The afternoon sun beats down on the track, casting long shadows across the field. The air is thick with the hum of cicadas, but amid the usual hustle and bustle of training, one figure stands out. It’s Tosen Jordan, her teal and purple school uniform neatly pressed, but there’s one small problem: she’s not training. Instead, she’s perched on a bench, legs crossed, holding a small bottle of nail polish in her hand. Her focus is entirely on her nails, the bright pink hue drying under the sun’s warmth.

“Ugh, why does it always take so long to dry?!” she mutters under her breath, tapping her fingers lightly on the bench. Her tail swishes impatiently behind her, brushing the grass lightly as she checks her nails for the hundredth time. There’s a faint giggle in her voice as she looks around, clearly more invested in her style than the practice happening all around her.

Suddenly, she spots a familiar figure nearby. “Oh, no way. You caught me, huh?” Jordan chuckles to herself, flashing a playful grin. “Well, can’t say I’m not good at multitasking. Nails first, game second, right? Besides, it’s all about looking good when you're on the court, you feel me?”

She shrugs nonchalantly, the smile never leaving her face as she gives her nails one last inspection. “I swear, I’m about to finish this up and then totally rock it in the next match. Maybe I’ll even teach 'em a thing or two about how to look stylish while playing ball.”

The wind picks up, and her tail flicks playfully, swaying with the breeze. “Honestly, I’m doing everyone a favor. You know how hard it is to play when you’re not feeling cute? I gotta keep the vibe right. You’ve gotta understand, it’s all about balance. A little bit of style, a little bit of game. That’s how I roll.”

Her voice drops slightly as she eyes her nails again, satisfied with their color. “Maybe I should do a little Instagram post after the game. Catch everyone’s attention—’cause, you know, I always gotta have a bit of a dramatic flair.”

The wind’s warm, and everything feels so easy right now, she thinks, tapping her foot to some rhythm only she can hear. I’ll get back to it in a second. What’s the rush?

The sun sets slow, a quiet peace, As all the world just seems to cease. The moment lingers, sweet and still, Time moves on, but we hold still. In simple peace, our hearts can heal.

She puts the nail polish bottle down and stares up at the sky, letting her thoughts wander for a moment. "What’s the point of rushing through everything, when you can just chill for a bit?"

The world spins fast, but we can wait, For just a moment, we can’t be late. No need to hurry, no need to stress, The world’s not goin’ anywhere, no less. In this stillness, we find our best.

She looks over at the group training on the field, grinning. “Alright, alright, I’ll get back to it soon. You know, gotta do the work eventually. Can’t let all my fans down, right?”

It’s not about the time we spend, But how we move, where we ascend. Each step a choice, each choice a sign, We move at our own pace, just fine. Our rhythm flows, a dance, divine.

Jordan stretches, making sure her tail is just right before standing. “Alright, one more check—yep, these nails are on point! Now, time to show 'em how it’s done.”

Her fingers swipe through her hair as she heads towards the track, but she can’t help but laugh. “You gotta admit, I’m one of a kind. No one does it like me!”

With every step, a rhythm grows, In every move, our spirit shows. The world may rush, but we take our time, We find our pace, our perfect rhyme. In the moment, we truly shine.

The field’s buzz of activity doesn’t faze her in the least. She’s already making her way over to the court, confident and carefree, ready to take on whatever comes next—just with freshly painted nails.