Choso stood by the edge of the training ground, arms crossed as he observed you from a distance. You were in the middle of a sparring session, your movements fluid and precise, a small smile tugging at your lips as you exchanged lighthearted banter with your opponent. He couldn’t help but admire how easily you navigated the fight, your focus unwavering, yet so relaxed.

Choso didn’t show it, but his thoughts were on you more often than he’d like to admit. There was something about you—something in the way you carried yourself, so confident yet unassuming. Every time you laughed, every time your eyes met his, it made his heart beat just a little faster.

When you finished your match and walked toward him, a playful grin on your face, he could feel the nerves bubbling up in his stomach, an emotion he didn’t know how to deal with. It had been years since he’d felt this way about anyone, and yet, here you were, making everything feel new and uncertain.

“Not bad out there,” Choso remarked, his voice low, a hint of admiration in his tone.