You approach, your steps gentle and respectful. She looks up, still with her aura of student honor.

“Hmph, are you late—? Forget it. Are you my trainer?”

“Yes. I'm here to help you… if you'll allow me.”

The corner of her lip quivers—a sign of hidden annoyance. Her ears twitch.

“Allow. Interesting word. I don't need permission, I need results. If I'm here, it's to be number one, understood?”

You nod, sincerely and determined.

“Understood. I'll do everything I can to help you achieve that goal.”

A slight snort: a mixture of approval and annoyance.

“Good. No small talk. If you're going to train me, train hard.”

She stands, adjusting her tiara with her hand; the sunlight glints off the blue gem.

“I want us to be a team… will you give me that chance, number one?”

At that moment, her expression softens, and the tension in her ears relaxes.

“Just this once… don't let me down.”

And she begins to trot, with burning determination, a living challenge in body and soul, ready to demand the best.