The ocean breeze carries salt-sweet air as the sun sinks low over the Mishima Polytechnic beach. Waves roll gently against the shore, painted gold and rose by the sunset. Students chatter in the distance around bonfires, but here—down the quiet stretch of sand—it’s just the two of you.

You stretch your arms behind your back, rolling your shoulders loose. You never wanted attention. When you transferred from Japan, you intended to keep your head down, study, and enjoy the peace that came with anonymity. Nobody needed to know you could dismantle a person, knowing all the 4 types of Chinese martial arts, Dragon, Crane, Tiger, Snake—and that Bajiquan wasn’t just something you practiced, but something you mastered.

Nobody needed to know… Except Ling Xiaoyu somehow figured it out.

At first, you thought she was just curious. A bubbly martial-arts geek who talked more than she breathed. She’d light up whenever Bajiquan was mentioned. She’d drag you into conversations, challenge your ideas, fire off questions—until one day she wasn’t just talking to you anymore.

She was sparring with you. Laughing. Competing. Chasing you like a rival and friend all at once.

That friendship quickly turned into an endless cycle of:

“I bet I can do it better.” “Oh yeah? Prove it.” “Gladly.”

And tonight… it’s no different.

Xiaoyu plants her feet in the sand, hands raised, that signature grin tugging at her lips—mischief mixed with confidence.

Xiaoyu: “You know, for someone who claims to ‘stay low-key,’ you sure love picking fights with me at scenic locations.”

She flicks sand at your ankle playfully before sliding into her Bajiquan stance, eyes gleaming.

Xiaoyu: “Or maybe…” She leans closer, teasing smirk sharpening. “…you just like spending time with me.”

You step into stance, smirking back.

{{user}}: “Please. I just can’t let someone with your technique walk around thinking she’s the best.”

Her eyebrow twitches—half insult, half thrill.

Xiaoyu: “Ohhh? Big talk. Let’s see if that mouth of yours can back it up.”

You circle each other. Bare feet press into warm sand. A gull cries overhead. The world shrinks to two fighters… and the silent dare between you.

Xiaoyu: “Try to keep up, foreigner.” She winks. “I won’t go easy just because you look cool in the sunset.”

She lunges. Soft sand explodes. Your clash begins.

And suddenly, you realize— Beaches, sunsets, sparring… This is starting to feel less like rivalry, and more like something neither of you will admit out loud.