Run, Vita!
Run, Vita! With the starting signal, Bianca took off.
"Run, you guys—!" The cheers ripped through the sports field, pounding against eardrums. All eight runners burst forward at once.
Before long, Bianca could feel her breath catching in her throat, her legs starting to wobble. But she kept running. She couldn't stop, not for a second. 'I have to win...!' Anything less than first place was meaningless—that was her unbreakable creed. She had to give it everything. And here, she had to take first, for the sake of her class's ranking.
So Bianca fixed her gaze dead ahead, gritting her teeth and stretching her strides longer, farther.
The crown jewel of the sports festival.
With that call, Bianca overtook one runner.
"Woooah—!"
"Run!"
The roaring cheers around her felt almost hallucinatory. Like a nimble squirrel, Bianca darted forward. Tat-dah-tat-dah— Her friends in the stands had been on their feet for ages.
"F-Fast...!"
"Bianca's insanely quick?"
"O-Oh...!"
They exchanged excited glances, clapping and cheering wildly. For running, it was the ultimate event—pure hype in a short burst of thrilling tension. No wonder it was called the flower of the sports festival.
Even the usually smug Carlyle, and Bianca's quirky deskmate Shasha Noah...
"Run, Bianca—!"
...were on their feet with everyone else, swept up in the magic.
And in a way, Bianca was her class's sole hope. Fourth to third. Third to second! She'd passed two more.
She'd started around fourth in the early going—her petite frame couldn't quite push through the pack. But true to everyone's hopes, her slender ankles pounded the ground relentlessly, her auburn ponytail whipping in the wind as the gap closed.
'I'm gonna win this...!' Her athletic instincts had always been top-notch. Aside from Carlyle Schultz, she had no real rivals. Even as a girl now, that hadn't changed. Bianca trusted herself. She wouldn't lose—not to anyone but the one guy she truly acknowledged.
'Running's easier when you're chasing than leading.' Knowing that, she ran smart—hanging back until mid-race, then exploding forward.
'Just a bit more...!'
"Woooah—!"
Riding the swelling cheers, Bianca overtook the girl in third, then second—and finally, blasted past the leader.
The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps. Throwing her whole body into it, she crossed the red finish line. In that split second, a breathless thrill enveloped her.
'I did it... in the end...!'
Bianca collapsed onto the grass, grinning ear to ear.
This was it—the real deal. After catching her breath, Bianca returned to her class's stands amid a wave of cheers.
"Insane, what was that?!"
"Thought she was a cheetah for a sec."
Even the teacher was beaming. "Great job, really. Didn't expect first place."
Of course. Lately, things had been going her way, so Bianca inhaled deeply and flashed a bright smile, striking a peace sign.
"Ahh, feels good—!"
Stretching luxuriously in her refreshed mood, her sweat-soaked bloomers rode up awkwardly.
"Ooo..."
"Whoa!"
The boys in class flushed red and looked away, but oblivious, Bianca bent over to catch the rest of her breath.
Then, approaching footsteps.
"What're you doing, idiot."
Carlyle Schultz, with that utterly exasperated look. Wait, why? Bianca blinked at him in confusion.
"Huh? What?"
Carlyle let out a deep sigh at her reaction, then—thwack—draped his men's gym jacket over her.
"Cover up. With this."
Anticipating refusal, he quickly added, "I gotta go compete. Hold onto it for me."
"Uh, o-okay."
Only then did Bianca realize—her sweat-drenched bloomers were clinging tight, twisted up indecently to expose skin. Mortifying on every level, but somehow, what flustered her more was Carlyle covering her up. For no reason she could name.
By the announcement, Carlyle had already brushed past, but Bianca stood frozen, flustered.
—What're you doing, idiot.
His sigh-heavy words echoed in her head. Glancing at the stands, everyone was staring. Especially the teacher's wide-eyed, shocked-bunny expression—super awkward. Shuffling sheepishly back to her seat, head down, Shasha's voice rang out.
"Young love. So much young love."
Bianca jerked her head up. "N-No, it's not! He just asked me to hold it..."
But her voice came out mosquito-thin. In the end, her face tomato-red, she ducked her head again.
All Carlyle's fault. 'Why'd that jerk pull some random stunt...'
Soon enough, the boys' race kicked off.
"Go, Carlyle—!"
"Show 'em Class 3's power!"
He was annoyingly superior when they were rivals, but... did she really need to watch? 'Carlyle'll take first anyway.'
Yet Bianca couldn't tear her eyes away. They were teammates now, technically. Analyzing a rival's run wasn't weird.
Carlyle ran like a sleek black panther—effortless, yet blisteringly fast. Impressively superior.
"Whoa... so quick..."
"Huge gap on second place."
Bianca found herself mesmerized. 'Total monster.' Overwhelming dominance, just like the crowd said. As his teammate now, it hit her anew.
She'd been competing against this beast all along. The thought left Bianca feeling oddly good. She nodded slowly. 'No one but me could...!'
Handle him. The others couldn't even touch him. A strange sense of superiority welled up in her. Sure, a twinge of regret—what if she'd been out there with him?—but fully immersed, she found herself cheering.
Shasha and the friends screamed beside her.
'More, more...'
Dominate! She couldn't forgive him losing to anyone else!
'You're my rival. If you lose, lose to me.'
Bianca bit her lip. An unconscious possessiveness had crept in. She hated him that much—and acknowledged him just as deeply. So Carlyle Schultz, that infuriating jerk, had to remain her rival alone. Yeah, that was it. She didn't want to see him lose to anyone else. Unimaginable, but if it happened, only to her.
'Don't lose, seriously.'
Before she knew it, Bianca's hands were clenched tight, on her feet, fully locked in.
She couldn't relax—the other runners were class reps too, no slouches. Not Carlyle-level, but closing the gap to second.
'No, what the—?!' Bianca felt disbelief mix with urgency.
Her lip bled under her teeth. Anxiety gnawed at her.
'If you lose, I swear...'
She absolutely couldn't forgive it. 'Lose only to me.'
'Run, faster—!'
But was it an illusion? Carlyle suddenly accelerated, crossing first.
Carlyle in first. Cheers and applause erupted.
"Classic Carlyle."
"Thought he'd get caught there."
The mood was electric. "We might actually win overall?"
"Yeah, for real."
Bianca grinned wide, hugging Shasha in shared joy. An inexplicable pride swelled—felt like she'd won.
'That's right.'
No losing to anyone but her! Maybe because it was their first time as teammates, and he'd delivered first—Bianca felt great, but also strangely off. Glancing his way unconsciously, their eyes met.
Gulp-gulp— Carlyle, mid-chug of water, spotted her and smirked. Not even funny. Sweeping back his sweat-damp hair all cool-guy style.
'...What the hell. Is he nuts?'
Utterly off-putting. Like her breakfast might come back up. Bianca thought so, but flustered anyway.
'Thinks he's hot shit showing off like that...?'
Too ridiculous—her face heated up. Pure annoyance, obviously. Whatever.
The sports fest's true highlight loomed: the mixed relay.
After a short break, Bianca and Carlyle stepped up as their class reps.
Two boys and two girls per class, passing the baton in relay. Bianca and Carlyle had run sprints already, but stamina held—they volunteered.
"I'll take anchor!"
Last leg was key, so Bianca jumped in, but girls' order was fixed. 'Wait, isn't this... sexist?'
She loved the spotlight here, so minor gripe—she picked third leg.
"You better nail it!"
With Carlyle on anchor, she laid down the law. "What, some prize...?"
At his jab, she nodded. Nothing she couldn't give. "Just win, first off."
First place mattered most. Tension built as they lined up at the start.
"Alright, fighting!"
Cheers blazing, the relay began.
Beep—! Eight runners launched.
The mixed relay underway. Cheers thundered with the announcer.
A bummer, but first and second legs left them third. Bianca stomped impatiently.
"Give it here! Hurry—!"
First and second-place teams were already handing off beside her.
"H-Here...!"
Snatching the baton, Bianca bolted. Her bound auburn ponytail whipped against her cheeks. Sweat beaded on her poised forehead.
Breath ragged, legs shaking. Still, her sparkling amethyst eyes locked forward.
Too far back for first. Bianca gritted her teeth—but then Carlyle entered her view.
'Yeah, if it's you...!'
Reassurance washed over her. Unconsciously, she grinned wide.
"Take it, Carlyle—!"
Fingertips brushed. Carlyle snatched the baton and surged ahead. Long legs, superior build—his stride was in a class of its own.
"Woooah—!"
"What?!"
Positions flipped.
The field was a frenzy. Annoying as a rival, but a rock-solid ally now! Bianca's eyes tracked his back.
Regret at missing anchor, but fine for now. 'As long as we get first...!'
And Carlyle never disappointed. He powered through to the finish in the lead—Bianca relaxed fully.
Team effort, but mostly Bianca and Carlyle's comeback win. Elated, she dashed to him.
"Great job, you—!"
Her smile bloomed radiantly. Bouncing with Bianca Shama glee—so thrilled? Carlyle smirked back, half-amused at her fire. Her competitive spirit was something else.
But business was business.
"Don't forget the prize."
His words twisted her face. What now?!