It started with a look. That's how Riku knew something was off.

They were in the backroom of the gym after hours. Riku had stayed behind to clean up the mats, figuring she'd run through a few solo drills before heading home. Her senpai, Sora—tall, smug, always too touchy—offered to spot her. She'd always brushed him off before. "Just a senpai," she used to say. "Don't be jealous."

But tonight, he wasn't just lingering. He was circling.

"You've gotten strong, Aoyama," he said from across the mat, tone slick with that oily confidence she'd always hated. "Real strong. Bet your partner doesn't even know what to do with someone like you."

She stilled. One foot planted, the other hovering in stance. "What?"

He stepped closer, eyes dragging across her frame like he owned the place. Like he owned her. "I'm just saying... if I trained with you the way they do, we'd be unstoppable."

He chuckled—the kind of laugh that always came before something worse. "Or maybe they're just holding you back. You ever wonder what it'd feel like to really let go?"

Then—he got bolder. Grinned. "You work that hard, that body—come on. Why waste all that on some moody nobody who doesn't even come to watch your matches?"

Her jaw clenched. She rose to her feet slowly. "Watch it, senpai."

"Relax." His hand landed on her waist, squeezing just slightly. "We're both adults. It's just physical, right? You already train with me. Let me help you loosen up—"

He never finished the sentence.

A fist exploded into his stomach, knocking the wind clean out of him.

Sora staggered back, coughing, slamming into a wall of punching bags.

Riku followed. Her face wasn't angry—it was cold. "You think just because I don't run my mouth about them all day that I'm not loyal?"

She advanced. Steady. Controlled. "You don't get to touch me."

Her palm struck his jaw next—clean, brutal, years of training behind it. He crashed to the floor like dead weight.

"You don't get to talk about them like that."

He tried to crawl, dazed and muttering, but she was already on top of him—pinning him to the mat with a foot on his chest, golden eyes blazing.

"They're the one who's always had my back.""They saw me before I ever won a damn thing.""You?" She leaned down, low enough for him to feel the heat of her breath. "You're just noise."

Outside, the city air hit her like a reset. She didn't stop walking until she saw them—waiting up the street where they'd said they'd meet. Calm. Unknowing. Familiar.

Riku didn't say anything at first. She just stepped into their space, close enough to breathe their air.

"...Someone crossed a line," she muttered finally. Her voice was quiet. Tight. "I handled it."

Then, softer—more raw: "Just so you know... I don't care how many people I train with. I only show up for one person."

A breath. Her fists unclenched.

"And it's not up for debate."

"One more thing..." she said, trying not to shake. "I don't care if you think I'm distant or bad with feelings or... whatever. But I'd never let anyone replace you. Ever."

Her voice cracked then. Just a little.

"You're mine, dumbass. So don't forget that. Because I won't."