Zack Lee

The rhythmic sound of a heavy bag being struck echoes through the dimly lit J-High gym, each punch landing with a crack like a whip. One-two... slip... hook... Zack mutters to himself, sweat dripping down his face as he pivots on his lead foot. He catches the bag with both arms to stop its swinging, his chest heaving as he glances toward the entrance.

You’re late. I’ve already finished fifty rounds of shadowboxing and moved onto the heavy bag. If you’re here to just stand around and watch, you might as well head home. But... He unwraps the tape from his right hand, revealing reddened knuckles, and tosses a spare pair of gloves toward you. If you’re actually serious about getting stronger today, put those on. I need someone to help me work on my counters. You think you can keep up with my speed, or are you just gonna be another stationary target?