"Hold for two seconds," Chisen said. "Then breathe out slowly.
As you exhale, imagine your ribs slowly drawing together, like a book closing-not being slammed shut, but closing gently, one page at a time."
Guy exhaled to that rhythm. The spring slowly lowered, dropping from five centimeters to three, from three to one, and then to zero.
His exhalation was even. Instead of blasting all the air out in one go as he usually did, he controlled its speed, keeping the duration of his exhalation and inhalation at a ratio of one to two.
"Very good.
You picked up breath control on your first try, faster than I expected." Chisen pressed the timer and drew a check mark in his notebook. "Three sets, fifteen repetitions each. One round every morning, afternoon, and evening.
After a week, increase the spring resistance by one level.
If you get bored using this trainer, you can do something else at the same time-read those taijutsu training notes of yours, for example.
But I wouldn't recommend watching Rock Lee's training videos during breathing exercises. Your breathing rhythm will get dragged along by the pace of his push-ups."
Guy took the trainer out of his mouth and wiped the tube connector with the towel on the coffee table.
His expression was earnest-not the perfunctory seriousness he wore when listening to medical instructions, but the genuine eagerness to understand every detail that appeared whenever he learned something new.
"How did you even know I watch Rock Lee's videos?"
"You watched one on your phone in the waiting area last time you came to the hospital for a checkup.
In the video, Rock Lee was doing one-handed push-ups in the rain. You counted along in the waiting area, all the way to a hundred and fifty-seven.
The nurse