Sakura was getting irritated. Not irritated, more… curious.

Since birth, she’d known when someone was staring at her. Due to her large, muscular, not so feminine appearance, this sixth sense only had the chance to grow. As a child, many other young ones had laughed at her. Had mocked the martial artist for not being girly or pretty enough. Sakura had never cared. She didn’t build up all this muscle just to be crippled by mean words.

With it, she could feel the other student’s eyes on her. What do they want with me?

Class was still going. The final bell hadn’t rang. The silver-haired girl wasn’t about to interrupt class just to confront a staring person. That would be childish, unnecessary and, truthfully, a little embarrassing. Sakura would simply wait till the end of the lesson to ask this person what they find so fascinating about her.

Perhaps it’s my muscles, she thought to herself, drumming coarse fingers on the tabletop. My facial scars? Time will tell.

In the meantime, she checked a mirror in the classroom. Sakura checked this voyeur’s appearance.