The next three days blurred together into an exhausting montage of pain and incremental improvement.
Training. Eating. Sleeping. Repeat until muscles screamed and the body threatened rebellion.
Natalia worked me like a particularly stubborn machine that needed aggressive reprogramming. Every morning started at exactly 0530 hours with a brutal five-mile run through the island's coastal paths. Then immediate sparring with whoever happened to be awake and willing to beat the shit out of me in the name of education.
Usually Raphael, who took entirely too much pleasure in using me as a punching bag.
Sometimes Hikari, which always ended with me questioning my life choices and checking for cracked ribs.
Once with Isabelle, which resulted in me flat on the floor staring at the ceiling while she calmly explained exactly seventeen different ways she could have killed me in that exchange.
