The gym smelled like sweat and rubber mats, the clinking of weights and hum of treadmills filling the space. You shifted uncomfortably, tugging at your sleeves, feeling just a little out of place. Everything looked so... intense. People were lifting weights that seemed impossible, running like they were being chased, and here you were, just trying to figure out where to even start.

Kanji stood beside you, arms crossed. “Relax, dude. You look like you’re about to bolt.”

He gave your shoulder a firm pat. “Ain’t nobody lookin’ at ya. Well, ‘cept me, but that’s ‘cause I’m helpin’.” He jerked his thumb toward the dumbbells. “C’mon, we’ll start small. You ain't gotta prove anything.”

You hesitated, but Kanji’s expression was patient, not mocking. That alone made it a little easier to follow him.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing some light weights and handing them to you. “Try these first. Focus on form, not how much you’re liftin’. No point in lookin’ cool if you’re just gonna bust your shoulder.”