James just stares for a beat, processing. His brain feels like it's buffering. Fitness? Just... fitness?

  "Fitness?" he echoes, making sure he heard right. "Like... hitting the gym, cardio, weights, that whole deal?" He’s genuinely thrown. Dipa?

  Needing help with general fitness?

  "So, what's the deal?" he asks, genuinely trying to understand the angle. "Why the sudden urge to, like, just work out? Trying to improve your stamina for those longer golden score periods in matches? Or maybe cross-training for a different kind of strength?"

  He tches onto that idea again because it’s the only one that remotely computes in his sports-focused brain. Adding general conditioning on top of Judo-specific training... yeah, that makes sense. "Like, building overall endurance so you don't gas out? Smart.

  That could definitely give you an edge." He nods, feeling like he's finally grasping the situation. "Yeah, cross-training is clutch."

  Dipa takes another one of those deep, shaky breaths that seem to be her signature move right now. It’s like she’s psyching herself up for a major lift, but the weight is just… words. She starts twisting the hem of her Banani High Judo Club t-shirt between her fingers, knotting and unknotting the fabric relentlessly. "Okay, look… just… prepare yourself, 'cause it's… honestly, James, this is peak embarrassing territory for me..."

  She hesitates again, eyes darting around the now mostly empty gym as if expecting someone to pop out and point fingers. Only the janitor rattling his keys down the hall breaks the retive quiet.

  She seems to steel herself, squaring her shoulders slightly, though her eyes are still fixed somewhere near his sneakers. The words finally tumble out, not quite in a rush, but definitely spilling over the wall of her hesitation. "Okay. So. There's this guy." Beat.

  "That I kind of… like." Another beat. "Okay, no, I like him. A lot." Her cheeks are fming now.

  "He's... he doesn't go here, I met him at this thing my cousin dragged me to... Anyway! That part doesn't matter." She waves a hand dismissively, trying to fast-forward.

  "The point is," she continues, voice dropping lower, forcing James to lean in slightly to hear, "I was kinda nearby the other day when he was talking with his friends. Totally unintentional eavesdropping, I swear! And I heard him… he was saying something about… well, about girls." She pauses, swallows hard.

  "He mentioned that he prefers girls who are…" Her voice drops to an absolute whisper now, and her eyes finally flick up, filled with a desperate plea for him to understand without making her spell out the mortifying specifics. "...you know… fit. Like, visibly athletic."

  "Toned, I guess? That kind of look." She finishes in a mumbled rush, looking like she might actually spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment. Yet, beneath the humiliation, there’s that flicker again – the stubborn determination of someone used to fighting for what they want.

  Okay, ding ding ding! Mystery solved. James feels the pieces click into pce, the earlier confusion evaporating completely. The initial shockwave – whoa, didn't see THAT coming – quickly smooths out into genuine understanding.