OFA In The World of Honkai

So it begins, Kenji's training montage...

Kenji slipped through the front door of the gym as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. The air smelled faintly of rubber mats and sweat, a combination that was quickly becoming familiar. He rubbed his eyes, yawning as he dropped his bag by the wall.

"Early again?" came a gruff voice from across the room. Daichi stood near the heavy bag, wrapping his hands. 

Kenji shrugged, stretching his arms overhead with a slight wince. " I woke up sore as hell, and I figured sitting around wasn't gonna help."

Daichi chuckled, shaking his head. "Sore, huh? That's a good sign. Means you're actually working those muscles for a change."

"Yeah, yeah," Kenji grumbled, rolling his shoulders. "You sure it's not a sign of you trying to kill me with these drills?"

Daichi finished wrapping his hands and gestured toward the mats. "Quit whining and get warmed up. If you're here early, I'm putting you to work."

Kenji snorted but made his way to the mats, starting with some light stretches. "You really know how to motivate a guy, huh?"

"You don't need motivation," Daichi shot back, grabbing a medicine ball from the equipment rack. "You've already got that fire, kid. Just need to keep stoking it."

Kenji grinned despite himself. He had to admit, Daichi's tough-love approach was starting to grow on him. As he moved through his stretches, he couldn't help but glance over at his coach, who was now fiddling with a set of cones for drills. The man had a way of making even the simplest things look intense.

"So," Kenji said, breaking the silence, "what's on the menu today? More footwork? Or are you finally gonna teach me how to punch like you?"

Daichi turned, one eyebrow raised. "Punch like me? You think you're ready for that?"

Kenji shrugged, smirking. "I mean, how hard can it be? You just… you know, throw your fist."

Daichi barked a laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet gym. "Oh, you're funny, kid. Real funny. Let's see how funny you are after twenty minutes of cone drills."

Kenji groaned dramatically, dropping his head back. "Why do I even bother?"

"Because you want to be better," Daichi said simply, tossing the medicine ball at him. Kenji barely caught it, stumbling slightly under the weight. "And because you know I'm right."

Kenji sighed, hefting the ball in his hands. "Yeah, yeah. You're always right. Got it."

Daichi smirked, leaning against the heavy bag. "Damn straight."

As Kenji moved through his warm-up, the soreness in his muscles began to ease, replaced by a steady rhythm that felt almost natural. He'd only been training with Daichi for a few weeks, but the man had a way of making every session feel like a step forward, even when it was grueling.

"Hey, Daichi," Kenji called out, setting the medicine ball down. "Can I ask you something?"

Daichi looked up from the cones, his expression curious. "Shoot."

Kenji hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "When you started boxing, were you… I don't know, good at it? Or did you suck like me?"

Daichi chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I was terrible. First time I got in the ring, I tripped over my own feet and got clocked in the jaw within ten seconds."

Kenji blinked, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yup," Daichi said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But you know what? I got back up, kept going. That's all there is to it, really. Doesn't matter how bad you are when you start. What matters is that you don't quit."

Kenji nodded, absorbing the words. "Yeah… I guess that makes sense."

Daichi walked over, clapping a hand on Kenji's shoulder. "You've got the right attitude, kid. You're showing up, putting in the work. That's more than most people can say. Now, quit stalling and get moving. Those cones aren't gonna run themselves."

Kenji laughed, shaking his head as he headed toward the drills. "Alright, alright. Let's do this."

As he started weaving through the cones, his movements still clumsy but improving with each pass, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. Daichi's words stuck with him, a steady reminder that progress wasn't about perfection—it was about persistence.

"Looking good, kid," Daichi called out, his tone teasing but encouraging. "Maybe by next week, you'll actually look like you know what you're doing."

Kenji grinned, his breath coming in steady puffs as he pushed himself harder. "Don't hold your breath, old man."

Daichi laughed, the sound filled with genuine amusement. "That's the spirit."

As the morning wore on, the soreness in Kenji's muscles became a dull ache, replaced by the satisfaction of knowing he was getting better, even if it was just a little bit at a time. By the time the other students started filtering in, he was already drenched in sweat, his body humming with the familiar exhaustion that came from hard work.

"You're making me look bad, coming in here early," one of the students joked as they walked past.

Kenji smirked, wiping his face with a towel. "Guess you'll have to step up your game."

Daichi clapped his hands, calling the group to attention. "Alright, everyone, time to get started. Kenji, you're done for now. Go get some rest—or, knowing you, head straight to work."

Kenji chuckled, grabbing his bag. "You know me too well, Coach."

---

Kenji navigated the streets of Nagazora, the hum of his scooter blending into the background noise of the bustling city. His shoulders ached, his legs protested with every stop and start, but he powered through. The morning training had taken its toll, but it was nothing compared to what Daichi would throw at him tomorrow if he slacked off.

He pulled up to an apartment building, hefting a small package from his bag. As he climbed the stairs, the familiar soreness flared in his calves. "Seriously, Daichi… Do you have to kill me every morning?" he muttered under his breath.

The customer, an elderly woman with a kind smile, opened the door and handed him a bottle of water. "You look like you've been working hard, young man."

Kenji took the bottle gratefully, chuckling. "You have no idea."

The rest of the day blurred into a series of stops and starts, faces and streets blending together as he checked off each delivery. By the time his shift ended, his body begged for rest, but his mind was already on what lay ahead.

Kendo training with Mei.

As he parked his scooter outside the dojo, he took a moment to stretch his arms and roll his shoulders. The faint glow of the evening lights reflected off the polished doors, and he let out a steadying breath.

"Alright, Aoyama," he muttered, stepping inside. "Time to see if I survive round two."

---

Kenji pushed open the doors to the dojo, the faint hum of voices drawing his attention to the practice floor. There she was again—Mei, effortlessly moving through the motions as she instructed a group of students.

Her stance was steady, her strikes sharp, every motion precise and deliberate. The students watched her like she was some sort of living legend, which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth.

He stopped just inside the entrance, his gaze fixed on Mei as she demonstrated a series of drills. The way she moved made everything look natural, almost easy. Kenji couldn't help but admire the quiet confidence in her demeanor. He barely noticed the receptionist walking up behind him.

"Such a fine young woman, isn't she?" the receptionist said, her voice light and teasing.

Kenji jumped slightly, spinning to see the receptionist grinning at him knowingly. "What?" he stammered, surprised. "Oh, no, I mean… yeah, she's amazing. I just… It's wild to think she's still in high school."

The receptionist chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "Well, when you're the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the city, you tend to have a lot of free time for things like kendo."

Kenji blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

The receptionist tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "You mean you don't know who she is?"

Kenji shook his head. "Not a clue. I just know she's insanely good at kendo."

The receptionist's mouth curved into a knowing smile. "She's Raiden Mei. You know, as in the Raiden family. Her father, Raiden Ryoma? CEO of Massive Electric Corporation? One of the richest men in Nagazora?" She waited, watching for a flicker of recognition in Kenji's expression.

Nothing.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You've never heard of him?"

Kenji scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously. "Not really. I don't pay attention to that kind of stuff. Business tycoons, billionaires—it's not exactly my world."

"Well," the receptionist continued, amused, "Raiden Mei isn't just the daughter of some big-shot CEO. She's also the national champion in kendo—multiple times, actually. She's been competing since she was a kid, and no one's been able to beat her in years."

Kenji's eyes widened slightly, glancing back at Mei, who was correcting a student's form with a calm, patient tone. "Wow," he muttered. "I knew she was good, but that's… something else."

The receptionist smiled, crossing her arms. "Most people who come here recently only sign up because they want to train with Mei, like it'll magically make them better. When it doesn't, they get discouraged and quit. But you… you're different."

Kenji turned to her, surprised. "Different how?"

"You don't seem like you're here for shortcuts or bragging rights," she said. "You're here to learn, and I think Mei sees that too."

Kenji glanced back at Mei again. She had moved on to another group of students, demonstrating a complex sequence of strikes with a focus and intensity that was almost hypnotic. Her every motion spoke of dedication, discipline, and skill honed over years of practice.

"Well," Kenji said with a faint grin, "I'd better not disappoint her then."

The receptionist returned the smile. "You've got the right attitude. Class starts soon. Don't die."

Kenji laughed, throwing a small thumbs-up over his shoulder as he headed to the changing room. "No promises."

...

Kenji strolled toward Mei, standing by the corner of the training floor with her usual calm demeanor, glanced up at the sound of his approaching footsteps. She waved briefly, her expression placid as ever.

"Oh, it's you," she said, the tiniest hint of amusement slipping into her tone. "Evening."

"Evening," Kenji replied, grinning despite the knot forming in his stomach. "Ready to embarrass myself again."

Mei chuckled softly, her gaze briefly flicking toward the dojo entrance before returning to him. "Still confident, I see."

"Well, someone's got to be," he quipped, but his smirk faltered as he noticed her expression shift. Mei's brows furrowed ever so slightly as she glanced at the clock mounted on the wall.

"Hm," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Still no sign of anyone else…"

Kenji tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "The others usually late?"

Mei sighed, shifting the shinai to her other hand with a practiced grace. "Not exactly. It's… unpredictable. Some nights the group shows up in full force. Other nights…" She hesitated, her shoulders dropping just slightly. "It's just one or two. Or none."

Kenji blinked. "None?"

"None," she confirmed, her lips forming a faint pout. Her voice dropped as she muttered under her breath, "I'm starting to think they only come when there's free snacks."

"Uh…" Kenji hesitated, caught off guard by her rare display of grumbling. "Maybe someone will show up late? Fashionably late?"

Mei sighed again, this time heavier, but then glanced at him and smiled faintly. "You might be right. There's still time."

Kenji felt an odd sense of pride at brightening her mood, but it was short-lived. The smile on Mei's face twisted into something sharper, and the light in her eyes changed to a glint that screamed trouble.

"That just means," she said, her voice suddenly too sweet, "I can give you all my attention."

Kenji's grin froze in place. "Oh. Uh… great?"

"Very great," she replied smoothly, already walking toward the equipment rack with a spring in her step. "No distractions, no interruptions."

Kenji scratched the back of his neck, eyeing her warily. "You're, uh… really passionate, huh?"

Mei turned back to him with a serene expression that somehow still felt menacing. "Of course. Kendo isn't something you can half-learn. Besides…" Her gaze scanned him from head to toe, assessing him like a mechanic evaluating a busted car. "You've got potential. It'd be a waste if you didn't take it seriously."

Kenji blinked, the unexpected compliment throwing him off guard. "Potential, huh? That's not something I hear every day."

Mei tilted her head slightly, one eyebrow raised. "What, you don't think you have it?"

He shrugged, trying to deflect the sudden attention. "I mean… I'm just here to learn the basics. Not exactly aiming to be the next kendo prodigy or anything."

"Basics are where it starts," Mei said simply, tapping her shinai against the mat. "Even champions were beginners once."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about yourself, aren't you?"

"Maybe," she said with a small smile, then nodded toward the training floor. "Alright, let's see how much you remember from last time. Warm up with some suburi. I'll correct your form."

Kenji suppressed a groan as he shuffled toward the mats. "Here we go again."

Behind him, Mei's soft laughter followed like the sound of impending doom.

 'She's going to murder me' Kenji thought, gripping his shinai like it was his last defense against whatever terrifyingly thorough training she had planned.

...

Kenji swung his shinai in a repetitive rhythm, sweat already starting to form on his brow as he struggled to match the precise movements Mei had demonstrated. Her voice rang out like a drill sergeant's, not loud, but clear and impossibly effective at piercing through his excuses.

"Your grip is slipping, Kenji," she called out, her tone calm but firm. "If you hold it like that, you'll drop your shinai in an actual fight."

"I'm not planning on fighting anyone with a sword!" Kenji shot back, his voice strained as he tried to correct his grip.

"Then why are you here?" Mei countered, her eyebrow raising in challenge.

"To—uh—to… become the best version of myself?" Kenji muttered, realizing halfway through that it sounded ridiculous.

Mei crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "That's not a terrible answer, but it won't save you from doing fifty more swings."

Kenji groaned audibly, leaning his forehead against the shinai. "I'm going to die."

Mei chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his misery more than she let on. "Not if I can help it. Now, focus."

...

The dojo was hauntingly quiet, save for the symphony of Kenji's labored breathing. He was sprawled out on the mats, arms and legs sprawled out like a cartoon character post-explosion. His gi clung to him, soaked and sticky, as if it had given up hope alongside its owner. Even his hair betrayed him, matted to his forehead in damp clumps.

From his supine position, Kenji tilted his head with great effort, spotting Mei standing nearby. She was pristine, not a bead of sweat in sight as if she'd spent the last hour meditating rather than putting him through what felt like military-grade torture. Her expression was serene, her faint smile carrying the satisfaction of someone who had successfully broken a student without breaking a sweat.

"How… are you not… tired?" Kenji wheezed, his chest heaving like a bellows. He tried to lift an arm to point at her accusingly but gave up halfway. "Do you… even sweat? Are you secretly… a robot?"

Mei raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. "Years of practice," she replied, her tone impossibly calm. "You'll get there."

Kenji groaned theatrically, flopping his head back against the mat with a dull thud. "I can see the light," he declared dramatically, raising one finger toward the ceiling. "Tell my family… I died doing what I loved: suffering."

"You'll survive," Mei said, unfazed, leaning her shinai against the wall. She approached him like someone who had all the time in the world. "I've seen worse."

Kenji cracked an eye open, his gaze skeptical. "Worse? Like what? Someone spontaneously combusted mid-session?"

Mei chuckled softly, crouching beside him. "No, but I've seen people quit halfway through. You're still here, so that's something."

"Barely," Kenji muttered, his arms flopping uselessly to his sides like wet noodles. "I think my soul left my body ten minutes ago."

Mei tilted her head, studying him like a scientist examining a curious specimen. "You did well for someone new to this. Your form still needs work, but you're improving. And your endurance…" She paused, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "…better than I expected."

Kenji laughed weakly, staring up at the ceiling. "Better than expected? Lady, I feel like a squished bug."

"That's your body adapting," Mei said matter-of-factly, standing up and extending a hand to him. "You'll get used to it."

Kenji hesitated, eyeing her hand like it was a trap, then reluctantly grabbed it. She pulled him up with alarming ease, and his legs wobbled beneath him like a newborn giraffe. "Adapting feels a lot like dying," he grumbled, clutching her arm for stability.

Mei's serene smile didn't falter as she steadied him. "That's progress."

Kenji huffed, swiping a hand across his sweat-soaked forehead. "Progress toward what? My early grave?"

She just patted his shoulder in what he suspected was mock sympathy. "Tonight, you got one-on-one training with a champion. Consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky?" Kenji echoed, narrowing his eyes at her. "That's not the word I'd use for this medieval torture session."

Mei shrugged, her calm demeanor undisturbed. "Suit yourself."

As she turned to tidy up the dojo, Kenji stumbled over to the bench and grabbed his towel, wiping at his face like he was trying to erase the memory of the last hour. "Where was everyone else, anyway?" he called out, slumping onto the bench like a rag doll.

Mei glanced over her shoulder, sliding her shinai back into the rack with precision. "No idea. But at least you showed up."

Kenji let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall. "Not sure I'd call that a win. My body feels like it's made of pudding."

"Pudding or not, you're getting stronger," Mei said, her voice so sure that made him pause. "Keep it up, and you'll see results."

Kenji chuckled, shaking his head. "If I don't die first."

Mei rolled her eyes, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the remaining equipment. "Drama won't make you stronger, Kenji."

"Tell that to my legs," he muttered, slumping further down the bench.

...

Kenji tightened the straps of his bag and swung it over his shoulder, trying not to wince as his muscles protested. Every fiber of his body screamed for rest after another grueling session, but at least he was done for the night. Or so he thought.

Just as he turned toward the exit, the dojo doors flew open with a dramatic crash.

"Mei-Senpai!" came a voice so full of energy it practically shook the walls.

Kenji froze mid-step, his head snapping toward the entrance. In walked a girl who could only be described as a whirlwind personified. Her white hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, bounced as she strode in like she owned the place. Bright blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on Mei, and with an excited squeal, she darted forward.

"Mei!" she called again, her voice ringing out as she bolted past Kenji so fast he barely registered her presence.

Mei turned just in time to be swept up in a bear hug that nearly lifted her off the ground. "K-Kiana?" Mei stammered, caught between surprise and mild embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

Kenji stood awkwardly near the changing room, watching the scene unfold with a mix of confusion and curiosity. The girl—Kiana, apparently—was clinging to Mei like a lifeline, her face buried in Mei's shoulder.

"I missed you, Mei-Senpai!" Kiana said, her voice muffled. "It's been ages since I saw you!"

Mei gently patted Kiana's back, her shinai still awkwardly clutched in one hand. "Kiana, it's been three days."

"Exactly! Forever!" Kiana pulled back just enough to beam up at Mei, her enthusiasm undiminished. "I finished practice early and thought I'd surprise you. Aren't you happy to see me?"

Mei sighed, though there was a hint of affection in her tone. "Of course I am, but maybe next time you could make a quieter entrance?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Kiana replied, her grin widening. Then, as if sensing something, she turned her head sharply and locked eyes with Kenji, who had been staring at the two not knowing what to say.

Kiana blinked, her expression shifting to one of suspicion. She stepped away from Mei, her gaze narrowing as she sized Kenji up. "And who's this guy?"

Mei opened her mouth to respond, but Kenji beat her to it. "Uh… I'm Kenji. Just started training here."

Kiana tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Hmm." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing further. "Are you hitting on Mei-Senpai?"

Kenji choked on his own breath. "What?! No! I—what are you even talking about?"

Kiana didn't back down, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You were just standing there, staring at her. Looked pretty suspicious to me."

"I wasn't staring!" Kenji protested, his face heating up. "I was just waiting! For the conversation to be over!"

"Likely story," Kiana said, raising an eyebrow. "So, you're not hitting on her?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Kenji waved his hands in front of him. "I'm here to learn kendo, that's it!"

Kiana squinted at him for a moment longer, then suddenly broke into a wide grin. "Alright, I believe you. For now."

Kenji let out a long sigh, muttering under his breath. "What is with this girl…"

Mei stepped between them, her expression hovering between exasperation and amusement. "Kiana, leave him alone. He's a student here."

Kiana shrugged, her grin still firmly in place. "Hey, I was just making sure he wasn't one of those guys who signs up just to get close to you."

Kenji raised an eyebrow, his confusion only deepening. "Wait… that's a thing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Mei admitted with a slight frown. "But I can usually tell when someone's here for the wrong reasons."

Kiana pointed a thumb at Kenji. "Well, if he's serious about training, he's off the hook."

Kenji groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks, I guess?"

Kiana laughed, leaning casually against a wall. "You'll get used to me. I'm not that scary once you get to know me. And since I have a lot more free time, you are going to be seeing A LOT of me here!"

Kenji wasn't sure what to make of that statement "Right. So, uh… you're a friend of Mei's?"

"Best friend," Kiana said proudly. "Kiana Kaslana. Mei-Senpai and I go way back."

"Way back?" Mei echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You transferred to my school two years ago."

"Yeah, and these have been the best two years of your life!" Kiana shot back, grinning.

Mei shook her head, though there was a small smile on her lips. "If you say so."

Kenji couldn't help but chuckle at their dynamic. Kiana's boundless energy was the perfect contrast to Mei's calm demeanor, and it was clear they had a strong bond. Still, Kiana's earlier question lingered in his mind, and he found himself speaking before he could stop himself.

"So… are you always this protective of Mei?" he asked, half-joking.

Kiana crossed her arms, smirking. "Of course! Mei-Senpai's amazing. Someone's gotta keep an eye out for her."

"Kiana," Mei interjected, her tone mild but firm, "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, yeah," Kiana said with a dismissive wave. "But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna look out for you anyway."

Kiana then turned to me and pointed. "And you, I'm keeping my eye on you."

Mei sighed, stepping forward to place a hand on Kiana's shoulder. "Alright, that's enough. Kenji, you should get going. It's late, and you've had a long session."

Kenji nodded, grateful for the excuse to leave before Kiana could say something weird again. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks for the session, Mei. And, uh, nice meeting you, Kiana."

Kiana waved cheerfully. "Nice meeting you too! Don't slack off, okay?"

Kenji chuckled, heading for the door. "I'll try not to."

---

And so the days and months passed as Kenji continued to repeat the cycle of tortu- training. 

The gym had become a second home, though Kenji often joked it felt more like a torture chamber. Day after day, Daichi put him through an ever-changing gauntlet of drills. Cone sprints, speed bag work, medicine ball slams, each session targeted a different weakness until Kenji couldn't tell if he was getting stronger or just more perpetually exhausted.

Daichi, for his part, showed no mercy. "Keep those feet moving, Kenji! You're not a statue, unless you want to be a broken one!" he'd shout, his voice cutting through the rhythmic thwack of gloves on punching bags. Despite the barking, Kenji grew to appreciate the older man's dedication. Daichi wasn't just teaching him how to punch; he was teaching him discipline, focus, and how to take a hit, both in the ring and in life.

Some actual sparring actually helped him train in activating danger sense, so that now he has some actual control over it. Though a bit wonky at times.

Some mornings, when the drills hit particularly hard, Daichi would throw in a bit of encouragement. "You know," he'd say, leaning against the ropes of the ring with a sly grin, "when I started boxing, I couldn't land a clean hit to save my life."

Kenji, usually panting and drenched in sweat, would look up with a groan. "Please tell me this ends with me getting good."

Daichi's laugh would echo through the gym. "It ends with you not giving up. The rest? That's just a bonus."

The moments in between drills allowed for snippets of bonding. Kenji would catch Daichi cracking jokes with other students or showing him old trophies from his boxing days.

Once, over a shared protein shake after a brutal sparring session, Daichi even opened up about how boxing had kept him grounded when life got rough. "Everyone needs something to anchor them," he'd said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. "Maybe this is yours."

---

Evenings at the dojo were a different kind of challenge. Mei's calm but firm teaching style pushed him in ways that Daichi's intense drills didn't. She drilled him on precision, footwork, and maintaining focus under pressure. Each session was exhausting, both mentally and physically, but Kenji found himself improving little by little.

He found that kendo actually helped him control his power output, using what he learned at kendo he was able to maintain 5% throughout his entire body for 9 minutes. Which was not much, but it was honest work.

The other students rotated in and out, but Mei was a constant presence. Over time, they settled into a routine. Mei's corrections grew sharper as his mistakes became subtler, and her compliments became rarer, but carried more weight.

"Not bad, Kenji," she said once after a particularly grueling drill. "You're starting to look like you know what you're doing."

Kenji's grin was wide despite his exhaustion. "Careful, Mei. Compliments might go to my head."

"Don't get used to it," she shot back, smirking. "You're still miles away from being decent."

Their interactions grew more natural as the weeks passed. Small talk during breaks turned into genuine conversations about their lives. Kenji learned about Mei's rigorous school schedule and how she balanced her time between academics, training, and her future plans. 

He even found out that Mei is training to become a Valkyrie, "So hold up! You are going to be a Valkyrie right out of high school?!" Mei for her part just smiled bashfully and Kenji was once again shown the massive difference in power between them.

---

Kiana's appearances were less frequent but impossible to ignore. Whenever she burst into the dojo, it was like a tornado had hit. She'd swing open the doors with a dramatic "Mei-Senpai, I'm here!" before rushing over to bear-hug Mei, completely oblivious to the practice sessions she was interrupting.

"Do you ever knock?" Kenji had asked once, exasperated.

"Knocking is boring," Kiana had replied with a grin. "And besides, this is practically my second home."

Despite her chaos, Kenji couldn't deny that Kiana's energy was contagious. She had an uncanny ability to make him laugh, even when she teased him mercilessly about his training. "Kenji, you're so slow! Are you sure you're not eighty?"

"You're welcome to show me how it's done," Kenji had retorted, throwing a mock punch in her direction.

"Maybe later!" Kiana had shot back, skipping off to bother Mei instead.

Though her visits often ended with Kenji feeling like he'd been caught in a hurricane, he couldn't help but enjoy the occasional bursts of levity she brought.