Kendo activated Big Fist and felt the familiar expansion of bone and muscle spread through her forearms. The weight settled comfortably into her stance, and she stepped forward with controlled force. She had always trusted her body and her training, yet today, confidence alone could not quiet the turmoil churning inside her chest.
Moments earlier, she had watched Takeru greet Nejire with a kiss and a hug. Kendo could see the intimacy and ease with which they spoke. The gesture was simple, yet it hit her with a wave of jealousy so sharp she could only look away. She felt guilt immediately after, because Nejire greeted her with the same open kindness, unaware that Kendo had slept with her boyfriend and was in love with him.
The guilt clung to her as she raised her fists. She had kissed Takeru many times during their late-night training and quiet tea breaks. She had felt special when he said her form was improving or when he lifted her chin during a correction. The warmth of those moments had convinced her she mattered to him, even if their relationship had no label. But seeing Nejire appear—glowing, graceful, confident—reminded Kendo that she barely knew where she stood in Takeru's heart, or that what meant so much to her meant nothing to him.
She pushed the thoughts down. Right now, she had to spar.
Nejire charged toward her with bright enthusiasm, spirals of Wave Motion gathering around her legs in controlled arcs. The spirals glimmered with soft light, wrapping her limbs in a kinetic aura that made each movement fluid and unpredictable. Kendo braced herself, but the first exchange reminded her that martial arts alone could not match Nejire's aerial skill. Nejire dipped around Kendo's first strike, pivoting with a light, effective step that kept her out of reach. She moved with a cheerful rhythm that made Kendo's attacks feel blunt and heavy, even though her technique was crisp and deliberate. The contrast heightened Kendo's insecurity. Nejire looked almost ethereal, whereas her own enlarged fists felt bulky and inelegant.
"You shifted your weight beautifully, Kendo-chan," Nejire said as she landed a controlled strike against Kendo's guard. "Your form is very strong."
The compliment made Kendo blush despite the sting in her arm. Compliments about her technique rarely affected her, but Nejire delivered them with a sincere adoration that unsettled Kendo in ways she could not articulate. Nejire genuinely admired her, and the sincerity in her voice made Kendo simultaneously proud and self-conscious.
Kendo attacked again, turning her hips into a heavy punch. She forced Nejire to adjust her flight path, which felt like a small victory. Despite this moment, Nejire's counterattack came swiftly. She wrapped a band of energy around her fists and delivered two measured strikes that rocked Kendo's stance. Nejire's technique was devastating yet elegant, which made Kendo feel painfully aware of her own quirk's blunt nature. Still, she refused to yield. She wanted Takeru to see her strength. She wanted him to be proud of her.
During a brief pause, Takeru stepped forward, composed as ever, assessing both fighters with measured eyes. "Your guard is tighter than yesterday, Kendo-chan. You read her approach better this time." His voice carried an even tone, but Kendo felt a warm pulse of pride at the praise.
Her pride crumbled seconds later when Nejire drifted over to Takeru, hugging him without hesitation. He accepted it with a soft smile. Kendo looked away quickly, feeling jealousy twist through her stomach and guilt rising in her chest. Nejire had no idea she had been sleeping with Takeru for weeks. The secrecy made Kendo feel like she had betrayed a girl who offered nothing but kindness. The worst part was that Kendo still wanted him; she could not douse the feeling in her heart, which only increased her self-loathing.
Sparring resumed, and Nejire intensified her attacks. Wave Motion danced along her legs, allowing her to whip through the air with effortless grace. Kendo tried to intercept her, but Nejire slid around her strikes in fluid patterns that resembled ocean waves. With each exchange, Nejire offered enthusiastic encouragement. "That counter was excellent," she said, even as she forced Kendo back with a spiraling kick. "You have wonderful discipline. I love how you move."
Kendo stumbled but regained her footing. Her heartbeat grew uneven for reasons unrelated to combat. Nejire's compliments felt warm, gentle, and sincere. She had been praised before by instructors and opponents, but no one had ever spoken with such affectionate excitement. Nejire meant every word, and Kendo absorbed each one like a blow she did not know how to block.
When Nejire closed in again, she wrapped a light spiral of energy around Kendo's wrist to redirect a punch. The contact was brief, but the warmth of it lingered. Kendo did not understand why her stomach dipped whenever Nejire touched her or why she felt small bursts of nerves each time Nejire flashed that bright smile. The sensations unsettled her and forced her to confront emotions she had never examined.
The fight ended after Nejire executed a clean takedown. She pinned Kendo gently to the mat, her palms glowing faintly with restrained energy. The spar was nowhere near close, but Nejire looked at Kendo with admiration instead of triumph. "You were amazing again," Nejire said. "I can feel how much stronger you are already."
Kendo tried to find her voice but only nodded. Her heart thumped loudly beneath the weight of Nejire's praise. The kindness overwhelmed her more than the defeat. She admired Nejire deeply; her beauty and effortless power stirred new emotions in Kendo that she was still trying to understand.
Over the next week, their sparring sessions blurred into a consistent rhythm. Each day, Kendo fought harder, driven by her desire to please Takeru and prove herself. Each day, Nejire dominated her with fluid control and practiced ease. And each day, Kendo felt her jealousy deepen when she saw the affection between Nejire and Takeru. Takeru and Kendo did not share kisses or make love, and Kendo was now aching for it. Watching Nejire bask in Takeru's attention was salt on her wounds. She dreaded the idea of losing him, yet each spar with Nejire awakened another longing she had never recognized before.
She envied Nejire's charm and elegance, but she could not resent her. Nejire's warmth felt too genuine. Her laughter felt too sincere. Her innocent excitement during training made it impossible for Kendo to see her as a rival. Instead, she became someone Kendo admired—maybe even wanted to impress more than Takeru—because even in such a short time, Nejire seemed to believe in Kendo and genuinely wanted her to improve.
Takeru observed the trio quietly for the entire week. He gave Kendo firm guidance and gentle corrections. He could see the jealousy building in her; the competitive fire was lit. Takeru was selfish. He had genuine affection for Kendo; she was honest and authentic. He loved that he had peeled the tomboy layer from her and seen the delicate little flower within. He had seduced her, and now he wanted her in his life permanently. He was greedy; he wanted it all. This was his second life, and he would do everything he wanted and live without regret. Kendo was taking bitter medicine now, but it was all for the greater good. He had to rile up her emotions and subtly guide her to make the choice he wanted her to make, all the while making it look like she was the one making the choice. People tend to identify with their own choices more than ones made for them, especially someone as responsible and strong as Kendo.
By the final day, Kendo no longer fought only to win. She fought because Nejire's voice pushed her forward. She fought because something inside her wanted to stand alongside them as a peer. Nejire pinned her again, yet the contact felt different. This time, Nejire moved her face inches from Kendo's and smiled in a way that made Kendo's chest tighten.
"You worked so hard," Nejire said softly. "I am proud of you."
Kendo felt heat rise to her cheeks. She did not pull away. She could not bring herself to do it. The admiration she felt for Nejire had grown into something warmer and more complex. It frightened her but also warmed her with unexpected comfort.
As Kendo sat between Takeru and Nejire, she realized she wanted both of them in her life. . The jealousy, guilt, admiration, and longing twisted together until she could no longer separate them.
Nejire brought a towel and wiped Kendo's forehead, then knelt in front of her. Kendo could see Nejire's large, pillowy breasts in front of her, but instead of comparing them to her own rather modest ones like she usually did, she wondered how soft they would be to touch and blushed furiously.
"Is everything okay, Kendo-chan?" Nejire asked, her big blue eyes full of concern.
"N-no... Nothing, senpai," Kendo said, trying to quell her heartbeat.
Takeru sat down next to them and put an arm around Kendo. He's touching me, her heart raced. In front of Nejire. She blushed, her brain unable to process her feelings.
"Nejire, why don't you and Kendo go to the Yuen Shinjuku onsen? I've booked a private bath. Hard training is over, and we have the UA exam in one week. Let's enjoy ourselves and relax
"Awesome!" Nejire squealed. "Kendo-chan, could you take me on your bike? I want to... I've never been on a bike before!"
"Uhmm, sure... senpai," Kendo said.