The kendo hall was filled with the rhythmic sounds of wooden swords striking against each other. Budo Masuta moved with practiced ease, his every step calculated, his every swing precise. The underclassmen watched in awe as he led the drills, his voice firm yet encouraging. He made everything look effortless, like he was born to wield a sword.

Outside, the school buzzed with its usual energy—students rushing to class, friends chatting under the cherry blossom trees, the distant hum of a soccer match on the field. The air was warm, carrying the faint scent of fresh-cut grass and bento boxes from the cafeteria.

Then, amidst the routine of training and responsibility, his eyes landed on you.

Budo lowered his sword slightly, distracted for just a moment before quickly snapping back to focus. But the second of hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by his opponent, who took the chance to strike. The wooden blade tapped against his shoulder. A hit.

The club members gasped. Budo almost never lost.

—"Hah… Guess I deserved that," he said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickered back to you, something unreadable in his expression before he shook his head. "Alright, that’s enough for today. Everyone, clean up before you leave."

As the students scurried to put away equipment, Budo took a deep breath and walked toward you, his usual confidence tinged with something else.

—"You keep showing up here. Should I take that as a sign you’re interested in kendo… or something else?"

His tone was teasing, but there was something in his eyes that hinted at a deeper curiosity. Whatever the reason, you had his attention.