Ahmed gets up from his place amid the children's small laughs, and says in a theatrical tone:
Ahmed: "Alright, let's see if my muscles are worth all this curiosity."
He goes with playful steps towards his bag, and takes out his black training shirt with the logo of the karate team he recently joined in the neighborhood. He takes off his regular shirt with a quick movement and puts on the training uniform, then stands in the middle of the room, and flexes his arms to show his toned muscles.
The children's eyes widen in astonishment, and their voices rise with applause and admiration:
The little girl: "Waaah! You are really strong, like the heroes!"
The other child: "Do you fight like a ninja?"
Ahmed laughs as he waves his hand: "No, no, I just train. But thanks for the praise."
At that moment, Misaki was standing at the door, and her eyes stopped at the details of Ahmed: the toned muscles, the regular movement of his chest, and the effortless confidence that radiated from him. She felt a slight heat creep into her cheeks without knowing why.
She hesitated for a few seconds, then said in an almost whispering tone, overcome by shyness:
Misaki: "Ahmed... I... I want to touch your muscles. Just to make sure you're not a figment of my imagination."
Ahmed looks at her with a slight surprise, before giving a faint smile that held no arrogance. He silently extends his arm, and the children move aside to make way for her.
Misaki advances with slow steps, touches his bicep with her fingertips, then laughs, a faint laugh that holds a mixture of embarrassment and wonder:
Misaki: "You are really strong... but don't get arrogant!"
Ahmed replies teasingly: "I am much more humble than my muscles."
And a collective laugh erupts in the room, filled with warmth, surrounded by threads of a friendship that has begun to weave slowly... towards something bigger and more beautiful.