Shackles (It's a Person, and She's My Senior)
The day after Yeoncheong practiced basketball with Nayun and ran into that uninvited senior, something about her as she arrived at school was different. She crept down the hallway, eyes darting side to side, and even after entering the classroom she kept glancing around, never letting her guard down.
Hasol, who now sat beside her in Seoha's place, watched her with a puzzled frown.
"Yeoncheong, is something wrong?"
"Has Seoyun senior come by at all?"
Third-years were in a separate building entirely—Hasol couldn't possibly have seen her.
"Nope. Forget coming by, I've never even laid eyes on her."
"I see. So that's how it is..."
Yeoncheong nodded and sank deep into thought.
Not in the morning, then? What's left is break time, lunch, and after school.
For all her talk of helping, Seoyun senior's smile had been distinctly ominous. Thanks to two friends cut from the exact same cloth, Yeoncheong knew exactly what that kind of smile meant.
It was a warning: don't let yourself get caught. And her brain was actively cooperating with that warning.
***
"Hasol, what's up with Yeoncheong?"
Every time break rolled around, Yeoncheong vanished from the classroom, only slinking back in when the bell for class rang.
By that point, even the friends sitting farther away were starting to wonder what on earth was going on with her.
But Hasol just shrugged. She didn't know the details any better than they did.
"I honestly don't know. She asked me if Seoyun senior's been around, and she's been like that ever since. Something must've happened yesterday."
"Yesterday...?"
Suyeon's head turned to the left. Toward Nayun, who had practiced the latest of anyone the day before.
The two of them pressed Nayun for more clues, and Nayun told it exactly as she'd heard it.
"The senior said she'd help with the sports festival, and Yeoncheong looked like she'd seen a ghost."
And there, the two of them sensed it: today was going to be entertaining.
***
The bell rang out, announcing the end of class. Lunchtime arrived, and the students burst into motion.
The teachers, well acquainted with the legendary appetites of students in their prime, wrapped up their lessons at record speed. Among the crowd bolting out the door like bullets from a gun, there was also a Yeoncheong moving as if she herself were being hunted.
"Seoha, Suyeon. Let's go eat."
"You go ahead. I've got a preliminary match, so I'm heading to the field."
Seoha rose from her seat, and Yeoncheong's eyes swung to Suyeon.
On any normal day, Suyeon would have flashed a contented smile at Yeoncheong coming to fetch her first and gotten up right away. But today, for some reason, she dawdled, fidgeting with her hands under the desk.
"What? Come on, let's go."
Yeoncheong, hopping in place as she peeked out the classroom door, pressed her.
"I said let's go."
"Why are you in such a rush today? The food's nothing special anyway..."
Lunchtime, with its abundance of time, and after school—the perfect windows for Seoyun senior's invasion.
"I said, what are you doing?"
Growing frantic, Yeoncheong crouched down to peer under the desk and see what Suyeon was up to. Suyeon's busy hands held absolutely nothing.
And then... the crisis Yeoncheong had dreaded became reality.
With a heavy thud, the classroom door slammed open, and every student's gaze swung toward it. And there stood—
"Junior Yeoncheong, hello~?"
Seoyun senior waved, a thin strap dangling from her hand.
"Baek Suyeon. You... you two were in this together?"
"Nope. Actually, I heard it from Nayun. And it sounded like keeping you on a leash would lead to something fun."
Yeoncheong bonked Suyeon on the head—the girl who was sticking her tongue out—then spun around. Because Seoyun senior was approaching, slowly and steadily.
Seoyun gave Suyeon a thumbs up. That's my girl.
"Great minds really do think alike. So, you know what comes next, right?"
As if following a rehearsed script, Suyeon grabbed Yeoncheong from behind. Seizing that exact moment, Seoyun darted in and tied the strap around her own ankle and Yeoncheong's.
Yeoncheong stared at her with a face that demanded an explanation of what on earth this was. Seoyun kindly provided one.
"Yeoncheong, you're running the three-legged race, aren't you?"
"Yes. So?"
"So am I. And wouldn't you know it, I'm in Class 3-1."
Yeoncheong checked whether she'd understood correctly.
"So... since you're also in the three-legged race, you want to practice together?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I have zero intention of pairing up with you, senior."
At Yeoncheong's frosty reply, Seoyun made a show of wiping away tears.
"Your senior came all this way, in person, because she wants to do it with you—and you're turning her down?"
"No, that's not... I mean, who practices the three-legged race this far in advance? A few tries before the festival is plenty."
But the person who reacted to Yeoncheong's answer was not Seoyun.
"Yeoncheong? What was that?"
The one who had carved out club time so Yeoncheong could practice with Nayun, and who had declared the classroom's goal to be nothing less than victory—Suyeon's voice went cold.
Squatting down, Suyeon yanked the strap binding her own ankle tighter. Then she stood, brushing off her hands, and glared at Yeoncheong.
"Yeoncheong, your three-legged race partner is Seoyun senior."
A firm, no-appeals voice. And so Yeoncheong found herself, out of nowhere, with a shackle around her ankle all her own.
***
An awkward, crouching waddle. Naturally, students' eyes drifted downward—then snapped back up the moment they spotted the strap binding their ankles.
Clearly dying to find out just who these weirdos were, practicing the three-legged race already.
And there they could see it: Seoyun, grinning like this was the best entertainment she'd had in years, and Yeoncheong, head hanging under the weight of every stare.
The two of them dragged those stares all the way from the cafeteria. Yeoncheong wanted nothing more than to march straight back to the classroom, but Suyeon—insisting they had to watch the kickball preliminaries—herded them out to the athletic field instead.
"One-two, one-two."
At first the two of them walked however they pleased, but after nearly eating dirt several times, they started calling out in hushed voices.
"There, there. That's right, isn't it?"
"Wow. Unbelievable. There really are people practicing the three-legged race already."
Somehow word had already spread, and a steady stream of students came by to gawk at Seoyun and Yeoncheong.
The voices reached her whether she wanted to hear them or not, and Yeoncheong—forgetting her count—quickened her pace ever so slightly.
"Yeoncheong, let's walk a bit slower. My ankle hurts."
"If it hurts, just untie the strap."
That's what she said, even as she shortened her stride for her senior's sake. Seoyun seized the opening to shuffle closer.
"Aww, no can do."
Clumsy though they were, the two made it all the way to the stands without ever untying the strap. Suyeon, who'd arrived first, waved them over.
"Hurry up and sit. Seoha's up next."
They sat down in sync with Seoyun's count, and Yeoncheong let out a long breath of relief.
The moment the ankle that had devoured every ounce of her attention was free, her eyes found Seoha out on the field, waiting for the ball.
"Seoha! Blast it away!"
Suyeon's voice—cheering as though the sports festival had already begun—carried across to her.
Seoha, in her gym uniform, turned toward them. Her gaze passed over Suyeon, the source of the cheer, and over Seoyun senior sitting beside her. Then her red eyes settled on Yeoncheong.
Sensing the look, Seoyun senior pressed up tight against Yeoncheong.
"Wh-what are you doing all of a sudden?"
"Can't see well. Hold still."
Seoyun grinned slyly, her hand returning behind Yeoncheong's back and settling on her waist.
"A-where exactly are you putting your hand?"
"Your waist, it's your waist. Anyone watching would think I was grabbing your chest."
From a distance, it looked for all the world like two friends horsing around. Their voices didn't carry, which made the misunderstanding practically guaranteed.
The soft curve of Seoha's lips flattened into a single hard line. And then she turned away.
The ball rolled in fast from the opposing team's kick, and Seoha, leaping lightly in place, stretched her stride and closed the distance.
Yeoncheong's mouth fell open as she watched.
That form... where did that come from?
Proper form was the foundation of every sport.
Her left foot stamped down hard, as if driving a stake into the ground. The leg angled diagonally, about sixty degrees off the ground. The instant the ball arrived beside her left foot, her drawn-back leg struck it with flawless timing.
Thwack.
Proper form, executed through proper mechanics, almost always produced a beautiful result—even if not every single time.
The ball Seoha kicked sailed into the sky, cleared the head of the deepest outfielder. It was a grand-slam-in-the-making, calling every one of her classmates on the field home.
"Yaaay! Our Seoha is the best!"
Both arms thrown skyward, Suyeon chanted Seoha's name over and over.
***
The preliminary match ended, and Class 1, triumphant behind Seoha, was heading back to the classroom.
"With Seoha carrying kickball and Nayun and Yeoncheong on basketball... that's two events locked in already."
As the victory she'd only ever shouted about took on real shape, flowers bloomed across Suyeon's face.
Yeoncheong kept up her uncomfortable shuffle with Seoyun senior on her right and Seoha on her left. Seoha, arms folded naturally, asked:
"Yeoncheong, how was I?"
"You were amazing. Where did you learn to kick like that?"
"Oh, nothing special. I watched some videos and practiced a few times, that's all."
Seoyun, who'd been listening in, couldn't help but chime in.
"Come on. I watched it too, and that was anything but ordinary. No need to be modest about it."
"I really did just watch videos and practice. That's everything."
No matter how many times they asked, the answer didn't change. Seoyun senior clicked her tongue.
"I noticed it back in student council too—academics, athletics. Is there anything you can't do?"
One person in the group clouded over at that honest praise: the former all-boys school student who had finally accepted, after endless effort, that she was a hopeless lead foot and rerouted her athletic ambitions to basketball.
And here I could never do it, no matter how hard I tried...
Just as she was sinking into a sorrow nobody knew about and no one could share, Seoha kept the sports conversation going.
"You're great at basketball, though. Are you any good at soccer too?"
Pfft.
Before Yeoncheong could answer, Suyeon—walking ahead of them—burst out laughing.
"Why you—"
Yeoncheong lashed out with her right foot at the shameless Suyeon, forgetting entirely about the shackle on her ankle.
Her right foot never made it—the strap stopped it short. Off balance, Yeoncheong pitched forward and hit the ground.
At the sound of the fall, Suyeon turned around and snickered.
"Divine justice. Divine justice has been served."
Seoyun, who had barely kept her own balance, pulled Yeoncheong back to her feet. She repositioned the twisted strap over their socks.
"Looks like you've gotten pretty good at this, huh. Kicking your leg out like we're not even tied together."
Just as Seoyun senior said, the two of them could now walk more or less naturally without the count. But Yeoncheong would never, ever admit that this joke of a "practice" had actually helped.
"Let's call it here for today. Next time we'll practice running."
Before they knew it, they'd arrived at the classroom. While the other friends filed inside, Seoyun senior slowly dropped to one knee and undid the strap.
She looked up at Yeoncheong, fingers still on the half-untied knot.
"Yeoncheong, we're pretty close, aren't we?"
"Huh? Um... that's kind of hard to say definitively..."
When Yeoncheong hesitated, she pressed for an answer.
"If you absolutely had to say?"
Yeoncheong compared her sense of distance with Seoyun to what she had with the other friends, and answered.
"I'd say... we're close...?"
"Really, though? Close enough to forgive a good-natured prank from a senior you're close with?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Trust me~"
Before Yeoncheong could even ask what that was supposed to mean, Seoyun senior's hand moved. Yeoncheong's skirt hem flipped up—and for one brief moment, the fabric defied gravity and fluttered.
"Uh? Wh... huh?"
Sounds came out of Yeoncheong's mouth, but none of them assembled into words, as if she'd short-circuited. Her face turned redder and redder.
Seoyun senior, who'd peeked under the fluttering skirt, went wide-eyed too.
"Yeoncheong, you don't wear safety shorts?"
"Safe...ty shorts? Why on earth would I wear those?"
Some girls skip them because they're uncomfortable, but most everyone wears them. This was information Yeoncheong had never once been privy to.
"What kind of excuse is that—you don't wear them because they're uncomfortable? Still, as long as they're not unbearable, you should wear them. Pranks like flipping up skirts happen all the time at an all-girls school."
"What did you just—!"
Yeoncheong tried to demand what the hell that was supposed to be, but the knot was already undone. Seoyun, hardened by years of tennis club, was long gone.
Three people were left standing in awkward silence. Yeoncheong's head creaked, slowly, around.
"You saw that?"
At her question—
Seoha beside her wore an unreadable smile, and Suyeon...
"Wow, Yeoncheong, you really color-coordinate your underwear, huh?"
said the exact same kind of nonsense—and got bonked on the head a second time.