Breathing Styles Novels & Stories

Katherine nodded back, then focused her gaze ahead, determined to stay in her own space. The instructor stood at the front, a lithe woman with a peaceful voice that carried across the field like a lullaby. “Welcome,” she said gently. “This morning, we begin with the breath. Inhale… through the nose. Hold. And exhale… let go.” Katherine closed her eyes. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The tension in her shoulders started to ease. They moved through stretches slowly. The world was still quiet enough to hear birdsong and the wind threading through the trees. Katherine fell into the rhythm—cat-cow, warrior, tree pose—letting her thoughts drift.

“Habit is our worst enemy. With wrong habits, we magnify our weaknesses and destroy our strengths. Take breathing for instance. Some Slayers breathe through their mouths when sparring, and I’m not talking about the kiai cry which accompanies a strike or a throw and serves the purpose of intimidating the enemy or psyching up the Slayer. If you observe babies and animals, you’ll find they always breathe from their stomachs and through their noses. “Getting back to the fight, I kept swiveling my head frantically to try and keep track of the Ayakashi. Because I wanted to ‘see’. I soon realized that the only thing I’d be able to perceive if I kept that up was my hammering heart and the noise of m

Close enough that every shift of his muscles remained in my peripheral vision, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. He dragged the towel down the length of his throat, wiping away the last trail of sweat before letting the fabric hang loosely in his hand. Then he leaned forward, bracing one arm against the cubbies, resting his forehead lightly against it. For a moment, he looked almost still. His chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths, but the rhythm didn’t seem relaxed. It was deliberate, forced, the kind of breathing people used when they were trying to settle something inside themselves. It was the kind of breathing someone learned to quiet themselves, not recover. A self-soothin

My fingers hook into her waistband, and I yank her jeans and underwear down in one desperate motion, tossing them somewhere behind me without ceremony. I look. Nothing. No baby. But … something definitely looks different down there. “Is he there?” Mel pants anxiously. “No!” I say quickly. “Breathe … just breathe … like in the classes.” I take a dramatic inhale. “IN … two … three … four …” Then exhale. “OUT … two … three … four …” I try again. “In … two … three … four …” My head starts spinning. Okay. This breathing crap is NOT working. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. I try again. Still dizzy.

he whispers. "I know," I soothe him, and I begin to rub my hand up and down his side in a slow, rhythmic motion. "Focus on my breathing. Take a breath when I do, and let it out when I do. We are going to pace through the pain." I exaggerate my breathing so he can feel my chest rise and fall against his back. Beau tries to match my rhythm. His first few breaths are jagged and uneven, but he slowly falls into sync with me.

One breath at a time. Kael lay flat on his back, arms at his sides, eyes open. He didn’t stare at me. Didn’t try to read me. He just watched the stars through the branches above, like they might burn out if he looked away. His breath came in long, even pulls. Not tense. Not guarded. Just... steady. I listened to it until I found myself matching him. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Our rhythm synced. Soft. Subtle. No bond. No magic. Just lungs relearning trust.

“I won’t let it. Not with you.” “Then we’ll figure out how to make sure it doesn’t,” Aria said, her voice firmer than she felt. “First—breath.” She placed her palm on her chest, showing the rhythm. “Four in, four hold, four out, four rest. Together.” Kai followed. His shoulders began to loosen. His hands still trembled, but the shaking retreated to his fingertips.

He grabbed onto my shoulders and we both locked eyes. "Just breathe Diana," He pursed his lips and inhaled deeply, encouraging me to do the same. I nodded and joined in the same breathing pattern, taking in the oxygen slowly and releasing it at a steady pace. A minute past. I pursed my lips, allowing for more air to escape. My mind solely focused on my breaths. There was silence. My lungs moved steadily to Damian's breathing. Taking in the air. And out. Repeating the same pattern over. Taking in the air.

Then he tried doing some katas, shooting the lightning in every moves that involved him punching his hands forward or kicking his feet forward. When that was done, he took a one minute break. He ensured he was breathing normaly while calculating in his head about his next moves. Then he started everything again. However, this time, he reduced the shots to only when he wanted it to be shot. When that was done too, he took in a deep breath and repeated the same process with different fighting styles. He did that for more than an hour, initiating patterns he had planned in his head. Taking a deep breath, recalling the spark, doing some katas, and a short rest.

“I… I don't know. I… I can't breathe. I feel faint. What's wrong with me? What's… what's happening? I… I can't breathe—” “Shit! Shit! Shit.” I felt the bed dip and she pulled me into a hug, my head against her chest. “Follow my breathing method, okay?” I nodded. “Now, shut your eyes. On the count of three, okay?” I nodded again, my chest tight. “One, two, three. Go.” She drew a deep breath and I struggled to copy her. And when she exhaled, I did also. “You're doing amazing,” she said softly. “Now let's keep going.”