Morning sunlight poured through the glass walls of the Tatsunoko University training gym, turning the polished floor into a mirror of gold.
Students gathered in small groups, stretching, chatting, or checking out the equipment that lined the edges— from treadmills to sandbags to a small sparring ring at the center.
It was gym class, but not the normal kind.
This was Martial Conditioning. A class where students studying combat physiology learned not only theory, but execution. And today, for the first time, they'd be paired for open training.
Sakura adjusted her gloves, her energy practically bouncing off the walls.
"Finally, something fun! I've been dying to move since that boring biomechanics lecture," she said, hopping from foot to foot.
Across from her, Baki stretched quietly. His movements were smooth and methodical, like a panther rolling its shoulders before a hunt.
"You really like this kind of stuff, huh?" he said, a smile tugging at his lips.
Sakura laughed. "You kidding? This is my element! I used to train on rooftops just for fun!"
"Rooftops?" he repeated, amused.
"Yep! You'd be surprised what you can turn into a gym if you're broke and too stubborn to quit."
That made Baki pause. There was something honest about her— raw, unfiltered effort. He respected that more than he expected to.
Their instructor, Professor Retsu, clapped his hands from the front.
"Today's objective is focus, control, and adaptability. We'll start with movement drills. Hanma, Kasugano, you're paired. Show the class how it's done."
The class murmured.
"Wait— him? With her?"
"She's good, but isn't he, like, the son of a demon?"
Sakura grinned. "Looks like we're the main act."
Baki gave a humble shrug. "Let's make it a good show."
They stepped into the ring.
At first, it was simple. Dodges, footwork, reaction tests. But the energy changed quickly.
Sakura's movements were fast and fiery, all instinct and momentum, like a spark leaping from wood.
Baki, by contrast, moved like water, flowing, adjusting, never wasting motion.
Their classmates started whispering.
"Are they… actually sparring?"
"They're not even trying and it looks pro."
Then, without a word, Sakura lunged a playful jab, nothing serious. Baki slipped aside effortlessly. She grinned and tried again, faster. He ducked, pivoted, and countered with a light tap on her shoulder. His movement was precise, not aggressive.
"Not bad." he said.
"Oh, it's on now!" she replied, cracking her knuckles.
Soon the "demonstration" turned into a dance. Precise kicks, sweeps, dodges, laughter. It wasn't about winning. It was about understanding each other through movement.
Retsu watched, his usually calm expression softening. "Those two…" he murmured. "They move like they've known each other for years. Sakura matches Baki's energy perfectly."
When they finally stopped, both were grinning, breathing lightly despite the intensity. The class applauded. Baki rubbed the back of his neck, smiling shyly. Sakura beamed and for a brief moment, the two just looked at each other, not as classmates, but as something more.
Later that afternoon, the gym was quiet. The crowd had gone, the echoes of sneakers and laughter fading into the distance. Sakura sat on a bench, sipping water, watching the sunlight flicker across the mats.
Baki walked over, towel slung around his shoulders.
"You're good." he said simply.
"'Good'? Pfft, come on.. I almost landed that kick."
He smirked. "Almost."
They both laughed.
After a moment, Sakura glanced down.
"So, um… you've been fighting long?"
"Since I was a kid." Baki said. "My dad… he's kind of a legend. The kind of guy everyone in the world's trying to beat."
She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds intense."
"It is. But it's not about him anymore. I just want to understand myself. Understand what strength really means."
That made Sakura pause. "You know… that's kinda how I feel too."
He looked at her, curious.
"I started fighting because I admired someone." she continued, smiling faintly. "But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn't chasing him anymore.. I was chasing me. The version of me that's fearless, that doesn't give up."
Baki nodded. "That's what fighting is. A mirror."
Sakura laughed softly. "You're a lot deeper than you look, Hanma."
"And you're a lot stronger than you act, Kasugano."
They held each other's gaze for a moment too long, that kind of silence where time slows down, and even the air seems to hesitate. Sakura's heart thumped once, hard enough for her to notice.
Oh no…
She looked away quickly, cheeks flushing. "A-Anyway, we should probably clean up. You know, before the next class comes in."
Baki tilted his head slightly, clearly amused but too polite to tease her. "Yeah, sure."
As she turned, she caught her reflection in the mirror— sweaty, smiling, a little breathless. Just then, she realized something that made her chest feel both light and heavy at once.
She liked training with him. She liked him.
The sky turned orange outside the gym windows. Sakura walked alone across the courtyard, bag over her shoulder, earbuds forgotten in her hand.
Her mind kept replaying the spar, his calm expression, his voice, the way he moved like he was listening to her, not just fighting her.
She stopped by the vending machine, pressing a button absentmindedly.
"…Sakura Kasugano," she muttered to herself, "you've got it bad."
The can dropped into her hand with a clunk. She smiled softly, shaking her head.
"Of all the people to crush on… it had to be the guy who could probably bench-press a truck."
Still, she didn't mind. For the first time in a long time, training didn't just make her feel strong, it made her feel alive. And somewhere on the other side of campus, Baki Hanma was thinking.. somewhat the same thing.