Once upon a time, a life of discipline and rigorous training was the only life you knew. You would rise before the sun and spend the day strengthening your mind and body, only ceasing when the sky was dotted with stars. It seemed like such a long time ago, but in reality, it had only been a few months. Apparently, a few months was all it took to undo over a decade's worth of discipline.

You tried to stifle a yawn, failing dismally, as you walked out the front door of the Xiao Long residence. Sore muscles and aching bones weren't anything new to you, but goddamn if lethargy wasn't worse. It had never been an issue before, back when it was common routine for you to start your day at four in the morning, but now? It hit harder than a train. And you'd been hit by a train before. Out of the two, drowsiness would be the more likely to defeat you. Unfortunately, there was no time to rest. The Grandmasters had given you much to work on.

As you did in the past, you started your workout with cardio. The island of patch wasn't large, and you were pleased to find your endurance hadn't fallen too terribly. You ran the entire coast, thirty miles, in just over two hours. Next came pushups and sit ups, three hundred each, and one hundred one-armed pushups on either side. The first traces of sunlight crept over the horizon as you finished your stretching. You downed your fourth bottle of water and continued onwards.

The most fundamental philosophy of Sun Zhang is that true mastery lies in the basics. There are no advanced techniques. There are only basic techniques applied at an advanced level. Proper footwork, stances, hand positioning, body mechanics, targeting, distance, timing, focus. All these things were refined and perfected over years of training, culminating in the legendary abilities of a Sun Zhang disciple. And those who had been tasked with guarding the secrets of the monastery had deemed it fit to bestow upon you the title of Master. Now it was time to start training like one.

You revisited everything you had learned from your time at the temple, from the day you were first introduced to the Sun Zhang Monastery, to the day you left. Your technique wasn't perfect. It never had been, but there was no doubt that it would take time before you reached the standard at which you once held yourself. But repetition over time would bring you back to where you were. You would revisit it in the days to come.

You had been training for almost six hours when Yang interrupted you. She pressed her hand to your bare chest, glistening with sweat, and placed a kiss on your cheek, telling you to join her for breakfast. Grandmaster Fan Lang would have scoffed and insulted you for allowing this girl to distract you from your training. But you'd never really cared what that man thought, and you weren't going to start now. Training was important, yes. A way of life, even. But Yang was your life. Nothing was more important than her.

You grabbed your water and a towel which you had left hanging on a nearby tree branch, wiping the sweat from your brow as you walked towards the house. Taking a seat on the front steps of the porch, you took a long drink of water, thanking Yang as she handed you a plate of food before sitting next to you.

"You didn't come back to bed." She said somewhat sadly.

"I'm sorry." You said, biting into a piece of buttered toast. "Believe me when I say I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you?" She asked.

"Well, this body didn't happen by accident." You said. Yang's lips upturned in a small smile, but she didn't laugh the way she would have in the past. It was clear that the fall of Beacon had changed her. It had changed everyone. But you had hoped a lighthearted joke would return the two of you to those days of laughter and ease. At least for a moment. "Something's coming, Yang." You said, setting your plate to the side. "What happened at Beacon is going to happen again. And when it does, I need to be ready. So, I can't rest. Not when there's work to be done."

"You sound like Ruby." She said.

You sensed the resentment in her voice. The fear. You took her hand and wrapped it in your own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm not leaving you, Yang." You said. "Wherever you go, I'll follow. And that, that is why I have to keep training."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I know." You said. "But please understand that I need to protect you."

Yang inhaled deeply and released a short sigh. "Okay." She nodded.

Kissing her hair, she buried her head in the nape of your neck as you held her close. You could hear the birds chirping from the nearby forest, and further off in the distance the relaxing sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline. Your fight hadn't even begun, and already you longed for it to be over. To be able to hold Yang and find solidity in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought the two of you would face it together. But the events of the past few months signaled an oncoming storm. One that threatened to take her from you. So you would train to ensure that never happened.

"I'll let you get back to your training." She said, backing out of the hug. "Just... promise me you won't overdo it. It's sweet that you're making sure you're there for me in the future. You always have, and it's one of the things I love most about you. But... I still need you now." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "Okay?"

You nodded in response, placing another kiss on her forehead before she returned inside, leaving you to your training.

The second fundamental philosophy of Sun Zhang is that there is no substitution for a proper master. Written instruction can only go so far in its ability to aid one's progression. Only under the watchful eye of a true master can a student truly grasp the many concepts of any given motion. Alas, written instruction was all you had. The Grandmasters had taught you what they could with the limited time you had together. Now, you had to continue your training without them. To aid you in your journey they had left you many detailed scrolls. Copies of the ancient original documents that lie guarded in the monastery library. They contained detailed written instructions accompanied by visual aids depicting the flow of one movement to the next, or else the application of a particular motion. The training wasn't necessarily physically demanding so much as it was tasking for you mentally. Trying to decipher the images correctly was a time-consuming process, and even then, you weren't quite sure you completely understood.

As the days and weeks passed, you found yourself falling into the once familiar routine that dictated your life at Beacon. The lethargy gradually lessened until you no longer needed an alarm to wake at four. Though there were slight variations, your days all followed the same general schedule.

4:00 am: Begin Day

4:15am – 6:30am: Cardio/Endurance/Stretching

6:30am – 6:45am: Water Break

6:45am – 7:45am: Basic Review of Techniques

7:45am – 9:00am: Advanced Review of Techniques

9:00am – 9:30am: Breakfast

9:30am – 10:30am: Time with Yang

10:30am – 11:30am: Joint Locks/Throws

11:30am – 12:00pm: Water Break

12:00pm – 2:00pm: Weapons Training

2:00pm – 3:00pm: Lunch/Time with Yang

3:00pm – 4:00pm: Earth

4:00pm – 5:00pm: Wood

5:00pm – 6:00pm: Metal

6:00pm – 7:30pm: Dinner/Time with Yang

7:30pm – 8:30pm: Fire

8:30pm – 9:30pm: Water

9:30pm – 10:00pm: Cool Down

10:00pm – 10:45pm: Prepare for Bed

11:00pm: Bed

You always ensured you spent at least three hours of every day with Yang. After all, she was your reason for being. The reason you pushed yourself so hard. You had failed her once before. The scarred remnants of Rhino's Charge hanging from your right hip attested to that, serving as a constant reminder. A reminder of your failures. And a reminder of the consequences of complacency.

Your time at Beacon had inflated your sense of superiority. None of the other students came close to your combat skills, and knowing this, you allowed yourself to become lax in your training. You never should have let it to happen. Your complacency made you slower. Weaker. If you had just been a little faster, maybe you could have spared Yang the pain of the past few months. If you had just been a little stronger, maybe you could have defeated Adam Taurus.

A world of hypotheticals. It did no good to dwell on them. All that was certain was that you hadn't been good enough. You never have been. But next time, next time you would be. That was a promise.