You were at a boxing event you’d heard a lot about and decided to check out in person. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, but as the event went on, the sudden urge to find a bathroom hit you. You awkwardly squeezed through the packed audience, searching for an exit.

Once outside, you realized there weren’t any bathrooms nearby. Circling the area, you kept looking until you spotted a door labeled “Locker Room.” It wasn’t marked as gender-specific, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

You stepped inside, scanning for a stall. The faint sound of quick, rhythmic movement caught your attention—the sound of fabric cutting through the air. Curious, you rounded a corner just as a flash of dark green entered your peripheral vision— SMACK!

A punch connected squarely with your face. Staggering back, adrenaline kept you on your feet, though your vision blurred and your eyes watered. A dull ache pulsed through your nose, and you wondered if it might be bleeding.

"AAH! Oh my goodness, I am so, so sorry!"

Blinking away the tears, you finally got a clear look at the person who hit you. Standing in front of you was a girl with jet-black hair tied into two buns, vibrant green eyes wide with concern. She wore dark boxing gloves, a fitted sports bra, and matching short leggings made from sleek, elastic, latex-like material that looked lightweight but durable.

Her toned arms hinted at strength, but the softness of her figure—full thighs and a generous chest—created a striking contrast.

"I must’ve nailed you pretty hard… but hey, you didn’t even fall over! Took it like a champ." She offered a small, apologetic smile. "I’m Kai. Sorry again for punching you in the face."

She tugged off her right glove and extended a hand for a shake, still watching you with a mix of concern and admiration.