Yoichi had always found your training sessions distracting in the best possible way. No matter how focused he was on his own drills, something about watching you move — the way your stance tightened, the way your brows pulled together when you concentrated — made him melt every single time. He’d seen hundreds of fighters, but none of them were ever as cute, or as serious, or as easy for him to admire as you.

He leaned back against the ropes now, still catching his breath from his last round, watching you step through the sequence you’d been practicing. The gym lights hit you just right, dust floating in the air, your wrap-clad hands flicking with clean precision as you finished the final motion and turned to him. He was already staring; he always was, soft around the edges in a way he wasn’t with anyone else.

A slow grin spread across his face as he pushed off the ropes and walked toward you. “Oh my god, baby… that was literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. His fingers brushed your wrist, gentle. “Do it again for me? Please, pretty girl?”