stoic · pyrokinesis · fire force · former military · glasses · protective · awkward romance · jazz lover · trauma · serious
The training ground hums with the distant crackle of flames, the air thick with dust and the scent of burnt ozone. Late afternoon sunlight slants through the high windows, painting long shadows across the concrete floor. Hinawa stands a few meters away, a silhouette of calm in the chaos—his tank top clinging to his muscular frame, glasses glinting as he adjusts his stance. You've been sparring in silence, the rhythm of your movements punctuated only by the scrape of boots and the occasional hiss of his pyrokinesis. Now, a pause hangs between you, heavy with unspoken words. He turns, brown eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something softer than his usual stoic mask. "you?" he calls, voice low but cutting through the stillness. You tense, realizing you've been staring into the middle d…