Bully Lord

Part-36

Sweat beaded on James' forehead as he delivered the final thunderclap of his session.  Twenty blows echoed through the training area, each one adding a precious point to his "Thunderclap Skill." It had climbed to a respectable 54/100 – a significant 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 punching bag, with its unforgiving canvas exterior, offered a brutal honesty about his progress.  Here, there were no illusions, no deceptive softness to mask the impact.  The pain was a harsh teacher, but James welcomed it.  It was a reminder of the physical toll his training demanded, a tangible consequence of pushing his limits.  And yet, there was a strange satisfaction 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 unclenched 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 suspicion, couldn't help but notice James' obsession with slapping the punching bag.  It was an odd training method, 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 encounter.  Here, however, James was entirely focused on perfecting a single move – the slap.  It was as if he was training for something very specific, something that didn't quite fit the mold of traditional martial arts.

"Why isn't he practicing 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 fascination with slaps.  He started with a simple online search, scouring James' social media profiles and any other publicly available information.  However, James kept a low profile online, offering no clues about his newfound training regimen.  Undeterred, Ryan delved deeper.  He started digging into James' past, searching for any hints of martial arts training or unusual experiences.  He even considered questioning some of James' classmates, hoping to glean some insight.  But James wasn't very social, and his classmates knew little beyond his quiet demeanor and good grades.

Frustrated but undeterred, Ryan decided to employ a more old-fashioned method – observation.  He planned to 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 was a potential weapon.

Meanwhile, oblivious to Ryan's machinations, James walked home, his mind already formulating plans for his next training session.  He needed to 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 control his power, to hone his skills, and maybe, just maybe, to stand up to bullies like Ryan.