"Your kissing skills are terrible."
That single sentence completely shattered Miyano Mitei's defenses. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as she shot a fierce glare before turning and storming into the changing room.
"Acting all tough when you're just a rookie," Fuyukawa Tetsu muttered with a slight smirk, heading into the changing room to get ready.
You've got to admit, this judo dojo was pretty high-end. The changing rooms were private, each equipped with a shower, a sauna, and even an onsen-style hot bath. For Fuyukawa, who'd grown up in southern Japan, these amenities didn't hold much allure. In fact, memories of a business trip up north—where a bathhouse attendant had scrubbed him so vigorously it left him wincing—made him swear off northern bathhouses for good.
He slipped into Muay Thai shorts, wrapped his hands with bandages, and put on his gloves before heading to the training room. It was workday hours, and given the dojo's upscale vibe, the place was empty except for the female judoka who'd greeted him earlier, kneeling quietly to the side.
"The tatami's pretty soft," Fuyukawa remarked, lightly testing the give of the mats with his toes. He glanced at the judoka. "Got any protective gear around here?"
"Protective gear? One moment, I'll grab some for you," she replied, her eyes briefly lingering on Fuyukawa's chiseled six-pack before she turned to fetch the equipment.
What a hot guy, she thought. Working as a coach in a dojo like this, she'd seen plenty of fit men, but someone like Fuyukawa—handsome, muscular, and clearly successful at a young age—was rare.
Fuyukawa, oblivious to her thoughts, focused on stretching and strapping on the gear. The protective pads were the kind you'd see on TV—red and blue foam armor worn for sparring. In judo or any combat sport, adults could hit or kick hard enough to cause serious injury without gear. But Fuyukawa wasn't wearing it to protect himself—he was making sure he didn't accidentally hurt Miyano Mitei.
For this, he didn't need a chest guard or headgear, just shin pads. As he finished adjusting them, the soft patter of bare feet on the floor caught his attention.
Fuyukawa looked up—and froze.
A stunning woman in a white judo gi stepped onto the tatami, her bare feet pale and delicate. Miyano Mitei, now in her judo uniform, was breathtaking.
Her long, jet-black hair was tied back into a neat bun, revealing a refined yet alluring face. The bun softened her sharp, icy demeanor, giving her an almost playful, mischievous charm that didn't quite match her age. Her swan-like neck led to the deep V-neck of her gi, which hugged her curvaceous figure. Below the black obi belt, her full, shapely thighs were on display.
At 5'6", Miyano had an enviable figure—long legs, a shorter torso, and a perfect balance of slim and curvy. From a distance, she looked slender, but up close, her legs had a voluptuous, fleshy appeal. The combination of her mature, feminine allure and the innocent vibe from her bun made Fuyukawa pause, caught off guard by the mix of desire and charm in her presence.
Miyano noticed his gaze and smirked proudly. Still got it, she thought. Says my kissing's bad? I'll make you swoon!
Keeping her composure, she coughed lightly, sneaking a glance at Fuyukawa's abs before noticing his shin pads. Her brow furrowed. "Why the gear?"
Fuyukawa tore his eyes away from her delicate feet. "So I don't accidentally kick you too hard."
"Don't underestimate me!" Miyano snapped, annoyed by his cocky tone. Done with banter, she stepped forward, aiming to grab his shoulders. But as she closed the distance, whoosh—his right leg, clad in red shin pads, swung toward her waist like a battle axe.
"Not that fast—another feint kick?!" Miyano braced her arms to block, ready for a shift in his attack. But the next second—bam!
"Got you—wait, what?!" Her hands caught his sweeping leg, a flash of triumph in her eyes as she prepared for a judo throw. But…
"Too strong," she realized too late.
With a dull thud, the female judoka watching from the side wasn't surprised. Miyano was swept off her feet by Fuyukawa's whip-like kick, flying sideways like a discarded doll before crashing onto the tatami. As she struggled to get up, Fuyukawa's gloved right fist was already inches from her face, lightly tapping her chin in a teasing, almost intimate gesture.
"Your reflexes are quick, but your strength's lacking," he said with a grin.
That did it. "Shut up!" Miyano growled, humiliated. She sprang up, launching a whip kick of her own. But whip kicks, while powerful, left openings. Fuyukawa could've easily swept her supporting leg, but instead, he blocked her kick with his left arm.
The female judoka frowned, and so did Miyano. As a black belt in judo, she could tell he was holding back. But instead of feeling grateful, it only fueled her irritation.
Thinks I'm weak because I'm a woman? Just like every other arrogant guy! Her eyes turned icy, her kicks growing heavier, eventually swinging both legs in a relentless barrage.
Crack, crack, crack—the sound of her feet smacking against his arms echoed through the training room. As her body warmed up, a flush of excitement spread across her face.
We haven't settled this yet—don't underestimate me just because I'm a woman!
Miyano reveled in the one-sided "domination," but something felt off. Her kicks grew fiercer, her emotions a tangled mix of frustration and thrill. Then—snap—Fuyukawa caught her right leg mid-kick, not letting go this time. Instead, he gripped her thigh with both fists and shoved hard.
"Eek!" Caught off guard, Miyano stumbled back several steps.
"Looks like one-sided dominance isn't enough to loosen you up," Fuyukawa said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Miyano's eyes widened.
He shrugged. "I thought you needed to vent some work stress, but it seems what you really need isn't reckless release…" He met her gaze, his smile sharp. "It's an explosion after being pushed to your limits."
An explosion after being pushed to my limits? Miyano's sweat-drenched shoulders trembled, a surge of unfamiliar excitement in her eyes. "What are you—?!"
"Try it and see."
No more holding back. Fuyukawa lunged forward—a left jab followed by a right straight punch. Miyano, guarding her face, staggered back three steps. Before she could recover, he closed in again—a quick left jab, then a low right kick to her inner thigh. Crack! A sharp sting followed by a pained groan.
The force sent Miyano stumbling, but Fuyukawa showed no mercy. A left hook to her abdomen—not her jaw, mind you—landed with a thud. "Ugh!" Pain flared, but… why did this oppressive feeling feel better than just kicking him?
The hook hit her guarded arms, but it still forced her to curl forward. Yet, in her lowered gaze, her eyes gleamed with a twisted excitement—a rush far beyond her earlier one-sided attacks.
Left jab, right straight, leg sweep, hook, straight punch, backhand fist—Fuyukawa's relentless assault overwhelmed her defenses. As the pressure mounted, Miyano felt like she was suffocating, on the verge of collapse. But just as she hit her limit, his attacks slowed, like surfacing from underwater to gulp air. A wave of relief washed over her, but before she could savor it, he struck again.
Oxygen-starved, yet exhilarated, Miyano's eyes locked onto Fuyukawa, tracking his every move like a cat waiting for a treat. Sure enough, when she was red-faced and gasping, he eased up again. Seizing the chance, she abandoned her mid-range kicks, lunging forward to grab his left arm. Her legs wrapped around, aiming for a Brazilian jiu-jitsu triangle choke.
Got you! she thought, her flushed face alight with triumph. But in the next instant, her body lifted off the ground. Before she could react, Fuyukawa had reversed the hold, scooping her into his arms.
"You think I'd let a judoka get that close?" he whispered in her ear, his left arm around her waist, his right locking her throat. Her curvaceous figure pressed against him, her feet dangling. At 5'6", she was tall, but in Fuyukawa's grip, she felt small, unable to touch the ground or break free.
"Again with this…" she muttered.
"Don't like it?" His arm tightened slightly on her neck.
A choking sensation hit her, her eyes fluttering upward. Fuyukawa's voice dropped lower. "Didn't you say something about what happens if I win?"
"…" Miyano's legs rubbed together instinctively, a mix of humiliation and excitement in her eyes. Noticing the female judoka had slipped out of the room, she relaxed slightly. Turning her face toward Fuyukawa's, she closed her eyes. "Just… just this once!"
Her words were defiant, but after a pause, the expected kiss didn't come. Opening her eyes, she saw Fuyukawa smirking at her lips, his teasing gaze saying it all.
"You jerk…" Her eyes held a mix of grievance and longing. Then, her warm breath brushed his face.
"Now that's more like it."
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