*Knock*
*Knock*
Mary stood stiffly at the doorstep of Urara's house. It was the weekend. Against her own will, she had canceled her training to fulfill the teacher's request.
She sighed, regret already gnawing at her chest.
Of all places, why did it have to be this house? The same household that only recently had a heated dispute with her.
The memory still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
But her grades meant too much. Her father's eyes were always watching, always judging. No matter what, she couldn't afford failure. She had to endure.
Just as she turned slightly, debating whether to leave before anyone noticed, the door cracked open.
"Yes, coming!"
It was Urara's mother.
After a moment of wandering her eyes around like last time, she saw Mary's small stature only then.
Then, their eyes met.
A startled silence filled the air, thick and heavy.
Neither knew what to say, what to do. Her mother's lips parted slightly, Mary's hands fidgeted nervously—yet neither could muster a single word to bridge the awkwardness.
The silence broke only when a holler came from deeper inside.
"Who's at the door, honey?" It was Urara's father.
"Oh… it's just the mailman!" the mother quickly replied, eyes still darting between Mary and the floor.
"Is that so?!" the father shouted back, excitement in his tone. "Can you ask him when my latest purchase—X Mecha—arrives?"
Mary blinked. X Mecha?
"Honey, as I said, it's a mailman," the mother corrected.
"What's the difference?" came the clueless reply.
The mother sighed, then turned back to Mary with an apologetic whisper. "Sorry about that…" She raised her voice again, answering her husband properly. "They don't deliver parcels!"
"Well… that's too bad," the father mumbled from within. "I was excited about it!"
While the two were exchanging, Mary shifted uneasily, her fingers gripping her school bag tighter. She wondered if this was really worth it.
Just as her mother tried to steady her gaze back on Mary, her husband hollered again.
"Oh, by the way! Urara says hi to the mailman!"
The mother pinched her nose with one hand, her patience thinning. "Alright, honey! Finish your breakfast!"
Quickly, she stepped out just enough to be away from the threshold, gently shutting the door behind them.
The silence returned. Only this time, it was even more serious than before.
"Why are you here?" Urara's mother finally spoke, her distrust clearly expanded.
Her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes narrowed at the girl. "Are you here to mock my daughter again?"
Mary's gaze met hers without flinching. Her words came out measured, cold.
"I'm not here by my own choice, but by request from my—" she paused, correcting herself, "our homeroom teacher."
"And…?" her mother pressed, one brow raised.
Mary exhaled a tired sigh. "I'm here to help with her homework. Worse, the teacher wants me to tutor Urara, since we live near each other. And… my grades are significantly better than hers. So she thought it might—"
Her words were cut off by Urara's mother. "So you're saying my daughter's grades are way inferior to yours?"
Mary stiffened. "That's not how I put it," she replied coolly, "but yes. It is factual."
Urara's mother locked her eyes on Mary's cold, calculating stare. Thoughts stirred behind her mind.
How dare she come here and talk down to my daughter like this? After assaulting her, no less! Does she have no shame? No dignity?!
Yet, even as her blood steamed, reason prompted her.
Urara's grades really aren't good… that much is true. And if what Mary says about her own grades is correct, she could… help. But, out of everyone, should it really have to be her?
Shouldn't there be a more reasonable and more accommodating person than Mary?
But still—!
Realizing she had been staring too long, she inhaled deeply and broke the silence.
"Well… if what you say is true, then fine." She softened just slightly. "I know my daughter's grades aren't great."
Mary's lips parted, as if she might reply, but Urara's mother continued before she could.
"But!" She declared. "If you really manage to tutor my daughter well… I'll consider squashing the bad blood between us. If you don't—then stay away from her. After all, you're not welcome here, Mary. Not after what you did."
Mary didn't answer immediately. Her eyes wavered, the hesitation flickering through her usual composure. Then, with a quiet nod, she accepted the terms.
Urara's mother gave her one last look before turning briskly back toward the house. She swung the door open and called inside.
"Urara! Mary's here to see you!"
In mere seconds, a little pink creature zipped into view, as if she had teleported. Urara's ears perked high, and her tail wagged so furiously it looked ready to launch her skyward like a helicopter rotor.
"Mary-chan?!" Urara beamed as she bounded forward. "Are you here to train with me?"
Mary pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. "I'm here to tutor you, remember?" she muttered in her usual flat tone.
"Ok! Please wait, I'm going to get changed!" Urara chirped, then bolted back inside.
Both her mother and Mary froze in place, staring after her. Mary blinked slowly, bewildered. Wasn't she supposed to be invited inside to actually study?
Moments later, Urara reappeared, bursting out of the doorway in her bright school tracksuit. She struck a heroic pose.
"I'm ready!" she declared proudly.
Mary's jaw slackened. "Wait—I said tutoring, not—"
But before the protest left her lips,
*Whoosh!*
She was swept along, and the next thing she knew, they were standing on the wide-open field. The same place she had first met this relentless pink pest.
Mary turned, her patience fraying. Urara was already bent forward, stretching like a professional—though her movements were clumsy, punctuated by little squeaks of "Ah!" and "Ooooh!" every time a muscle pulled too far.
"Oi…" Mary growled, glaring at the girl who seemed to embody chaos itself. "I said I'm here to help you study, not train."
But her words slipped through completely. Urara continued stretching, utterly lost in her own world, humming as she wiggled from side to side.
Mary groaned and rubbed her temples. Convincing her was impossible—or at least it felt that way. But giving up meant failure, and failure meant grades slipping, which meant… her father.
No. She couldn't allow that.
I need a plan… something to trick her into listening. A way to make her believe she's training when she's actually studying.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose as the idea struck. She strode over and pulled out Urara's neglected homework sheet.
"Urara," she called, catching the girl mid-stretch.
"Mm? What is it, Mary-chan?" Urara asked, tilting her head, still grinning widely.
"How about this…" Mary held up the paper like a challenge. "Let's play a game."
The instant the word "game" left her lips, Urara lit up like a festival lantern.
"Sure! Sure, let's play! What game?!" She bounced on her toes, her tail spinning in loops of excitement.
Mary's lips curled into the faintest smirk. What an easy target.
"Simple," she explained smoothly. "If you answer a question correctly, you can rest. But if you get it wrong… You run one lap around the field."
Urara's eyes sparkled with thrill, not dread. "Oooh, that sounds fun! Urara's ready! Ask away!"
Mary nodded, already feeling smug. At last—she had devised the perfect trap.
"Okay… so, who is the current—" Mary began, poised to deliver the opening question.
But before she could even finish, a pink blur shot across the field.
"P–Prime minister…" Mary's words trailed into nothing as Urara had already bolted away, kicking up dirt.
Moments later, Urara returned, panting but glowing with glee. "I've done a lap!" she announced proudly, hands on her knees, her tail swishing.
Mary's brow twitched. "Wait! Why did you start running before I even finished the question?"
"Well!" Urara beamed, puffing her chest. "Urara isn't really fond of anything that comes from that book, sooo Urara thinks it's better if she just takes the punishment instead!" She flashed a thumbs-up like she'd cracked some kind of genius loophole.
Mary's face dropped into her palm. What have I done…
Still, she tried again. Maybe something simple would work. "Fine. Then, what is the multiplication of three and thr—"
But again, Urara was already crouched like a sprinter on the blocks. With a whoop, she dashed off before Mary even uttered the second "three."
Mary's voice strangled into a groan. "You've got to be kidding me."
Urara rounded the field, stumbled a little, then returned, waving with her usual boundless energy despite being short of breath.
At this point, Mary realized the ugly truth. Urara wasn't playing the game to study—she just wanted the excuse to run.
She doesn't care about the answers… she just wants the laps.
With her patience shredded to pieces, Mary decided to test the extent of Urara's stubbornness.
She rattled off more questions: dates of history, lines of literature, even math problems. But with each one, Urara took off mid-sentence, gleefully sprinting another lap.
Again and again.
Lap after lap.
Until at last—
Urara collapsed flat onto the grass, her tracksuit caked in dirt and her breathing ragged, chest heaving like a drum.
Her hair stuck out in messy tufts, her arms flopped at her sides, and yet…
She was smiling.
Mary, standing above her with the worksheet in hand, could only shake her head. This… this girl is hopeless.
But deep down, a small flicker of admiration stirred. Urara hadn't studied a single thing, but she had refused to give up on the running—even when exhaustion dragged her down.
"…Idiot," Mary muttered under her breath, kneeling slightly to check if Urara was conscious. "You'll never improve your grades like this."
Still, the pink fool simply giggled between pants, whispering, "That was fun…"
And for some reason, Mary couldn't quite bring herself to argue. And just...
Sighed...