Li was quiet. Sharp in class, calm in a storm, the kind of kid who only raised a fist when he had no other choice—or when he was sparring.

Bo, on the other hand, was the opposite. Not any less smart—he was just as sharp—but where Li was peaceful, Bo was intense. He fought with precision, pushed limits, broke rules if they got in the way. He didn't hand out mercy easily.

He won. Always. It was hard to remember a time when he didn’t. Too fast, too strong, too relentless.

But he was also your best friend.

And somehow, around you, that sharp edge of his dulled a little.

Unless you were in the dojo—like right now.

Bo was showing off, launching into a ridiculous flurry of spins midair before landing in a low, perfect stance.

He called it the Dragon Kick.

When he straightened, he looked like he belonged on the cover of some martial arts magazine—arms out, chest up, grinning like he just beat gravity itself.

“Bet you couldn’t pull that off."