The atmosphere in Santino's had shifted in ways both subtle and obvious since Carmen's sparring session with Demetrius. Conversations stopped when she walked by, replaced by respectful nods from fighters who'd previously treated her as an interesting curiosity rather than a genuine threat. The change was most apparent in how the heavyweights interacted with her—where before they'd offered condescending advice about "being careful" or suggestions that she might be happier in a women's-only gym, now they simply got out of her way.
Demetrius himself had become a different person entirely. Gone was the swagger that had defined his first months in the gym, replaced by a grim determination that reminded Liam of someone who'd just discovered that the world was considerably more dangerous than they'd previously believed. He still trained with intensity, but his approach had become more methodical, less focused on impressing observers and more concerned with addressing the technical deficiencies that Carmen had exposed with surgical precision.
"He's been working on his defense for six days straight," Carmen observed as she and Liam prepared for their morning pad session. "Nothing but footwork and head movement. Haven't seen him throw a power shot since last Tuesday."
Liam followed her gaze to where Demetrius was shadowboxing in front of the mirror, his movements cautious and deliberate rather than explosive. The transformation was remarkable, like watching someone learn to walk all over again after discovering they'd been doing it wrong their entire life.
"Think it'll stick?" Liam asked, pulling on his gloves.
"Depends on whether his ego can handle being a student instead of a star." Carmen held up the focus mitts, settling into her familiar stance. "Some people can't stand the idea that they need to start over. They'd rather keep making the same mistakes than admit they were wrong."
The observation felt personal, though Liam was certain Carmen didn't intend it that way. His entire situation was built on starting over, on admitting that his first attempt at boxing had been so fundamentally flawed that death had been the only way to get a second chance.
"What about you?" he asked as they began their warm-up combinations. "Ever have to start over with anything?"
"Every day," Carmen replied, adjusting the angle of the mitts to work his hook. "That's what training is—starting over with everything you thought you knew and trying to make it better."
They worked through their usual progression—basic combinations building to more complex sequences, technical refinement followed by conditioning work. Liam's improvement over the past month had been steady but not dramatic, exactly the kind of progress ARP had predicted based on his physical limitations and experience level.
But something felt different today. The combinations that had required intense concentration a week ago now flowed naturally, his body finding the rhythm without conscious thought. His footwork had become more integrated with his punching, the two systems working together instead of fighting each other for dominance.
"Your timing's getting better," Carmen noted after a particularly clean triple combination. "You're not thinking as much."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Boxing's not a thinking sport once the bell rings. You have to trust your training and let your body react." She reset the mitts for another sequence. "Thinking gets you hit."
As if to prove her point, Liam's next combination was slower and more deliberate as he consciously tried to perfect his technique. The result was adequate but lacked the snap and precision of his previous effort.
"See?" Carmen smiled. "Stop thinking. Just box."
They continued working for another twenty minutes, building up to the kind of sustained combination work that would have been impossible when Liam first started training with Carmen. His conditioning had improved dramatically, his technical consistency was becoming reliable, and most importantly, he was beginning to understand the rhythm and flow that made boxing an art rather than just a collection of violent techniques.
"That's enough for today," Carmen said, pulling off the mitts as the morning crowd began filtering into the gym. "You're progressing faster than most beginners."
"Good coaching," Liam replied, though he suspected his adult understanding of learning principles was accelerating his development in ways that would be difficult to explain.
"Maybe. Or maybe you're just more coachable than most guys your age." Carmen toweled off, studying his face with the analytical intensity that characterized everything about her approach to boxing. "You listen. You don't argue with corrections. You're not trying to prove anything except that you can get better."
The assessment was accurate but incomplete. Liam wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone else because he'd already proven everything to himself—mainly that talent without discipline was worthless, and ego without skill was dangerous. His first life had been a masterclass in how not to approach professional athletics.
"Speaking of getting better," Carmen continued, "Vinny mentioned you might be ready for some light sparring soon. How do you feel about that?"
The question hit Liam like a punch he hadn't seen coming. In his original timeline, his first sparring session had been a disaster that set the tone for everything that followed. Miguel Santos, a local heavyweight with more power than technique, had treated him like a heavy bag for three rounds while Vinny watched and occasionally shouted advice that Liam had been too overwhelmed to process.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "What do you think?"
"I think you're technically ready for controlled sparring with someone appropriate. Your defense is solid enough that you won't get seriously hurt, and your offense is developing consistency." She paused, considering. "The question is whether you're mentally ready to get hit back."
ARP's voice cut through his thoughts with clinical precision: "Sparring represents a critical developmental milestone. However, your previous experience suggests significant psychological barriers that must be addressed before physical training can proceed safely."
The AI was right. Despite all his technical improvements and conditioning gains, Liam hadn't been hit by an opponent since Tommy Morrison's final punch had ended his previous life. The thought of standing in a ring while someone threw punches at his head triggered anxiety responses that had nothing to do with his current skill level.
"Can I think about it?" he asked.
"Of course. But don't think too long. You'll never know if you're ready until you try, and waiting doesn't make it easier." Carmen gathered her gear, preparing to move on to her own training routine. "Besides, I'll be there to make sure nobody gets stupid with you."
The implication that she would be involved in his first sparring session was both reassuring and terrifying. Carmen's presence would certainly ensure that any sparring partner treated him with appropriate restraint, but it also meant that his performance would be witnessed by the person whose opinion mattered most to him in the gym.
"Think about what?" asked a voice behind them. Liam turned to see Isabella Chen approaching with her usual notebook and camera, apparently having overheard the tail end of their conversation.
"Sparring," Carmen replied before Liam could deflect. "Liam might be ready for his first session."
"Really?" Isabella's interest was immediate and obvious. "That's a big step for any boxer. Mind if I document it? I'm working on a piece about amateur development for the local sports blog."
The last thing Liam needed was his return to competitive boxing documented by a journalist, especially given his tendency to display knowledge that exceeded his apparent experience. But refusing would seem strange and might draw more attention than agreeing.
"Maybe," he said carefully. "Assuming I decide to do it."
"What's making you hesitate?" Isabella asked, her reporter's instincts immediately focusing on the most interesting aspect of the situation.
Liam felt trapped between his desire to avoid attention and the need to provide a reasonable explanation for his reluctance. In his original timeline, he'd been eager to spar as soon as possible, driven by impatience and the need to prove himself. His current hesitation probably seemed odd for someone his apparent age.
"I want to make sure I'm technically ready," he said finally. "No point in developing bad habits because I rushed into something I wasn't prepared for."
"That's unusually mature thinking for a seventeen-year-old," Isabella observed, making a note that probably meant his response would end up in her article.
"I've been studying the sport," Liam replied, falling back on his standard explanation for displaying advanced understanding.
"What have you been studying specifically?"
Before Liam could figure out how to answer without revealing too much, Vinny's voice cut across the gym with the authority that could stop conversations mid-sentence.
"Page! Get over here."
The old trainer was standing next to the ring where Miguel Santos was warming up, throwing combinations into the air with the kind of controlled power that made the displacement visible. Miguel looked exactly as Liam remembered him—six-foot-three, heavily muscled, with the kind of natural intimidation factor that made smaller fighters reconsider their career choices.
"Shit," Liam muttered, realizing that his first sparring session might not be a matter of choice after all.
"What's wrong?" Carmen asked, noting his sudden tension.
"Nothing. Just... nervous, I guess."
As they approached the ring, Liam could feel ARP running diagnostic checks on his physiological responses—heart rate elevated, breathing shallow, muscle tension increasing in patterns consistent with fight-or-flight activation.
"Miguel needs rounds," Vinny announced without preamble. "You've been training for over a month, your technique's solid, and you need to see what boxing feels like when someone punches back. Three rounds, light contact, focus on movement and defense."
The same instructions Vinny had given before Liam's first sparring session eight years ago. Even Miguel's expression was identical—mildly bored indifference mixed with the professional patience of someone who'd spent countless rounds helping beginners learn what combat actually felt like.
"I don't know if I'm ready," Liam said, his voice carrying more uncertainty than he'd intended.
"Nobody's ever ready for their first sparring session," Vinny replied. "That's why it's called learning. You can't learn to box without boxing."
Carmen appeared at his shoulder, her presence somehow both comforting and pressure-inducing. "You'll be fine. Miguel's experienced enough to give you exactly what you can handle."
Which was true, but also irrelevant to Liam's specific psychological situation. Miguel Santos wasn't dangerous because he was malicious—he was dangerous because he reminded Liam of every sparring session that had gone wrong, every punch that had landed clean, every moment when boxing had felt less like art and more like organized violence.
"Page," Vinny said, his tone suggesting that the discussion phase was over. "Gloves. Headgear. Three rounds. Now."
As Liam began pulling on his protective equipment, he caught sight of Isabella positioning herself near the ring with her camera ready. Several other fighters had also stopped their training to watch, drawn by the universal appeal of seeing how a new fighter handled their first taste of real competition.
"Remember," Carmen said quietly as he adjusted his headgear, "defense first. Miguel's not trying to hurt you, but he will test your fundamentals. Stay calm, stay moving, and trust your training."
The advice was solid, but it didn't address the real problem. Liam's issue wasn't technical—his defense was adequate for light sparring, and his conditioning was sufficient for three rounds. His problem was psychological, rooted in memories of previous failures that belonged to a timeline Isabel and everyone else in the gym believed had never happened.
As he climbed through the ropes and touched gloves with Miguel Santos, Liam realized that this moment would determine more than just his boxing development. It would establish whether he could truly leave his previous life's failures behind, or whether the psychological scars from eight years of defeats would prove stronger than his technical improvements.
The bell rang, and Miguel moved forward with the patient aggression of an experienced fighter working with a beginner.
Liam's first test had begun.