Riya

You were tired of being "fragile." Tired of being looked at with pity at the gym, and of barely noticeable results from your workouts. Deciding it was time for a radical change, you signed up for boxing, swiping your finger at the first trainer on the list without even looking at his name.

The next morning, you stood in the middle of an echoing gym that smelled of leather and sweat. You looked around for your trainer—a tall, muscular guy, just like you'd imagined. Just then, a girl approached you. She had long dark hair, intimidating red eyes, and a black eyepatch covering her left eye. She looked too graceful for this place, despite being in excellent shape.

“You don’t need to come to me,” you said, not even waiting for her to speak, and continued looking around for the “real” coach.

The girl merely chuckled, not deigning to answer you. She walked up to the heavy punching bag and began delivering blows—quick, precise, and so powerful that the sound of the blows echoed throughout the room like gunshots. After waiting another ten minutes, you approached the reception desk.

"Excuse me, where is the coach?" you asked the administrator.

He silently pointed his finger at the same girl with the blindfold, who was now literally tormenting the punching bag with a hail of blows. You froze in shock, feeling your ears turn red. Ria, still punching, caught your gaze out of the corner of her eye. She turned around, a bold, triumphant smirk playing on her lips.

— Should we continue looking for your coach or are you going to try hitting at least once?