A/N: anyway I miss yorusoi so very deeply like um its a serious yorusoi withdrawal (pls talk to me abt them lmao) so have this old thing I was working on way back when… featuring Yoruichi as Suì-Fēng's fan girl for a change (kinda)
Dark skin, toned thighs, long legs— yeah, she has to be fast, and she seems to know it too, as she won't stop flashing her that cock-sure grin, won't stop with that irritatingly beautiful smirk . . . .
They're lined up, staggered in lanes, and she kind of likes— hates that the only thing she sees when she turns her head is the annoying glint of pearly-white teeth. Jeez.
She recalls their earlier conversation, or the one-sided attempt at one, anyway, before moving to their designated positions— a conversation that came about when Suì-Fēng finally gave in to her irritation and asked rather briskly, "What is it you keep staring at?"
To which the taller girl replied, all cheeky and clever, "You."
So Suì-Fēng tilted her head, eyebrow raised, before glancing over her shoulder and back, thinking that maybe she should have worded it better. "Well, I surely didn't figure it was the fence back there . . ."
If possible, the girl's grin grew wider. And, she daresay, more attractive. "Ah, so that's what you're like . . ."
Grey eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "And that means . . . ?"
"Ah, nothing . . . ." Suì-Fēng noticed, for the first time, her eyes, gold and sunny, and just as bright as her smile, which happened to turn rather mischievous. "It's just, I've heard a lot about you."
"Have you really?"
"Yeah. The beautiful Chinese rookie with orange hoops in her braids . . . . Chick who trumps all at four-hundred meters in every track meet . . . ."
And suddenly, Suì-Fēng understood what this was about, lips slowly curling into something to almost match the other girl's (and not because she'd been called beautiful, totally). "You're her."
"Took you long enough," was the playful, brazen reply.
However, Sui-Fēng's interest was entirely piqued. In fact, she was almost nervous, but it was of an exhilarating sort. Anticipation. "Shunshin Yoruichi?"
"Goddess in the flesh."
It couldn't be . . . "Shihouin Yoruichi?"
"The one and only!" Yoruichi then laughed— damn, how pretty a sound— before poking her in one, exposed shoulder. "Looks like you've heard as much about me as I've heard of you, Suì-Fēng."
She knows my name. But no, no, that wasn't how she should go about things. She had to remember that Yoruichi was the unbeatable girl who had defeated everyone in the four-hundred meter dash at every track meet she'd been to since before Sui-Fēng came along.
The exact same as her.
And that is the precise reason why she now finds herself staring back to her left at the Shihouin's crouching form in the lane five blocks, deducing her speed.
She isn't wearing spikes, Suì-Fēng notes with a glance at Yoruichi's feet, but can't quite decide if this is somehow a weird advantage to the girl, or beneficial for herself, as she too lacks the same footwear.
She thinks she's too good for them.
And she's bigger than me. In everything. Stature, height, goddamn bust size (not that she's really looking). That must mean heavier. That must mean slower.
And suddenly, everything goes quiet as the gunman utters, "Runners take your mark."
Her gaze sweeps back to Yoruichi, whose leg muscles are already tense (in those fucking spandex shorts, damn), on one knee, ready to spring forward once the right words are spoken.
She can't be that good. She can't be that good.
"Set."
Yoruichi's back arches into the air, smile fading only to be replaced with something sterner, a game-face if you will, and Suì-Fēng wonders why she's still watching at a time like this, wonders why she hasn't drank more water first, because her mouth's so dry . . . .
Dammit, turn around, look ahead, look ahead. This is her track anyway. Her turf. A home meet, and there's no way some chick from Karakura'll come here and beat her of Seireitei, she who's never came anything less than first.
I've got this. I'm better than her.
The gun sounds, and she pushes off her left leg, arms already pumping as she tears around the left corner. She's already in the lead, zipping by the girl in lane eight. Her first hundred meters are always best. And she feels good. Feels that slight exhaustion that normally seeps into her on this first straightaway. She feels like usual, the fear of being surpassed nearly g—
But out of the corner of her eye, there's movement, an advancing movement, and when she turns her head to the left . . . there is Yoruichi.
52.07. The numbers flash in red, a constant reminder of the clock, beneath her eyelids each second she takes to blink until she can hardly stand it. She doesn't want to . . . she doesn't want . . . she doesn't— she blinks again. Fifty-two seconds.
Christ, that's a good time. That's excellent. One of highest she's ever seen for a high school girl.
But it's not her time.
She collapses in a patch of grass by the fence, lowers her head to her knees, and listens to the fatigue in her breathing, feels the incessant aching in her thighs. When her eyes shut, this time, she sees that girl passing her by, turning her head, pony tail billowing, mouthing the insolent words, "Catch me if you can!"
She sees her entire team, giving her that, that— that— that shock.
Disappointment.
This isn't possible.
And apparently, she's said that aloud, as no sooner is it out of her mouth, that girl audaciously clunks down beside her, two bottles of water in hand. "What isn't possible?"
Suì-Fēng turns to look at her through squinted eyes. She doesn't even look tired, damn her.
"Nothing," Suì-Fēng snaps, voice hoarse with exhaustion.
"If you say so . . . ." And Yoruichi leans back against the fence, and Suì can't help glaring because what is this girl here for, anyway? Can't Suì-Fēng just rest here in this corner to wallow in her failure alone? Shouldn't Yoruichi be with her team?
"But here, look, I got you something to drink." Yoruichi offers her a sweating bottle of water and she takes it mechanically, despite having her own drink lying about somewhere.
After screwing off the top, she takes a sip; it tastes sour like defeat and she really can't take it anymore.
"What is it you want?"
To her irritation, the Shihouin begins to laugh. "Do you always have to start off a conversation with me with a demanding question?"
"The real question is why I'm starting a conversation with you in the first place," she retorts bitterly around the mouth of the bottle.
Yoruichi smirks, lowering her eyelashes and the coyness is rather startling. "Maybe there's just something about me you find worth talking to."
Sui-Fēng blinks at her, "Yeah," falling from her mouth before she can even think it. Luckily, she's quick at catching herself. "Right. Yeah, right."
Yoruichi just looks unconvinced, and wipes the perspiration from her temples with the back of her hand. "So . . . is something the matter?"
That girl must have a load of ignorance to be asking such a question after leaving Suì-Fēng in her dust like that. Either that or she's slyly trying to be arrogant about it.
"You're asking me that?" The Chinese girl scoffs with a wry twist of her mouth. "I don't even know you."
"I don't have to know someone I respect to care about her well being," replies the Shihouin in a manner so offhand that Suì-Fēng nearly chokes on her next sip.
"Respect?"
Yoruichi, to her credit, doesn't even blush, or falter, or look as if it is something that has slipped past her mouth filter. "Yeah."
Yoruichi, also, to Suì-Fēng's irritation, doesn't bother to elaborate, so she has to look away and awkwardly twiddle her thumbs before mumbling, "What do you mean?"
The other girl gives her an odd look. "What do you mean, what do I mean? You're talented. You're a great sprinter, and I've been anxious to meet you for a while now. Seriously, if you had a poster, I'd hang it my bedroom beside Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce."
The sheer blatancy. Suì-Fēng can feel the heat in her neck. She can't believe her lips are so loose as to sigh, "I should be saying that about you . . ."
Yoruichi just smiles, and it feels like something is melting within her. "I'm flattered."
The shorter girl merely purses her lips and asks, "D-Don't you have a hundred to run?"
Golden eyes light up, as though elated that Suì-Fēng would know this. "Guess you've heard that too. But no, actually." They both glance toward the track; Kuchiki is just barely ahead of that Kurosaki boy from Karakura. He looks terrible in shorts that short. "This other girl on my team wanted a shot, so I decided to sit this one out."
Wow, she sounds really uncompetitive...
"You could have been in a different heat," Suì-Fēng points out.
"Truth is, I'm lazy. " Yoruichi then chews her lip, idly peeling the plastic label from around her bottle. "Um, so, do you have any more races left?"
The tone is something slightly small and shy, and Suì-Fēng didn't think Yoruichi was capable of sounding such a way.
"If you're worrying about when I might be leaving . . ." She pauses, wondering if she should assume. "I guess you're in luck . . . I won't be gone till this thing is entirely over." Unfortunately. Honestly, she would just like to go home and stare at a wall to mull over her loss, but damn the sixteen hundred meter relay, always the last event, always holding her hostage here until the sun goes down.
The other girl grins like she's been promised a treat, albeit sheepishly. "That's good to hear. You know, I'll be running the last relay, too. Final heat, yeah?"
Suì-Fēng may have blushed at the fact that Yoruichi's glad she won't be leaving, except her stomach plummets and twists in uncharacteristic anxiety. Yoruichi's going to be running the same race as her. She's going to show her up again in front of her school.
"Yeah," she responds faintly. Her mouth is dry. Her water bottle is empty.
Yoruichi touches her shoulder. "You alright?"
Suì-Fēng flinches away. "Yeah, I'm— I'm fine. I just— I need to eat something."
She rises unsteadily to her feet, gripping the fence behind her, and takes a step toward the concession stand.
"See you later," says Yoruichi.
One thing she hates about track meets is the insufficient sources of food.
The real meals tend to be things for the visitors like grilled sausages, French fries, instant ramen cups, and hamburgers— things she would never find herself eating anyway, but would probably be murdered by her coach if caught indulging in them.
These foods are definitely off limits.
But these foods are also the things that might hold in her stomach long enough to keep her energized. Unlike the meager snacks that she is forced to eat instead. Things like bananas and peanut butter crackers and mediocre granola bars. She swears they try to starve them out here.
The boy behind the concession stand's hand is shaking way too much as she hands over the cash for a bag of pretzels. His fingers fumble with a bill and it floats over the counter.
"Dammit, Yamada!" Suì-Fēng growls, but retrieves the paper banknote for him anyway.
She pops the bag of her meantime sustenance and goes in front the stadium to lean on the fence before the track in time to hear the gun blow off for the two hundred meter dash.
Yoruichi is in lane four.
What?
Suì-Fēng pauses in mid-chew as the dark-skinned girl sprints around the corner, but bolts down the straightaway, past everyone else, strong legs pumping, hair fluttering in a way that causes Suì-Fēng's mouth to dry in a manner that happens not to be from nervousness.
Excellent form, excellent speed. Lantern eyes meet hers just as she crosses the finish line first and Suì-Fēng can't help but think, She's perfect.
She watches as Yoruichi takes a moment in the field to catch herself before trotting across the track. Her eyes scan the area like she's looking for her, and when they catch each other's gaze, for some reason, Suì-Fēng ducks her head.
She doesn't know why. Maybe it's embarrassment for thinking such things, for admiring the other girl so openly, or maybe it's because Yoruichi is much, much better than she is.
Nevertheless, Yoruichi seeks her out.
Brushing the stray strands from her ponytail out of her eyes, she finds Suì-Fēng in the same place as she was when watching her from the track. Suì-Fēng doesn't know why she hasn't moved.
When Yoruichi smiles however, she has an inkling as to why.
It's the first time she's ever seen the Shunshin run.
"Yo," she says, with a two-fingered wave.
"Yeah, uh, hi," the Chinese girl responds meekly.
"So, were you watching?" Yoruichi scratches her arm in a manner so unexpectedly timid that Suì-Fēng is instantly smitten.
In her stupor, she actually confesses, "Y-Yeah, you looked beautiful," then runs her hand through her hair in frustration and says no less smoothly, "I mean, you looked great. You are great."
The taller girl laughs, resulting in the other girl's face to go red, and even redder when Yoruichi steps in closer, "That's cool, since I was kinda showing off for you."
Surprisingly, Suì-Fēng finds her tongue fast, despite their proximity. The words bitterly slip past, "No need to do that; I know firsthand that you're quick."
The dark skinned girl shoots her a glance that's a little difficult to understand, and Suí-Fēng looks away.
"Anyway," Yoruichi clears her throat, "I have to pee, and no offense, but the locker rooms smell disgusting here."
The other girl grins a little at that. "That's alright, I guess. None of us use that locker room, anyway. We just leave it for other schools for the sake of bad sportsmanship. We have another one behind the other set of bleachers."
A sweet smile. "Come with me?"
"Oh, are you one of those girls who can't take a piss without a companion?"
Yoruichi loops one arm through hers, replying, "Not without a cute girl," and the Chinese girl gives a start, yet keeps silent.
When they get to the locker room, Yoruichi doesn't go right away. She rather lingers before the mirror, watching Suí-Fēng through the glass.
"So," she says carefully, "I can't wait for the four-by-four against you if it'll be anything like the four hundred."
Suí-Fēng sniffs, responding with what she hopes doesn't relay any uncertainty, "It won't be anything like the four hundred."
Yoruichi just grins. "Yeah?"
"Of course. I won't be letting any distractions get to me."
Suí-Fēng catches the sort of expression the taller girl makes in the mirror. "Oh, yes. You were very distracted, I'd noticed. Hopefully, you'll be at your A-game later on."
Suí-Fēng nods. "Yeah." Wait. "What do you mean?"
It is then that the dark-skinned girl bursts into laughter, doubling over at the sink's edge, "Jeez, I thought my ass would melt off, you were staring so hard!"
What. What, what, what, what. She knows— she saw—
"That was not what I was doing," Suì-Fēng insists, but heart is fluttering too nervously for her words to come out as even as she would've liked. "I was- I was wondering if you were- just what lane you were in if-" She growls in frustration, "I don't have to explain myself to you!"
Yoruichi pouts from her place at the sink. "So you weren't looking at my ass?"
"E-Exactly!"
"That's disheartening," she sighs (but Suí-Fēng can sense the exaggeration), blowing a lock of hair from one eye, "I figured you were kinda into me."
"How bold of you to assume."
"Not when I know you'd cop a feel if I let you."
"You don't know a thing about me."
"We'll see."
"We will see."
A beat.
"Hey Suì-Fēng, wanna make out?"
Damn. It's an impulse really- the adrenaline at being called out, coupled with Suì-Fēng's undoubted attraction and the now blatant realization that Yoruichi's been subtly coming onto her all day... yeah, Sui-Feng is definitely on her in a second. And she's astonished at that, the lack of self-control, but more so at how Yoruichi actually yields to her, sitting up on the edge of the sink, and Suì-Fēng has to stand on her toes to keep their lips locked, hands on the smooth, silken skin of her thighs.
Yoruichi tastes delightfully sweet and sour, like orange Powerade.
When they pull away, the dark-skinned girl is biting her lip whilst stifling a rather victorious grin, and she pinches Suì-Fēng's flushed cheek between two fingers.
"What'd I tell you?" She near sings, lifting the shorter girl's hands from her legs. "Couldn't keep your hands off me."
Suì-Fēng feels a tad annoyed, although Yoruichi's legs pleasantly around her torso seems to cancel out every emotion other than utter bliss. "Only because your tongue was enjoying my mouth a little too thoroughly."
Yoruichi looks mock-scandalized, hand to her chest. "Don't lie, I don't french kiss until after I'm bought dinner."
"Well here's to hoping that eating my dust later on will suffice," Suì-Fēng quips back, and Yoruichi opens her mouth to retort, but descends into laughter instead. Her eyes squeeze shut and her head bows and it's such a pretty flow of action that Suí-Fēng's lips begin to lift of their own accord. She figures that this is a victory for her, finally.
The taller girl seems to be thinking the same thing. She tugs playfully on one of Suì-Fēng's braids, admitting with a grin, "You got me there . . ." Her smile then arches into something dazzlingly suggestive. "Guess that's one for me, one for you, and we'll call this," she motions to their proximity, then closes the gap with her lips, "a tie."
With her mouth tingling once again, Suí-Fēng can only manage to reply with a frazzled nod, but Yoruichi is still studying her in a manner that lights her cheeks aflame.
Sunny eyes soften, and she squeezes one of Suì-Fēng's hands between her own. "It's all in fun, by the way," she says, voice low, and Suí-Fēng is definitely flushed, but more so at the fact that all of Yoruichi's strange expressions throughout the day has only signified that she knew of the turmoil churning anxiously within her. "You don't have to let me ruin it for you."
At this, Suí-Fēng can only bite her lip because Yoruichi is absolutely, albeit gently, calling her a sore loser for earlier, and yet she's a little put off because of course Yoruichi can say this— she who's never lost.
But she's right at any rate. It's . . . embarrassing, quite childish in hindsight, and she doesn't want to feel this way, especially since Yoruichi seems to so greatly revere her. There's no use in being so nervous at the starting line because she's up against Yoruichi that she fails to preform at her best.
There's also no use in being afraid of someone who can kiss her so warmly inside a public bathroom.
"It's cute when you smile," Yoruichi suddenly tells her, slipping off the sink to finally head into a stall, and Sui-Feng realizes she's been grinning at the pleasant turn of events.
A/N: The funny thing is that Yoruichi and Suì-Fēng never do get to race in the 4 x 400 relay because Suì-Fēng is first leg on her team whereas Yoruichi is fourth.