The Ultimate Stride | Prince of Stride Fanfiction |

27 | Time Trials

    | {Kyouko's P.O.V.} |

    "Damn... EOS sure knows how to keep a stressful atmosphere no matter where you wander off to," I mumbled to myself as I vacated the girls bathroom.

    There weren't any paper towels left in the dispenser, so I was furiously wiping my wet hands against the fabric of my jersey on the way out. My expression displayed nothing but pure annoyance.

I probably look like a lunatic.

    The girls bathroom line wasn't near as long as the boys, but waiting for my turn whilst wearing my Hônan jersey was still quite the unnerving experience.

    The guys in the other line wouldn't stop staring at me.

It wasn't discrete either. This was just straight, slate staring. Creepy shit.

I'm sure it had something to do with the fact that I was a girl, but the condescending/admiring looks they were throwing in my direction were just downright belittling/weird.

    They're just like those people back in America...

Not wanting their stares to mess with my head before the race, I began to speed walk my way back to Hônan's claimed spot in the main arena.

Before I could fully escape, a deep voice from the boys line called out to me.

"Oi, little girl! You're not racing today, are you?"

    Little girl?

I turned around to shoot him and his snickering friends a look of pure death, fingers clenched deep into my palms.

"I am. What's it to you?"

His smirk instantly vanished at my tone.

    I would've done the same if I were him, because my voice held nothing but blatant threat. It was ensnaring enough to attract the attention of the people nearby.

    Starting a fight wouldn't be smart. I should leave.

"There's no need to be rude. I was just asking you a question," he defended himself, only to earn a loud snort from me.

    I began to walk away from the conversation, newly dried hands shoved into the pockets of my pristine white jersey.

"I don't have time for this. You'll be asking yourself questions when you see that my eight-hundred meter split is faster than yours."

    The runners surrounding him desperately tried to hold back their laughter at his dumbfounded reaction, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a satisfied smirk.

I don't actually know his eight-hundred meter time, but I'm assuming that mine is faster.

I was about to turn around the corner that led to the arena, but the boy called out to me once again. His voice was significantly less hostile than before.

    "H-hey, what's your name?!"

    "Kyouko Johnson. I'd ask what your name is, but I don't care. Have a good race today," I waved.

    He yelled something in response, but I didn't hear it.

    I was too busy thinking about the race to fully acknowledge that slime-ball of a dude.