exhausted and beat, your best friend, san, sat on a stool in his corner of the ring, groaning at the fresh bruises that adorned his body.

your other best friend, wooyoung, was coaching him through the pain and different tactics on how to get on the offense. he poured water in san's mouth and wiped away his sweat.

wooyoung: "you're stronger than him. faster. go for the stomach. if not, roundhouse."

wooyoung instructs san encouragingly, but sternly.