Mid-Spring
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Garage, 6:22 PM
The mat was gone.
The floor, now covered in plates, bars, and chalk dust.
Ashan stood shirtless, callused hands gripping iron.
Sweat dripped, but he wasn't out of breath.
135 pounds now.
Still lean. But thicker. Denser.
His arms didn't hang anymore, they rested, slightly flexed from tension that never truly left.
He dropped the barbell with a loud thud.
Not flashy. Not a PR.
Just another set.
Done right. Done heavy.
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"I needed to get stronger."
"I was fast. But not powerful."
"Light. But not solid."
Gone were the hundred-rep pushups.
Gone were the excessive cardio workouts.
Now?
Deadlifts. Weighted pull-ups. Loaded carries, slow and controlled squats, and weighted dips.
Slow. Heavy. Ruthless.
And still, a few rounds of shadowboxing, every night.
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Flashback: A Week After Ashan's Last Wrestling Match
"You've got the balance now," Jalen had told him.
"But if someone hits you for real, honestly, you're fucked."
"Bulk up smart. Don't become a meathead. But stop hiding behind 'cut.'"
Ashan had nodded.
He wasn't cutting anymore.
He was committed to the bulk.
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Project Dragon, Day 221
"The weight came back, but it's different now."
"Back then it was fat. Now it's muscle."
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