Juryokine

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Toke's alarm clock had barely begun to ring before his hand shot out, turning it off. He swung his legs out from over his bed and stood up, yawning as he stretched his arms and rolled his head, popping the kinks out of his neck.

"All right," he muttered, pulling his shirt off and throwing it back onto the bed. He ignored the rumbling in his stomach, insisting he put off his exercises until after breakfast, and stepped up onto the wall. Now the wall was the floor to him, and his bed and dressers were suspended impossibly on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he got down on his hands and knees, stretched his legs out behind himself, and began a set of pushups.

Thirty pushups at normal weight, Zashiel had instructed. Every time he came up, he had to clap his hands before going down again. He was breathing heavily before he was even halfway done, and by the time he reached thirty his arms were shaking so hard he could barely hold himself up. Getting back to his feet, he allowed himself three minutes of rest, just like Zashiel had told him, watching his clock from his perch on the wall, and then stepped onto the ceiling and began doing another set. For these ones, he weakened gravity's pull on him so that every time he pushed up the momentum carried him almost all the way to his feet. He would clap three times before falling back down and doing it again.

These exercises served a dual purpose, Zashiel had told him. First, they would build up his muscle and endurance. Doing them on the walls and ceiling would help him get better at maintaining his anchors under duress. His attention lapsed a couple times, nearly sending him tumbling back to the floor. That was why he had chosen this particular spot on the ceiling, right above his bed. With every pushup he grew wearier, making it even more difficult to concentrate, but he forced himself to focus. It was kind of like when he was at work in Navras' class. If he concentrated on nothing but what he was doing and the goal he was trying to accomplish, everything else faded away. His muscles still quivered and his lungs still burned, but they were easier to ignore.

Thirty! he thought, letting himself collapse under his own weight. For a few seconds he simply laid there on the ceiling, but then he let go of his anchor and fell onto the bed. He wasn't done yet, though, so he made himself get up again and got into position once more on the floor. He intensified gravity's hold on him, nearly collapsing under his now-doubled bodyweight, and began another set of pushups. This was the hardest part of the workout, as it was like somebody was sitting on his back for the whole thing. Luckily, Zashiel had said he only had to fifteen of these, and he didn't need to take his hands off the ground for them.

Toke's arms cried for mercy as he lowered himself to the floor, but he ignored them. If he listened, he knew he would give in. He didn't want to do these exercises, but if he and Zashiel were going to accomplish what they'd set out to do, he would need to be stronger. Still, he'd have preferred if she had started him off with something easier.

You could just not do the exercises, his subconscious told him. Zashiel would never know!

"No!" he argued with himself, his voice strained as he struggled to push himself up again. "I'm sick of doing everything wrong. I'm sick of letting everybody down. From now on, I'm going to make them proud. Fifteen!"

With that last pushup completed, he collapsed on the floor again. He lay there for over ten minutes, his arms numb and his chest burning with every breath. Inside, though, he felt a spark of satisfaction. Zashiel had given him the workout, and he'd done it. He couldn't stay there all day, though. Navras was expecting him in class. With a groan, he got back to his feet and got dressed.

"That's gonna hurt later," he said under his breath, rubbing his biceps as he locked the door behind him.

He felt nauseous as he walked to the cafeteria, but he ignored it and was soon forcing down eggs, toast, and three tall glasses of water. If he didn't eat now, he wouldn't get another chance until after he got back from Zashiel's training. That would leave him weak during their sparring sessions, which would only result in the tar getting beaten out of him again. So he ate, mechanically chewing his food, trying not to taste it, for fear of throwing it back up.