At the Dojo

On the dojo floor, the girl was practically clinging to Alan, wrapping both arms around him like a koala.

If not for the thick protective gear and kendo uniforms between them, the scene would have looked far too intimate.

Even now, it wasn’t much better.

Ignoring the murmurs around them, Alan gritted his teeth, lowered his voice, and looked down at her.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Nino?"

"Mmm..."

The girl hummed softly, showing no intention of loosening her grip.

Suddenly, Alan raised his head and stared sharply at Makoto.

Though Makoto couldn’t see his eyes, he felt the pressure immediately and hurriedly blew the whistle, raising the red flag.

"White side fouled. Red side wins."

At the sound, Alan looked down again.

"Let go already, Nino. If you keep this up, I’m really going to get angry."

"Oh..."

That still worked.

Nino pressed her lips together, tightened her hold on his shoulders one last time, then reluctantly released him.

Alan finally let out a breath of relief and turned away.

"Come on. Let’s talk in the resting room."

Nino said nothing, only gripping the corner of his clothing with her gloved hand as she quietly followed.

As they left the floor, she vaguely heard whispers behind them—but she didn’t care.

Gossip like this would die out on its own. She barely interacted with anyone here anyway.

But just as they neared the resting room, Alan suddenly felt a chill crawl up his back and stopped.

Turning around, he saw Nozomi Sakura sitting quietly in the corner.

Their gazes met through the distance and layers of protective gear for two seconds.

Then, Nozomi Sakura lifted her hand, tucked her hair behind her ear, and offered him a gentle smile.

Ahhh...

Shit.

That was the worst possible reaction.

If she had scowled, it would’ve been easier to explain. But that smile—who knew what she was thinking?

Unpredictable things like this were always troublesome.

Alan gestured that he’d talk later, then led Nino into the resting room.

Click.

The door closed, cutting off the noise outside.

Leaning against it, Alan exhaled deeply, removed his helmet, and furrowed his brows.

Questions raced through his mind as he prepared to confront her.

Then—

Thud.

The soft sound of a bamboo sword hitting the floor came from beside him.

Turning his head, he saw Nino sitting on the floor, her helmet and headband already removed.

Her bamboo sword lay next to her.

Her long hair spilled down her shoulders like a waterfall, catching the white fluorescent light and shimmering faintly, like snow with a trace of coldness.

She sat awkwardly, hands resting on her lap, slender pale neck tilted upward as she looked at him with wide eyes.

Alan’s gaze lingered involuntarily on the elegant curve of her neck—memories of that jade-like nape surfacing unbidden.

He quickly closed his eyes, shook his head, and forced himself to calm down.

"What are you doing?"

"Mmm..."

Nino pressed her thin red lips together, hesitated, then scrunched her nose pitifully.

"Nino’s legs went weak. I can’t stand up..."

"...?"

Alan’s eyelids twitched. He almost laughed, not knowing how to respond.

Did she really think he didn’t know how athletic she was?

Was she claiming that this level of activity made her legs weak?

When she used to sprint on her bike, she never complained once.

Rubbing his forehead, Alan took a deep breath.

"Get up already. I still have things to ask you."

At that, Nino’s dark eyes flickered. Her lips drooped in disappointment.

"Nino can’t get up. Alan has to rub them..."

"When Nino was tired from competitions before, Alan always gave her massages. Now you don’t want to anymore..."

She lifted her face, eyes glistening as if on the verge of tears, looking utterly wronged.

Staring into her clear, innocent eyes, Alan felt a sudden wave of dizziness.

What was all this nostalgic nonsense?

It was true, he had done a lot for her training back then.

Diet, exercise, recovery, relaxation.

Every day after practice, he massaged her muscles and even helped her mentally unwind.

The counseling part was easy, just take her out for a good meal and she’d be smiling again.

But that was the past.

They had broken up over three years ago. He had no obligation now.

And it wasn’t like she was even training that hard.

Since when had she become so fragile?

Had half a year turned her into a porcelain doll?

Seeing her insist, Alan stopped trying to make her stand.

Fine. Sitting was enough to talk.

Feeling stuffy, he removed his protective gear, loosened his collar, and immediately felt cooler.

He sat cross-legged in front of her.

After half a year, seeing Nino Kitagawa again—her delicate features, her snow-white eyes—

He couldn’t deny that he was affected.

Old memories stirred. He wanted to ask about her school life, her progress in kendo, how close she was to achieving national fame.

But this wasn’t the time for nostalgia.

He pushed his feelings aside and got straight to the point.

"I have a few questions for you," Alan said calmly. "If you answer them properly, I’ll treat you to a meal. How does that sound?"

At once, Nino’s eyes lit up. She swallowed nervously and nodded obediently.

That trick still worked.

The familiar expression on her face sank deep into his heart.

Alan relaxed without realizing it, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

"I remember you applied to a school in Kyoto, didn’t you? Why are you at my School now?"

"Mmm..."

Nino bit her lip, brows furrowing as if facing a difficult problem.

She hesitated for a long time before finally whispering,

"Alan... are you unhappy to see Nino?"

"..."

Is this one of those answers that dodges the question entirely?

For some reason, Alan felt that she wasn’t as innocent as she used to be.

After a moment’s thought, he followed her lead.

"Of course I’m happy. But I’m also worried about you. That’s why I’m confused. Weren’t you supposed to be in Kyoto?"

"Oh."

She seemed satisfied by his response. Shifting slightly, she looked him straight in the eyes, serious and sincere.

"Wherever Alan is... Nino will be there too."