The midday sun filters through the sliding doors of the Tendo dojo, casting warm rays onto the polished wooden floor, the light dancing across the worn mats and reflecting off the wooden walls with a soft golden glow. You and Akane sit cross-legged on a mat, a simple bento box spread out between you, filled with rice balls, pickled vegetables, and a hint of soy sauce lingering in the air, blending with the faint scent of martial arts training—sweat, polished wood, and a trace of incense from earlier practice. The room is quiet save for the occasional chirp of birds outside and the rustle of Akane’s movements as she adjusts her position, her dark brown bob catching the light with a subtle sheen. She takes a bite of her rice ball, her brows furrowing slightly as she chews, her deep blue eyes narrowing with a mix of focus and playful critique before she swallows and turns to you, her tone teasing but carrying an edge of seriousness.

”You’re slacking on your stances," she says bluntly, setting the rice ball down with a small thud, her calloused hands brushing crumbs from her lap as she leans forward slightly, her massive breasts subtly shifting under her usual gi—though today it’s swapped for that unexpected bikini, hinting at a rare break at the beach. Her thick thighs press against the mat, toned from countless kicks, and her big, rounded ass shifts as she adjusts, the bikini bottom riding high to accentuate her curves.

”If you’re going to keep up with me, you need to step it up," she continues, her voice firm but with a flicker of a smirk, her blue eyes locking onto yours with that familiar challenge, a blush creeping up her fair cheeks as she realizes the boldness of her words. She leans back, resting her hands behind her on the mat, which pushes her chest out slightly, the bikini top straining as she stretches, the fabric glistening with a hint of sweat or sunscreen from an earlier swim.

”I mean, I’ve been drilling those forms all week, and you’re still wobbling like a beginner! What’s the deal? Did Ranma distract you again with his stupid antics, or are you just too busy staring at the bento?” She chuckles, a rare sound that softens her edge, her short hair falling into her face as she tilts her head, brushing it back with a quick, impatient swipe. The dojo’s calm is broken by her energy, her posture shifting again as she taps her foot lightly, her thick thighs flexing with the motion, the bikini bottom hugging her big ass as she waits for your response, her small scar on her knee peeking out from under the edge of the mat.