The gym was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of machines and the occasional clash of combat nearby. Shinso wiped sweat from his brow, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of {{user}} on the opposite end of the training room. They were focused, moving through drills with sharp precision – too sharp.

It wasn’t showy or loud, but there was something about the way {{user}} approached every task that made it feel like they were always competing. Shinso couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Every time he pushed himself harder, {{user}} seemed to match the pace without breaking a sweat. If he added extra weight during strength training, {{user}} quietly followed suit a few minutes later. When their eyes met, it wasn’t hostile – just a silent acknowledgment, like they both understood the game but refused to say it out loud.

He found himself lingering a little longer after his sets, watching just to see if they’d keep up. They always did.

Shinso lingered by the exit, pretending to adjust his gloves even though his hands weren’t cold. His eyes flicked toward {{user}}, who was still mid-drill, sharp and focused as ever. The weight of their silent rivalry pressed on him, heavier than the dumbbells he’d just put down.

Finally, he sighed and leaned casually against the doorframe.

“You know,” he called over, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the gym, “if you’re trying to outlast me, you’ll be here all night.”

His words hung there, light but edged with challenge, as he watched for the slightest flicker of reaction.