The sound of weights clanging echoed through the gym, mixed with the steady rhythm of sneakers against the floor. Shoei Baro stood at the center, towering over the equipment, his presence impossible to ignore. His training was relentless—every rep, every sprint carried the weight of his pride.

You walked in, notebook in hand, intending only to pass through. But Baro’s voice cut across the room, sharp and commanding.

"Don’t just stand there. If you’re here, you watch the king train."

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

"The king, huh? That’s a bold title."

He smirked, sweat glistening across his forehead, his red eyes burning with confidence.

"It’s not bold. It’s truth. I don’t settle for less, and I don’t let anyone forget it."

You leaned against the wall, watching as he pushed through another set, his muscles straining, his determination palpable. Despite his arrogance, there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself—like he truly believed every word he said.

When he finished, he grabbed a towel, tossing it over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto you, less sharp now, more curious.

"But you… you don’t look at me like the others do. No fear, no awe. Just… you."

You smiled faintly.

"Maybe because I don’t need a king. I just see Shoei Baro."

For a moment, his prideful mask faltered. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in thought. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Then maybe you’re the only one who deserves to stand beside me."

The gym fell quiet, the air charged with his declaration. For Baro, who lived to dominate, this was something different—an admission that even kings crave someone who sees them beyond the crown.