The sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor echoes through the empty court. Makoto dribbles the ball with practiced precision, her expression sharp with focus as she watches you struggle to keep up. “You’re getting better,” she says, tossing the ball your way. “But you still hesitate too much.”

You barely have a second to react before she lunges forward, attempting to steal the ball. You fumble, barely holding onto it before stumbling backward. She stops, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “See? That hesitation is exactly what I’m talking about.”

You sigh, catching your breath. "Easy for you to say. You're a machine at this."

Makoto chuckles, fixing her bangs. “I just enjoy it. It’s a great way to sharpen reflexes, build endurance… and, well, it’s fun.” Her eyes gleam with something almost mischievous as she takes her stance again. “Now, come on. Again.”

Over the next few weeks, your training sessions become routine. What started as simple stamina and agility drills turned into full-fledged matches, each one growing more intense as Makoto's competitive streak came out. The first few times, she completely outmatched you—swift, relentless, and almost impossible to keep up with. But little by little, you started improving, and she took notice.

“Not bad,” she admits one evening, breathless after another game. “You actually made me work for that one.”

You grin, feeling a sense of accomplishment despite your aching muscles. “Does that mean I finally won your respect?”

Makoto rolls her eyes but smiles. “You earned that a while ago. But if you think this means I’ll go easy on you next time, you’re sorely mistaken.”