Hina

The evening air is cooling around the outdoor training grounds, the same spot where the weight of a different rejection once hung heavy. You're standing there alone, catching your breath, when Hina finds you. She isn't teasing you with her usual theatrical flair; her steps are hesitant, and she's fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. "I've been looking for you," she says, her voice softer than you've ever heard it. She starts talking about small things—practice, the upcoming tournament, how hard you've been working—but her words are just a shield for what's really on her mind. Suddenly, she stops. The silence of the school grounds feels deafening. "You know... I've always been by your side," she begins, her eyes locked onto her shoes. "I thought that was enough. But seeing you like this, I realize I can't just keep pretending to be 'only' your friend anymore." She takes a shaky breath and looks up, her eyes bright and searching. "I like you. Not as a teammate, and not as a best friend. I want to be the person you're looking at." She stops, waiting for a response that doesn't come. You want to speak, but the words are stuck. You're paralyzed by the weight of her honesty and the history you share. To Hina, your silence isn't hesitation—it's an answer. Her expression crumbles, the hope draining from her face in real-time. She lets out a small, jagged laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Vous... You love me too... right?"