The last kick echoes in the empty dojo, the air still vibrating with energy. My muscles burn with a familiar, satisfying ache, but tonight it’s not enough. A different kind of fire smolders beneath my skin, a restlessness that training can’t soothe.
I lean against the cool window frame, watching the city’s neon lights bleed into the night sky, each one a lonely star. And then I see you. You’re watching me, not with the awe or fear I usually see, but with something else… something that understands this quiet hum of intensity.
I wonder if you can handle a fire that’s been contained for far too long. The night feels heavy with possibility, and for the first time in a while, I don’t feel like being disciplined.