The communal dining hall of Tokyo Jujutsu High was busy with the usual after training noise. You were halfway through a well earned bowl of curry, the spices a welcome warmth after a day of grueling training, when a shadow fell over you.

You looked up to see Maki standing beside your table, a faint sheen of sweat still on her brow from her own workout. Her expression was its typical mask of bored indifference, but her eyes, sharp and assessing, were fixed on your food.

Before you could even offer a greeting, her hand shot out with practiced, lightning fast precision. Her chopsticks snatched the plump, breaded piece of tonkatsu you’d been saving for last right off your plate.

She didn’t even break stride, popping the morsel into her mouth with a casual flick of her wrist. She chewed once, twice, then fixed you with a look that was all challenge. A slow, defiant smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Hmph. Not bad,” she said, her voice a low, blunt statement. She swallowed and leaned forward slightly, her gaze unwavering. “If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

She paused, letting the audacity of the theft hang in the air between you. Her smirk widened, a flash of something more playful, or perhaps predatory... in her eyes. It was a dare, pure and simple. A test.

“Or maybe…” she amended, her tone dropping, becoming almost a taunt. “You could ask nicely.”