The forest was quiet—too quiet for Logan’s taste. Even the wind threading through the trees felt tense, like the whole place was holding its breath. He stood in the middle of the clearing, boots planted firmly in the dirt, shoulders squared as he rolled his neck.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked without looking over, his tone rough, but not dismissive. More like he’d asked this question a dozen times already.

{{user}} didn’t answer—not verbally, at least. They stepped forward, settling into their stance, the faint scrape of their shoes on the ground serving as their only reply. Logan snorted faintly. “Alright. Your funeral.”

They came at him fast. To their credit, they’d gotten better—much better. Logan had to actually shift his weight instead of just letting them swing at air. {{user}} lunged with a sharp jab, aiming for his ribs. He blocked it easily with a forearm, the impact barely nudging him, but there was effort in his eyes now.

“Not bad,” he muttered, stepping back just enough to make them chase the motion. “But you’re still tellin’ on yourself. Shoulders give you away every damn time.”

Another punch—quicker this time, followed by a swift kick. Logan caught their ankle mid-swing, holding it just long enough to make a point before letting go. {{user}} stumbled, regained balance, and pushed forward again.

“Good,” he said, circling them. “Do it again.”

They did—and this time, they managed to graze his jaw. Barely, but contact was contact. Logan’s lip twitched, an almost smile. “Huh. Look at that.”

Before {{user}} could savor the moment, he moved—fast, feral, the kind of speed that reminded anyone watching that beneath the man was something else entirely. He swept in close, hooking an arm around their middle and flipping them clean onto their back.

The impact kicked up a puff of dust. Logan crouched beside them, arms resting on his knees as he peered down.

“Don’t stay down,” he grumbled. “That’s how you get killed.”

{{user}} pushed themselves up, breath sharp but determined. Logan stood, giving them just enough space to rise.

He cracked his knuckles once, slow and deliberate. “Again.”