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"Zhu Yuan, let me ask... who did you usually train with before I joined?"
Kenji wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, trying to keep his breathing steady. He was currently facing a crisis of focus. There weren't many Kamen Riders who specialized in firearms, so he didn't have much experience with "long-range" visual discipline. Zhu Yuan was simply too unguarded around him; her comfort with her team was a double-edged sword for his self-control.
"Me? Mostly Senior Qingyi. She's surprisingly powerful when she isn't in power-save mode," Zhu Yuan replied casually. She stretched her arms, performing a series of warm-up lunges that highlighted her athletic silhouette.
Kenji nodded, realizing he couldn't exactly tell her he was struggling to look away. He had to maintain the "Legendary Tank" persona—stoic, professional, and definitely not distracted.
"Let's begin. During a fight, always maintain eye contact. Even though Ethereals don't technically have eyes, you need to read the direction of their energy," Zhu Yuan said, shifting into a traditional fighting stance. She offered a small joke to lighten the mood, and Kenji immediately locked onto her orange eyes.
Focusing on her gaze worked. Once he was locked into her stare, the distractions of her gym attire faded into the background. As the "trainee," Kenji felt no pressure. He lunged forward first, feinting a right straight but instead sweeping a low kick toward her shins.
He had the reach, but he had underestimated Zhu Yuan's years of elite training. She didn't just avoid the sweep—she pivoted on one foot. Before Kenji could retract his leg, her bare foot connected sharply with his chest. If she hadn't pulled the strike, he would have been flat on his back with a bruised ribcage.
"Too much telegraphing. Again." "Not enough follow-through. Again." "Your center of gravity is shifting too early. Again."
Zhu Yuan had flipped the switch into "Captain Mode." Her expression wasn't harsh, but it was intensely focused. Every time she said "Again," it was after Kenji had been forced back or knocked off balance. He didn't find it shameful to be bested; Zhu Yuan's strength was a product of the PSB Academy's most rigorous programs. It was only natural she'd be more refined than a "self-taught" fighter like him.
However, as the session continued, Kenji felt a strange sensation. A wave of déjà vu washed over him. He was experiencing this for the first time, yet his body felt like it was executing a pre-recorded script.
Zhu Yuan launched a high-leg side kick. Kenji's brain didn't even process the thought; his body reacted with impossible speed. He ducked beneath the arc of her leg, his feet driving him forward. Before she could recover her balance, he lunged, wrapping his arms around her supporting thigh.
He lifted. Zhu Yuan's unshakeable stability vanished as her feet left the mat. As she came back down, she found herself sitting sideways across Kenji's shoulder—a classic "shoulder-carry" position.
"Ah—!"
Zhu Yuan let out a startled cry. The posture was... intimate, to say the least. The friction and the sudden proximity made her lose her tactical composure. She struggled to regain her balance and tumbled from his shoulder.
She didn't hit the mat. Kenji caught her in a soft, firm embrace, holding her against his chest. Her cheeks were flushed—perhaps from the exercise, or perhaps from the sudden, ambiguous contact. She knew it was a valid counter-move, but as a woman, she couldn't help but be flustered.
Time seemed to hang in the air. Kenji swallowed hard. Up close, Zhu Yuan was breathtaking, and the "heaven-sent" opportunity felt almost too perfect.
Then it hit him. 02 Dad. That sense of déjà vu? That impossible evasion? It was the Zero-Two system. The AI had calculated this exact "accident" to maximize favorability.
'Ding-a-ling~'
A phone ringing shattered the silence. Zhu Yuan snapped back to reality, realized she was still leaning into his arms, and quickly scrambled to her feet. She hurried to the bench to grab her phone.
"Mom? I'm free... it's my lunch break. What's wrong?"
Her voice was gentle, lacking the usual professional clip. Kenji grabbed a towel and walked over, catching fragments of a woman's voice on the other end—Aunt Zhu, the legendary mother he'd only heard about in office rumors.
"How did that happen? Is Dad okay? Just a sprain? Thank goodness." Zhu Yuan exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders. She stayed on the line for another minute before hanging up.
"Everything alright at home?" Kenji asked, his concern genuine.
"Yeah. My dad sprained his ankle while out for groceries. Apparently, some idiot moved a manhole cover on his usual route, leaving a gap just big enough for a foot to slip through," Zhu Yuan said, her tone sparking with irritation. "I don't know if it was a prank or a thief, but it was a reckless thing to do."
Kenji froze. He was suddenly sweating even more than the workout had warranted. The memory of the manhole cover from his 02-calculated dash flashed in his mind. Scheming against my own future father-in-law? 02... is this what you meant by 'creating a situation'?
"That's... really wicked. Was the cover stolen?" Kenji asked, trying to sound outraged while his soul shriveled in guilt.
"Is that really what you're worried about?" Zhu Yuan gave him a wry smile, rolling her eyes. She decided to end the session there, and the two sat against the wall to rest.
"About my parents... do you mind me talking about them?" she asked softly. She remembered Kenji had no family and didn't want to be insensitive.
"Not at all. I'm used to it," Kenji replied. He saw her willingness to share as a sign of deep trust.
Zhu Yuan began to tell him stories of her childhood—the happiness of being an only child in a loving, value-driven household. Kenji listened, feeling a twinge of envy. It made sense now; her heroism wasn't a mask. It was a product of being raised by people who truly cared.
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