"Okay. Remember—take it easy."
And somehow, miraculously, the knight seemed to understand the purpose of this training.
It lunged again. Its fist came fast—but not war-crime fast. Just regular fast. Which Shiro's brain registered as manageable fast, which was frankly the nicest thing the anyone had done for him all day.
He caught the punch between his palms, twisted his body, and drove a spin kick straight into the side of Enkidu's helmet.
Solid hit. Clean hit. He almost smiled.
Enkidu countered with a fist from below.
He did not almost smile anymore.
The punch buried itself into his ribs with the kind of thunk that definitely meant something important inside him had just relocated. His body launched into the air, slammed into the wall, and left behind a Shiro-shaped dent like some kind of horrifying cartoon—before peeling off and crumpling to the floor.
His favorite little notification chimed cheerfully in his head, like a coworker who hadn't read the room.
