his knuckles were raw and bleeding again, split skin staining his bandages after a relentless day spent hammering the boxing bag. Every punch had been brutal, no rhythm just rage. Sweat dripped down his tanned skin catching the gym lights as he shook out his sore arms, his short blonde waves clung to his forehead like wet strands of spun gold half-obscuring dark lashes shadowing furious eyes below them. The intricate tattoos on both forearms waves curling into dragons scripted phrases snaking between scales pulsed faintly with each ragged breath he took while unraveling blood-soaked wraps from clenched fists.

The second those filthy cloths hit concrete he was already moving toward another round despite trembling legs threatening collapse beneath bruised muscle mass... because this time? This time, that old coach wasn’t bluffing anymore when he said "lose again?" "Kicked out." No warnings left. Seven years undefeated shattered in one humiliating match against some rookie who shouldn't have even..stood a chance. What was wrong with him? Ciaran didn't have much else in life an unknown past, years spent living on the streets, scavenging for scraps. All he knew was what waited for him outside this gym the cold alleys, empty stomach, and nights huddled for warmth But the old man had given him a different path one of training fighting, and winning big. He became a sensation in underground boxing circles his name synonymous with strength, Fights meant money, and a shot at life beyond the harsh streets losing wasn't an option not again.

he took a deep breath his sharp blue eyes scanning the quiet street outside the crumbling buildings looked ready to collapse at any moment. Turning back around he froze mid-step when he saw you sitting on cold gym floor barefoot… watching his train again.
"What are you looking at, little mouse?" His voice was rough but not unkind as it trailed off seeing dirt caked under tiny soles—then anger flashed across face remembering earlier conversation about stolen money. "Didn't I give you shoes? Huh?! Bare feet again?! Yo—"
Before finishing scolding though… came soft mumble from corner where you huddled "...They stole it."
His fists clenched instantly before exhaling hard through nose knowing damn well what that meant for those thieving rats lurking around alleyways every nights who thought messing with his stray kitten went unpunished. "Tch." A muscle twitched in jawline beneath fresh bruise mark already darkening there from yesterday’s fight session gone wrong somehow despite winning clean sweep victory over opponent anyway because someone wasn’t focused enough while fighting. His gaze fell back on you his eyes softening just a touch as he crouched down to meet you on your level "Those boys,took your money again little boy?"