I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 22: A Day at the Gym
Phil Dunphy prided himself on being an involved father. Sure, his kids sometimes rolled their eyes at him, but deep down, he knew they appreciated his enthusiasm. So when his morning client canceled, Phil saw it as fate. A perfect opportunity to spend time with Jon, his unofficial new nephew.
And what better way to bond than watching the kid fight for his life?
Okay, that was dramatic. It was just sparring. Still, Phil had heard whispers about Jon's martial arts skills, but he hadn't seen them in action. Today, that was going to change.
Phil stepped into the MMA gym, immediately hit by the scent of sweat, rubber mats, and whatever cleaning product they used to almost cover the sweat. Fighters were training on various stations—some hitting heavy bags, others grappling on the mats—but Phil's eyes went straight to the ring in the center.
There was Jon.
Moving like a ghost.
His opponent, a guy pushing thirty with a shaved head and arms thicker than Phil's entire torso, threw a flurry of punches. Fast, aggressive. The kind of punches that would send a normal teenager straight to next week.
But Jon?
Jon didn't just dodge—he anticipated. He swayed out of reach with razor-thin precision, never moving more than necessary. It was like he had all the time in the world, reading his opponent like an open book.
Phil's jaw dropped.
The older fighter lunged in with a wild hook. Jon ducked under it so smoothly that the guy's fist sliced the air where Jon's head had been a second ago. Then, in one seamless motion, Jon pivoted and landed a lightning-fast counterpunch to the ribs. Not full power—just enough to remind the guy that Jon could have ended the fight right there.
Even from where he stood, Phil felt it.
"Holy—" Phil caught himself before the curse fully formed.
Jon's opponent grunted, backed up, shook out his arms, and came again. This time, Jon switched tactics, weaving inside the man's guard and using footwork that Phil could only describe as elegant.
At one point, Jon literally slipped under a punch, spun behind the guy, and gave him a light tap on the shoulder before stepping back.
Phil gawked.
It was like Jon was bored.
A few more exchanges, a few more dodges so precise they seemed unfair, and then Jon's opponent held up a hand, breathing hard.
"I'm done," the man admitted, shaking his head. "I can't touch you, kid."
Jon grinned and held out a hand. "Good round."
The guy took it, still looking mildly annoyed that a sixteen-year-old just made him look slow.
As Jon turned to grab his water bottle, his eyes landed on Phil. His face brightened instantly. "Phil!"
Phil snapped out of his trance. "Hey, buddy! Just, uh, casually in the area. Thought I'd drop by."
Jon smirked. "You came to watch, didn't you?"
Phil put up his hands. "Guilty. But wow, kid. That was insane. You didn't even break a sweat!"
Jon shrugged, but there was an amused glint in his eye. "I've been doing this for a while."
Phil shook his head in disbelief. "No kidding. You move like a… like a ninja ballerina assassin."
Jon laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
After grabbing a towel, Jon led Phil around the gym, giving him a tour.
"So this is the mat area," Jon explained, gesturing to the section where two guys were currently trying to choke each other unconscious. "That's where grappling happens—wrestling, jiu-jitsu, stuff like that."
Phil nodded. "Mm-hmm. I see. I see. So that's where people go to hug aggressively until someone taps out."
Jon chuckled. "Basically."
They moved on.
"These are the heavy bags," Jon said, pointing at the thick punching bags lined against the wall. A few fighters were going at them with powerful strikes, each thud echoing across the gym. "Great for practicing punches, kicks, and combinations."
Phil nodded seriously. "And also for taking out any unresolved issues with your father."
Jon grinned. "Exactly."
Finally, Jon stopped at an empty bag and gave Phil an expectant look.
"Wanna give it a try?"
Phil blinked. "Me? Oh, no, no, no. This is your world. I'm just an observer."
Jon raised an eyebrow. "Come on. I'll teach you how to throw a punch. It's easy."
Phil hesitated. "I don't know, Jon. I've seen movies. The second I throw a punch, I'll probably unlock some hidden potential and become an unstoppable force of nature."
Jon smirked. "We'll take that risk."
Phil sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I accidentally punch through this bag, it's on you."
Jon positioned him in front of the bag. "Alright, first, stance. Feet shoulder-width apart."
Phil shuffled his feet. "Like this?"
Jon gave him a once-over. "Yeah… close enough."
"Close enough? Jon, I don't want close enough. I want perfect form," Phil said, adjusting dramatically.
Jon laughed. "Okay, okay. Relax your shoulders. Hands up. And now, throw a jab."
Phil threw his first punch.
It was… not great.
Jon bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh. "Alright. Not bad."
Phil squinted. "You're lying to me."
Jon smirked. "Maybe a little. Try again. Snap it out fast, like a whip."
Phil tried again, this time with more confidence. The bag made a soft thud.
"There you go!" Jon encouraged. "Now try a right cross."
Phil threw a cross. It actually felt kinda good. He tried another. And another.
For a moment, he actually felt like an action hero.
Then his knuckles started to sting.
He shook his hand out. "Alright. I think I'm retiring."
Jon laughed. "Already?"
Phil held up a hand. "Listen, kid. Some of us are meant to coach from the sidelines. Others"—he gestured at Jon—"are meant to be freakishly talented martial artists who could probably win a movie fight scene against an entire gang."
Jon smirked. "Appreciate that."
Phil patted his shoulder. "Well, thanks for letting me throw some punches. Even if I'll definitely be feeling it tomorrow."
Jon grinned. "Anytime, Phil."
As they walked toward the exit, Phil felt a genuine warmth in his chest. Jon wasn't just some cool guy. He was a great kid.
And Phil was really, really glad he was part of the family.