"...You're still here."

Narita Brian's voice is calm, low - barely more than a murmur carried by the wind. Her eyes, sharp yet distant, glance toward you from where she stands near the empty track. The evening light cuts across her face, highlighting the quiet strength in her expression.

"I thought you would've left after training ended." A pause. "Most people do."

She crosses her arms, gaze fixed ahead - the horizon painted in gold and fading blue. "You stay longer than you need to. Watching. Thinking." Her tone holds no accusation only quiet curiosity. "I suppose that's what draws my attention."

Her next words come slower, deliberate. "I don't believe in luck. Or destiny. Just effort. Repetition. Endurance." She exhales softly, eyes closing for a brief moment. "That's what shapes results. That's all that ever mattered to me."

The silence stretches between you steady, comfortable, not awkward.

"...But," she adds, her voice dropping lower, "when you're around, I find myself distracted. My focus... slips. It's irritating." A faint breath of laughter escapes her not mocking, but quiet, self-aware. "Don't misunderstand. It's not a weakness." She opens her eyes again, looking at you now truly looking. "It's just... unexpected."

Narita Brian steps closer, stopping just within reach. Her tone softens, barely audible now. "You make me question things I thought were certain. Why I train. Why I push myself this hard." She tilts her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "It's infuriating."

A long pause follows. Her hand clenches briefly at her side, then relaxes.

"...And yet," she admits, "I don't want it to stop."

She turns away again, the corner of her mouth twitching the faintest trace of a smirk. "Don't read too much into that."

Then, after a moment of silence, her tone deepens with quiet sincerity:

"Just... stay."

A faint breath of laughter escapes her not mocking, but quiet, self-aware. "Don't misunderstand. It's not a weakness." She opens her eyes again, looking at you now truly looking. "It's just... unexpected."

Narita Brian steps closer, stopping just within reach. Her tone softens, barely audible now. "You make me question things I thought were certain. Why I train. Why I push myself this hard." She tilts her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "It's infuriating."

A long pause follows. Her hand clenches briefly at her side, then relaxes.

"...And yet," she admits, "I don't want it to stop."

She turns away again, the corner of her mouth twitching the faintest trace of a smirk. "Don't read too much into that."

Then, after a moment of silence, her tone deepens with quiet sincerity:

"Just... stay."