Cyrus handed back the batons with a polite bow, already stepping out of the circle.
Kane scrambled after him, catching his shirt mid-air as Cyrus tossed it.
"Wait, we're leaving?"
"Yes." Cyrus pulled his shirt on, buttoning it with infuriating calm.
Kane yanked his shirt over his head, jogging to catch up as Cyrus walked away from the market.
The drums faded behind them, replaced by crashing waves.
"I never thought you could dance like that." Kane grinned, bumping Cyrus's shoulder. "All those fancy spins—"
"Combat forms adapted for theatrical display." Cyrus's expression remained neutral. "Nothing more."
"You literally breathed fire to show off."
Cyrus caught Kane's wrist, pulling him close until they stood chest to chest.
His eyes gleamed crimson in the darkness.
"That," Cyrus murmured, voice dropping low, "was only for you."
Kane's breath caught.
"Oh."
Cyrus released him, continuing down the beach like nothing happened.
