Vigorous shouts, sounds of blows to the punching bag and motivational teams of tutors came from the ajar door of the gym. Afternoon workouts are in full swing, it was at this time in the hall most of all visitors.

The old master looked at the road leading to the hall and waited for his two best students. The best and most problematic.

The master was old, but despite his age, he retained not only clarity of mind, but also good spirits and excellent physical data. Years of training have hardened his body so that even death gave him a solid reprieve.

But time flew away, life went towards sunset, which meant it was necessary to think about the future. About the future of his unlucky students, one of whom was truly his masterpiece and heir, and the second beloved granddaughter and pupil, the only relative after the accident that took the life of her daughter and her husband.

Two dissimilar figures appeared on the road. They walked a respectful distance and seemed to be completely unfamiliar. The eyes of the master carefully studied them, noting the smallest details.

Yura walked slightly ahead, straightening his shoulders, proudly lifting his chin. No wonder he was nicknamed Ares, in honor of the ancient Greek god. Tall, athletic with regular strong-willed facial features. He could have been called Apollo, if not for his passion for fights. In the ring, he truly was the god of war.

Zhenya minced a little behind. Two heads down, she looked slouched as a teenage boy, next to Yura. Her short haircut only strengthened the first impression.

The girl looked at the guy's broad back and nervously bit her lower lip. Uncertainty, secret resentment, and a mountain of doubt were easily read on her face.

The master sighed.

Doubts ... He saw them in the eyes of Jura. These doubts distracted the fighter, interfered and threatened to become a big problem.

- Good afternoon, Afanasy Fyodorovich, - Yura greeted politely. - Today, as always?

“Yes,” the master nodded. - Start the workout. Pay special attention to the movement of the legs. I will join you soon - we will work.

The guy listened carefully, nodded and went to change clothes.

“Hi,” Zhenya smiled at his grandfather, filling the old man’s chest with warmth.

“Hello, honey,” the master patted his granddaughter over the head. - Start to work throws, I think you need to work on the counter.

- Grandfather, can I have a sparring ..., - the girl hesitated. - With him.

“You can,” the master sighed, he knew that his granddaughter couldn’t beat Yura, but he did not refuse. In the struggle with a stronger opponent, the girl grew noticeably, became stronger. That's just not what he wanted for her ...

The classes went in the usual manner. Visitors came and went, only the most persistent trained without respite. Envy and sidelong glances were not. Everyone knew that Yura earns by fighting for life and devotes all of himself to training, and Zhenya ... Zhenya is the granddaughter of the master, the champion of the district in judo and wants to achieve more. What exactly? Nobody knows. Even she herself.

“Preparing for sparring,” the Master clapped in his palm. It was already dark outside, there were almost no visitors left.

One of the assistants helped Yura to put on gloves, and the master himself checked her granddaughter's outfit. He knew that Yura perfectly measured strength and would not harm a girl, but the habit is a habit.

“Pull him out,” he gave the last instructions. - You have only one advantage - speed. Move, drive him by the nose, and then suddenly attack ... But do not stand up!

The girl nodded intently, squinting at the enemy, who had already climbed into the ring and was waiting for her.

- Begin! - shouted loudly master.

Zhenya rushed forward, dealt one quick blow and rebounded. Yura easily dodged it and, without weakening the defense, moved on the girl who jumped around him, trying to ruffle himself with insignificant but offensive butting.

“He is too obviously giving in to her,” the assistant standing next to me noticed when Yura missed another blow.

“No,” the master shook darkly. - That's not the point. He is tense, does not understand what to do.

“Is that Ares not understanding?” - skeptical hemmed assistant.

- He got used to the opponents of his weight class. To the opposition of brute force, - explained the master. - On top, Zhenya is a girl. If she was a guy, Yura finished everything without a thought. He is a good fighter, but does not know how to adapt to the situation. He is not a master yet.

- And she?

“Zhenya is in trouble,” the old man shook his head. - Successfully spent a few blows and decided that she could win. Look, now she will try to capture and ... this is the end.

In the ring, the girl dived under the dull blow of the guy and, hugging him, tried to knock him down. That's just the difference in strength and size was not in her favor. Yura raised his eyebrows, took the girl by the armpits and easily raised:

- Are you giving up?

- Not! Let go! Gad! - not at all sporting squealing Eugene, dangling his legs in the air.

- Finished! - Master snapped. - Well, both to me ... Alive!

Damned pupils approached the mentor, feeling that they would not be stroked over their heads.

- And what was that!? - the master raged. - Yura, why did you weaken the defense? How many blows miss the mind incomprehensible!

- She jumped like a grasshopper! - began to make excuses guy. - Feet pumped over here and ...

- That you pumped! - the girl did not remain in debt. - I beat, as taught! And you have only muscles there ... Fu so be it! Mutant!

- So, pumped over ..., - the tone of the master did not promise anything good. - So, my training programs are to blame for everything, and not your inability to evaluate and understand the enemy.

The disciples quickly fell silent, dropping their eyes. The authority of the master is indisputable.

Mentor thought, and then suddenly thawed out easily:

- Ok, this is a fixable matter, if the problem is only in you two. Go to the shower.

The pupils breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to disperse to the corners where the men's and women's dressing rooms were located, coupled with individual showers.

“Stop,” the master stopped them. - What are you doing?

“Let's go to the shower,” Yura shrugged in bewilderment.

“No,” the master spoke with an extremely serious face. - Go to ONE shower.

The disciples stared at him as if they had seen it for the first time in their life. Zhenya even jaw dropped.

- What are you looking at? - calmly continued the old man. - You need to understand each other better ... To know. Go to the shower, rinse. Evaluate who pumped what.

- Afanasy Fyodorovich, are you kidding? - carefully asked Yura. Eugene simply gasped for breath, not finding words from outrage.

- Since when have I ceased to be a master? The old man asked coldly. Appeal "master", the rule of their hall. By name and patronymic or otherwise, just outside.

- Master, I ...

“And since I am still your master, then be kind enough to carry out my order,” the old man snapped. - In the shower. Male. Both!

Yura took a quick glance at Zhenya, hesitated, but obediently moved towards the cheap one.

The girl stood pale as death:

- Grandfather ...

“Either grandfather or master,” the old man said calmly. - Choose.

“I understood ... master,” the girl nodded, resolutely frowned and quickly followed Yura.

- What are you up to, old? - approached the assistant, he is a longtime friend of the master.

“I'm not younger,” the old man replied. - There will be nobody to look after Zhenka ...

- And you decided like this ...?

“It was not me who decided,” the master corrected gently. “They decided this, but they still did not understand it.”

The helper just shook his head and looked doubtfully towards the shower. Many visitors visited Ares, flocks of young women only came to admire and flirt with a handsome man. Fitness was more for the view ... Why would a guy even pay attention to Zhenka? She herself, like a boy, only small.

But, since the master so decided ...

Yura calmly entered the shower room, turned on the cool water and calmly began to wash off the sweat and fatigue. He thought about the words of the master, about his ...