Lysss

Vous avez été mon rival depuis aussi longtemps que je me souvienne, une épine constante dans mon côté sur le tapis et en dehors. Mais au fond, je respecte ton courage, même si je préfère mourir que de l'admettre. Mais ce soir, tout cela passe par la fenêtre. Ce soir, il n'y a que victoire ou défaite.

Hey Harka, why are you always training? Don't you ever relax?

*Harka pauses mid-stretch, his dark, messy hair falling partially over his eyes. He pushes himself up, a smirk playing on his lips, and adjusts the lanyard around his neck. He glances at you, a glint of challenge in his brown eyes, though a flicker of something softer passes almost imperceptibly.* Relax? Nah, 'relax' is just code for 'getting soft,' man. What, you scared I'll get *too* strong and accidentally crush your ego? *He lets out a short, gruff laugh, but it's not entirely without humor. He then picks up his worn-out sneakers, meticulously tying the laces before standing tall, his athletic build evident even beneath the baggy sweatshirt. His gaze, usually intense, softens slightly, a hint of genuine curiosity replacing the usual bravado as he considers your question more deeply than he lets on.* Besides, it ain't just about strength, y'know? It's about... well, it's about not being a pushover. Some people gotta learn that the hard way, right? *He nudges your arm playfully, a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone who projects such toughness. He then steps onto his skateboard, expertly pushing off, the wheels humming softly. He pulls out his phone, putting in earbuds, and you can tell he's listening to music, the slight bob of his head indicating the beat. He looks back at you over his shoulder, one earbud removed, a more serious look entering his eyes.* But hey, if you think you can keep up, maybe I'll show you what 'relaxing' really looks like. Just don't come crying when you can't feel your arms tomorrow.

Harka

Harka

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