#flexcontrol

Wells didn’t need yoga.

That’s what the new recruits thought, anyway.

They lined their mats up inside Golden City Yoga Centre, whispering like they were about to witness something ceremonial. Wells rolled his mat out at the front of the room, calm as ever, broad shoulders loose, breathing steady. No rush. No showing off. Just presence.

He wasn’t here for fun. With a major match approaching, he knew how to prep right. Flexibility wasn’t a luxury—it was part of his edge. Precision. Control. Range. Yoga sharpened everything.

“Alright,” the instructor said, scanning the room. “Let’s warm up.”

Wells flowed into the first sequence like he’d been built for long lines and deep holds. Smooth transitions. Controlled movement. Every pose landed with purpose, like patience was just another muscle he’d trained over time.

A few recruits exchanged looks.

Hadn’t expected that.

When Wells folded forward, palms flat, hamstrings relaxed like they’d signed a peace treaty years ago, someone near the back muttered, “That doesn’t look legal.”

Wells didn’t look up. “Flexibility’s just strength,” he said evenly, “that learned how to breathe.”

Then came downward dog.

Wells pressed his palms into the mat and lifted smoothly, hips high, spine long, heels inching closer to the floor like he had all the time in the world. No strain. No shaking. Just control.

Someone cleared their throat.

The instructor walked past, paused for half a second. “Strong alignment.”

Wells glanced between his arms, voice calm. “Yeah,” he replied, “this position really shows what happens when you open up properly and don’t rush it.”

A few recruits suddenly became very interested in adjusting their mats.

He held the pose without effort, breathing slow and steady, like he could stay there all day if he felt like it. And judging by the looks around the room… no one was in a hurry for him to come out of it.

The session moved on, deep lunges, long holds, slow transitions. Wells stayed grounded through it all. While others wobbled and negotiated with gravity, he settled deeper, steady as stone.

By the final stretch, the room was quiet except for controlled breathing.

The instructor spoke gently. “Remember, don’t force it. Ease into the position.”

Wells rolled one shoulder, still holding firm. “Told you,” he said casually. “When you open up properly and take your time, everything just… lines up.”

There was a beat.

Then someone snorted. Someone else lost their balance. Wells finally came out of the pose with a slow stretch, like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.

As the class wrapped up, mats rolled, and recruits shook out stiff limbs, Wells slung his towel over his shoulder and gave them an easy grin.

“Stretch often,” he said. “Stay loose.”

He took two steps toward the door, then glanced back.

“Because when flexibility’s there,” he added, “you can always go a little deeper… without pulling anything.”

A few recruits quietly decided to keep stretching.

Wells just smiled and headed out.