The school grounds were a hive of movement: whistles, rolled mats, pounding feet, laughter pushed into the air like sparks from a campfire. Everyone spoke louder than usual, energized by the upcoming Sports Festival.
But beneath the excitement was something quieter, sharper—
Expectation.
The kind that sticks to certain people more than others.
And today, it stuck to Eadlyn.
1. The Relay Team Begins to Form — Without His Consent
He arrived at the track field early, only intending to warm up.
But several students were already waiting for him.
"Greyson!"
"Morning!"
"You're joining relay, right? Coach said you're basically confirmed—"
Eadlyn held up a hand gently.
"I haven't decided yet."
That didn't stop anyone.
The relay captain thrust a clipboard toward him.
"Just write your name here. You'll be the anchor or second runner — we'll arrange order later."
Eadlyn stared at the clipboard.
Anchor.
The role with the most pressure.
The role that decides victory.
The role the entire relay would hang on.
His grip tightened on the pen— then loosened.
"I said I haven't decided."
A murmur rippled through the track club.
"He's turning it down?"
"But he's incredible—"
"Maybe he wants to focus on basketball—"
"Or maybe he's scared—"
That line caught him off guard.
He turned slowly toward the boy who said it.
A second-year sprinter, arms crossed, gaze too sharp.
"Some people crack under pressure," the boy said. "Not blaming you. It's normal."
It wasn't an insult.
It wasn't mockery.
It was a psychological probe.
One meant to see what Eadlyn would do.
Instead of reacting, he simply said:
"Pressure only cracks you if you pretend you don't feel it."
The boy blinked, thrown off.
Eadlyn walked past him, toward the field.
He hadn't said yes.
He hadn't said no.
But everyone understood something important:
He wouldn't be baited.
Pressure was something he understood too intimately to be pushed by it.
2. Sayaka Watches From the Shade — And Knows Something Others Don't
Sayaka stood under a gazebo, holding a stack of festival paperwork against her chest. She was supposed to be checking equipment lists.
But her eyes kept drifting toward the field.
More specifically — toward him.
She watched with a frightening level of clarity:
the way students crowded him
the way they projected expectations onto him
the way the relay captain assumed his agreement
the way someone tested his composure
And the way he handled all of it without raising his voice, without resisting, without losing himself.
Most people saw strength in that.
Sayaka saw danger.
The kind that slowly coils around someone who keeps trying to be everything for everyone else.
She muttered under her breath:
"He doesn't weigh his feelings. He weighs his responsibilities."
Her fingers curled slightly.
Not jealousy. Not worry in a romantic sense.
Recognition.
Sharp and painful.
Because she knew what it felt like to be expected to perform even when you wanted to disappear for a moment and breathe.
Hiroto approached her, towel around his neck from swim practice.
"You're staring," he said gently.
Sayaka didn't look away.
"I'm observing."
Hiroto followed her gaze to the field.
A soft exhale escaped him.
"He's attracting too much attention."
"It's not the attention," Sayaka said.
"It's what they're asking for in silence."
Hiroto understood instantly.
Because he had once been that boy— The one burdened by hopes he didn't know how to refuse.
He watched Eadlyn jog lightly across the field.
"Do you think he'll join the relay?" Hiroto asked.
Sayaka's answer was quiet, but certain.
"He'll choose based on what helps others… not what helps him."
And that terrified her in a way she wasn't ready to name.
3. Manami & Rin Enter — Both Watching Different Storms
Manami arrived carrying a bag of relay batons.
Rin arrived with a stop-watch and the energy of a caffeinated squirrel.
"Where's Eadlyn?" Rin asked.
Sayaka tilted her chin toward the field.
Rin squinted. "…Ah. He looks like he's thinking five thoughts at once."
"Ten," Hiroto corrected.
Manami placed the batons down.
Her eyes weren't on Eadlyn.
They were on the sprinter who provoked him earlier.
"That boy's dangerous," she said flatly.
Sayaka blinked. "Dangerous?"
"People like him don't insult," Manami said.
"They analyze. They poke. They measure weaknesses."
Rin shivered.
"How do you even see that?"
Manami shrugged.
"I've been on the receiving end before."
Sayaka held her gaze for a second.
That explained the cold precision in Manami's observation.
And it confirmed something Sayaka feared:
Eadlyn wasn't being challenged for sports.
He was being challenged psychologically.
4. Eadlyn's Internal Shift — The First Sign of His Emotional Tilt
Eadlyn began his warm-up run.
His footsteps were soft, his breathing steady.
But inside?
A quiet turbulence began to churn.
Everyone wants something from me.
Sayaka needs stabilizing.
Ken needs support.
The team needs leadership.
The school expects performance.
Hiroto needs space.
Nino… needs something I can't name yet.
And now—
The relay team wanted him too.
He wasn't overwhelmed.
He wasn't anxious.
He was… splitting.
Into roles.
Into expectations.
Into versions of himself he wasn't sure he could maintain without cracking.
He forced himself to breathe.
Not deeply.
Not calming.
Just enough.
"I can do this," he muttered.
Footsteps approached.
Ichigo.
The boy matched his pace effortlessly, eyes half-lidded.
"You're overclocking," Ichigo said.
Eadlyn blinked.
"…What?"
"When a system gets too many demands, it splits processes. You're splitting."
"I'm fine."
Ichigo didn't argue.
He just said:
"Your strides shortened by 2 centimeters when they asked you to be the anchor."
Eadlyn stopped running.
Ichigo stopped too.
"You're scared," Ichigo said simply.
Silence.
Eadlyn didn't deny it.
Because he suddenly realized—
It wasn't the running that scared him.
It was the responsibility attached to it.
Ichigo nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Fear is data. Use it. Don't drown in it."
Then he walked away, as if nothing profound had been said.
5. Back in the Gazebo — A Moment Sayaka Won't Forget
Eadlyn walked toward Sayaka, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Sayaka watched every step.
"How was warm-up?" she asked.
"Good," he said.
It wasn't a lie.
It wasn't the truth.
Sayaka saw both sides immediately.
She took a step closer — not enough to invade his space, but enough to ground him.
"You don't have to decide today," she said quietly.
His eyes widened slightly.
"How do you—"
"You hide pressure well," she said.
"But you forget your eyes are honest."
Eadlyn's throat tightened.
She continued:
"When you feel the world pulling you in many directions… choose the one that doesn't break you."
For the first time that day—
Eadlyn felt seen.
Not admired.
Not praised.
Not pressured.
Seen.
He looked away, exhaling softly.
"I'll decide after practice."
Sayaka nodded.
She didn't push.
She didn't demand.
She simply stayed.
And somehow, that was enough to steady him.
6. Diary — Eadlyn
Everyone sees strength differently.
Ken thinks it's winning.
Ichigo thinks it's control.
Manami thinks it's clarity.
Rin thinks it's courage.
Hiroto thinks it's endurance.
Sayaka…
Sayaka thinks strength is choosing what doesn't break you.
Maybe she's right.
I hope she's right.
Because today,
I realized something:
If I'm not careful,
expectations might carve me into someone I never decided to be.
Tomorrow,
I will choose.
Not for them.
Not for the school.
For me.