Chapter 14: Track Attack!

“Senseeeiiiii~!”

Takeshi Zakaki groaned as he heard the sing-song voice echoing down the empty hallway. He didn’t even have to look—he knew who it was.

Chihiro Arima bounded up, still in her track jacket, ponytail swinging like a metronome of chaos.

“You busy tomorrow?” she asked, grin wide.

“Yes,” he replied instantly.

She leaned closer, pouting dramatically. “Liar. You never do anything after class except smoke and read trashy novels.”

“…Those novels are literature,” he muttered.

“Great!” She clapped her hands. “Then you’re free to come cheer me on at the track meet.”

Before he could protest, she shoved a flyer into his chest and sprinted away, waving.

Zakaki stared after her, sighing. “…Why am I letting these kids drag me into their circus?”

--

The next day, the sun scorched the field as whistles blew and students swarmed like ants. Zako stood under the shade of a tree, hands in his pockets, shirt sleeves rolled up, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Girls from other classes whispered and giggled behind their hands.

“Is that Zako-sensei? He’s even hotter outside the classroom…”

“Ugh, lucky 2-B girls…”

Meanwhile, boys glared daggers from the stands.

“Why’s he here?!”

“First the pool, now the field?! This guy’s living the dream!”

Zako ignored them all, eyes half-lidded as Chihiro jogged up, her track shorts scandalously short, tank top hugging every toned curve.

“Takkun!” she beamed, using the childhood nickname like a bomb. “You came!”

“Stop calling me that,” he muttered.

“You look like a coach,” she teased, running a hand through her sweaty hair. “Bet you’d look sexy blowing a whistle.”

“Go run your race, Arima,” he deadpanned, but his ears burned faintly

Minutes later, Chihiro lined up on the track. The gun fired, and she bolted like a bullet, muscles rippling, ponytail flying. Zako had to admit—she was fast.

But halfway through the lap, she suddenly slowed… stumbled… and collapsed dramatically near the curve.

“Arima’s down!” the announcer cried.

Zako cursed under his breath and jogged over, kneeling beside her. “What now?”

She clutched her ankle, wincing. “Oww… think I… sprained it…”

He examined her foot briefly. Not even swollen. He sighed. “You’re fine.”

“N-No, it really hurts!” she insisted, eyes wide and glossy. “I can’t walk back… Sensei…”

He stared at her. She stared back, lip trembling like a pro actress.

“…Fine,” he muttered, turning his back to her. “Get on.”

---

Chihiro climbed onto his back with alarming enthusiasm, arms draping over his shoulders, cheek pressing against his neck.

“Mmm… you’re warm,” she murmured, voice dripping like honey.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he grunted, adjusting her thighs.

As he started walking across the field, whispers erupted around them.

“IS THAT OUR TEACHER CARRYING A GIRL?!”

“THIS SCHOOL IS A SOAP OPERA!”

Meanwhile, Chihiro wiggled slightly, bouncing more than necessary.

Zako stiffened. “…Stop moving.”

“But it’s hard to stay still…” she whispered near his ear, her breath tickling. “You feel so strong, Sensei… I don’t want to let go.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re heavy.”

She giggled softly. “Liar. You’re not even breathing hard.”

--

Halfway across the field, she leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Takkun…” she whispered, voice trembling with something darker. “You remember the firefly night, don’t you?”

Zako’s step faltered. “…Don’t bring that up here.”

“I was small back then,” she murmured, fingers curling against his chest. “But I promised myself… one day, I’d be the only girl holding you like this.”

His pulse spiked—but he kept his voice flat. “…You’re talking nonsense.”

She just smiled against his neck, eyes half-lidded. “Am I?”

They finally reached the nurse’s tent, and Zako crouched to let her down. She slid off slowly, fingers grazing his shoulders like lingering sparks.

“Thanks for the ride, Sensei,” she whispered, her grin all teeth and trouble.

Zako didn’t reply. He just straightened, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked away, ignoring the chaos of rumors exploding across the field.

Behind him, Chihiro sat on the cot, swinging her legs and biting her lip to hold back a laugh.

Phase Two: Success.

---

That evening, the three conspirators met on the rooftop again.

Mitsumi slammed the table. “YOU WHAT?!”

Chihiro smirked, recounting every detail of the piggyback with relish. “What can I say? He’s got a strong back.”

Minami adjusted her glasses, expression unreadable. “…Predictable, but effective.”

Mitsumi’s face went nuclear red. “Next round’s mine! I’m gonna blow you both out of the water!”

Far below, Zako lit a cigarette and stared at the sky, muttering, “Something tells me… tomorrow’s going to be worse.”

---