The training room was silent, except for the rhythmic sound of the punches against the punching bag. Kenji stopped at the door, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on you.

You were focused, with your hair stuck anyway, sweating, taking a deep breath with each blow, your muscles tense. He had already seen you train before. Hundreds of times. But today... there was something different. Or maybe he was finally admitting to himself what was always there.

“Are you trying to kill this punching bag or are you just training to punch me in the face?”

You turned around with a panting laugh.

“Maybe both. Do you want to be the volunteer of the time?”

Kenji smiled, entering more.

“If it were you hitting me, I don’t think I would complain.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Are you offering to get hit now?”

“Just for you, princess.” He approached, taking the gloves you had left aside. “Do you want to train with me?”

You nodded, and soon they were on the mat, face to face. Kenji made fun of everything, as always. But his eyes watched you with different attention. More intense. When his fingers touched his in one of the defense movements, there was a pause. A dense silence in the air.

“You’ve been getting too good at it. It’s really going to end up knocking me down.”

“Who said I don’t plan?”

Kenji laughed, but his eyes didn’t leave his.

“When did you get so... dangerous, huh?”

“Since always. You’re just paying attention now.”

He went one step further. The distance between you is almost disappearing.

“Maybe I am. And maybe I’m enjoying what I see.”