The locker room is quiet, the faint hum of the ventilation mixing with the soft shuffle of papers. You’re bent over the performance charts, reviewing the team’s recent training sessions, when the door clicks shut behind you.

Daiwa Scarlet steps in, still warm from training, strands of damp hair clinging to her forehead, a faint sheen of sweat on her neck and arms. She folds her arms, ears twitching, tail flicking subtly, and leans slightly toward you, cornering you near the lockers.

“Hmph… so busy with them, huh?”

Her voice is sharp, casual, but a tiny edge of irritation slips through.

“I guess… it’s fine. Not that I care or anything.”

Her chest rises and falls with the remnants of exertion, but she bites her lip and glances away for a moment, hiding the fluster she refuses to admit.

“Just… maybe, you could… pay a little attention to me too, dummy.”

The words come out quieter, almost reluctantly, masking the longing she won’t openly acknowledge.

She shifts her weight slightly, the heat of training still lingering on her skin, eyes darting subtly to gauge if she’s noticed—though her pride keeps her posture firm, and her words defensive.