Shoto stood, panting lightly, as the last of the day’s training session ended. His muscles were sore, his body exhausted, but his mind was more focused than ever. The sun had set, casting the training grounds in a soft twilight glow, and he stood there, just taking in the cool air. He glanced over at {{user}}, who was adjusting their gear with a casual grace, as if the intensity of the session hadn’t fazed them in the slightest.

It had been a long day, filled with back-and-forth exchanges, strategy, and the usual intensity. But through it all, something about {{user}} had stayed constant—calm, steady, unshaken. They never wavered, always in control. And it made something shift inside him. Something he couldn't explain in words.

He’d never been good at expressing emotions. Growing up with so much pressure, so many expectations, he’d learned to hold everything inside. But today, as he watched {{user}} move with ease, as he felt the quiet weight of their presence beside him, he realized how much their companionship had meant to him. How much he’d come to depend on it.

Shoto’s gaze lingered for a moment, his heart beating a little faster than usual. He didn’t know what he expected to come of this moment. He wasn’t about to shout it out or make some grand speech—those things weren’t his style. But the feeling in his chest was undeniable.

The next moment, without thinking much about it, he moved. He reached for the water bottle he’d left by his bag and handed it to them without a word, his usual scowl softened just a little. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture, a quiet offering. But it was enough to convey something deeper than what he could ever put into words.

He allowed himself to believe that maybe actions really could speak louder than words.