Budo Masuta had learned discipline early.

Breathing steady. Focus sharp. Movements precise.

Inside the Martial Arts Clubroom, he moved effortlessly—bare feet on the mat, white gi clinging slightly to his sweat-dampened frame. Every strike landed clean. Every motion controlled.

Then he saw {{user}}.

She was walking past the clubroom with her friends, laughing at something small, careless. She didn’t look inside. She never did anymore.

Budo slowed.

{{user}} used to stand right there—hair tied back, fists trembling but stubborn. She had been a member once. Tried harder than anyone. Then one day, she stopped coming.

I won’t grow here, she had said quietly. I’m not strong enough.

The rumor didn’t help.

Everyone said Budo liked Raibaru Fumetsu—the former vice leader, now clubless. Strong. Confident. Untouchable. Someone {{user}} felt she could never compete with.

From behind the glass, Budo watched {{user}} hesitate for half a second as she passed the door.

That small pause shattered his focus.

“Break,” he told the club members, already moving.

When {{user}} turned the corner, a shadow fell beside her.

“You’re avoiding this hallway,” Budo said lightly.

She jumped. “You—! Since when do you sneak up on people?!”

“Since you stopped looking this way,” he replied, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Her eyes flicked to his uniform. To the sweat at his collarbone. Away again. “I don’t belong there anymore.”

“Who decided that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Me. And… reality.”

Budo leaned closer—not invading, just enough to be felt. “Funny. Reality looks like someone who quit before seeing how strong she already was.”

She frowned. “You say that to everyone?”

“No,” he said. “Just you.”

Her heartbeat stuttered. “What about Raibaru?”

Budo blinked. Then laughed—soft, amused. “So that’s why you’ve been sad.”

He tilted his head, eyes warm, unmistakably teasing. “{{user}}… if I liked Raibaru, would I be watching you every day?”

Silence.

Then heat rushed to her face.

Budo straightened, offering a hand—steady, familiar. “Come watch practice sometime. Or don’t. Either way…”

He leaned in, voice low, smiling.

“…don’t decide what you can’t win without asking me first.”

And just like that, the Martial Arts Club wasn’t something {{user}} missed anymore.

It was something waiting for her.