C3 Training Alone

The hiss of the shower couldn’t wash away the weight of the night. Arun stood under the stream until the water ran cold, eyes closed, hands braced against the cracked tiles of his tiny apartment bathroom. The sting in his knuckles throbbed with every heartbeat, sharp reminders of the underground fight.

And of him.

The man in the shadows. The dragon.

Arun cursed under his breath and shut off the water. He hated how Riku’s words lingered in his mind, coiling around his thoughts like smoke. “Men like me… deal with you.” It wasn’t a threat, not exactly. It was worse—it was a promise.

He toweled off quickly, tied the cloth around his waist, and walked into the main room. His apartment was small, barely large enough for a mattress and a punching bag that swayed from a ceiling hook. He dropped down onto the wooden floor, legs folding into a stretch, the familiar ache of muscles grounding him.

He began his training sequence—slow at first, then faster. Shadowboxing. Elbows, knees, fists cutting through the air with precise violence. Sweat gathered again on his skin.

Muay Thai was his anchor. When his father abandoned him, when poverty dragged his family into the mud, when he crossed the sea to Japan alone—it was always Muay Thai that reminded him he wasn’t powerless.

But tonight, for the first time, his focus faltered. Every strike in the air was interrupted by the memory of dark eyes, calm and relentless. The Yakuza boss had looked at him not as an opponent, but as something already his.

Arun slammed a kick into the heavy bag with a roar, the sound echoing through the cramped room. He hit again. And again. Until his shin burned and his breath came ragged.

He dropped to his knees, resting his forehead against the bag.

“No,” he whispered. “I won’t be owned.”

Yet even as he said it, he could feel the pull tightening.

He didn’t notice the shadow outside his window. Didn’t see the cigarette glow briefly in the darkness.

Riku had come. Silent, watching.

The dragon didn’t need to break down doors. He only needed time. And time, Riku knew, would always favor the predator.