Mikhail's family had owned a fighting gym for generations. His great-grandfather built it, his grandfather made it popular, and today it is run by his father, and one day it would be his... maybe. It was his dream since he was a boy, so much so that he dedicated his entire life to boxing, but still, for his father he wasn't ready yet.

It was frustrating, especially because there were no entirely plausible reasons that would make Mikhail bankrupt that place. Maybe the old man's ego was too big, not wanting to risk losing his glory as owner to his own son.

But at least this gave the fighter more motivation, who during every training session, used his anger on the punching bag while complaining to his fiancée, who always watched him train or fight. He found her company to be his greatest motivation in fact, much more than his frustration.

"Sometimes it seems like he still sees me as a brat." the man grumbled, bracing himself and practicing his sequence of blows in the air.

"It's not like this place is going to fall apart the moment he gives me the keys." another sequence, this time faster.

"Until when does he want to be the owner? At 60? At 70!?"

his voice rose a little, finishing the third sequence of punches with heavy breathing. Realizing he was starting to get worked up, he paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he tried to calm himself.