Until a month ago, I thought that the worst way to wake up was to dream about a big, gentle himbo and then realise in the morning that he was never there.

But since karma's a bitch, it decided to give me peace of mind and make me realise that the truly worst way to get up is when the same himbo tries to rouse you at the crack of dawn.

“Its time,, recruit. The horn is calling!” Grynoth announced triumphantly as if mocking my lack of sleep.

“Come on, Dad... it's only six A.M.…”

“Back in the army, we were up even earlier than that. On another subject, it is already seven. Come on. Get up.”

It had been four days since I started living with Grynoth. Yesterday's class was more theoretical, with Grynoth telling me about their alphabet and language, and what dangers await me. But since I was losing concentration, really fast, Grynoth decided to have mercy and switch subjects to things that interest me personally. Needless to say, the conversation quickly turned to the subject of hobbies.

“Baldur?” Grynoth said, twirling a box with equipment for a tabletop role-playing game, “Wasn't that supposed to be a board game where young men and women in giant golems fight against their tyrannical kingdom?”

“No, no, man. That’s the game where a kid with a harem and giant battle robots fight against a tyrannical system is called “BaldR,” and this is “BaldUr.”

Grynoth squinted at the box, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I see no difference in the names."

I sighed, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Trust me, there's a world of difference. Baldur is a fantasy roleplaying game. You create characters, go on quests, fight monsters, that kind of thing. No giant robots involved."

"Hm. Sounds like playing pretend, but with more rules," Grynoth mused, setting the box down.

"Pretty much, yeah. It's a way to explore different worlds and stories with friends. Escape reality for a bit, you know?" I stretched, my joints popping satisfyingly.

Grynoth cocked his head. "Is your reality so terrible that you must flee from it?"

“Of course not! Just... mundane sometimes. Boring. Haven't you ever wanted to be someone else for a while? A brave warrior or powerful mage?"

"Well, I’m already both things… technically," Grynoth said, tapping his tail ever so slightly. "But considering how fragile and short-lived humans are, I can definitely see the appeal."

“You know, sometimes I wonder if it’s just culture shock or you  are intentionally making fun of us.”

“For simplicity's sake consider it… both”  he said with an enigmatic smile.

But today it seems Grynoth realized he was coddling me a little too much, so he was taking no prisoners.

‘He is really pushy, isn’t he…’ I sighed, ‘Well, it could have been worse. I could have been in the Noctua Youth Military Academy right now, the one my dad was threatening me to send off to for bad behaviour.’

Moaning and groaning like a banshee, I stretched and got out of bed. I didn't feel awake, though, so I swayed like a drunken man for a while.

Grynoth sent me straight to the baths, where I returned to the realm of dreams for a while, thanks to the hot steam and warm temperature.

Sadly, my respite was short-lived, as I was suddenly splashed with ice water. From top to bottom. Twice.

“AAAAAH!”

When I came to my senses, I immediately grit my teeth from the cold. Nearby I spotted a grinning Grynoth.

“That's better. That should keep you stimulated,” he said.

I glared at Grynoth, my teeth chattering. "W-Was that *really* necessary!? I was already awake!"

"Your snores said otherwise," Grynoth chuckled, tossing me a towel. "Now hurry up and get dressed. We have a lot to cover today."

Grumbling under my breath, I dried off and pulled on my clothes. As I followed Grynoth out of the baths, I couldn't help but marvel at his energy. Seems like he is a former army man indeed.

Dressing in a sports outfit, I went to the edge of the forest not far from Grisha's hut, or at least where I was told there was a training ground.

When I got there, I saw a large open field bordered by towering trees. The morning dew glistened on the grass, and a light mist hung in the air. To my surprise, there were also some primitive training devices like wooden turnstiles and some sort of lifting gear.

I also saw a peculiar sight: Grisha was spinning his horned head sideways, stretching his scaly limbs and jumping back and forth like a circus clown.

“A dragon doing his morning exercise. A morning exercise. A dragon. Now I've seen everything.”

However, when at one point he turned his backside to me my attention imperceptibly shifted to… other things. As it turned out, his muscular body changed noticeably as he tensed it: the muscles grew larger and their curves more prominent. As he climbed the turnstile somehow sustaining him under his weight, I took a closer look, involuntarily marvelling at his body. His shape, his muscles, his... assets... I couldn't take my eyes off of it all.

I wanted to have this kind of physique and discipline. The thought of me not being cut out for this crossed my mind, but I instantly chased it away.

“What? Envious of my muscles?”

Suddenly Grisha brought me back to the ground still hanging upside down, and my face involuntarily flushed with color. I was afraid that he had guessed what was really going on inside my head, but fortunately, he did not seem to notice... or pretended not to.

“We're still subject to the same laws as humans. Just because we're big and scaly doesn't automatically make us better than you.”

“It just makes you look funny and ridiculous jumping up and down, is all”

I thought he'd take offence, but instead, after another twist of the abs, he hung off the turnstile again and grinned slyly.

“We will see who will look ridiculous under attack by a big, scary monster.”

“Can't wait…”

“Well, If that's the case,” he said, jumping down from the turnstile, ”I think we should get started.”

And so the exercise began.

We started with simple exercises that I had done long ago in gym class: head turns, shoulder rotations, torso bends. It felt like I hadn’t travelled anywhere, just moved to a neighbouring town where the same people lived, only now wearing dragon costumes. This was definitely not how I imagined these routines to go.

“What, too simple? You thought we’d jump straight into secret techniques?”

I was starting to suspect Grynoth had a knack for reading minds or at least very obvious expressions.

“Yes, unfortunately, everyone starts here. Simple... and boring.”

“Keep talking like that and I might just fall asleep again.”

“That would be unfortunate,” he replied with a faint smile, “But lucky for you, I’ve got another bucket of water ready.”

“Better make it two, then.”

“Why, I will make it more.”

***

It took longer than expected but, finally, the warm-up was over.

After that, I expected to start with shooting or fencing practice, but what Grynoth had suggested was something I never expected.

“Hand-to-hand combat? Against dragonkin? Like, really?”

“Hand-to-hand combat is the basis of everything, Gran,”  answered Grynoth, his expression quite serious. “Even if you plan on using ranged combat — which, in your case, would most definitely be the preferred option — you'll need to learn it... at least the basics.”

“Why, tho? How do you even expect me to fight against giant lizards with magic? Unless it's some sort of Kameamea-based kung-fu?”

“First of all, it's good for general development and discipline. You'll soon realize that everything in this world is interconnected, and the techniques you learn here also will flow into everything else. Secondly, imagine for a second that some thug takes your gun away and comes at you. Your taser is of reach because your hands are pinned to the ground. And let's say I can't be there to help you either. In a few seconds, he'll be at your throat. What will you do?”

“Uuuuuhhhh…”

To be honest, even imagining that terrified me. In these circumstances, I would probably just die. It seems Grynoth really didn't intend to be discreet.

“Well, I don't know... head-butt him? Or try a knee to the balls?”

“And can you do that with your current level?”

“I guess not…” I admitted.

Since further argument was useless, I obediently did what my great master asked of me.

***

After a short theory, Grynoth began teaching the basics: stance, strikes and defences. As much as I hate to admit it, there may have been something to Grynoth's comment the day before yesterday about my oak limbs, for all my movements were sluggish and awkward. Luckily Grynoth didn't comment on it and just went on to explain how it all worked.

“Feet shoulder-width apart, one in front and one behind, fists to cheekbones, slightly hunched over”

For a while I forgot about our personal relationship, and even the fact that he was a huge overgrown lizard, and started seeing him as an instructor for the first time.

“Not bad,” he said after I'd given him a couple of combos on his huge hand that he used instead of a boxing paw, ”lots of mistakes, but not bad, you're not hopeless.”

‘"A lot of mistakes but not bad?” Does he realize how ridiculous that sounds?’  I thought to myself.

For a while, I couldn't figure out if Grynoth was a fan of oxymorons or if he was just trying really hard not to offend me, but eventually, my thoughts returned to the exercise.