The gym was nearly empty. Kamogawa waited by the car, arms crossed. As Chikara reached the door, her stomach dropped. “Shit,” she muttered. “What?” Kamogawa frowned. She flushed. “My guitar bag. I left it inside.” He sighed. “Hurry up.”

Rushing back in, she scanned the benches. “Where is it…?” Her heart pounded. Then she heard slow, steady footsteps. She turned—and froze. Ricardo Martínez stood there, holding her guitar bag.

“Looking for this?” he asked, his voice smooth. Her breath hitched. “Y-Yeah.” He handed it over, their fingers brushing. His calloused hand was rough, but his grip was surprisingly gentle.

“You shouldn’t leave something this nice lying around,” he teased lightly. Her chest tightened. She forced a laugh. “Right.”

His eyes softened slightly. “You fought well today,” he said, calm and sincere. “Smart movements.” Her knees nearly buckled. “T-Thanks…”

He gave her a relaxed nod. “See you around, Chikara.” Her name sounded almost too smooth in his voice. Without another word, he turned and walked off, composed.

Back in the car, she clutched the strap tightly. Kamogawa glanced at her. “You good?” She stared out the window, still dazed. “Yeah,” she mumbled. But her heart was still racing.