Ash stood in the center of the training room at first light on Day 11 and decided he would not leave control half-finished.
The broken dummy from the night before still lay in pieces against the wall. Fresh cracks ran through the floor where his foot had come down too hard. He looked at the damage for a moment, then pushed it out of his mind. Yesterday had shown him the problem clearly. Today he would solve it.
He began with the same simple jab.
The first dozen attempts were still ugly. His fist either smashed through the air with too much force or stopped short in an awkward hesitation. The Saint's instincts kept trying to correct him mid-motion while his old habits pulled in the opposite direction. For a while his body felt like two drivers fighting over the same set of controls.
But this time he did not get frustrated.
He slowed everything down and let his mind do what it now did best.
