𝗡𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗮 || ᴛ. ᴍᴜɪᴄʜɪʀᴏ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 2: Detention

❝Trouble always starts when you least expect it.❞

The moment the final bell rang, I should have felt relief. Instead, dread sank its claws into me, gripping tight. Sanemi-sensei's punishment loomed over me like a storm cloud, and the whispers buzzing through the hallways were relentless.

Sliding my books into my bag, I avoided making eye contact with anyone. Gossip moved faster than lightning here, and I wasn't about to fuel the fire with even a glance. My goal was simple: disappear, finish the laps, and forget this day ever happened.

But, of course, fate—or perhaps karma—had other plans.

"L/N," Muichiro's calm voice called out as I stepped into the corridor.

I froze mid-step, my annoyance already spiking. I turned reluctantly, meeting his perpetually indifferent expression. His bag was slung casually over one shoulder, and somehow he'd managed to make his uniform look pristine again. Meanwhile, I still had crumbs from breakfast clinging to my tie.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Laps," he replied, gesturing toward the courtyard. "You coming, or do you need a formal invitation?"

My eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the reminder, Seaweed Head. I was definitely planning to skip detention and risk even more punishment."

His lips twitched—barely noticeable, but I caught it. Was that the start of a smirk? "You're welcome."

He turned on his heel and started walking away, leaving me to stomp after him, muttering under my breath.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time we reached the track. The school grounds were mostly empty now, save for a few lingering students and the ever-watchful gaze of Sanemi-sensei, who leaned against the fence with his arms crossed.

"Ten laps," he barked as we approached. "No slacking, no breaks, and no excuses."

I shot him a look that screamed, Are you serious? but bit my tongue.

"Understood," Muichiro said, his tone flat as ever. He didn't even hesitate, already moving toward the starting line.

I followed begrudgingly, muttering every curse I could think of under my breath.

The first few laps weren't terrible—just a mild annoyance. By lap four, my breathing had grown heavier, and my legs were starting to ache. By lap six, I wanted to collapse.

Meanwhile, Muichiro jogged ahead effortlessly, his pace steady, his expression unreadable. Not even a bead of sweat marked his forehead.

"Enjoying yourself, Tokito?" I called out, panting slightly as I forced my legs to keep moving.

He glanced at me sideways, his tone maddeningly calm. "It's just running."

"Of course it is," I muttered, my frustration bubbling.

By the ninth lap, I was running on sheer determination—or maybe stubbornness. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the cool evening air stung my cheeks. My focus was solely on finishing.

But as I rounded the final stretch, my foot caught on an uneven patch of dirt. My balance wavered, and before I could stop myself, I stumbled forward.

For a brief, horrifying moment, I thought I was going to faceplant in the dirt.

But then a hand shot out, gripping my arm firmly and pulling me upright.

"You're hopeless," Muichiro muttered, his voice quiet but oddly..soft?