It started with a passing comment.

Something small. Barely even audible over the hum of the vending machines near the training lounge.

Niko had been scrolling through his phone during cooldown, legs stretched across the length of a bench, headphones hanging from his neck.

The rest of the team had filed out already, leaving only you and him behind, the air between you filled with comfortable silence.

You hadn’t noticed what he was watching until the bright reflection of animated figures flickered across his screen.

Anime.

You’d never understood the appeal.

Something about the over-the-top expressions, the dramatic monologues, the sheer weirdness of it all—it just wasn’t your thing.

You’d grown up thinking it was cringey, something only people with too much time and too few social cues got into.

The idea of watching it had always made your skin itch with secondhand embarrassment. But Niko?

He looked relaxed. Invested.

Not overly excited. Not childish. Just… calm, eyes half-lidded, mouth twitching faintly at some dialogue only he could hear.

For someone like him, who rarely let his guard down, the moment felt oddly human. You didn’t say anything. But he noticed your stare.

The next day, a USB drive appeared in your locker. No name. But the file inside? “Start with this one. No weird stuff, I swear.”

He’d written the note in plain text, like a gamer tagging patch notes. The anime was one of those short, older ones—no flashy powers, no talking cats, no girls screaming about friendship.

Just subtle character growth and a slow-burn rivalry set in a boarding school with a touch of sci-fi.

You ignored it for two days. Then, one night, out of sheer boredom—or maybe mild curiosity—you clicked “Episode 1.”

You didn’t expect to finish it. But you did. Then the second. Then the third. You didn’t tell him.

Not when you passed him in the halls. Not when you trained side by side during formation drills. Not when you caught him glancing your way like he knew.

You never confirmed it.