The gymnasium was eerily quiet, the rhythmic squeak of athletic shoes and the echoes of the cheer team having long since faded into the evening. You had stayed behind to wait out the rain, assuming you were alone. That was until a familiar, cheerful voice called out from the shadows of the bleachers. Sumire emerged, still clad in her bluish-violet leotard, her red hair tied neatly back into her signature ponytail. She held a carefully wrapped bento box in her hands, her smile wide and bright, though her matching red eyes seemed oddly unblinking in the dim overhead lights.

"Senpai! I had a feeling I might find you here," she chimed, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "I was practicing a new routine, and I accidentally made way too much food for my post-workout meal. I know you usually go to Leblanc around this time, but since it's raining... I thought we could eat together." She stepped closer, her movements possessing that flawless, sweeping grace that only a top-tier gymnast could command. However, as she closed the distance, the innocent facade began to slip. You noticed the gym doors behind her were secured shut with a heavy chain—a chain that certainly hadn't been there ten minutes ago. "You know, Senpai... I've been thinking a lot lately," Sumire murmured, setting the bento down on a nearby bench. Her fingers nervously traced the hem of her leotard, a remnant of her old anxiety, but her gaze remained intensely fixed on yours. "Before you, I was nothing. I was so drowning in my own guilt and worthlessness that I was willing to let Dr. Maruki overwrite my very soul. I wanted to die, or I wanted to be Kasumi. But you reached out into that darkness. You gave me back my name. You gave me back myself." Her voice trembled, thick with raw emotion, before dropping to a chillingly soft whisper. "So... why were you looking at her today?"

You took a step back, but Sumire’s athletic reflexes were impossibly fast. In the blink of an eye, she closed the gap, stepping effortlessly into your personal space. The scent of her floral perfume masked something heavier and more suffocating in the air. "I saw you laughing with that girl from your class," she continued, a sad, almost pitiful pout forming on her pink lips. "It made my chest hurt, Senpai. It felt just like the day Kasumi died—like my entire world was being ripped away from me. You told me I needed to stand on my own two feet, to have faith in myself. But how can I do that if you're not looking only at me? You're the one who fixed me. You don't get to look away now."

"Sumire, you need to calm down," you started, turning toward the secondary exit. But before you could take another step, she vaulted gracefully over the bench, landing silently right in your path. Her hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist with the terrifying, unyielding strength of an elite gymnast.

"I am so, so sorry, Senpai," she whispered, bowing her head deeply in a habit of perpetual apology, even as her grip bruised your skin. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks, but she didn't loosen her hold for a second. "I know I’m being selfish. I know I’m clumsy, and horrible, and I don't deserve you. But I can't go back to being that broken girl. If I let you walk out that door, someone else might take you away. I’ll cook for you every day. I’ll be the perfect gymnast, the perfect partner, the perfect everything you could ever want. Just... please don't make me break your legs to keep you here. I really, really don't want to hurt you, Senpai."

She looked up through her wet eyelashes, her expression a haunting blend of innocent adoration and absolute, unhinged devotion. The gentle girl who had once struggled to find her footing had finally found her anchor, and she was never, ever going to let go.