A/n: I don't know anything about boxing... The things I know r from movies. But I'll do my research on the moves and types of attacks there are on boxing.... So don't be too hard on me! >∆< also i took lil help with gpt for explaining certain scenes while describing the movements
On to the story~

Italics are thoughts

•°•°•°°•°•°•

I grabbed my duffel bag full of gear and headed to the gym for my usual morning workout.

I've got big dreams of becoming a pro boxer and making my country proud.

Running up the steep hill to get to the gym was always a great warm-up before my boxing practice. My coach always advises me to take it easy once I get home. I usually do, but sometimes I end up throwing punches and kicks at my punching bag out of sheer boredom.

I placed my bag on a bench, sat down beside it, and started wrapping my hand with bandages around my knuckles and palm. I secured it tightly and flexed my fingers to adjust the hand-wrap a little more. After finishing, I stood in front of the heavy punching bag and began throwing punches and jabs at it, causing the bag to swing and shake from its point of axis.

I continued to punch the sandbag, which swayed in response. My arms and legs are becoming more defined and muscular. I want to be fully prepared before my first official boxing match. Coach says I'm still not in my best form, so until then, it's all about practice.

"Y/N, GET BACK TO PUNCHING! DON'T SLACK!" came a booming voice

"YES, COACH!"

I got caught slacking off during the workout, as I always do. The coach is a great person, but he can be very strict when we're training. I've learned my lesson from being under his guidance. He's the type who will be good to you if you're good to him, and you know the rest.

The training continues until it's time for one-on-one sparring to assess how much I've improved in terms of speed, reflexes, stamina, and sometimes even thinking.

To anyone out there thinking that boxing is all brawn and no brain, I'm afraid you're very wrong. Boxing requires a brain as well. Sometimes you need to manipulate your opponents in the ring to win matches that you were supposed to lose.

Shall we see how much I've improved?

In the dimly lit gym, the rhythmic thud of fists hitting heavy bags echoed through the air. The room smelled of sweat and determination, the faint hum of a distant radio playing upbeat tunes adding a background rhythm.

My hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, strands sticking to my forehead as I started to move. Eyes, focused and intense, were locked onto the heavy bag before in front of me.

With a deep breath, I planted my feet firmly on the ground, feeling the rough texture of the worn-out gym mat beneath my sneakers. Bringing my fists up to my face, elbows tucked in, and began my routine.

Left jab, right cross, left hook.

Thud, thud, thud.

Each punch landed with precision and power, the bag swaying slightly with each impact. My form was impeccable, honed from countless hours of training. Sweat dripped down my temples, glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

I moved around the bag with agility, my footwork light and quick, as if I was dancing. With every pivot and shift, I maintained my balance. My breath came in controlled bursts, matching the rhythm of my punches.

My coach, a grizzled man in his fifties named Jinwoo, watched from the side, nodding approvingly. "Good, keep that guard up," he called out, his voice gravelly but encouraging. "Remember to breathe with each punch."

I adjusted, guard tightening as I continued my assault on the punching bag. I threw a powerful right hook, feeling the satisfying resistance of the bag. I could start to feel my muscles burn, but I welcomed the pain, knowing it meant i was pushing my limits.

As I finally finished my set, I took a step back, bouncing lightly on my toes. Wiping away the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, chest rising and falling as I caught my breath.

Jinwoo walked over, handing me a towel and a bottle of water. "You're improving," he said with a small smile. "But don't get complacent. Keep working on that speed and accuracy."

I nodded, taking a swig of water. "Got it, Coach. I won't let up."

Just then, the gym door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. Jiyan, a man in his early thirties, walked in with a calm yet focused demeanor. He wore a simple grey tank top and black shorts, his hands wrapped and ready for training. His sharp features softened as he spotted me and Coach.

"Hey, Coach. Seo," Jiyan greeted with a slight bow, a habit ingrained from his upbringing.

Coach nodded back. "Jiyan. Right on time. Seo just finished her set. You two should spar today. Let's see how you both are doing"

I glanced at Jiyan, excitement evident in my eyes. Sparring with Jiyan was always a challenge; his technique was flawless, and his speed unmatched. "Ready to go a few rounds?" I asked, keeping my tone playful yet competitive.

Jiyan smiled, a confident yet humble expression. "Always. Let's see what you've got."

They both moved to the center of the ring, taking their positions. Joe watched from the sidelines, knowing this would be a test of skill for both fighters.

Touching our gloves, a silent acknowledgment of mutual respect. I started to bounce on my toes, keeping my guard high, while Jiyan settled into his stance, his eyes analyzing my every movement.

The first round began with me launching a series of quick jabs, testing Jiyan's defenses. He parried and countered with swift precision, his movements fluid and controlled. I weaved and ducked, my small frame allowing me to avoid most of his strikes.

As the rounds progressed, the intensity heightened. My punches grew more powerful, my technique sharpened by Jiyan's relentless counters. Jiyan, in turn, adapted to my increasing speed, his own strikes becoming more strategic and unpredictable.

Sweat flew from our bodies with each movement, the sound of our breaths and the impact of gloves filling the gym. We pushed each other to our limits, neither willing to back down.

In the final round, I finally saw an opening. I feinted with a left jab and followed with a powerful right cross, aiming for Jiyan's midsection. He anticipated the move, stepping back just in time, but I was ready. I pivoted on my left foot, launching a swift roundhouse kick that connected with his side.

Jiyan staggered but quickly regained his footing, a grin spreading across his face. "Nice one," he acknowledged, his respect for my skill evident.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of their sparring session, both of us lowered our guards, breathing heavily but smiling. We approached each other, touching gloves once more.

"Great match," I said, wiping sweat from my brow.

"You too," Jiyan replied, nodding. "You're getting stronger every day."

Jinwoo(coach) stepped into the ring, clapping his hands. "Excellent work, both of you. This is how champions are made!!"

I and Jiyan shared a moment of talking about our strategies and what we did wrong, our mutual respect deepening with each session. The road to becoming the best was long, but with partners like Jiyan and guidance from Jinwoo, I can feel it, I was on the right path!