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The morning sun stretched lazily over the training grounds, casting a soft glow on the dewy grass. The air was crisp, still wrapped in the coolness of early dawn. Vodka bounced on her heels, stretching out her arms with a grin.
“Yo! Daiwa! Ready to eat my dust today?”
Daiwa Scarlet turned her head with a practiced scoff, her expression perfectly unimpressed. Even in training gear, she moved like she was on stage, with every motion graceful and intentional.
“In your dreams, tomboy. Try not to trip over your own ego this time.”
Vodka laughed and gave her a wink. “Aw, you do care. That was practically a love letter.”
Daiwa’s cheeks colored instantly. “I most certainly do not! Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Relax, princess. Just teasing,” Vodka said, hands behind her head, her smirk widening.
Daiwa’s heart gave a traitorous flutter. It was just another practice run. Nothing more. She’d win, like always, and walk away without letting Vodka’s ridiculous confidence or shining eyes get under her skin.
Vodka called from the starting line, “Ready?”
Daiwa gathered herself. “Of course. I’m always ready.”
At the sound of the trainer’s whistle, they took off.
Their rhythm was familiar by now. Vodka started strong, leading with wild energy, while Daiwa paced herself, waiting for her moment to strike. They danced over the track in a clash of styles—one fast and loose, the other elegant and precise.
But something went wrong.
As they rounded a curve, Vodka dug in too hard. Her foot caught uneven turf, and her stride faltered. Daiwa’s eyes widened just as Vodka’s ankle buckled and her body twisted in midair.
She hit the ground hard.
“Vodka!” Daiwa’s voice cracked as she skidded to a stop and sprinted back. Panic flared in her chest as she dropped beside her rival—her friend—her reckless, frustrating idiot who was now wincing in pain and trying to sit up.
“Okay,” Vodka groaned, “that really sucked.”
“Don’t move!” Daiwa shouted, dropping to her knees. Her voice shook. “You’re hurt. You pushed too hard, like a complete fool.”
Vodka blinked up at her, still wearing that crooked smile. “Just trying to keep up with you, Scarlet.”
“That’s not funny.”
Daiwa’s words were sharp, but her hands trembled. One hovered above Vodka’s shoulder, then settled there, gentle and firm. She didn’t pull away. She hated how her throat tightened, how her heart pounded like she’d been the one who fell.
“Don’t joke about it,” she said quietly.
Vodka blinked up at her, smile faltering.
“I thought—just for a second—I thought you weren’t getting back up.”
The trainer rushed over and checked Vodka’s ankle. It was a sprain. No breaks, nothing permanent. Just rest and recovery for a week.
Daiwa didn’t leave her side for a second.
Later, Vodka sat on a bench in the infirmary, ankle wrapped and propped up, sipping juice through a straw with a scowl.
“I look cool like this, right?” she asked, cocking a brow.
Daiwa stood beside her with arms crossed and an expression like she was barely holding herself together.
“You look like someone who treats their body like it’s disposable.”
Vodka grinned. “Ouch. Harsh.”
“You scared me,” Daiwa snapped, then quickly looked away. “That was irresponsible. What if it had been worse?”
Vodka’s smirk softened. “Were you really that worried?”
Daiwa kept her eyes on the floor. “Of course I was. You collapsed. Anyone would be.”
“But it wasn’t just anyone. It was you.”
“Shut up,” Daiwa muttered, face turning red.
“You yell at me every time you’re worried. It’s kind of adorable.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I don’t!”
Vodka reached out and tugged lightly on her sleeve. “Thanks, Scarlet. For running back. For staying with me. For bothering to care about me.”
Daiwa’s breath hitched. She hated how sincere Vodka sounded, how easy it was to feel soft around her even when she was furious. Her face flushed deeper.
“It’s not like I like you or anything,” she muttered.
Vodka tilted her head. “Classic line.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tsundere 101. I’ve heard that line in at least five romance anime.”
“I’m not a—”
“But if you did like me,” Vodka said, leaning slightly toward her, “I’d be totally fine with that.”
Daiwa opened her mouth, then closed it again. She made a frustrated noise. “I wouldn’t not like you. If I had to. Hypothetically.”
Vodka laughed and patted the spot beside her. “Come sit next to me before I fall over again.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Daiwa finally sat down, careful not to get too close. Her shoulder still ended up brushing Vodka’s, which made her heart race.
Vodka leaned her head lightly on that shoulder.
“I’m gonna recover fast. You’ll see.”
“You better. I won’t accept an easy win.”
“So you admit you want to race me again.”
“I never said that.”
“You’re saying it now.”
Daiwa glanced down at the girl resting on her. Vodka’s usually wild expression had calmed, her eyes half-lidded but shining. She looked peaceful. Vulnerable.
“…I want to race you again. At your best,” Daiwa admitted. “You’re important.”
Vodka blinked, surprised. “Was that a genuine sentence from the Great Daiwa Scarlet?”
“I will shove you off this bench.”
“You like me.”
“I do not.”
“You totally do.”
“Don’t make me prove otherwise.”
Vodka just laughed again, soft and happy.
“You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”
“You’re really irritating when you’re injured.”
“You’re always like this,” Vodka whispered.
“Maybe.”
There was a moment of quiet between them.
Then Vodka asked, “Wanna kiss me better?”
Daiwa made a high-pitched sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a squawk. “Absolutely not!”
“You thought about it.”
“I did not!”
Vodka leaned in just a little more. “You’re thinking about it right now.”
“Stop talking.”
Vodka beamed. “Okay. Maybe later.”
Daiwa didn’t respond, but she didn’t move away either.