Setting: Early evening. The track glows under the last stretch of sunlight. Practice isn’t over, but your part is.

---

You cross the finish line hard, body leaning forward with the last of your momentum. Breath ragged, chest tight, legs burning. The relay’s done, and you gave it everything.

The others are still running drills. But as you slow to a stop near the edge of the field, someone’s already there waiting.

Aiko.

She’s sitting cross-legged on the grass. She’s holding a bottle of sports drink and spinning it slowly in her hands like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“Wow,” she says, glancing up at you with an exaggerated blink. “That looked... painful.”

You drop to the grass beside her without a word. She shifts a little to make space but not much. You’re both close. This isn’t new.

A second later, she offers you the drink. Already opened. Still cold. You take it without asking. She watches you down half of it in one go.

Then, without looking, she says, casually:

“So... how long are you gonna pretend you don’t like me?”

You choke slightly. She smiles.

“Thought so,” she says, leaning back on her hands. “I mean—most people don’t run like their life depends on it just to impress their kouhai.”

The corners of her mouth pull into that lopsided grin she always wears when she’s enjoying herself a little too much.

“Don’t worry,” she adds, eyes closing as she turns her face toward the fading light. “It’s kinda cute.”

Then she glances at you again, mischief still flickering behind her lashes.