Masaru entered the training chamber with measured steps, finding Akane already waiting for him. She stood rigidly, arms crossed, her expression composed yet undeniably stern. There was a tension in her demeanor—an almost imperceptible flare of reprimand in her gaze. Masaru could sense her displeasure, though the precise cause remained a mystery. In that moment, however, none of that mattered. His focus was absolute: winning the bet. Everything else—his emotions, her mood—could wait until after victory.
Akane's eyes locked onto him the instant the door closed behind him. "You're late," she stated flatly. There was no question in her tone, just cold, measured disappointment. Her voice cut through the air, sharp and clear.
