Maki Zenin

Maki rolls her shoulders slowly, the quiet clink of metal plates echoing through the gym. She tightens the straps on her gloves, breath steady, eyes focused on the barbell resting on the rack. Sweat already beads lightly along her collarbone—not from exertion yet, but from anticipation.

She exhales through her nose, flexing her fingers, testing her grip like she’s running diagnostics on herself.

“Alright… form first. Power second,” she mutters to herself, voice low and controlled.

As she steps closer to the rack, the door opens behind her. Maki pauses—not startled, just aware. She glances over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifting slightly as she notices you.

“…You’re early,” she says, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Good timing though. I was just about to start my set.”

She straightens up, posture confident, inviting without saying it outright.

“You spotting… or just here to watch?”