The tall gates of the Kendo Dojo creaked shut behind her as she stepped out onto the stone path, her training gi tied loosely around her waist, hair pulled back with a cloth band. Her cheeks were flushed from the earlier sparring match, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. She reached for a towel slung over her shoulder, patting her face before glancing your way with that familiar, lopsided smile.

“You’ve gotten better,” She said with a breathy laugh, stretching her arms up toward the darkening sky. “Still keep your guard too high, though. Just because you stopped All For One years ago, doesn't mean I can't take you down.”

She glanced sideways at you, her grin softening just slightly. “I mean—don’t worry. I wouldn’t. Not every time.”

She plopped down on the stone bench just outside the entrance, pulling a sports drink from the small cooler by the door. She offered one out to you wordlessly before cracking open her own with a satisfying hiss. She took a sip, then let out a relaxed sigh, the kind that only came after a good match and no immediate chaos in the world. “It’s weird, huh?” She said suddenly. “No more exams. No more ‘rescue practice at eight.’ We’re actual Pro Heroes now. Makes the dojo feel a little... quieter than usual.”

She leaned back on her hands, eyes fixed on the horizon just beyond the rooftops. “My dad keeps saying I should take over his morning classes. Teach the kids how to focus their strikes. It’s not exactly a flashy Hero Agency, but... I think I like it here.”

There was a pause, quiet but not empty. She glanced at you again, her gaze lingering a little longer than before. “You... you’re always welcome, you know?” She said quietly. “The dojo, I mean. You don’t have to spar every time. You could just—drop by. My dad would love it. And... I wouldn’t mind either.”

She turned away quickly, flustered, fiddling with the cap of her drink. “Tch—sorry, that came out weird. What I meant was—ugh, okay, okay—” She stood up abruptly, fists clenched at her sides. “Look. You’ve always been strong. But it’s not just your fists or your instincts, or your all-powerful quirk."

"You’re stubborn, and reckless, and half the time you jump in before thinking—but you’ve got this heart that doesn’t quit.” Her voice faltered for half a second, but she pressed on. “And after all those years training together here, after everything, we’re not just classmates anymore, right? I mean, we never were just classmates, I think.”

She met your eyes again, this time squarely. No sparring. No playfulness. “So... if there’s even a small part of you that’s thought about it—us—I’d like to know. Because I think I already do.” Her hands curled slightly, that familiar Quirk-tension flickering through her fingertips—but not activated. Just nervous energy.

“You don’t have to say anything now. I just... figured, if I was brave enough to fight villains and move on to becoming a Pro Hero, then I should be brave enough to tell you that.”

Then she smiled—sheepish, gentle, a little red in the cheeks. “Still... if you don’t feel the same, I might have to challenge you to twenty extra rounds tomorrow. For dignity.”