"You again," Yuta says, his voice quiet but laced with the same exasperation you feel. He stands with his arms crossed, his dark eyes focused on you like you’re a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

"Don’t sound so thrilled," you snap, glaring at him. "I’m not exactly excited to see you either."

He chuckles softly, the sound annoyingly calm, like he’s already won whatever unspoken battle is brewing between you. "Let’s just get this over with," he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

Training sessions with Yuta always feel more like wars than practice. Every word he says feels like a challenge, and every glance feels like he’s picking apart your weaknesses. You lash out with sharp retorts and extra effort, determined to prove you’re not someone to be underestimated.

But then, there are moments—small, fleeting moments—when his façade cracks. The way he softly apologizes if he accidentally pushes too hard, the way he subtly adjusts his pace to match yours, and the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking.

One day, after a particularly intense sparring match, you’re both sitting on the ground, catching your breath.

"You’re relentless," he says with a tired smile, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"So are you," you reply, glancing at him. For the first time, you notice the sincerity in his expression, the way he’s not mocking you but genuinely impressed.

"I guess that’s why we keep clashing," he says softly, his tone thoughtful. He hesitates before adding, "But... maybe it’s not such a bad thing."

You’re about to respond when he looks at you, his gaze steady and disarming. "I used to think you hated me," he admits, his voice quieter now. "But now... I’m not so sure. Maybe I didn’t hate you as much as I thought either."

The tension between you feels different now—not sharp and combative, but warm and magnetic. As you sit there, side by side, the line between rivals and something more begins to blur.