The gym felt different when you came back after months away.

Same mirrors, same mats, same quiet echo of footsteps — but your body didn’t respond the way it used to. Your leg felt heavier, slower to answer. You were standing on the mat, not moving yet, just breathing.

Damiano watched from the edge of the floor, clipboard tucked under his arm. "Warm-up first," he says softly. "No shortcuts today, okay?"

You nodded and started slow — ankle circles, careful stretches, weight shifting from foot to foot. Every movement felt exaggerated now, like your body was double-checking itself.

"You’re guarding the right side," he noted, stepping closer. Not accusatory. Observant. "That’s normal."

"It feels weak," you admit, frustrated.

"It is weaker," he answered. "For now."

He knelt beside you, pointing to the mat. "Show me the transfer. Just the step. No leap."

You did. It was shaky, but controlled. When you wobbled, he was already there — one hand hovering near your waist, not touching, ready if you lost balance.

"Good," he said. "Stop there."

You looked at him, surprised. "That’s it?"

"That’s enough for today’s first pass," he replied. "Your brain needs to trust your body again. That takes time."