Shampoo stood in the gym, stretching with the other girls. The coach had instructed everyone to warm up before the next activity, but Shampoo's mind wasn't on the stretches. Her eyes kept drifting to the large gym windows that looked out onto the track field.
Outside, the boys were running their mile, their footsteps pounding in rhythmic unison as they made their way around the track. Shampoo tried to ignore the distraction, but then she caught a glimpse of him—Ryoga.
His figure stood out among the others, his form steady despite the sweat running down his face. Shampoo watched, momentarily frozen. She could feel her pulse quicken, not from any particular excitement, but because Ryoga, with his usual determination and intensity, always managed to catch her attention.
She saw him push forward, his legs moving in long, measured strides, and for a moment, Shampoo forgot where she was. The other girls were still chatting, stretching and laughing, but Shampoo's thoughts were elsewhere.
He's... fast. She couldn't help but think. For all his quirks and wayward tendencies, Ryoga's determination was always there, even if it was often misdirected. There was something about the way he ran, pushing through exhaustion, that caught Shampoo's admiration. It was something she could respect, maybe even relate to.
Her gaze lingered on him as he rounded the corner of the track, getting farther from view. The sight of him made something stir inside her—a strange mix of feelings that Shampoo was still trying to make sense of. She shook her head slightly, refocusing her attention on the stretches. No time for distractions.
Still, as she bent forward into a stretch, her mind wandered back to Ryoga, the fleeting image of him pushing himself that much harder lingering in her thoughts.
"Shampoo, you okay?" Yuka's voice snapped Shampoo out of her reverie. Shampoo blinked, looking up to find Yuka watching her with a raised eyebrow.
"Mm?" Shampoo said, brushing her hair back with one hand, trying to regain her usual confident composure. "Shampoo fine. Just thinking."
Yuka gave her a knowing look. "Thinking about what? You seemed a little out of it."
Shampoo quickly dismissed the question with a casual shrug. "Nothing important," she said, turning her attention back to her stretches.
But even as she continued with the exercises, her thoughts kept returning to the track, to Ryoga. The rhythm of his run, his focus, the determination that was so much a part of him—it felt different somehow, like something deeper was at play. Shampoo didn't know what it was, and for once, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
She shook the thought away again, but it lingered in the back of her mind as she finished up her stretches. There was a lot more on her plate than figuring out why Ryoga made her feel this way, and Shampoo wasn't about to let any distractions keep her from her goals.
The gym buzzed with energy as the P.E. teacher explained the rules for the day's volleyball unit. The girls were split into two teams, and Shampoo found herself on the same side as Akane. It was an unexpected pairing, especially given the tension that had lingered between them for the past few days. But for now, there was no time for drama—just volleyball.
Shampoo stood in position, stretching her arms, the volleyball bouncing in her hands as the other girls took their places. She glanced over at Akane, who was already eyeing the ball with a focused look. Akane was competitive, Shampoo could tell. That could make things interesting.
"Alright, girls," the coach called out, "let's see what you've got! Team A, Team B—let's go!"
The game began quickly, the ball flying across the net with precision as the teams scrambled to make the first move. Shampoo wasn't a stranger to sports, but volleyball had always been one of her stronger suits. Her reflexes were sharp, and her movements were fast. She could already feel the rush of adrenaline as she prepared for her first pass.
The ball came flying her way, and without hesitation, Shampoo leaped to meet it, sending a perfect set to one of her teammates. The ball bounced effortlessly between the players, and Shampoo's eyes quickly flicked over to Akane, who was waiting for her moment.
Akane didn't disappoint. With a quick, well-timed jump, she slammed the ball over the net, sending it into the opposing team's side. Shampoo caught a brief glimpse of Akane's competitive fire—she was good, focused, and not willing to let anyone outdo her.
"Nice one, Akane!" Shampoo called, the words coming out before she could stop herself. Akane's expression softened slightly, but she didn't acknowledge the compliment. Instead, she was already preparing for the next serve.
Shampoo quickly refocused, keeping her eyes on the game as she darted across the court, positioning herself for the next rally. She was keenly aware of the other team's best player, Yuka, who had been quick with her passes. Shampoo would have to be sharp. The game wasn't just about winning—it was about proving something.
The ball was served to Shampoo's side again, and this time, it came faster. Shampoo crouched, her body primed for the move. She dove forward, meeting the ball with a perfect dive. The ball shot up, and Akane was right there, sending it over the net before the other team could even react.
As the game went on, Shampoo couldn't help but notice how well they worked together. Despite their usual tension, Akane and Shampoo were in sync. They weren't best friends, but on the court, they were like a well-oiled machine—each move instinctive, like they had been playing together for years. Shampoo didn't know what it was, but there was something oddly satisfying about it.
But it wasn't all smooth sailing. Akane and Shampoo had their moments of miscommunication, their plays that didn't quite line up, but they worked through them without a second thought. Shampoo had learned not to let pride get in the way of winning.
"Come on, Shampoo!" Akane yelled as the ball came her way. Shampoo didn't need to be told twice. She launched herself toward the ball, sending a fast, perfect set to Akane, who slammed it back over the net with surprising force.
The opposing team scrambled to return the ball, but it was clear: the point was theirs. Shampoo gave a satisfied grin as she slapped Akane's back in congratulations. "Good job, Akane."
Akane, surprisingly, grinned back. "Thanks, Shampoo," she said, her voice genuine for once.
The game continued, and it was clear that Akane and Shampoo were on the same wavelength. They worked as a team, and though there was still a certain tension between them, it was much more professional than anything personal.
When the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match, both teams gathered around, panting and sweaty. Shampoo and Akane's team had won, but it hadn't been an easy victory.
"Good game, everyone," the coach said, clapping her hands. "You girls really brought it today!"
Shampoo stood tall, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She glanced over at Akane, who was wiping sweat off her forehead, and gave her a small nod of approval. Despite their differences, Shampoo had to admit—it had been fun working together.
Akane met her gaze, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Not bad," she muttered.
Shampoo smirked, not quite ready to say anything more but silently acknowledging the moment. "Yeah. Not bad at all."
And as the girls filed off the court to change, Shampoo felt that familiar, confident sense of satisfaction. Today, they'd been more than just rivals. They'd been teammates, and for once, that was enough.