The afternoon sun beat down against the stadium grounds, glinting off colourful banners flapping in the breeze. The familiar buzz of high school Sports Day filled the air—cheers, whistles, and sneakers pounding against dirt tracks.
Aimi stood at the edge of the field, arms loosely crossed over her chest, watching the event unfold with a neutral expression. It felt strange to be back. She hadn't stepped foot on her old high school's grounds in years.
"Aimi-sensei, you really came!!" Kenji's voice broke through the noise.
"Of course, Sensei would!!" Minato chimed in, panting and flushed from warming up.
"Kenji-kun, Minato-kun," a small smile unfurled on her lips. "You two look well."
"Yes! We've been warming up for the match!"
"I can see that." She noted the sweat on their brows and handed them each a neatly folded handkerchief—embroidered with the word good luck and a small four-leaf clover. "Here. Just a little gift."
"Omg—thank you, Sensei!" they chorused, accepting them with awe. "You didn't have to—"
"Don't worry about it. Have fun. I'll be watching from here."
Minato glanced around nervously. "Oh, right—Sensei, are you sure this spot's comfortable? We can find you a seat closer to the stadium."
She shook her head gently. "This view's perfect. Don't worry about me." Her expression softened as she gave them each a light head pat. "Today's your big day. Focus on that."
Their faces lit up like the sun.
"Thank you, Aimi-sensei! We'll do our best!!"
"Keep your eyes on us, Sensei! We'll win this for you!!"
"Good luck." She waved as they dashed back onto the field.
It was Sports Day, and Kenji and Minato were lead players for the baseball match. They had hesitantly asked Aimi to come, never expecting her to actually show. But Aimi was never good at saying no to her students—especially when most of them saw her as more of an older sister than just a teacher.
The field buzzed louder as the match began, the announcer calling out names. The energy was infectious.
A tall boy with short pink hair stretched lazily near the pitcher's mound, his grin carefree. The moment his name was announced, whispers erupted around her.
"That's the Yuji Itadori?"
"Yeah! Heard he's freakishly strong. Like… national athlete level strong."
"My cousin said he threw a shot put and broke a football fence—"
"No way, he's just a regular student, right?"
Aimi's brow arched slightly, catching every word.
The whistle blew. The match started.
Yuji launched into action. His throws weren't just fast—they were missiles. Clean, powerful, graceful. Animalistic in their ease.
Her arms tightened across her chest, eyes fixed on the game.
The innings flew by. Her students occasionally waved at her from the field, faces beaming. She returned a small nod, the corners of her lips twitching up.
Final round.
Yuji stepped into position, winding up. But just as he was about to throw, his gaze flickered upward—catching sight of a duck-like bird flapping awkwardly across the sky.
His eyes squinted. Then the whistle blew.
His aim was off.
Badly off.
The ball veered at a bizarre angle.
Aimi's eyes were still on the batter, and before she realised—
THWACK.
Something slammed into her face.
The crowd gasped. The game screeched to a halt.
"AH CRAP—!" Yuji's face turned ghost-white.
Aimi staggered, blinking as a sharp sting bloomed across her nose. Warmth trickled to her lips.
That throw… could've killed someone else.
Yuji bolted toward her, cutting through the field like a bullet.
"I'M SO SORRY!" he shouted. "Are you okay?! I swear I wasn't aiming at you! Are you bleeding?!"
Aimi clamped a hand over her nose, warm blood slipping through her fingers.
"...I'm fine," she muttered, voice nasally. "Just a nosebleed. It'll stop."
Kenji and Minato arrived, faces horrified.
"Sensei! Are you okay?!" Minato's voice cracked.
"You guys know her?!" Yuji blinked.
"You absolute idiot," Kenji groaned, gently helping her clean up. "She's our martial arts teacher!"
"It's fine," Aimi said, chuckling dryly as she took the handkerchief. "Thanks, Kenji-kun."
"You're not fine, Sensei—!" Minato was nearly in tears.
Yuji bowed sharply, a perfect 180. "I'm seriously, seriously sorry, Aimi-sensei!"
She sighed, waving them off. "It's just a nosebleed. Don't panic. Go back to your team."
Yuji straightened, still twitching with guilt. "Please let me make it up to you! I'll buy you lunch! Carry your groceries! Anything—"
A few teachers and med staff jogged over, quickly checking on her. No concussion. No fractures. The match cautiously resumed.
Her students lingered nearby but returned to their bench at her signal, still casting worried glances.
Aimi dabbed the last of the blood off her face. The fabric of her jacket felt cool and familiar as she slipped her hands into her pockets.
Her gaze drifted toward Yuji, now back in the game. His energy was explosive—but there was a strange clumsy earnestness to his style.
"…Hmm," she murmured under her breath.
The sun dipped lower. The game ended.
Students chatted and laughed as they poured out of the stadium. Aimi stood near the benches, speaking quietly with Kenji and Minato.
"You're swinging too early," she said, demonstrating a subtle wrist motion. "Timing beats strength."
Kenji scratched his head. "I was worried for you, Sensei. Got distracted."
"Oh my god," she sighed. "You both know I get hit harder in sparring every week. This is nothing."
Minato laughed weakly. "Still…"
Before she could reply, a familiar blur jogged toward them.
"Aimi-sensei!" Yuji called out, still looking painfully guilty.
Kenji and Minato exchanged glances—and quietly slipped away.
Yuji stopped, slightly out of breath. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do? You still look like you're—wait, is that blood or just my imagination—"
Aimi tilted her head, watching him. He looked like a kicked puppy.
"You really want to help?"
"Yes!" he nodded, hair bouncing.
"...Mmm." She tapped her chin. "You can treat me to ice cream."
His face lit up. "YES! Ice cream is easy! Anything else?"
"More?" she raised an eyebrow. "Well, you could help clean the dojo for a few days."
Yuji blinked. Processing.
"You don't have to. Just the ice cream is fine."
"No no no! I'll do it!" He waved his hands. "Just surprised you'd let me visit the dojo!"
"Why wouldn't I?"
He beamed. "Hehe, it's nothing. Thank you for letting me help!"
They exchanged numbers. Yuji fumbled a bit but finally saved her contact under:Aimi-sensei (FIRST VICTIM).
She glanced over, caught the nickname—and laughed.