The afternoon events were about to start, and the campus swelled like a fairground, lantern-bright and humming. From this tide of noise, you knew the sports day was a hit.
“Wow, so lively—where’s Yun Shi?”
A girl in a Mingya Middle School uniform slipped in like a spring breeze; her bright face drew stares like moths to a lamp, though she never noticed.
Moa came to this school to find someone; she wouldn’t waste daylight on being admired, like a cat ignoring praise to chase its own path.
But she didn’t know the way; her wandering steps sketched circles like a lost sparrow, making onlookers chuckle despite themselves.
Andrea strolled alone inside, a traveler tasting the Eastern realm for the first time, eyes like sails catching every new light.
Japan fed and housed her like a warm inn on a rainy road, and her days drifted easy as steam from a rice pot.
She almost forgot that in a few days she’d descend to the Underworld, blades drawn like winter shadows.
Maya Hanazaka changed into her kit and stood on the track, the lanes coiling like red rivers; she was set for a long run.
She sighed, a mist slipping from the chest, though the reason sat in her ribs like a stone.
Her eyes carried weariness, like a willow bending under snow; these days had stretched into years, slow as frost spreading.
She had tangled every bond into thorny vines, and the question rose like smoke—how would she face Yun Shi?
“Hanazaka, it’s starting—go get ready.”
“Okay.”
After placating the girls in her class, Maya had no mind for admiring the competitors, her gaze dulled like rain glazing glass.
On other days she’d scheme shamelessly, chasing flirty chances like a cat stealing cream, but today her heart was a locked room.
She wondered if she’d rushed too hard, the thought fluttering like a trapped finch; Yun Shi needed time to answer, no matter what.
She had pushed for an answer that wasn’t real, like forcing a bud to bloom in winter; it was unfair.
“Competitors, ready!”
The referee’s order snapped like a branch; Maya brushed her thoughts aside like dust and let focus bite down.
Suddenly, her sharp eyes caught a figure across the way, a girl in a cheerleader uniform blushing like a ripe peach.
She hovered, toes stuck like roots, glancing around with guilty light, her gaze skittering like minnows.
“Yun Shi…”
Maya’s eyes kindled like lamps at dusk, and her heart thumped once like a drum struck hard.
Memories flooded her like a monsoon, sweeping the years with a murky tide.
The time she was mistreated, barred from approaching any girl, that cage clanging like iron in rain.
The first time she was beaten into the infirmary, pain ringing like a bell you couldn’t silence.
The first time she pushed her down and learned her secret, shock bursting like a firework in a dark field.
After a one-eighty turn, that face and that fawning smile, sweet and sharp like candied haw on a cold day.
She had dragged herself to meet old friends, and old ties were mended like a torn sleeve stitched clean.
Last came the confession, a seed thrown to stone, and it failed.
All the memories surged up and then fizzed out like foam, and Maya smiled, a bitter curve like tea steeped too long.
She thought of so much, the past packing itself like letters in a box; maybe she would keep them sealed in her heart forever.
The starter’s pistol cracked like lightning, and runners spilled into the lanes like arrows loosed from a bow.
Fifteen hundred meters is a long river, and time skims away like fallen leaves; endurance is the oar.
Maya began to pass one runner after another, hunting the front like a wolf under moonlight.
Yet no matter how she strained, the leader stayed a shadow just beyond her fingers, like someone she chased but couldn’t catch.
Soon the pack behind surged up like a rising tide, and a few slipped past her, strides sharp as knives.
She clawed back places more than once, but the wind shoved her again, and she fell behind like a kite losing gusts.
She was tired, and the five figures ahead loomed like stone gates; she was tired, and the road felt endless.
No matter how she fought, those hurdles stood like mountains, blocking her path with patient ice.
“Catch up!”
A voice rang out like a bell in fog; she turned, and saw Yun Shi in a cheerleader uniform, stiff smile braced like a shield.
Awkward yet stubborn, she hollered with a brave face, head high like a lone banner in wind, pushing her forward.
Maya also saw, on the stands, Yan Er watching like a steady candle; her eyes sent strength without a sound.
Maya smiled; the race wasn’t over, and pride rose like fire through dry grass—she wouldn’t lose.
“Ooooaaah!”
She let her momentum flare, her fighting spirit braiding into muscle like wire, and she flew past runner after runner.
Faces around her widened like opened fans; she fought for first, the front lane glowing like a brass ring.
The leader felt danger and sped up, feet drumming like rain; Maya only burned hotter, her breath a furnace.
In the last few seconds—just those heartbeats—she didn’t pass, and first slipped away like a fish through fingers.
Maya lost, yet in one sense she won; the truth sat calm as a stone in a stream.
At least, she gave it everything.
After the race, Maya was gasping, lungs like bellows, when a handkerchief appeared above her like a floating petal.
“Here, Maya.”
“Thanks, Mi… Mizuki? When did you get back?!”
The one offering the cloth was Mizuki, and surprise cracked through her chest like ice.
“What, that shocking?”
“No… you disappeared for so long. Aside from a few calls, I couldn’t find you.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re still laughing—coming back without a word?”
Mizuki’s smile faded to a thoughtful line, thoughts lining up like chess pieces in her mind.
“Maya, a lot happened while I was gone, right?”
“!”
Maya’s hand trembled, her heart kicked like a startled deer, and she didn’t dare meet those eyes.
Seeing that, Mizuki understood, the answer settling like dust; it was as she guessed.
“I believe everyone can make up, no matter what happened; hope is a bridge, not a wall.”
“…You already know?”
“More or less. Maya, I trust everyone, and I trust you; every ridge can be crossed.”
“You sound so sure. It’s not that simple, Mizuki. You’re too naive.”
“Say what you want; the thing I guard never changes, like a north star in cloud.”
Mizuki’s smile slipped away, and a more mature face surfaced like a moon through haze, eyes seasoned like wind-worn wood.
“You’ve changed, Mizuki.”
She wasn’t the old Mizuki, no longer rash like summer thunder; Maya knew, and once—she had liked Mizuki.
Mizuki stood and walked toward another corner, steps steady like a compass needle.
Maya peered across; over there stood Mizuki and Yan Er, two silhouettes like reeds in the same wind.
How were they there? The question pricked her like a thorn.
Mizuki went straight to them, a small smile like dawn light; when she stopped, Mizuki and Yan Er wore complicated looks like tangled threads.
“You’re back, Mizuki?”
Mizuki tried a normal greeting, but her smile was a stiff ribbon; Yan Er kept quiet like a closed fan.
“I want to talk with you both. Is that okay?”
Sometimes things are easier than people think; one word, one chance, can span a river like a plank.
Maya didn’t know what they were saying; she watched a moment, then left, feet tapping out her own path like rain.
Outside the field waited Yun Shi, the one who cheered—like a lantern that didn’t move, glowing soft.
Her steps quickened, and in a few strides she stood behind her, breath held like a note.
“You came.”
“Mm…”
Yun Shi turned and looked calmly, that autumn-water gaze like the past returning; once, she met everyone the same way.
“I have something to say, clearly.”
Yun Shi weighed her words like stones on a scale, and Maya’s palm tightened like a knot.
“I know how you feel about me… and I don’t dislike it; I never told you because the truth is a fragile glass.”
“Actually… I don’t like men either. Do you believe me?”
“!”
“Even though I like girls, I still can’t accept your feelings right now; timing is a gate, and mine isn’t open.”
“Why?!”
Panic struck her like lightning—one second heaven, the next ash, a drop from peak to ravine.
“First, I don’t joke about love; if I said yes, I’d be cheating you and cheating myself, like painting over a crack.”
“…I see.”
“Give me time to think. For now… I can’t answer.”
Seeing Yun Shi’s face, Maya let out a bitter smile, thin as smoke.
“Did Mizuki make you say this?”
“She only encouraged me to speak clearly with everyone. As for my own matter, she doesn’t know yet; you can rest easy.”
“I see…”
A sense of defeat sank in like a cold tide; somehow she felt she’d known the result since the starting gun.
She felt she lost, the word sitting in her chest like lead.
Mizuki was formidable; a few words and a few steps, and the ground shifted like sand.
Maya didn’t know what stakes she had left, her pockets feeling light as paper.
“Let me be selfish just once.”
Maya lunged, cupped Yun Shi’s face like a flower in both hands, and kissed her lips under those wide eyes.
She didn’t let her go, gripping her hand, greedily drinking from her mouth like a thirsty traveler at a spring.
It was her first kiss with Yun Shi, deep as midnight, and she forgot the crowd roaring around them like a sea.
Yun Shi struggled hard, wings beating like a trapped bird; Maya ignored it, wanting this moment like fire wants dry wood.
Poor Yun Shi, shamed and angry, froze like a deer in headlights; she knew her image had shattered like brittle glass.
Anyway, it was only once—so be it, she consoled herself like a tired sigh; the kiss brought helplessness and a flicker of guilt, origin unknown.
Elsewhere, after Mizuki spoke with Mizuki and Yan Er, she understood what had happened, the pieces fitting like tiles.
Knowing Yun Shi was liked by many made her uneasy, like grit under the tongue, but she remembered Yun Shi’s pain at being unable to answer.
That memory sharpened her resolve like a blade honed on stone.
“I’m unwilling, because… Yun Shi is too sly,” Mizuki said, the word bitter as old tea.
When the one you like has someone they like, pain burns like a slow ember; Mizuki had felt it in her bones.
“Me too…”
Yan Er nodded, her voice a leaf falling quietly.
“But like this, everyone gets hurt, doesn’t that make the circle all thorn?”
“Eh…”
“Because you’re hurting not only yourselves, but everyone, like a ripple breaking the whole pond.”
Silence spread like frost, and Mizuki and Yan Er searched for words like travelers searching a map.
Mizuki watched them, knowing they were already turning inward; the first step was a stone set in place.
“Think it through, then go back to the old ties—wouldn’t that be better, like a path cleared?”
“…I have to say, Mizuki, you’ve learned a lot, and your words are honeyed.”
“Yan Er…”
“Don’t speak. If I’m right, you’re standing up for Yun Shi, yes?”
“I…”
“Actually, you like him too. You like Yunshi Bianqi, don’t you?”
Yan Er’s words pierced like arrows, and Mizuki couldn’t refute, her breath snagging like thread on a nail.
The riotous world around them blazed like festival fire, while their corner chilled like winter shade.
