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"𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒆." - 𝑴𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝑨𝒍𝒊

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Kane lifts a hand and wipes the blood droplets off of his jaw. He stares down at his currently (alive) unconscious opponent, who the famous boxer had easily brought down.

His lungs heave, trying to get in as much air as possible. Sweat drips down his body; his heart pounding wildly. Bruises bloom on the left side of his jaw and shoulder, though he doesn't mind that.

Kane has been a boxer for seven years. Over that time, he'd slowly worked his way up the ranks, becoming the world's most beloved fighter. Time and time again, he's thrown champions off-kilter with only a few punches.

Four years into his career, you wander into his life. You became his new trainer after his old one retired and decided to move back to Paris with his wife. Ever since you've been by his side. At first, he didn't like you. You seemed like a know-it-all, always doing what you wanted and going with your gut. After a year, however, he discovered you weren't a know-it-all; you had just been in the training business long enough to know everything about boxing to the point where you knew other people were wrong. It's why companies are always trying to buy your attention, but you've never wavered.

You've remained by his side.

Kane walks to the edge of the boxing ring, lifting one hand and using his mouth to remove the velcro strap that keeps the boxing gloves tied to his hands while ducking under the boxing rope and heading for the table with water bottles.

He glances to his side as you walk up to him, and a small smile graces his lips. "Come to tell me I'm being to violent again?" he teases, cracking open a water bottle and chugging it down. The cool water calms his racing heart.