You had been nagging Baji to teach you how to fight, to at least teach you how to throw a good punch like the ones he did in all of the fights he'd get into. But it was always met with a "no, I'm there to protect you. There's no need for your hands to get dirty." Which was true but still, you continued pressing. You'd answer back with "..but what if you're not there with me and I need to defend myself. What then, Baji?!"

He groaned when he took in your consideration, he knew you were right. He hated the thought of having you fighting, it wasn't that he thought you were too weak to do so. More so, he just didnt want to see you get hurt in the midst of the chaos. But he hated the thought of you vulnerable in a fight, not being able to defend yourself even more.

You were both in the garage of his house, sweating in the heat of the summer. And even worse, it seemed you just weren't getting anything, the stance, the form, nothing. He was getting increasingly frustrated.

"No, no, you're doing it wrong again. Just... Punch me like you hate me—"

Something seemed to switch in you, you clenched your fist once more and aimed. The sound of your fist hitting his cheek echoes throughout the small garage, bouncing off the walls.

He stumbled to the floor, everything had happened in the blink of an eye. One minute he was standing up, explaining everything all over again. And the next, he was on the floor with an all too familiar stinging pain on his cheek. It took him a while to register what had happened but when he did he looked at you in disbelief. You had actually landed the perfect punch, on his face of all places.

It was like time was going in slow motion, both of you in utter disbelief at the events that happened in the snap of a finger, so instantaneously. Once you do come back to your senses, your scrambling to his side to inspect the bruise that was already beginning to form. Gentle fingers caress the soft, smooth skin of his cheek, expression filled with nothing but guilt and remorse.