Chapter 20: Holly’s Secret! A Different Life? (1)
David kept going through the reps as Mrs. Walbury grew more aggressive with each round, taking him down again and again — less patient this time, less gentle, like she’d decided coddling wasn’t going to teach him anything useful.
"You’re still bracing before you fall," she said, catching his arm and swinging him down onto the mat for what had to be the sixth time. "Stop fighting the fall. Just take it."
"I am taking it," David said, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Taking it very well, actually. Repeatedly."
"You’re taking it badly. There’s a difference." She reached down, offering her hand again, and hauled him up when he took it. "Again."
By the end of it, he’d managed to hold his stance a few extra seconds each round — not much, but something. She swept his legs one final time, and he landed flat on his back again, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes.
She lowered herself down onto the mat next to him instead of pulling him up right away, sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on her knees.
"Give me a second," David said, waving a hand weakly. "Just — a minute. My legs have left the group chat."
She laughed, short and genuine. "Take your time."
They sat there a moment, David staring up at the exposed pipework overhead like it might offer some kind of wisdom, Mrs. Walbury glancing idly around the room like she was gathering her thoughts from the equipment itself.
"You know this doesn’t come together in one session, right?" she said eventually. "Most people who start where you started quit inside the first week. You’re already past that."
"Yeah, I figured," David said.
"I’m serious. It’s consistency that actually gets you anywhere. Show up enough times, and it starts clicking eventually." She glanced sideways at him. "You’re not gonna flake on me in like three days, are you?"
David sat up properly this time, rolling one shoulder like he was testing whether it still worked. "You don’t need to worry about me quitting."
Something in his tone made her actually look at him, eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Honestly," he said, "this is the most excited I’ve been about anything in a long time."
’Besides wanting her around,’ he thought, glancing away for half a second,
"what I actually want to know is what kind of Hunter I’m even going to become." The thought alone sent something electric through his chest, sharper than the ache still sitting in his legs.
"That thought alone...having a feeling of endless potential...doesn’t that feel exhilarating?" He added, turning a full charismatic grin at Mrs. Walbury.
Mrs. Walbury studied him for a beat longer than the moment strictly needed, arms loosely folded over her knees.
She’d trained plenty of people over the years — the eager ones who burned out fast, the ones who quit after the first bruise, the ones who never really meant it to begin with.
David didn’t fit neatly into any of those boxes, and she couldn’t quite decide whether that unsettled her or just made her curious.
"Alright, big talker," she said finally, pushing herself up off the mat and offering a hand down to him again.
"Prove it, then. Same time tomorrow?"
"You got it, boss," David said, "but don’t forget — we still have a deal, remember?"
Mrs. Walbury smiled, shaking her head slightly. "No need to worry, I won’t."
She stretched her hand out, and David grabbed it, letting her pull him up off the mat, his legs protesting the whole way with a dull, aching complaint he chose to ignore for the sake of dignity.
"That’s it for today," she said, brushing a bit of mat dust off her leggings.
"Go home, eat something real, actually rest. I mean it this time."
"Depends on what you mean by ’something real’" David said, already half-joking, half-genuinely asking.
She gave him a flat look. "No ramen/ noodles... you need proteins."
"No promises, but for you, I’ll try." David said, grinning, already turning to grab his bag off the bench.
~~~
David finished up at the gym, showering there since his own place had been running on jug water for longer than he wanted to admit.
There wasn’t any hot water on tap either way, but the shower still felt like a small luxury after the session he’d just put himself through — proper water pressure, actual soap instead of whatever he’d been rationing at home.
He got dressed quickly afterward, peeling off his soaked tank top and swapping it for the plain shirt he’d worn on the way in, stuffing the tank top into his bag along with everything else.
He slung his headphones back over his neck, thumb finding his phone as he stepped out of the locker room and back into the lobby.
The reception area had filled up more since he’d arrived that morning — a small rush of afternoon regulars filtering in, the low hum of conversation and gym-floor noise carrying through from the training room.
He hit play on his music, Smooth Criminal picking back up right where he’d left it, and glanced toward the desk.
Mrs. Walbury was back at her post, apparently having swapped out of trainer mode and into her front-desk shift. She caught his eye as he passed and gave him a small wave.
David waved back, mouthing a quick "see you tomorrow" over the music, and pushed through the door out into the early evening air.
His stomach reminded him, loudly, that it had been running on fumes and false promises all day.
’Protein,’ he thought, already scanning the street for anything that looked remotely affordable. ’Something with actual protein, I think I deserve that at least.’
He ended up at a small corner spot a few blocks down — nothing fancy, the kind of place with laminated menus and a guy behind the counter who clearly ran the whole operation solo — and grabbed a grilled chicken plate with rice for around twelve bucks, deciding that counted as a genuine victory in the ongoing war against his own poor life choices.
The trailer-style food stand had one side rolled up, steam curling off the grill as the guy inside worked through orders, a couple of worn benches set up nearby for anyone who wanted to eat on-site. David settled onto one, container balanced on his knee, and dug in — trying, with limited success, not to look like a man who’d been surviving on expired soda and pure spite for the last two days.
He kept his headphones on through it, Careless Whisper having taken over from Smooth Criminal at some point — an old, slightly embarrassing favorite he’d rediscovered a while back scrolling through some late-night video app and never quite let go of.
He hummed along under his breath between bites, off-key and unbothered, chewing through the chicken like it was the best meal he’d had in weeks, which, honestly, it might have been.
***
Hey guys, I want to thank you for your support and due to that, I thought of a friendly challenge for both of us.
For every 200 powerstones I’ll release 10+ bonus Chapters...so, if you find it worth while, you can make your decision. Thank you.🫠
