I love updating in twos, haha. Enjoy, hopefully. My writing's not really up to par at the moment but I want to move the story along a bit, so I can get comedic again. The next couple of chapters are kind of serious, I'm warning haha, but I really want to add depth to Kouta's character. Like, what makes him how he is? Plus I like a little realism underneath the comedy and romance. :3 GCSE results next week *dies* Okay so I only did 3 full courses and some units this year, but I have my BTEC too and ah I'm scared, someone hold me.

Okay, I'm ranting now. You guys can read, ahah. And thank you for the wonderful reviews. I promise to answer them all personally at some point ^^ Until them, have some dirty snapshots. Mwahahaha. ;D

I arrive at 9am. I thought that the place would be quiet, to be honest, but it's actually buzzing. Kouta stands at my side, but he's too distracted by the fact that there are many, many girls in PE uniforms to actually really say something. He's very busy wiping the blood from his nose as he eyes up all the runners in their shorts, from about six different high schools.

"What's the programme for today?" he asks, not taking his eyes off them for a second.
"It's you actually getting a grip, to start with," I look down at the printed programme.

"Sorry."
"Mm. Anyway –four heats of 100m, 200m, 100m hurdles, 400m, 800m and 1500m (that could take a while depending on their speed), semi-finals and then finals of all those events."
"What are you in?"
"Well I'm a better sprinter than I am long distance so 100m, 200m and 100m hurdle," I say. "I do run long distance but it's not my best.

"And if you run in the races and I take pictures for the school newspaper, we'll be even with Ms. Nakamura?"
"Well, that's what she said."
"I hope I have enough battery to take all those pictures."
"You only need to take pictures of our girls," I say.
"Yeah, for the newspaper. What about my personal collection?"
"That is possibly the creepiest thing I've ever heard you say. In fact, no, that is definitely the creepiest thing I've ever heard you say."

"You haven't heard me say a lot."
"That's a lie, actually. You didn't say a lot when I first met you, but recently you've been talking in full sentences all of the time. Your morose and silent disguise has been lifted, Muttsulini, but the nickname will always stick."
"But the point I made still stands."

"You're disgusting."
"When does your mom arrive?"
"She arrives at 1pm, in time for the finals, providing that I get through."
"I thought you were going to Osaka this weekend anyway."
"The film festival was cancelled. I found out randomly on Monday morning that she was coming down to see me instead."

"Why does she live in Osaka anyway?"
"She lives with my aunts so that they can take care of her and make sure that she stays out of trouble," I explain simply. The look on his face says that he's now expecting someone who is unable to take care of themselves, and frankly my mother kind of fits the bill.

"Mm," he says in recognition. "When do the 100m heats start?"

"Mine's at 9:20, I'm in the second."
"Good luck."
"Mm," I repeat what he had said earlier. "I'll need it – look at some of the girls that are running."
"Trust me, I have been," he smirks to himself in his typical perverted way, and snaps his camera again with a quick flash of light.

"I should go now. I'll see you at the finish line."
"How many from each heat go through to the semi-finals?"
"Two. It's gonna be a really long day. The races don't finish until half-five, you realise this, right?"
"A whole day of taking pictures of running girls. Now get over to the start line – it's almost time for your heat."

"Kouta, one more thing?"
"What?"
"I was lucky to be invited to this since I only joined the school this year. This means a lot to me. It opens doors for running. Okay? You understand? Bye."

"Bye."

I go over to the start line, take my position, down on the ground, survey the people looking around me. I try to block everything out apart from the finish line, and the semi-final chance that comes with it. Every race is your Olympics, Karin, so concentrate it and you can do it. You can do it. Right, I'm psyched up – now I can definitely do it, all I need is the start gun and I'm off.

Bang. Off I go, I'm zooming down the track and everything else is a blur. Legs moving as fast as possible, arms pumping for extra speed – all I can hear is the cheering of people in the crowd (of course not for me) and the air whizzing past my ears. And when I lean at the right moment and come in first, it feels like I've completely earned it. Of course, that's only once the information sets in.

"You came first," Kouta said.

"I know. I'm in the semi-finals," I say. "Thirty-five minutes until my next heat. Come on, let's find somewhere to stand and watch the girls."
"I have to stand at the front."
"Then I guess I'm standing here too."

Half an hour goes fast. Kouta is preoccupied, snapping pictures of all the girls flying past the line, and I find myself getting restless and bored with no-one to talk to. I'm limbering up now, getting ready for the 200m and when I'm about to go to the start line, Kouta turns around.
"Are you ready?" he says, holding his camera casually in one hand.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"You say that a lot."

"Are you ready?" I ask him.
"For what?"
"Snapping a picture of whoever wins," I make a camera gesture with my hands and then run off to the start line, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself.

Bang. Off I go again, double the distance, hearing nothing but screams for my opposition to win, trying to go as fast as my legs will take me. It's all going well, I could win this one again, I honestly could, but in the last 10 metres a sudden flash goes right in my eyes and stuns me. My body goes into shock, and the lead I had goes as I stumble towards the finish. Suzuki, some girl from Kazuhiro, is so close to me I can't even believe it.

"Aika! Aika!" my old running coach yells. "This is the championships for the whole city! That goes to regionals, and then to nationals! Do you really think that second place is acceptable?" she screams to Suzuki as she picks herself up. Second place might be acceptable. Second place qualifies. Third place does not. I didn't qualify. I didn't even get to the semis in a city championship.

And then suddenly, when I'm trying to work out what the hell it was that made me stumble so badly I went from metres ahead to not even qualifying, I realise. I realise, and it makes me so angry and I want to find the culprit and punch them in the face.

"Didn't I tell you that this meant a lot to me? You have to be in the finals for at least five of the six city championships to qualify for the regionals. And what if I'm ill, what if I'm injured for one of the next five? Then I don't qualify 200m," I choke out.

"You care this much?"
"Of course I care! OF COURSE I CARE! What do you think I want to do when I get older, huh? You think I don't have ambitions?"

"You're overreacting."
"Hmph."
I storm off to the throng of people. Alongside the track running, there's a little section where there are a few funfair games and a huge amount of stalls selling all variety of little snacks, cakes and drinks.

"Excuse me?" I say, still warm and sticky from my races.

"Yes, can I help you?" says a stall owner.

"Do you know where I can find some iced tea?"
"Ichimura is selling it over there, 120 yen a bottle."
"Thanks," I nod, and go and get a bottle. I couldn't even… think straight. I was so angry, and yet I didn't know why because it wasn't exactly his fault, and if I was that good of a runner anyway I wouldn't have been so stunned with the flash.

It's 10:30 and the gun goes for my 100m hurdles. This is my best event – and if I can come first in the 100m, I can come first in this.

"I'm sorry!"
"What?" I yell, I don't know who's talking to me… but I can guess.

"I'm sorry!" shouts Kouta after me, but his voice is muffled by the bang of the start gun. I'm thrown by his apology but I stumble off the start blocks and try as hard as I can to catch up with the others.

"Karin Sato in 8th place right now."
"Shut the hell up, Ms. Nakamura," I breathe out whilst leaping the second hurdle. Once there are only three hurdles left to go I hear him again.

"Karin, go!" I can hear his voice. "You can do it, come on, run!"

You know when you have that moment where you don't know whether to get thrown off track by someone's words, or whether they will just spur you on anymore? Well I had that, just for a moment, but then naturally my legs just started moving faster and faster until I was in the leading group and then I leant just like I had been taught to and I so thought I was in the qualifying group.

"It's a photo finish for the 100m hurdle heat!" Ms. Nakamura gasps over the tannoy. "Let me see that, let me see that!" she says, and there's buzz on the line as she fumbles for the photo. "Eh, what do you think?"
"The one in red."
"They're both in red."
"The dark kind of red. Brunette."

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. That's me. I'm through. I'm through to the semi-finals. The semi-finals. Yes.
"You're through," Kouta remarks in his simple way.
"I know, I know, I know!" I practically pounce on him and hold him so tight I don't think either of us can breathe.

"You can let go now," he says, choking.
"But I'm so excited," I grin, as he peels my tangled limbs off of him.

"I know. I know you're excited."
"I'm in the semi-finals of the city championship when I got an awful start," I squeal. "The semi-finals!" and jump on him again. "I'm so happy," I lock my legs around him and he falls over.

"Honey!" a female voice squeaks. Oh God, not another familiar voice. "Am I interrupting something?" she comes over, and I smell the flowers on her perfume. Why does this always happen to me?

"Um… no… Mom! Mom, no," I say, but I'm interrupted by the fact that Kouta's nose starts to bleed excessively.

"Yeah… that's what it looks like. I know you like to celebrate, love, but this is slightly inappropriate."

"I'm in the semi-finals!"
"For all three events?"
"No, just for two."
"Why didn't you get all three?" she demands vehemently.
"Because…" I start my sentence. Kouta looks at me questioningly. "Because I messed up in the 200m and I came third. It was such a mistake. You'll laugh."

"You know what would make me laugh? A drink. What has a girl got to do to get some sake around here?"
"It's school grounds – I'm pretty sure they're not allowed to sell alcohol, Mom. However, Ichimura over there makes good iced tea..."
"Stick some vodka in that and then you've got a real drink. I'll see you after lunch, honey. That businessman over there looks like he wants to buy me something to eat."

"Oh my God," I sigh. "Well, are you hungry?"
"Not particularly. I'm thirsty though. Let's go get something to drink and then go sit in the shade."

"Your camera's hot?"
"Yeah, it's like burning my hands right now."
"I'll go get some tea and then we'll sit over under that tree," I motion to a large tree with droopy, thick branches and a big area of shade.

"Oh, here," he hands me a 100 yen coin. "That should cover it."
"Um, yeah," I nod, but it takes me a moment to realise that he's talking about the tea. I pick up my own bag and go over, and get two bottles.
"Thank you," nods the kindly, middle-aged woman I've found out is Ichimura.

"No problem. Keep the change," I grab them and go over to sit next to Kouta.

"Ah, the shade is beautiful. It's only when you get in the shade that you realise how
warm it is without it," I say, handing him one. "You like yours sugared, right?"
"Yeah, I have a sweet tooth," he takes a sip. "This is good."

"I'm so tired, I could fall asleep quite comfortably right here."
"Why don't you?"
"Because I have two semi-finals and if I get into the final my races don't end until five."

"You have plenty of time. Your mom came early, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember… Wait, what?"
"She came at like half-ten instead of one. You do realise that it's only about quarter to eleven, right?"
"But if I sleep, won't I be sluggish?"
"No, that's if you eat too much. You should re-coup your energy."

"I suppose," I place my hands behind my head, close my eyes and feel myself slip away.

"Doesn't she look cute?"
"Mm."
"Don't you think so?"
"Mm."
"Honey, wake up. Mom's here. It's half an hour until your next race."

"W-Wait, what?" I feel my eyes open to see my mom peering at me through her bloodshot eyes. "What time is it?"
"It's half past one, dear. Your semi-final is in half an hour."
"What? I slept for like… almost three hours?!"
"That's right," Kouta says, and then I notice.

I'm laid… on Kouta's chest and he's sitting casually, handkerchief at his side, with one arm lazily propped around me. That wakes me up.

"You better get up, you don't want to miss it, do you?" my mom slurs.

"M-Mom… where did you go?"
"Oh, this lovely man asked me out for a very nice lunch. I ate a lot."

"I was going to ask you if you were busy later."
"Only to spend time with my daughter," she proclaims proudly, and then hiccups. "Why, did you have plans?"
"Did you want to… I mean, did you… did you want to come round to Kouta's and meet his mom?"
"First name basis," she sniffs. "Well… what, are we going to sit around and chat like ladies?"

"She chats like a lady in the morning, then she goes with the ladies who lunch until about two. Then she cracks open the wine and… makes a good meal."
"Well, doesn't that sound lovely?" she says, making me grimace with her alcoholic breath as she hugs me tightly. "That would be wonderful."
"Great," I say, and she walks off to take her place in the crowd. Or should I say staggers.

"Mm," Kouta picks himself up, dusts his shirt off and offers me a hand.
"What's your angle?"
"What?"
"What's your angle? You've seen my mom. She's a mess. Why would you want her in your house?"
"You'll see later. I want to show you something."

"Mm. I'm suspicious."
"Don't be. Why don't you get down to the start line?"
"No pictures this time, please," I beg him.
"You sound like a famous diva. Just get down to the start line and do your best," he smirks, flicking through his photographs.

"I… I only just… qualified…" I say, out of breath.
"You came fourth out of eight," he announces.
"I know, I know. Where's my mom?"
"She's half-cheering you on, half flirting with that man over… there," he points towards a fairly awkward but swish-looking guy in a suit.

"Brilliant."
"You'll have to do better in the hurdles."
"AIKA, YOU DIDN'T QUALIFY?" I can hear the screeching running teacher from 20 feet away.
"Hahahaha… As long as I beat her, I could come second to last," I grin, and pause for a moment.
"No, I'm joking, I need to come in the top four."

"That was easy. Easy peasy," I pant.
"Yeah you sound like you were taking it real easy."
"Oh I was," I breathe out, but my thin voice betrays me. "Like taking candy from a baby."
"Then how come Aika came first and you came second?"
"You just have to ruin my moment, don't you?"
"Well…"
"If you must know, I'm saving my energy for the finals."

"The finals are almost two hours away – they have loads of semi-finals to do yet for the other events, and then a break."
"Ruining the moment, again, Kouta. Why?"
"It's amusing."
"I'm so hungry."
"Go pick up something and then we'll eat at mine."

Has Kouta gone under some kind of surgery… a lobotomy or something? Since when was he so talkative and… normal? Hell, his nose had only bled about ten times today, and with all these girls around, that in itself was some kind of miracle.

I was restless for the whole period of time up until the first final. In fact, I was hopping all over the place. My mom was trying to calm me down, but she was too drunk out of her mind to even talk properly, let alone mother me. As she placed her hands shakily on my shoulders and I shrugged her off, Kouta just looked on with that same smirk on his face.

"Do you ever stop smiling like that?" I look at him.
"I wasn't aware I was smiling," he raised his eyebrows.
"Must be my presence," I grin jokingly, and run off to warm up again. My mom gives Kouta a look, but he's only looking at her chest. Typical.

"And it's Suzuki Aika in first place with Karin Sato behind by not even a tenth of a second! It's a win for Kazuhiro High!" Ms. Nakamura announces, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"Second," I hiss. "Second?"
"That's right, second," Aika just winks at me and then runs off to join her jubilant coach.

"I need a coach," I sigh. "I need a coach."
"Second? You came second?" my mom has one hand on her hip, though I don't know whether it's to keep her balance or to back up her point.
"Well, who needs a coach when you have a family like this?" I raise one eyebrow and put my hand on my hip. "I have shorter legs than Aika."
"Excuses, excuse," Mom scoffs. You got me.

"It wasn't even a tenth of a second. It was all in the lean," Kouta remarks, and I'm not quite sure whether he's taking my side or my mother's.
"Exactly! No excuses, you just needed to work harder!" my mom struts off. I roll my eyes.

"Well, sorry."

"And now, and now, the score between the two girls has been made even, it looks like! Karin in the front by two tenths of a second, followed by Aika Suzuki!" Ms. Nakamura sounds proud, and cuts off the tannoy.

"Two tenths of a second, Mom. Two tenths of a second," I look at her. She nods, and gives me a hug.

"Your father was always good at running," she sighs.
"Why don't you go flirt with that businessman? He's giving you the eye," I try to get the subject turned as far away from my father as humanly possible and turn back around.

"You look blind in this photo, come look."

"What?"

It's a picture of me, at the front of the leading group in the 100m hurdles, with Aika in the lane next to me a metre and a half or so behind. But he's right, my expression is so embarrassing.
"Can't you delete that?"
"A photo of our running golden girl. Why never! Ms. Nakamura might want this for her personal collection."

I gag.

"Lovely. And golden girls don't come second."

Standing on the side of the podium next to your rival is humiliating, but standing at the top with her below you is possibly the best feeling in the world. Do you know what's better than that though? Holding on to your (fake) medal, looking out into the crowd, and seeing two faces looking back at you with smiles on their faces. One pair of eyes hopelessly bloodshot but full of love, and the other the brightest blue.