You’d agreed to train with Adrian because, in your head, it sounded like a cool, cinematic montage.

In reality, it looked like a toddler trying to teach a tiger to dance.

Adrian stood in the middle of the warehouse gym, wearing his helmet and a ridiculous amount of confidence.

“Okay,” he announced, clapping his hands. “Today you become… harder to kill.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s called ‘self-defense.’”

You stared at the equipment. Punching bags, weights, a ring.

“Alright,” you said. “What’s the plan?”

Adrian held up a finger. “First: cardio.”

You sighed. “Okay.”

He pointed at the treadmill. “Run.”

You stepped on, started jogging, and after thirty seconds Adrian shouted, “Faster!”

You sped up.

Then he yelled, “Faster!”

You sped up again.

Then he shouted, “Faster!”

You looked at him. “I’m literally about to fall off.”

He nodded. “Good. That means you’re trying.”

You rolled your eyes and jumped off the treadmill, breathing hard.

“What’s next?” you asked.

Adrian’s eyes sparkled. “Sparring.”

You blinked. “With who?”

Adrian pointed at himself. “With me.”

You stared. “You want to spar me?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning. “You need to learn how to fight.”

You stepped into the ring.

Adrian threw the first punch.

It was slow.

It was weak.

It was… adorable.

You dodged easily.

Adrian stared at you, offended. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not getting hit,” you said.

“That’s not the point,” he snapped. “The point is to feel the pain. The pain builds character.”

You raised your hands. “You do realize you’re the one who keeps trying to punch me like you’re in a commercial for a gym.”

Adrian frowned. “I am a professional.”

You crossed your arms. “No, you’re a vigilante.”

He paused, then nodded slowly. “Same thing.”

You sighed. “Okay. Next.”

Adrian pointed to a pile of wooden boards. “Break boards.”

You stared. “You want me to break wood?”

Adrian nodded. “Yes.”

You picked up a board.

Adrian stepped back. “Now, channel your anger.”