#higatano

♡

Game day. Game day, game day, game day.

The day that the classes all get together and compete against one another in a sort of school-wide competition. Like... when you're a kid in school and it's field day. Only for this, the school is considered fair playing ground, and from what she's heard, everything is on the table.

The last game was something called... 'Manhunt.' It was like tag, but more than just running. It starts with one hunter, and everyone else playing the game is a target. When you get tagged, you become a hunter, and have to hunt down everyone else. Night had already fallen, so the game is to be played in the dark. One of many dangerous factors that made it all the more exciting in theory. Someone even announced over the PA system when a player was tagged.

The only important rule was: Don't get tagged. Which, while it was very, very easy, made the game not... that fun when she wasn't a hunter.

No one tried going near her after long enough. They either didn't want to try or didn't want her to let them tag her out of pity.

⠀

Now, Ayame crouched in the dark, listening to everything move around her. About half of her classmates were still free, if she's been keeping count right. It wasn't long until a new announcement was made.

'Mitsuhiro Higa has been tagged!'

Not ten minutes after that, she finally heard something to her right. Her head snapped towards the sound, and as it turned out, it was another player. Specifically, it was Mitsuhiro.

Ayame sprung up, quickly moving to keep about twenty-five feet between them, at least. He's fast. If he tried to spring at her, she needed space to move.

⠀

Her opponent froze at this, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Whoah, slow down. No need to get spooked. I'm only here to make an offer, not tag you. Pinky promise."

"Make an offer? We're playing a game right now. Why do you want to make an offer to me?"

"'Cause I get the feeling we both know this game's a bit unfair. I mean... come on. No offense to our classmates, but they've got two of the fastest athletes in the world playing for themselves. The orange-haired chick knew we'd both demolish anyone else, tha's why she's not playing. Prob'ly other nerdy bullshit too.

But point is: if you hadn't heard..."

Mitch trailed off, lazily pointing one arm up at the PA system hanging in the corner of the room.

"I let myself get tagged already."

Ayame blinked a few times at the television. What... is his point, exactly? Just pointing out they're on opposite teams? "Right. So now you want to tag me because I'm still free."

"Not it, princess. If I did wanna tag you, I woulda got you already. My offer is: You pretending I tagged you."

Her gaze trailed back to him, blinking even slower this time. This is making less and less sense the more he speaks. "Why would I do that?"

⠀

A strained chuckle escaped Mitsuhiro. His hands came up to rub his face, as if the whole conversation was exhausting him. He mumbled something into his hands... (it sounded like: "goddamn, girl, for the fastest person here, your brain sure as hell isn't..." but she wasn't entirely sure,) before peeking through his fingers.

"Two of the fastest athletes in the entire school, remember? If people think you got tagged, they're gonna shit themselves when they see both of us coming. If I don't tag you, once I get everyone else, it'll just be us left. Then you win."

"Well... don't you want to win?"

"Can't a guy just wanna help a girl out sometimes?"

She paused to consider his question, then shook her head no.

"... Damn. Well, this guy does. All I want is a nice, clean competition between me n' you. And I can't have that if there's other people out and about. You herd people to me, I tag 'em, we go until 's only us left, and we have a race across the school to see who's actually the best.

Let's be honest:

You've got the speed, but I've got the endurance. We both know I can catch you. I just wanna prove it to the whole class."

⠀

She frowned slightly. Her classmates have said he's a jerk in the past, but... maybe he could be telling the truth? Maybe? Possibly? Well. With his reputation, probably not.

"... You want to chase me to prove that you think you can keep up with me, just to boost your own ego. When, no, there's no way that you can actually catch me."

"Don't go and hurt my pride like that, fuck! Look--- I'm not only in it for my ego. I win, I get bragging rights; you win, you win the manhunt game and I'll take you out to dinner or something, okay?"

He very clearly forced a smile as he held out a hand. It wasn't even kinda hidden.

"Shake on the deal?"

⠀

Ayame considered it. Considered it more. It might not be bad. It might even be fun, to race someone that poses a competition to her again. She hasn't had that in a long time. And she might win something that isn't a race, if she can outrun him. Winning a class game and actually trying for it sounds really cool.

And he doesn't seem... too bad to work with. Right now.

Having made up her mind, Ayame nodded. She initially moved to take his hand, then--- brought it back quickly. "Wait. If you touch me, I'll be tagged, right?"

A sly, sly smirk lit up his features. He licked his teeth through his smile in satisfaction. "Heh, you got me. It was worth a shot."

"The gesture stands. We have a deal, Mitsuhiro."

Her now-ally suddenly cringed, his whole body dramatically turning away. "It's Mitch, okay? Cut it, you sound like my mom when you talk like that."

"I'm... sorry? I didn't know. But, okay. We have a deal, Mitch."

Mitch went to say something likely snarky, then sighed. "Yeah, whatever, I get it. C'mon, let's go give our classmates heart attacks."

"Only pretend heart attacks?"

"Sure. We'll see."

♡

She had to admit: that was fun.

Just as Mitch said, everyone who wasn't tagged yet panicked and took off running once they both came into view. She darted out ahead of them to make them slow down, and Mitch came up from behind and tagged them all. Ayame made sure to dart away once they were, and somehow, no one seemed to notice that her name hadn't gone over the speaker yet.

They rounded up everyone in their class this way, working together surprisingly well. Mitch naturally took on a more defensive position, allowing Ayame to guide the other players as she pleased, and waited for the right moment to spring to life and close the distance. She couldn't deny that he was fast. Really fast. The longer she watched him play, though, the more clear his weakness was: his endurance was high, but his stamina was shockingly low.

His strategy seemed to be blitzing at near max speed only for a few seconds, then falling back down to something much more comfortable to keep up the chase rather than maintaining a steady pace. Even then, he kept going for a long time before needing to fully stop.

He might be able to outlast her if he's calculated enough. As long as she can keep distance, he'll keep falling behind. When he made the bet, Mitch had to have been banking on her tiring herself out and him closing the distance after long enough.

⠀

Thus, when they got to the track and prepared for the final race:

"I have a timer I keep on my side for things like this. I'll give you thirty seconds to catch me."

Her again-opponent scoffed. When she turned to look back at him, she caught his eyes darting up to hers. Huh. Weird. "Only thirty? Why's that?"

"That's after I've hit my breaking point and have to slow down to keep going. If you really want to show off that you can catch me at my top speed, there's no point in giving you more time after I've slowed down. It might be after the point where you start slowing down, too, but I'd have to watch your form longer to know for sure."

He stared at her blankly. Then, raised his hands in mock defense once again and smiled. "Note to self: only question the runner about anything regarding running if you want her to ramble about it. Got it."

She huffed out a frown. "You asked me a question and I answered it."

"C'mon, don't take that the wrong way, it was cute. That's the most I've heard you say all day, princess. 's just that the only way it would've been more nerdy is if you started explainin' the sciency parts of it all."

"... Do you mean basic biology?"

Ayame rolled her eyes, setting the timer and leaning down over the track. "You can stop calling me that, for one."

"Whatever you say, princess."

She watched him do the same out of the corner of her eye. She could hear another grin light up his features. "What, getting tired of that one? How about Momma instead, since you talk so much like one?"

He kept going, amusing himself over more and more pet names, while she counted quietly. It isn't cheating. If he wasn't talking, he would have heard it. Really. And because he was, he wasn't ready when she finally started the timer and yelled: "Go!"

She heard Mitch take off late, sputtering over himself as he darted forward. "Hey! You know that ain't fair, Momma!"

"You should've been paying attention, uh- Dad-da! Nope, that's weird."

"Add a Y, and then it'll work that way, princess!"

⠀

That just sounds stupid. Whatever. She tried and failed to come up with a comeback to that, so all of her attention went to staying on the track. And just as she anticipated, Mitch fell into the same pattern he took on earlier: only now, fit with playful teasing. He let her put distance between them, then blitzed closer, then fell back.

He's keeping with her somehow. There's no way he can be keeping pace without pushing himself too hard. This was fun when he suggested it, but she doesn't want him to hurt himself. But she also doesn't want to lose.

Think, think, think... what to do to keep her lead without going so fast that he'll hurt himself to keep up?

He's not used to the track, but it seems to be helping him well enough despite this. From how short his bursts are, he was going faster earlier, though. Why? It's just a difference in...

Turf. He was faster going through turf, because he's wearing cleats!

If he won't slow himself down, maybe she can make him.

⠀

With that thought in mind, Ayame slowed and then suddenly darted towards the school building, avoiding any grass like the plague. Mitch picked up the pace. Thankfully, shortly after Ayame burst into the building, her theory was proven... half right:

Mitch cried out a second after she hit the tile, cursing as his feet slid out from under him. Somehow, though, he still kept up. If anything, she heard him fall into a steady sprint over his short bursts.

Final option: up the stairs, into a classroom.

The sound of metal spiked cleats scraping tile is a horrible one. Someone lost his footing again at the stairwell. But he was on her, still, despite all of this, and got way too close for comfort as she slowed even more to save energy and sling into a classroom.

He's not slowing down, at all.

Is he crazy? Does he not know what he's doing to himself!?

As a last ditch effort, Ayame vaulted over desks to put something between her and her pursuer; finally sending herself over the teacher's podium, pulling it down over her as she fell to the ground behind it.

⠀

He slammed into the wall above her so hard, he shook the whole room. Not even half a second after she hit the floor. One second passed after that, and a piercing beeping rang out.

The timer, still clipped to her shorts.

Mitch had already started leaning down, but froze the second the timer rang. He straightened back up, forcing out a wheezing chuckle. His words floated through huffs, and it sounded like a lot of effort went into pushing them out clearly. "You... you're a cheater... huh, princess? Going... in the school..."

She chuckled herself, shaking her head. It was a good workout. She actually broke a sweat. But she can't deny that she's worried. "You never said I couldn't. You okay after that? I didn't think your body could handle staying that close."

His breath turned harsh, then words fell into incoherent mumbling. He was definitely trying to say something. That isn't good.

"Mitch?"

Muttering.

"Mitsuhiro?"

Nothing.

Oh no.

She stuck her head out from under her 'distraction,' looking up to fully see Mitch, still standing over her, but barely.

He was already drenched and dripping in sweat, his entire body heaving with each heavy pant. He's shaking... He's trembling just to hold himself up over her.

Ayame slid out from under the podium, about to tell her 'rival' that he's pushed himself too far, but he did it for her. A shudder ran down his whole body, and with one last gasp; his eyes lulled, and his head followed, and his knees buckled. His body hit the floor with a horrible thud once it finally gave out.

⠀

All of the exhaustion drained away as she rose, quickly going to the collapsed man's side. A moment's panic. Not knowing what else to do, Ayame took Mitch into her arms the best she could and initially tried to pick him up. It turns out that a roughly sixty-six kilogram guy feels much, much heavier when he's unconscious. She resorted to dragging him down the hall instead.

"I should've known he'd be that petty. Why did I agree to this? I don't know what yet, but I'm gonna do something if he wakes up and tries to have a rematch..."

It didn't take long for someone to find them and help her take Mister I-Cant-Regulate-Myself-Healthily to the nurse's office. There she sat by his side, for the next hour, as conflicting feelings welled within her.

On one hand, she shouldn't have even agreed to a race if she knew he'd do this to win.

On the other, it was the most fun she's had in a long time.

On one hand, she has to help keep her fellow classmates safe, even if they're temporary competitors.

On the other, it isn't really her fault that he didn't know his limits, right? She tried to slow him down.

⠀

Thoughts like these whirled through her mind until... he finally stirred. A soft hiss escaped as he tried to move his legs, which made him try to peek at his surroundings, which made him groan in even more pain. He did hit the ground very, very hard. And likely tore muscle, if not irritating it beyond belief. There was a long pause before he opened his eyes again, slowly looking around the room he's in now.

That same smirk as before still tugged at his eyes as he took her in, taking the time to process every last bit of her and him and where they are annoyingly slow.

It made her grow anxious. "What is it? Do you need something?"

The words had a clear slur to them, some blending together and coming out slowly. "Not much. Jus' a few more seconds."

"... Of what?"

"Of the angel 'm lookin' at, beautiful. Can't believe you waited for a dumbass like me."

Ayame straightened up at this, growing rigid at the shift in words and tone. This was... sweet, compared to the teasing things he said earlier. Mitsuhiro, saying something sweet? He really does have a concussion.

She scoffed softly. "You need to go back to sleep. You're clearly still delirious."

"Huh? Whaddaya... mean? Do I look funny?"

"The Mitch I've heard wouldn't say stuff like that unless he's impaired, like right now."

He groaned, yet now, not in pain. "Really? Aww, that guy's an asshole. Look: I've gotten hit in the head so, so many times. Way too much. I know what 'm saying well enough, beautiful."

He grinned widely, now. "I know I mean it. I jus' can't think enough for the asshole guy to change what I wanna say. That's the difference. I know it so much, I wanna make another deal."

⠀

Her eyes only narrowed. Surely he can't be serious.

Yet, he... was, now straining to piece together the words he supposedly really wanted to say. "No, don't do that. Please? I know this is... way outta left field, but I wanna try while I've got you here. My deal was to take you out to dinner. Give me one night, and if it doesn't work out, I'll go away. Gone, for good. No more asshole. We got a deal?"

... Huh. Odd. She thought, and thought, and eventually reasoned that maybe giving this... 'not an asshole' Mitsuhiro a chance might be worth it. After all, if it led to another concussion, it might not be so bad. Because he's nicer. Not because she wants him to get brain damage. That would be horrible.

Either way, she crossed her arms neatly under her chest and sat back in her seat.

She's smiling. But she better not regret this.