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When Maki first noticed it, it was when Gojo pitted her against Nobara in their afternoon training session.
The first year had less experience, yes, but she still posed as a fair challenge for Maki. She fought hard, always managing to get a hit or two in on the taller girl when she wasn’t dodging her staff.
Their sessions were intense, sweaty, occasionally sloppy, unlike sets against Itadori or Megumi, which were always short and usually laughable, whether it be because of how quickly Maki won, or how little physical contact they ended with.
No, sets against Nobara were different. Maki made miniscule mistakes that were hard to notice as a bystander, yet they never got past Nobara’s keen eye, and it only made her ego grow. She would flash Maki a sly grin whenever their gazes met, as if she’d already won. It was unnerving to see how much closer she was getting to obtaining the upper hand, though Maki rarely allowed her to win. Thus, the spars continued with Maki naturally walking away with the crown.
She enjoyed gloating around the others just to spite Nobara, earning intense scowls and punches to the shoulder. It felt good to be admired, she recalled, and she secretly liked spending extra time after practice to suggest techniques to the first year.
It was when Nobara actually started winning that made Maki notice it.
It was one day in particular, when Nobara convinced her to put down their weapons and go hand to hand. Maki only shrugged and tossed her staff a few feet away.
“Fine. But don’t go crying to Itadori if I wipe the floor with you,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet a bit.
Nobara just raised her fists to her face and inched closer within Maki’s range. “Not planning on it.”
Maki dodged her first attack and struck the other girl in her shoulder. Nobara stumbled for a split second but stayed on her feet, then faked a punch and attempted to deal a dirty move by sweeping out Maki’s legs.
“Ooh!” Maki exclaimed, sidestepping quickly away from the path of Nobara’s left leg, hunched down and hunting for her next move. “You’re feisty today.”
“It’s because--” Nobara dodged a hook. “I’m sick--” She dealt a deadly blow to Maki’s stomach. “Of your cocky-ass grins.”
They continued for another minute or so, Maki maintaining a steady defense, calmly blocking nearly all of Nobara’s attacks, the tiny mistakes that she was so hyper-aware of not occurring until the last bit.
They were sweating now, breaths short and labored, muscles beginning to fatigue. Nobara refused to give up, and Maki could tell. Unfortunately, Maki had planned on picking up some groceries for dinner, and wanted to avoid the rush. She dismantled her position of defense and went out for the attack.
“Fuck,” Nobara muttered, scrambling away from Maki’s flourish of spins and ungodly high kicks. “Do you stretch in your sleep or something? Fucking weirdo.”
She ducked under Maki’s swing and blocked another from the right, edging out of the shade and into the last bits of sunlight there was that evening.
Maki was twisting around to deal another kick to the other’s left side when she felt herself falter for just a millisecond. Wow, she thought. Her eyes are really pretty.
Nobara had fixed Maki with a determined glare, her light brown eyes a pool of golden honey in the sunlight. She wore that stubborn pout she got when Maki was winning, a look that the second year had grown to find endearing.
The fuck? Did I just fuck up because of her eyes? Maki’s attack just missed, and Nobara gleefully took advantage of the mistake, bringing the taller girl to a kneeling position with a swift kick behind her kneecaps.
Maki tried to jump back up as quickly as she could, dread slowly oozing its way through her body, but Nobara pounced on her in the blink of an eye, perched on her back like a cheerful little sparrow.
Nobara’s eyes widened as Maki strained against her firm hold before giving up and holding her hands out in surrender, face pressed down in the grass, her glasses digging into her temple.
“Did I just win?” Nobara asked incredulously, a smile spreading across her flushed face.
Her grasp on Maki did not loosen. And that’s when Maki noticed it.
The unexpected thrill of it all, the involuntary speeding up of her heart rate. The realization that maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all.
She made a move to sit up, pushing upward with as much force as she could muster, catching Nobara by surprise for a moment.
“Oh no you don’t,” she growled, and snatched Maki’s wrists, pinning them behind her back, then pressing her body even harder against the other girl.
Maki resisted the urge to protest. In fact, she stopped struggling altogether, because she found it hard to focus. All she could feel was Nobara’s slender hands wrapped around her wrists, her knees pushed up on the outside of her thighs, the other girl’s chest pressed flush up against her back. Maki didn’t even mind that she was quite possibly eating the grass she was shoved down onto, and although she was sweating from their training, her face seemed to be burning hot at this time.
Nobara leaned down to Maki’s ear, and Maki knew she wasn’t dreaming when she felt her breath hitch. “Who’s the loser now, huh?”
The pressure was loosened enough for Nobara to push her defeated opponent onto her back and lean over her with a bright yet smug smirk. “You gonna go cry to Itadori?”
Maki lazily propped herself up on her elbows and tilted her head. That smirk of Nobara’s was driving her absolutely nuts. “Nah.”
Nobara frowned, visibly disappointed that her victory didn’t even seem to upset the second year. Strands of her messy short hair were stuck to her forehead, and she brushed at them absentmindedly.
“What, then? You’re just gonna ignore that I mopped the floor with you, is that it?”
Maki’s eyes drank in every aspect of the sight in front of her, the only thought in her mind being God, this girl is hot when she’s pissed.
What could enrage her even more?
“C’mon, say something, you asshole,” Nobara complained, gently shoving Maki’s shoulder.
Maki said nothing. Instead, she looked up at the other girl wearing the cockiest grin she could possibly have.
“I’d say you need to work on your blocks with your left arm.”
Nobara tackled Maki back to the ground, tangling their legs and knocking glasses askew.
“You wipe that smile off your face right now,” Nobara demanded, so close now that their noses could touch.
Maki stared into those honey eyes. She could feel her pulse quickening in her fingertips, those fingertips on Nobara’s neck. Her face was on fire now (she swore Nobara’s ears were, too), and she cursed the first-year for flinging her glasses half a mile away. She wanted to see the pretty face in front of hers as clearly as possible.
“I said,” Nobara stammered, flustered by the now obvious notion that the two had some kind of unspoken attraction to each other. “Wipe that smile off your face right now.”
Maki’s smile only spread. “Make me.”
Nobara yanked Maki’s collar up toward her, pulling her into a hasty, open-mouthed kiss, a movement so sudden that Nobara’s strength had forced their torsos to press together. Maki’s arms snaked their way around the first-year’s neck, fingers running through her soft hair. Nobara smiled into their kiss as she secured her hold around Maki’s waist.
“You’re such an asshole,” she said when they broke apart to breathe, noses touching, close enough to count each other’s eyelashes.
“I know,” Maki replied, feverishly kissing Nobara again, slipping in her tongue and causing the other girl to shiver. “And you know you like it.”
So as Maki leaned into Nobara’s embrace, not minding the furious blush that she knew had spread across her face, she came to the realization that if this was what losing was like, she may allow it to happen more often.