Chapter 12: No sweat

I got to the girls' restroom on the first floor, and damn, this school's loaded. The place looked like a mall bathroom—fancy marble sinks, spotless mirrors, and stalls that didn't look like they'd collapse if you leaned on 'em. Guess that's what you get for going to Nexus.

I ducked into a stall and pulled the oversized gym uniform out of the plastic bag. I picked the bigger size on purpose—it'd be easier to move in, and I hated tight clothes anyway. Less suffocating. Besides, the looser fit hid just enough without looking sloppy.

I changed quick, shoving my school uniform into my bag. The gym shirt hung loose on my shoulders, and the shorts were baggy enough to keep things comfortable. Perfect. I checked my reflection in the mirror, just to make sure nothing looked off. Good enough.

Out in the hallway, kids were already flooding towards the field. First years, all majors. It was gonna be a crowd. I shoved my hands into my pockets and joined the flow, blending in like always.

The sun was brutal when I stepped outside, blinding for a second before my eyes adjusted. The field stretched out wide, perfectly manicured grass and all. There were lines painted for every sport you could think of, and I spotted the Beauty Class girls gathered under the shade, keeping out of the sun like their lives depended on it.

Figures.

I kept walking, eyes scanning the crowd. Most of the Fighter Class was already here, stretching or showing off for the hell of it. Typical. I wasn't here to impress anyone—I was just here to pass the damn class.

Hands still in my pockets, I headed towards the gathering group. Just another face in the crowd.

A teacher, dude strutted in like he owned the place, and honestly, with a build like that, who could argue? Muscles for days, shoulders broad enough to block the sun—yeah, no wonder he taught P.E. If he didn't look like a walking fitness ad, I'd call it false advertising.

He stopped in front of us, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd like he was sizing us up. "Name's Mr. Tanaka," he said, voice firm enough to crack stone. "I'm not here to play babysitter. In my class, you earn your grade with sweat and effort. No slackers allowed."

Straight to the point. I liked that. No fake smiles, no sugar-coating. Just cold, hard truth.

He started explaining his system, all about points and performance. Everything we did—running, jumping, even how well we played team sports—would earn us points. Those points? They'd add up to our final grade. Fail to meet his standards? You'd better be ready to take this class again next year.

Fair, but brutal. And from the look in his eye, he was dead serious.

I leaned back on my heels, arms crossed, pretending not to care. But inside? I was already calculating. Points meant competition, and competition meant winners and losers. And I sure as hell wasn't gonna be the latter.

Mr. Tanaka's gaze swept over us again, sharp as a blade. "I don't care if you're top of the class or a nobody. Out here, it's all about what you can do. Show me what you've got, and you'll pass. Otherwise? Good luck."

Challenge accepted, sir. This was gonna be interesting.

He kicked things off with the most basic drill imaginable—jumping jacks. Seriously? Felt like we were back in elementary school. I almost laughed. A few kids actually did, but one glare from Mr. Tanaka shut them up real quick. Dude's eyes could freeze lava.

We all started moving, arms and legs flapping in sync. Easy. Mind-numbing, even. Some of the girls were already gossiping mid-jump, like this was just another P.E. class they could cruise through. Not that I blamed them—this was child's play.

But then Mr. Tanaka's whistle cut through the air, sharp and loud. "Faster!" he barked. "If you've got time to chat, you've got energy to burn."

Well, damn. No slacking off under his watch, huh?

The pace picked up, and suddenly it wasn't so easy anymore. Legs started wobbling, arms drooped, and some of the guys were already sweating. But not me. Hell no. This was nothing compared to the training I put myself through.

I kept my movements steady, breathing even. But I kept an eye on him, too. He wasn't just watching—he was analyzing. Calculating who had the stamina, who was just scraping by, and who was faking it.

This guy's no joke, I thought. He was testing us. Starting with something simple, sure, but the way his eyes narrowed, the way he took mental notes... he was figuring us out, one by one.

It was just jumping jacks. But it was also a warning: if you couldn't keep up now, you were screwed for whatever came next.

After a few minutes, he finally blew the whistle. About damn time. I barely broke a sweat, but half the girls from the other majors were doubled over, whining under their breath. Even a couple of Fighter Class kids looked winded. Pathetic.

Mr. Tanaka's lips curled into this wicked little grin. Oh, he'd heard the complaints alright. "Since some of you seem to have so much energy left," he drawled, "let's see how you handle a five-minute candle pose."

The collective groan could've shaken the building. A few girls looked downright horrified. Seriously? It was just a headstand, not rocket science. But they kept whispering, exchanging panicked looks.

Mr. Tanaka's finger jabbed in my direction, his voice slicing through the murmurs. "Kiryuu. Front and center. Show 'em how it's done."

Oh, he was really putting me on display, huh? Fine. I didn't care. Let 'em watch.

I strode up to the front, all eyes glued to me. Some curious, some skeptical. A few Fighter Class guys looked amused, like they were waiting for me to mess up. As if.

I glanced at Mr. Tanaka. He gave a sharp nod, crossing his arms. He was watching me like a hawk, testing me. Whatever. I'd give him a show.

Without another word, I planted my hands firm on the ground, kicked my legs up, and went straight into a perfect candle pose. My body was a line, feet pointing to the ceiling, not a wobble in sight.

The world flipped upside down, and I saw the class through my lashes—wide eyes, open mouths. Pathetic. Had they never seen someone with actual muscle before?

My shirt slid down, caught just under my chest, showing off my abs. I knew they were staring. I felt their eyes on my skin, the whispers starting up.

"Damn, she's got abs?"

"No way... She's shredded."

"She makes it look easy..."

Yeah, keep talking. Let 'em eat their words. They were the same ones who looked down on me, wrote me off as just another Beauty Class airhead. Too bad for them—I'm no princess.

My breathing stayed steady, body locked in place. My core didn't even tremble. I was built for this. This was child's play compared to my own workouts.

I held the pose, not just because he told me to, but because I wanted them to see. To know I wasn't just here to play around.

Five minutes passed, but I didn't need his signal. I dropped my legs back down, landing soft and steady. Brushed the hair outta my face and stood up straight, not even out of breath.

Silence. They were stunned. Some of the girls looked away, embarrassed they'd complained so much. Others just stared, probably rethinking whatever they'd thought about me before.

Mr. Tanaka's lips twitched, barely a smile. "That's the standard," he announced, his voice cutting through the shock. "If Kiryuu can do it, you can too. Now, back to it."

The class groaned, but no one argued. Not after seeing that.

I walked back to my spot, eyes still following me. They could whisper all they wanted. At the end of the day, I was stronger than any of them. And they knew it.

I leaned back against the fence, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Mr. Tanaka barked orders, his sharp eyes catching every mistake, every wobble. He wasn't lettin' anyone off easy.

The whole first-year batch was struggling. Some of the Fashion and Music kids couldn't even get their legs up without toppling over. Beauty Class wasn't much better. A few girls were whining under their breath, faces turning red from the effort.

Figures. They spent more time worrying about their hair than building muscle.

Meanwhile, the Fighter Class kids were holding their own—no surprise there. They were used to this kinda thing. Even that redhead from before... Sienna, wasn't it? Tiny as she was, she held her pose like it was nothing, a cocky grin plastered on her face.

I watched her for a moment, arching a brow. That girl was stronger than she looked. Maybe I'd misjudged her.

Most of the others, though? A mess. Legs shaking, arms buckling. A few crashed down after barely a minute, groaning like they were dying. Mr. Tanaka just yelled at 'em to get back up.

He wasn't wrong. If they were this weak, they had no business whining earlier.

One kid from the Architect Class managed to stay up for a good three minutes before he collapsed, panting like he'd run a marathon. I shook my head. Amateur.

At least I didn't have to join in. I'd already proven my point. Let them sweat it out. They needed it more than I did.

I leaned my head back, feeling the sun on my face, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. Looks like Beauty Class wasn't gonna be so boring after all.

I was just startin' to get comfortable, leanin' back against that fence, watchin' the show. It was downright hilarious seein' some of these kids struggle. Their legs were shakin' like leaves, faces red as tomatoes. A few of 'em were floppin' around like fish outta water. I had to bite back a laugh.

But then, just as I thought I was off the hook, Mr. Tanaka's voice boomed across the field. "Kiryuu! Just 'cause you did it once doesn't mean you get a free pass. Get back up there and hold it 'til the rest of 'em are done!"

You've gotta be kiddin' me. My eyes narrowed, a spark of annoyance flarin' up. Of course, he'd single me out. Shoulda seen that comin'.

I pushed off the fence, hands in my pockets as I walked back to the middle of the field. The other students were strugglin' to keep their legs up, sweat pourin' down their faces. I didn't miss the way a few of 'em shot me dirty looks, probably hopin' I'd fall flat on my face too.

Fat chance.

I dropped down to the grass, lettin' out a slow breath. Fine. If that's how he wanted to play it. I pressed my hands to the ground, kicked my legs up, and held the candle pose without breakin' a sweat.

The oversized gym shirt I'd grabbed earlier slid down, bunchin' up around my ribs. I could feel the breeze brushin' against my exposed stomach, the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat of the sun.

From the corner of my eye, I caught some of the guys starin', faces turnin' red when they realized they'd been caught. I rolled my eyes. Idiots.

Meanwhile, some of the girls were whisperin' behind their hands, probably annoyed that I was makin' this look easy. Too bad for them. I'd been doin' stuff like this since I was a kid. Balancin' my own weight was second nature.

I focused on keepin' my legs straight, pointin' my toes just for the hell of it. Might as well show 'em how it's done. I wasn't about to half-ass this just 'cause Mr. Tanaka was tryin' to prove a point.

Five minutes passed, then six. The others were droppin' like flies. One by one, they crumpled to the ground, breathin' hard and rubbin' at sore muscles. The Fighter Class kids held on the longest, but even they started to give out, arms bucklin' under the pressure.

I stayed put, steady as a rock. My arms were startin' to burn, but it was nothin' I couldn't handle.

Mr. Tanaka's whistle finally cut through the air. "Alright, that's enough. Everyone up."

I lowered my legs slowly, plantin' my feet back on the ground with ease. Not even a wobble. As I stood, I caught his gaze, his mouth twitchin' like he was tryin' not to smile. Was that approval? From him? Huh.

The other students were starin' at me, some in awe, others in irritation. I just shrugged, brushin' the dirt off my hands. Not my fault they couldn't keep up.

I walked back to the fence, leanin' against it like nothin' happened. Just another day at Nexus High. If Mr. Tanaka thought he could break me, he had another thing comin'.

Watchin' the mess unfold on the field. First years sprawled all over, pantin' like dogs in the summer heat. Mr. Tanaka really did a number on 'em. No mercy, that guy.

I was about to zone out, just countin' down the minutes till this was over, when somethin' caught my eye. At the edge of the field, near the gym entrance, a guy walked up. Dude was massive—built like a brick wall, arms like damn tree trunks. No way he was a student. Instructor, maybe? But I hadn't seen him before.

He moved with purpose, headin' straight for the side gate where two familiar figures were leanin' against the bars, laughin' like they owned the place.

Jax and Felix.

What the hell were those two doin' here? This was first year PE. They had no business hangin' around.

The big guy stopped in front of 'em, crossin' his arms, and suddenly, both Jax and Felix looked a whole lot less amused. Jax straightened up, that usual smirk of his flickerin' for just a second. Felix? He didn't show much, but his shoulders went rigid, and his eyes narrowed, watchin' the guy like a hawk.

Who the hell was that?

I couldn't hear what they were sayin' from where I was standin', but whatever it was, it wasn't friendly. The guy jerked his thumb toward the gym, and Jax's jaw tightened. He glanced at Felix, who gave a short nod, face as blank as ever. Without another word, they followed the guy, disappearin' behind the building.

I frowned, crossin' my arms. Felix and Jax? Leavin' without a fight? That didn't sit right with me.

I felt an itch, an urge to follow 'em and see what the hell was goin' on. But Mr. Tanaka was pacin' around like a damn prison warden, eyes sharp and ready to bark orders. If I made a move now, he'd catch me for sure.

Tch. Whatever. I'd find out later. Those two were trouble magnets; somethin' was bound to go down sooner or later.

Still, as I watched the gate swing shut behind 'em, I couldn't shake the feelin' that this was more than just some senior prank. And that guy? Whoever he was, he meant business.

Finally. Two hours of Mr. Tanaka's torture session, and he was lettin' us go. I watched the others stagger off the field, barely holdin' themselves together. Couldn't blame 'em; the man was a damn drill sergeant. Most of the girls were complainin' about their hair gettin' ruined, some even whinin' 'bout muscle cramps. Ridiculous.

I wasn't in any rush to join the stampede to the showers. Too crowded, too noisy. Besides, I didn't stink like a wet dog like the rest of 'em. Perks of actually workin' out on the regular.

So, I found my spot on the stairs by the field, plopped down, and grabbed my water bottle. But instead of drinkin', I reached for my phone. Still gettin' used to the new feel of it—Same number, though.

As soon as I unlocked it, a message popped up. Unknown number. I clicked it open, eyes narrowin' at the text:

"Hey, sweetie. After break, head to the arena on the third floor."

Tch. Only one idiot would call me that.

Jax.

That cocky bastard. Couldn't even be bothered to save his number in my new phone. Figures.

I leaned back against the railing, thumb hoverin' over the reply button. I should've told him to screw off. But curiosity got the better of me. What the hell did he want this time? Probably somethin' stupid, knowin' him.

A challenge, maybe? It wouldn't be the first time. That guy thrived off of stirrin' up trouble.

I sighed, slippin' my phone back into my pocket. Whatever. I'd bite. Not like I had anything better to do during break anyway.

Besides, if he was callin' me out, I wasn't about to back down. Third floor arena, huh? Alright then, Jax. Let's see what you're up to this time.

I headed inside, makin' my way up to the third floor. But as soon as I hit the second, I nearly bumped into trouble himself.

"Yo," Rio greeted me, that damn signature grin plastered on his face.

I just grunted, barely acknowledgin' him. Not that it mattered—he wasn't the type to get discouraged by a cold shoulder.

His eyes dragged over me, slow and deliberate, before he leaned against the railing, all casual-like. I noticed his tongue flick out, runnin' over his bottom lip in that annoyin' way of his. Damn snake. Literally.

"What's got ya in such a rush, Collin? Off to see yer loverboy?" he drawled, voice low and smug. I scoffed, rollin' my eyes. "Yeah, right. Like I've got time for that crap."

He laughed, pushin' himself off the rail to fall in step beside me. Of course he was followin' me. "Ya always got time fer trouble, don'tcha?"

I shot him a sideways glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He just shrugged, lickin' his lips again. "Oh, nothin'. Jus' heard some rumors, tha's all. You and Jax been real chummy lately, huh? Gotta say, I didn't peg ya for his type."

My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to stay calm. This was his game—windin' people up just to watch 'em snap. Not like I was fallin' for it. "You hear too much for your own good."

He chuckled, shovin' his hands into his pockets as we walked. "Ain't my fault y'all make it so interestin'."

I ignored him, keepin' my eyes forward as we climbed the stairs to the third floor. No point in takin' the bait. That's what he wanted.

Rio kept up his lazy stride, fallin' in line like a shadow. He wasn't goin' anywhere. And I wasn't about to shake him, either.

I just had to grit my teeth and deal with it. Whatever Jax was up to, I'd find out soon enough. Even if I had a damn snake at my heels the whole way.

We reached the third floor, and I could feel Rio's eyes on me the whole damn way. Not that it was anything new—he was always watchin', always calculatin'. But today... it was different. I could feel the weight of his stare, lingerin' too long, too intense.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was right behind me, his usual smirk plastered on his face, but his eyes were darker, sharper.

I stopped, crossin' my arms. "You got a problem?"

His tongue flicked out, runnin' over his bottom lip in that annoyin' habit of his. It made his smirk look more dangerous, like he was toying with somethin' he knew he shouldn't.

"Nah," he drawled, leanin' against the wall. His posture was casual, but his eyes never left me. "Jus' wonderin' what kinda game yer playin'."

I scoffed, shiftin' my weight. "Ain't playin' any game."

He pushed off the wall, closin' the distance between us. Too close. I could feel the heat radiatin' off him, his face just inches from mine. I didn't back down, didn't give him the satisfaction of seein' me flinch.

"Sure ya ain't," he murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes flicked down, lingerin' on my lips for just a second before meetin' mine again. "Thing is, Collin... I don't believe ya."

My fists clenched, but I kept my face blank. "Believe whatever you want. Ain't got nothin' to do with me."

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin, and his hand twitched, like he was fightin' the urge to reach out. I could see it in his eyes—the hunger, the heat. He wanted to touch me, to close that gap. And it pissed me off.

I stepped back, creatin' some distance. His eyes flicked to my movement, that damn snake tongue dartin' out to wet his lips again. His shoulders tensed, jaw clenchin' just for a second before his usual laid-back demeanor slid back into place.

"Feisty as always," he teased, his voice a little rougher than before. "I like that."

I rolled my eyes, turnin' away. "Get lost, Rio."

His chuckle followed me down the hall, low and dark. "Yeah, not gonna happen, babe."

I kept walkin', refusin' to look back, but I could feel his eyes on me, burnin' holes into my back.

Damn snake.

We weaved through the crowded halls, Rio leading the way with that cocky swagger of his. I kept a step behind, arms crossed, pretending I wasn't curious. But hell, if Felix was really sparring with a third-year rank S, that was somethin' worth seein'.

"Yo, babe," Rio glanced back, that wicked grin plastered on his face. His tongue flicked out, licking his lips like a damn snake. "Ya sure ya can handle this? Ain't no kiddie fight. Shit's gonna get brutal."

I rolled my eyes, unfazed. "Tch. Like I care. I just wanna see how Felix gets his ass handed to him."

Rio's laugh echoed through the hall. "Hah! Not a chance, babe. That stiff bastard's full of surprises. Bet ya gonna be starin' with those pretty eyes of yours."

"Shut up," I muttered, though my curiosity was eatin' at me. Felix was strong—too strong for his own good. But up against a rank S senior? That was nuts. Even for him.

Rio's eyes gleamed, like he was lovin' every second of this. "Ya know, it's kinda cute how ya try to act all tough," he teased, leaning in closer. "Bet deep down, ya worried 'bout him, huh?"

Heat crept up my neck. I clicked my tongue, shoving past him. "Quit talkin' crap, Rio. I just don't wanna miss a good fight."

He laughed again, that low, lazy drawl of his. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps ya sleep at night, babe." His hand brushed my shoulder, light but deliberate. "Come on, don't fall behind. Wouldn't want ya gettin' lost."

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked, his tongue darting out again. Damn snake. He knew exactly how to get under my skin.

We finally made it to the third floor. I could hear the sounds of fists hittin' flesh, the unmistakable grunt of exertion. My pulse quickened. No matter how much I denied it, I was lookin' forward to this.

Rio pushed the door open, and the scene unfolded before us—Felix, movin' like a shadow, eyes sharp, fists flyin' with deadly precision. His opponent was bigger, older, but Felix didn't back down an inch.

I leaned against the wall, tryin' to play it cool, even as my heart raced. This was gonna be one hell of a fight. And I wasn't gonna miss a second of it.