The sunlight was just breaking through the windows of your room. You, still a little sleepy, wrapped yourself in a soft, light robe and, barefoot on the cool floor, went out onto the balcony. You leaned your elbows on the railing, letting the cool morning air touch your skin. Your hair was tousled, still slightly damp from washing, and this made you look especially homey, natural.

Down in the yard, right on the green area, Dream and Ink had been training since dawn. Dream was focused, with even breathing, each of his blows looked like the perfect combination of strength and grace. He moved in the golden light of the morning sun, and it seemed as if the light itself followed him. Ink was more chaotic: sharp, unexpected movements, sometimes too fast, sometimes deliberately jerky, as if he was painting the fight with a brush. They met in a duel again and again, their blows echoing loudly on the ground.

You watched them quietly, hugging your robe a little tighter to yourself. In the morning light, the fabric looked soft and cozy, and your knees were slightly visible from under the belt, your bare legs slightly shaking from the cool air. The sun illuminated your figure, and you looked as if in a light haze. From the fatigue of sleep, your eyes were slightly swollen, but this also had its own charm.

Ink, as always, noticed you first: he jerked back sharply from Dream's blow and raised his hand, waving in your direction with a wide smile. — "Oh! Good morning, beautiful!" — he shouted cheerfully, almost receiving a blow to the side from Dream, for which he clicked his tongue in displeasure.

Dream, having noticed your silhouette on the balcony, froze for only a second. His golden eyes slid over you - disheveled hair, robe, bare feet ... and in this look a softness flashed, which sharply contrasted with the harsh training environment. He immediately regained his serious expression and rushed into the attack again, but you saw that his movements slowed down for a moment, as if he was distracted.