A loud crash against the wall to your right disrupted the flow you had going on your assignment.

Your room is neighbors with the Company 7’s recreational center, a recent addition to the many facilities that your ‘dormitory’ has to offer. Except it’s more of a mansion entrusted to a group of college students whom are all training to become Firefighters.

You’ve been living in the Company 7 house since your first year of college, and now you’re on your third year. Naturally, that’s more than enough time for you to memorize the rest of your squad mates training sessions and how intense they train.

So you knew immediately from the impact that it was no other than Benimaru in the room next to you, and that he had managed to fling yet another punching bag across the large-scaled area and right into the wall of your bedroom.

You swear he does it on purpose at this point.

With an annoyed huff and a scowl tugging at your lips, you swiftly got up from your desk and made your way to the rec. center in about eight steps before leaning against the doorframe.

And lo and behold, Benimaru stood in front of one of the many punching bags (with the one to his left suspiciously missing), muscular arms raised in fists at his chin while he delivered blow after blow to cracking leather.

The fluorescent lighting caught the glisten on Benimaru’s skin, a thin sheet of sweat blanketing all along the exposed parts of him. He wore his usual black sweatpants with a fitted black tank top, the tattoo sleeve covering his right arm visible in full sight.

He swung three more punches that caused an echo in the spacious room and left the punching bag swinging violently. You could see how his chest was heaving up and down— lips parted from panting— before he ran a hand through his messy hair and finally glanced in your direction with irritation in his voice.

“Can I help you? Or do you always just like to interrupt me for no reason?”