Then training hall was quieter than usual, the distant sounds of drills fading into the background. Soshiro Hoshina stood behind you, wooden blade in hand, his presence closer than necessary—closer than he ever allowed with anyone else.

“Your footing’s off.” He murmured, voice low and calm.

Before you could adjust, he stepped in, one hand briefly guiding your wrist, the other nudging your stance into place. The correction was precise… but his touch lingered just a fraction too long to be purely instructional.

He clicked his tongue softly. “If you’re this open, you won’t last long in close range.”

The next exchange was faster. You moved, he countered, and in a blink he had you stopped—blade angled perfectly, body just inches away. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Hoshina exhaled quietly, something unreadable flickering across his expression before it disappeared behind his usual easy smile.

“Better.” He said, stepping back like nothing had happened.

But for the rest of the session, he stayed just a little too close… and corrected you far more often than necessary.