18

Marcus led the boy out of the house through a back alley and they went towards one of the large connecting corridors between the different areas of Gretia station. Parallel to the main tunnel was a long, straight maintenance tunnel.

The card Marcus used to access it was given to him by Mr. Blacker, it was damp and poorly lit but it was straight and flat, with no obstacles or distractions.

"This place will be perfect, boy, now I want you to start running in a straight line as fast as you can, until I tell you to, at which point you turn around and keep walking until I tell you when to run again."

Mouse started to run like when he did it through the tunnels, he was a little disappointed, he already knew how to do that. However Marcus stopped him after a few steps.

"I don't want you to run like that, I want you to sprint..."

"What is that?"

"Run at full power... wait, it will be easier if you see it..."

Marcus started to run, his muscular body devouring the distance with ease, after running a few meters he turned around and approached Mouse.

"That's what you're doing on another scale, but what I want is this."

Marcus's legs tensed and he shot off at a hellish speed, his footsteps echoing in the tunnel, before he realized he had almost left the illuminated area. When he returned Mouse had his mouth open.

"I want you to run as if there was a monster biting your ass, do you understand?"

The boy nodded, although he doubted that anything he did could even remotely resemble what he had done, he began to run with all his strength, after a few meters Marcus told him to stop, he hadn't managed to catch his breath, he was half drowned by the effort, but the former champion told him to run and he did. He held on for a few meters trying his hardest but Marcus made him stop and go back to where he was.

His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

"Hmm, you're fast, but you don't know how to breathe, this won't be of any use"

"I know how to breathe, I'm a pooper, but I know that if I didn't breathe I'd be dead..."

"Ha ha ha, good point, what I mean is that you don't know how to breathe to run like that, much less to recover"

"Can you breathe any other way?"

"Of course, there are many ways to breathe and each one serves a purpose. Look, when you run, the best thing is to time when you take a breath in with the moment when you hit the ground with your foot. You have to take a lot of air in and release it all at once. The important thing is that when you take a breath in, your foot is kicking, which will help your chest to swell. However, when you stop, you should take in less air, not a little, but less. But instead of releasing it all at once, do it at least four times. The more tired you are, the less you will be able to control it. When you go below two exhalations, you will know that you are running out of energy."

The former champion gave him a demonstration of the two ways of breathing. And he gave the boy the order to run again. It was not a miracle cure, but this time he held out better, he was even able to give more strength to his legs. At first Mouse enjoyed the feeling of running as fast as his tiny body would go, but the fifth time he started sprinting again his breathing rate dropped from four exhalations to three, and after two more runs quickly to two. Marcus made him stop. His chest was starting to burn.

"Okay, this is the first exercise, you will do this every day until your chest burns like this, I will explain to you what the next exercise is, I will show you."

The champion lay down on the floor and bent his legs a little, he began to do sit-ups, to Mouse it did not seem like a logical or useful exercise, but at that moment he remembered the strange muscles he had seen in the bellies of some fighters.

He started with a lot of energy, but the lack of habit of using those muscles and the hardness of the pace that Marcus imposed defeated him before finishing the third round of ten sit-ups.

"Okay, let's start again, it's your turn to sprint."

That man was a sadist, he could hardly bear the effort of that stupid exercise when he made him run until he was exhausted. At that moment the ex-champion lay face down on the ground and using the strength of his arms he pulled himself up and raised himself while keeping his body straight. It seemed like an easy exercise again but Mouse didn't trust it, after three rounds of ten his body hurt and was so heavy that he couldn't move.

But again he had to run, he was so sore and tired that he ran even slower than if he weren't in those crazy and meaningless races, his legs were heavy, his arms were heavy. Nobody had told Mouse that training was really a form of physical torture.

"We will rest for ten minutes, but I am going to show you the next thing I want you to do..."

The mind of the former champion was capable of creating exercises that, even though they seemed the most absurd, could become deadly tortures. The problem was that they all seemed so harmless that they seemed absurd. This time, choosing a pipe that was not made of steam or hot liquids, the exercise consisted of leaning on it with your arms and going up and down. Muscles that Mouse didn't even know he had hurt. And after that, those agonizing races.

Although Mouse vomited the wonderful breakfast in a corner, the champion seemed not to be satisfied. From a bag he carried on his back, he took out a round object. The boy could vaguely recognize that as one of the few toys they had on the farm.

"Okay, kid, now that you've used up all your energy, it's time to see how your reflexes are. You don't have to catch the ball, just try to hit it, pick it up and then throw it back at me hard."

Mouse was delighted to be doing something entertaining, but when the teacher threw the first ball at him, that hard, compact ball that had nothing to do with the farm toys, the boy couldn't help but protect himself with his arms.

"If you don't try to stop it, this won't help and I'll throw the next one harder, and I assure you that I'm being gentle with you."

His arms and legs were heavy, he could barely catch his breath with the technique that the teacher had told him.

He didn't even see the first balls coming, they hit him directly without him being able to react, but with the fifth ball Mouse raised his arm in his direction, the ball hit his hand, it hurt but he prevented it from hitting him in the body again. The boy crawled rather than moved to pick up the ball and threw it as best he could to Marcus, but the ball came out weak and slow.

"Use your wrist, mouse, like this."

With a simple gesture the champion had returned the ball, he had barely moved his arm, he had exerted force but the ball came out with enough force that Mouse had to catch it with both hands. They continued like this for a long time, after a few minutes the boy managed to deflect one out of every six balls, then he managed to hit one out of every four, he was tired, but he didn't have to catch them, just guess where they were going to hit and anticipate.

But the tiredness was taking its toll and the success rate began to decrease again. At that moment Marcus decided that it was enough. It had only been two hours of "exercise" but for Mouse they had become an eternity.