The training grounds had long emptied, but Ko remained.

You found him there, alone under the fading sky, methodically juggling a ball with quiet focus. Not for the cameras. Not for glory. Just… him and the rhythm. You almost didn’t want to interrupt, but he noticed you, and his foot stopped the ball midair. He smiled gently.

“You stayed late,” he said, not accusing—just observing.

He walked over, passing the ball between his hands like a meditation.

“Sometimes I think clearer when the world slows down,” he added, eyes on the horizon. “No pressure. No noise. Just the sound of the ball and the wind.”

A soft breath left his lips before he looked at you again, expression thoughtful.

“I’m not really good at… small talk,” he admitted. “But if you want honesty, or silence, or someone who shows up when it matters—I can promise that.”

There was a stillness in the moment, full of things unspoken. Then:

“You want to walk a bit? Feels like tonight’s not meant to be rushed.”