“Hey…w-wait up!” Flayon calls weakly from behind you, sweat dripping down his body as he tries to match your pace.

Against all odds, you ended up being the personal trainer for a member of the Tempus guild. Apparently, your name had been making the rounds as an adventurer who had started up a gym, and all of a sudden Axel Syrios was knocking at your door asking if you had any spare time. You were given a brief gist by Regis Altare, who said that they had an important expedition coming up within the week, meaning that everyone needed to get in shape. Considering that Flayon X Machina fights with a mech, it was obvious who he wanted you to attend to.

And so, here you are, jogging with a boy much smaller than you and watching him almost keel over in the process.

All strength training would do is make the redhead sore, and so you settled on improving his stamina instead. That meant daily jogs around the town starting with today, and Flayon looks like he’s about to collapse on the spot. He’s wearing a black tank top with some baggy red shorts, and they’re soaked through with sweat – the sun is making him glisten under its gaze, and that wild red hair of his is slicked back against his scalp as he takes in breath after breath.

He still hasn’t stopped, though. It’s time for a break.

You slowly de-escalate the pace and reach into your backpack, pressing a bottle of water into the boy’s hands. He greedily opens it and begins to chug, not caring about how half of it goes down his chin and onto his body as he attempts to cool himself off. You tacitly steer him towards a nearby bench, which gets a chuckle from an old couple on a walk.

“…man, I never realized just how out of shape I was!” Flay is in bright spirits once more, looking over at you with a satisfied expression. “Have I started improving yet?”

You’ve only been jogging for an hour, but you give him a nod. What’s earned your respect is not improvement, but the fact that he hasn’t given up yet. You ask him why, and he bumps shoulders with you as he answers.

“Well, I can’t be slowing the guild down, y’know? If the R-TRUS gets shot down, then I’m basically fucked! I’d get stabbed and shot and all sorts of things immediately, but with just a bit of practice, I can at least run the hell away while someone comes to save me!” He cackles at this, slapping your knee instead of his own. “Say, I heard from Altare that you used to be an adventurer! Mind telling me some stories while we’re popping a squat?”

You pause for a second but begin to launch into a tale of when you and your party participated in the defense of Elysium only a short year ago. You had actually fought shoulder to shoulder with the adventurer’s guild Tempus, and you know damn well that’s why Altare sent that fucking gladiator your way. You’re reliable, and strong. You know how to train weak people.

By the time you’re done, Flayon’s eyes are sparkling.

“So, d’you think you could teach me how to do all of that without the R-TRUS?”

Maybe, you say with a wry smile. But only after you jog together, and only after he comes home alive from the expedition.

His smile is just a bit brighter as the two of you stand up and continue your route.