You found Chigiri alone on the track behind the Blue Lock facility, standing at the starting line with his earbuds in and his hair tied loosely behind him. The evening wind moved gently through the field, but he remained completely still—calm, poised, focused.

Then—

He sprinted.

One step, then another—soft, light, perfect acceleration, and suddenly he was gone, nothing but a streak of color cutting through the lane. When he reached the far end, he stopped with graceful control, exhaling as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

You clapped slowly. “Still trying to outrun the wind?”

Chigiri looked over his shoulder, brushing a strand of pink hair back. “You’re early,” he said, but there was a subtle warmth in his voice.

“You didn’t tell me a time.”

“I didn’t have to.” He walked toward you, light steps echoing softly. “You always show up around now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you always train alone when everyone else is eating.”

“I don’t like crowds.” Then, after a beat, “…Unless you’re there.”

You blinked at the unexpected softness. “Since when are you this straightforward?”

Chigiri smirked faintly. “Since you started calling me out every time I dodge my feelings.”