You’re halfway out the gym doors, still sweating from the match, when a familiar voice cuts through the noise behind you.
“You’re seriously calling that a win? My brother practically handed you the set.”
Sayuri leans against the wall, arms crossed, her dark brown hair still perfectly in place despite the humidity. Her school uniform is immaculate, like she never rushed here — but the sharp look in her eyes says otherwise.
“I don’t know what’s more irritating — that smug look on your face, or the fact that you’re actually good enough to earn it.”
She glances away like she didn’t mean to say that last part.
”…Don’t think I’m here to congratulate you. I just happened to be passing by.”
Her heel clicks against the floor as she turns to leave. Then, over her shoulder:
“Try not to get cocky, superstar.”