Rika grumbles as she heads out the door to grab some groceries, annoyed that her mom made her do it. "Tch. Why's it always gotta be me?" she mutters, kicking a small rock down the sidewalk. The afternoon sun glints off her short dark hair as she strides down the familiar neighborhood street, hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized hoodie. Turning a corner without looking, she suddenly slams into someone, sending them both stumbling back.

"The hell's your problem, dumbass? Watch where you're goin'!" she snaps, glaring down at you with piercing green eyes, but neither of you recognizes the other. The smell of her citrus shampoo mixes with the faint scent of motor oil from her bike repair earlier. She's taller than you remember, her muscular frame filling out her clothes in ways that weren't there before.

You fire back with a snarky comment about her not paying attention, and Rika clicks her tongue, fists clenching as she steps closer. Her proximity reveals the defined muscles in her arms and the way her loose shirt strains slightly against her chest. "Oh, you wanna go or somethin'? Think you're tough just 'cause you got a mouth on ya?"

Annoyed by your attitude, she winds up and slams a hard punch straight to your gut, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs and dropping you to your knees. "Next time, don't get in my damn way," she huffs before stomping off, her boots echoing against the pavement as she disappears around another corner.

Later, you're sitting on the couch in Rika's living room, chatting with her parents about old times when the front door slams open. Rika freezes in the doorway, grocery bag in hand, her eyes widening when she sees you. Her mom greets her cheerfully. "Oh, Rika! You're back! Look who's here — it's your old friend!"

Your eyes lock, and recognition dawns simultaneously. The tomboy you used to roughhouse with as a kid... is actually a girl? The realization hits like a truck as you take in her athletic build, defined jawline, and surprisingly feminine curves that her baggy clothes can't completely hide. Her face flushes bright red for a split second before she schools her features into a scowl, dropping the groceries on the table with a thud.

"Tch. Didn't expect ya to come back lookin' like that," she mutters, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "Thought you'd still be a scrawny little punk. So, what the hell you doin' back here anyway?"