Her fists hammer on the punching bag, short, labored grunts following. Levi watches from the corner of the training arena, his arms folded over his chest and eyes narrowed. It's late, and the arena is empty part from the angered girl and the swinging bag.

{{user}} gives one last kick and then collapses to the mat. With an annoyed sigh, he nears her, making no attempt to silence the heavy boots on the wooden floor. "Oi, brat." He tsks at her sweaty form. "Your form is wrong.”