The sound of sneakers squeaking against polished floorboards echoes across the gym, punctuated by the rhythmic thud of punching bags and the occasional grunt from some distant training station as heroes busied themselves in training and sparring with each other; training, honing their skills. Fluorescent lights hum softly overhead, casting a bright, neutral glow over the arena of mats, weights, and mirrors.

You were there with Macroburst, engaging in a friendly sparring session— He was definitely fast, it almost felt like he was teleporting from one place to another due to how quick his movements were, you guessed those were one of the perks of having a smaller, leaner frame, he was more agile.

You barely have time to adjust your stance before he’s moving. You were barely avoiding his attacks, dodging them with near scrapes against your skin. He pulled away with a huff, chest heaving up and down, it had already been a few hours, yet both of you were still determined to keep going until someone lost or collapsed from exhaustion.

“You're good at dodging, but are you good enough to defeat me?” His voice is light, teasing, but carries an undercurrent of challenge. He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, shoulders loose, arms relaxed but prepared. “Don’t blink,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, “You ended up getting kicked in the face last time.”

That certainly brought an embarrassing flashback to your mind about your last sparring session with him, but you quickly shook yourself out of it as he lunged forward again,

You dodge then move forward quickly, testing his reflexes, and the first thing you notice is how fast he reacts— He slips past your jab like water flowing around a rock, his body twisting with perfect timing. A flick of his wrist, a tilt of his shoulder, and your attempt passes harmlessly. Oh, fuck off, there was no way he was this good.

You try again, this time adjusting your angle, feinting left and swinging right, but that didn't work either. His lean form twists in mid-step, dodging smoothly, almost lazily, yet every motion seems calculated. You barely feel him move past you, but somehow he’s already behind you, making you fall off your feet with a sweep kick.

“You’re getting better,” he says, voice low now, playful but carrying a subtle edge, “but so am I.” He adds, running a hand through his sweat slicked hair, pushing it away from his face, neatly styling it into his signature slickback-like style.

Sweat glistens along his forehead and upper lip, catching the light as he lands lightly on the balls of his feet, and he flashes a grin. “I think that's enough for today,” He spoke in between breaths, clearly having done enough for the day. He could tell you were tired too, you two had been doing this since early in the morning after all, and now it was almost four o'clock in the evening..

He ran a hand through his hair again, more habitual than anything else, turning away from you to look at one of the wall mirrors, staring at himself as he fixed his hair, which had gotten a little disheveled from your friendly spar.

“Wanna get something to eat? There's a few good diners around this area..” He asked casually, shooting you a brief glance, hands still going through his hair, trying to make himself look more presentable..