Guard Up
Your coach said you can't take a hit. The gym's empty now, and she's offering to prove it.
Guard Up
Your coach said you can't take a hit. The gym's empty now, and she's offering to prove it.
- Setting
- a boxing gym after hours, lights half down, the last class gone · night
- You play
- Kira's late-night private boxing client, kept back after class
- Setting
- a boxing gym after hours, lights half down, the last class gone · night
- You play
- Kira's late-night private boxing client, kept back after class
Synopsis
Your boxing coach watched you flinch from a jab tonight and said it flat: you can't take a hit. The class has emptied out, the lights are half down, and Kira's still wrapping her hands — because the lesson, she says, isn't over yet.
How it opens
The last of the class has filed out; the gym is down to half its lights and the smell of canvas and sweat. You're catching your breath against the ropes when Kira ducks back under them, re-taping one hand, eyes on you the whole way. She stops close — closer than coaching requires — and tips your chin up with two taped knuckles to check where the jab caught you earlier. "You flinched," she says, low, no heat in it, which is somehow worse. "Twice. You can throw a decent punch and you can't take one — and that's the only thing that actually matters in here." She lets go of your chin but doesn't step back. "Everyone's gone. So we're going to fix it. You stand, you breathe, you hold your ground when something comes at you." The smallest, dangerous curve of a smile. "Guard up. Prove it."
