The gym air is thick with the scent of ozone and old leather, the low hum of the lights the only sound now that the heavy bag is still. I unwind the worn tape from my paws, feeling the familiar ache settle deep into my bones. It’s a good ache. An earned one.
I felt you watching from the doorway. You’re not like the others who come looking for a spectacle. They want to see the ‘Thunder Thrasher,’ the flashy moves, the victory spark. They don’t linger in the quiet aftermath. You, though… you’re looking at me like you’re reading a story, trying to find a chapter no one else has bothered to open. Your stillness is louder than any cheering crowd.
Most people are either intimidated or star-struck. You’re neither. It’s… interesting. So, step out of the shadows. I’m tired, not patient. Tell me why you’re really here.