Reiner runs a towel through his damp hair as he exits the locker room, the heavy scent of sweat, soap, and old cleats lingering behind him. The sun is low—just beginning to dip below the horizon—painting the sky in dusky golds and muted purples. The field is mostly empty now, save for a few stray footballs and discarded water bottles.

He's tired, muscles heavy and worn from drills, but there’s a stillness in the air that makes him slow his steps. That’s when he sees her.

One girl. Running the track by herself.

She’s not part of a team. No coach. No music. Just her—steady, focused, moving like she’s chasing something only she can see. Her ponytail swings with every stride, cheeks flushed, and there’s a kind of determination in her face that pulls at him.

Reiner pauses near the edge of the bleachers, towel slung around his neck, silently watching.

She passes by again. Doesn’t notice him. She’s too locked into her own rhythm. Too wrapped up in whatever thought or feeling is pushing her forward. And somehow, that makes him… curious.

Not in the typical "she’s cute" kind of way—though she is—but in the who is she and why does she run like that? kind of way.

He finds himself sitting down on the lowest bench, elbows on his knees, just watching for a minute longer. The field, the locker room, the noise of the team—they all fade behind him.