guy.
Perhaps having realized the massive gulf in skill over the last two rounds, Jeongho kept his guard tightly locked from the very beginning, cautiously tracking Hyunwoo's movements.
What was slightly surprising was that Jeongho was clumsily trying to mimic the high guard Hyunwoo had used earlier.
His willingness to learn on the fly was commendable. However, Hyunwoo preferred it if he didn't play it so safe and boring during their spar...
Since it's the final round anyway, maybe I should turn up the heat a bit. I'll show him a little something to fire him up.
He decided to hit him just hard enough to sting without knocking him unconscious. With that resolution, Hyunwoo shifted his stance.