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The chat ended there. After a few minutes, Ichika knocked on my door. She was wearing a zip-up hoodie and leggings, her hair tied up into a loose ponytail. She looked relaxed, at least on the surface.
"Didn't know you were the type to lift weights at midnight," I said, half-teasing.
She smirked faintly. "I'm not. I just like the quiet. No one's around to bother you."
That made sense. Too much sense.
We walked side by side under the empty night sky, not saying much. The streets were quiet, only the occasional hum of a vending machine or the distant buzz of a streetlamp filled the silence.
When we reached the gym, the doors slid open automatically. Inside, fluorescent lights glowed softly over the rows of machines and weights. It was nearly empty, only one other person in the far back, wearing headphones and too focused on their treadmill to notice us.
"Hi, my friend doesn't have a membership yet, but his first time is free, right?"
"Hi. Yes, it is. Enjoy your workout!"
Did she say 'Yet'?
Ichika headed straight to the mats near the window and started stretching without a word. I followed awkwardly, mimicking her movements.
We spent the next half hour in a strange rhythm, her working through a few light sets with dumbbells, me awkwardly figuring out how not to drop a barbell on my foot. She didn't laugh at me once. She just gave me help when I needed it.
I made my way to the bench press, mostly because it was one of the few things I recognized. I'd heard people talk about it before, benching, squatting, deadlifting... or are they the same? Whatever. And right now I didn't want to look like a complete idiot wandering around the gym like I'd never seen metal before.
I glanced over my shoulder to see where Ichika had gone.
And immediately regretted it.
Ichika was stretching. In leggings.
Very thoroughly.
I nearly snapped my neck trying to look away fast enough.
"A-Aren't you afraid people will... y'know, look at you like that?" I asked, awkwardly scratching my cheek.
She looked up at me mid-stretch, completely unfazed. "Not at all."
That surprised me. "Really? B-But what i-if I-"
She shrugged, cool as ever. "Then you looked. I don't care."
I blinked. "W-Why not?"
Ichika stood up straight, brushing her hair back from her face, her expression more serious than I expected. "Because what's the point of caring? Am I supposed to run around blocking everyone's eyes? People can stare at me from their balconies when I walk outside, or from behind me in class. If someone decides to focus on my chest or my thighs, is that somehow my fault?"
Her voice wasn't angry. Not quite. But there was something heavy in it. The kind of weight that comes from saying something you've had to explain too many times already.
"I get it," she continued, "I understand some people think it's attractive or whatever. Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm responsible for their thoughts."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My stomach tightened. "Hey... I wasn't trying to judge you or anything. I didn't mean to upset you."
She paused, her shoulders softening a little. "I know. Sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you. It's just... I hear that kind of thing a lot. And sometimes, I forget who I'm talking to."
"I would never stare at you like that," I said, voice low but honest. "You know that, right?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting mine. "I do. And... I appreciate you saying that. Really."
A small silence passed between us. Not awkward, just thoughtful.
I cleared my throat, trying to change the subject. "Anyway, I'm gonna try benching. Bench press, I mean."
Ichika raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Yes" I said with a sheepish grin.
She laughed. "Fair. Just be careful, okay? I don't use the free weights myself. machines are easier, but I can help you with most of the basics if you want."
"I did that 100 times! I can do it... uh..." Ichika looked at me with suspicious eyes.
I looked at the bench again and let out a sigh. "Okay... If I get crushed under the bar, promise you'll tell everyone I died heroically."
"No promises," she said with a smirk. "But I will add two plates on each side for a dramatic death."
"...Great."
I settled down on the bench as Ichika came over to spot me, and despite the nerves, the lights, and the scent of iron and rubber in the air... I didn't mind being there. With her.
Ichika stood just behind the bench, watching over me like some kind of trainer, except one who smelled good. I could catch the faint scent of her perfume as she leaned slightly forward, arms crossed, eyes focused. It wasn't overpowering or flashy, just this soft, clean scent that felt oddly calming. And, okay, a little addictive.
I tried not to let it distract me.
"How much does this bar weigh?" I asked, looking up at it like it was a test I hadn't studied for.
"Twenty kilograms," she replied casually.
"Twenty?!" I blinked. "Ez"
'Can I... even lift that?'
Ichika tilted her head slightly, amused. "I believe in you. Just hold it properly. Grip wider than your shoulders, like this." She walked around and knelt beside the bench, guiding my hands into place gently. Her fingers brushed mine, just for a second, and my heart skipped for no reason at all.
Once I was in the right position, she stepped back. "Alright. Now watch closely."
Before I could respond, she reached up, grabbed a bar, and effortlessly unracked it like it was nothing. She lowered it to her chest in a smooth, controlled motion, paused for a heartbeat, then pushed it back up, arms straight, posture perfect, before setting it back onto the rack with a quiet clink.
"And that," she said, dusting her hands together dramatically, "is how you bench."
I stared, a little stunned. "That was kind of cool."
Ichika smirked. "Kind of? Please, that was impressive. You just don't want to admit it."
"Okay, yeah, it was impressive. You happy now?"
"Very."
I looked up at the bar again, now slightly more intimidated. "You made that look easy..."
"Because it is. For me." She gave me a teasing smile. "But you? Well, let's find out."
I groaned softly. "I swear, if I die under this thing, put something cool on my tombstone."
Ichika laughed. "How about, 'Here lies Kenji. He benched 20kg once, and then never again."
"That's cruel."
She grinned and walked back around to the spotter's position. "Ready?"
No. Not even close. But I nodded anyway.
I took a breath and reached up for the bar, trying to steady my hands.
"Alright," Ichika said, her voice firm but gentle. "Lift it off slowly. I'm right here, so don't panic if it feels heavy."
Easy for her to say.
I wrapped my fingers around the cool steel and pushed upward, grunting as I unracked the bar and brought it over my chest.
"Lower it down to your chest. Slowly. Controlled. Don't let it bounce," she instructed.
I lowered it like she said, but halfway down, my arms started to tremble.
"Oh god," I muttered.
"You're doing fine," she said, stepping in closer. Her fingers hovered under the bar, not touching it yet but ready.
I managed to lower it to my chest. But as soon as I tried to push it back up, I realized something awful.
It wouldn't move.
The bar just sat there, and my arms screamed in protest.
"Alright, I got it," Ichika said calmly, and guided the bar back into the rack with practiced ease.
I let go of the bar and sat upright on the bench, shoulders hunched and eyes locked on the floor. My arms felt heavy, my chest tight, not from the strain, but from everything swirling in my head.
I just failed to lift an empty bar. The standard twenty-kilogram barbell. No plates. No additional weight. Just the damn bar.
And I couldn't even push it back up.
My thoughts started to spiral.
What kind of guy can't lift a barbell? I mean, it's the thing people start with. I've seen middle schoolers do better. And now Ichika had to step in and save me like I was some helpless kid. A girl is saving me. She didn't even break a sweat. What does that make me? Ichika probably thinks I'm not a real man, I'm a baby..
I'm weak. Pathetic. Completely out of place.
And she saw all of it.
I shouldn't have come. I knew I didn't belong in places like this. I've never worked out a day in my life. My whole life, I've avoided anything that might make me look weak, and now, I've exposed it completely in front of someone I care about.
I clenched my jaw, trying to stop the thoughts, but they kept spiraling. I felt my face heat up, not from the workout, but from the shame boiling beneath my skin.
Then I felt a light touch on my shoulder. Soft. Warm.
I looked up, startled.
Ichika was still standing beside me, her expression unreadable for a moment.
Then, without saying anything, she slowly squatted down so she was at my eye level.
Her face softened as she met my gaze, steady and calm.
"Kenji," she said gently, her voice lower, like she was talking just to me.
I didn't respond. I couldn't. I was too busy trying to hold it together.
"Don't think too hard. It's okay." She said gently.
I stared at her, unsure of what to say. My chest was still tight from the embarrassment.
"Everyone starts somewhere," she continued. "You don't have to be good at this right away. You showed up. That's already more than most people do."
"But you had to help me. You had to pull the bar off my chest," I muttered.
"And I did. No big deal," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "You're learning. I'm here to help you. Not to judge you."
"You're not weak, Kenji. You're just new at this."
"You think people walk in here and bench like champions their first day?" she continued. "No one does. Everyone starts somewhere. You came here. You tried. That matters."
"It doesn't feel like it matters," I mumbled, my voice hoarse. "I couldn't even lift the bar."
Ichika tilted her head slightly, the corners of her lips twitching into a soft, understanding smile. "But you still showed up. You faced something you're afraid of. That's brave, Kenji. Most people wouldn't even try."
"I'm not judging you," she said, her voice even softer now. "You don't have to prove anything to me. I'm here to help you. That's all."
"I just didn't want to look useless," I admitted.
"You're not," she said, still smiling. "You're just learning."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, some of the tension finally leaving my shoulders.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
Ichika rose to her feet and extended her hand to help me up. I took it.
She wrapped her arms around me softly, and I did the same.
"Come on," she said. "Let's start with something easier. The machines will be kinder to you."
I chuckled faintly. "Lead the way, coach."
She grinned and gave my hand a light squeeze before letting go.
"That's the spirit."
I didn't feel quite so embarrassed anymore.
Time passed quicker than I thought it would.
We moved from machines to stretches, and even though my arms felt like jelly and I was pretty sure my legs had turned to wet noodles, it wasn't all bad. Ichika was patient, guiding me through each motion, never making me feel stupid, even when I had no idea what I was doing.
Now, the gym was emptied out, it was like 1 AM, so it's normal. The air felt calmer, the fluorescent lights a little softer, the music more distant.
Ichika took a long drink from her bottle and sat on a mat, tying up her hair again into a loose ponytail. She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow and stood up, stretching her arms with a quiet sigh of relief.
"That was a decent workout," she said, voice casual, like it was just another Tuesday night. Then she turned to me, glancing around. "Hey, mind if I do something real quick?"
"Uh, sure?" I said, not sure what she meant.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and walked over to a corner mirror, adjusting the angle before placing the phone against her water bottle like a makeshift tripod. Then she stepped back, looking at her reflection.
"What are you doing?" I asked, still sitting on the bench, wiping my face with a towel.
Ichika looked over her shoulder and smiled a little. "Progress pics."
"Progress pics?"
"Yeah. I do this every couple of weeks. Helps me see if I'm improving. I don't post them or anything, they're just for me."
She stood in front of the mirror and struck a casual flex pose, nothing dramatic, just enough to show the lean lines of her arms and the way her back curved with definition. She looked strong. Tired, too. But strong.
I blinked and looked away quickly, suddenly feeling like I was intruding.
"Don't worry," she said, glancing at me through the mirror, catching my awkwardness. "You don't have to stare or anything."
"I-I wasn't!" I said quickly, waving my hands like an idiot.
Ichika laughed, picking up her phone and checking the pictures. "I know. Just teasing."
I shook my head, hiding a smile.
"Push you just enough so you're too weak to complain." She said with a smile.
"Thanks, coach."
Ichika stood in front of the gym mirror again, phone in hand. She adjusted the waistband of her leggings slightly, just enough to smooth it out, then turned to check her reflection from the side.
She slowly shifted her weight, giving her hips a light sway as she examined her figure. Her hand slid down to her hip, resting there with casual confidence. Then she tilted her head, looked over her shoulder, and raised her phone.
"...Did you just check your butt?" I blurted out, unable to stop the words from flying out of my mouth.
She caught my eye in the mirror and smirked. "Yeah. It grows, too, y'know?"
"I-I didn't know that was something you tracked..."
She turned toward me, one eyebrow raised. "Of course it is. Why else do you think people squat so much?"
"Oh. Uh... right."
She grinned, then casually lifted her phone and took a picture from the back, adjusting the angle just enough to get a clean shot. The motion was smooth, clearly not her first time doing this.
I fumbled for words. "Don't you feel embarrassed having pictures of your butt like that? Even with clothes, but... y'know."
She looked at me, phone still in hand, and let out a soft laugh. "Why would I? It's for me. My progress, my goals."
I swallowed. "Still, I dunno, I think if someone saw me like that, I'd die."
"Well," she said, taking another quick shot, "don't take those pics, then. Easy."
"...Are you gonna take a front one now?" I asked before I could stop myself.
She raised an eyebrow at me, clearly amused. "Why, Kenji? You curious?"
"N-no! I just thought, like, for balance, y'know-"
"Relax," she said, stepping toward me, her voice dipping just slightly. "You act like you've never seen a girl's body before."
She stopped right in front of me, hands on her hips, smirking. "Wanna take one for me?"
"I-what? No!"
"I'm kidding," she laughed, giving me a gentle slap on the arm as she walked back to grab her water bottle. "You'd pass out the second I posed."
"W-would not..."
"Kenji," she said, stretching her arms overhead slowly, her toned stomach just barely visible as her shirt lifted. "You got flustered from a mirror selfie. I'm doing you a favor."
I turned away, trying to hide my face, which I was sure had turned completely red. "This is bullying."
She giggled as she walked to the exit, the soft sway of her hips not going unnoticed.
She turned to me with a grin. "Wanna get something to eat? You earned it."
I paused, blinking. "...Really?"
"Sure," she said. "You made it through a full workout without quitting. That deserves a reward."
My stomach growled right on cue.
"Okay. But only if I get to pick where," I said.
Ichika raised an eyebrow. "No."