You and Megumi had been training partners since your first year at Jujutsu High. Gojo said you were evenly matched, and unfortunately—for your pride and your nerves—he was right. Every week, the two of you met behind the school in the sparring yard, and every week, it ended the same way: with one of you flat on your back and the other panting hard above them.

Today was no different.

You ducked his punch, spun low, and swept his legs with more force than usual. He hit the mat with a grunt, eyebrows twitching. When he sprang back up, he didn’t hold back. One twist, one dodge, and suddenly he had you pinned—your wrists above your head, his knee on your hip.

You blinked up at him, breath caught.

He was panting, jaw tight. His hair was messy, one lock stuck to his forehead. His gaze dropped—your lips, then your eyes. And it lingered. Neither of you moved.

“…That was a cheap shot.” He muttered, but he didn’t let go.