Kiryuin's confident stare left no room to back down, and the third-years couldn't show weakness. Even knowing Kiryuin was absurdly strong in fitness and likely to win, they agreed—because high-schoolers with hot blood can't just concede. Maybe their inner drive would surge; they had to try. Losing without trying was unbearable.
The teacher assigned each team a physically strong member. Solo teams like Yukio and Kiryuin had to compete alone.
The two of them exchanged smiles and simply dropped into single-arm push-ups—one hand behind their waist, the other supporting them. Their form was textbook, not fast but steady.
Both knew that while two-arm push-ups could be done faster, single-arm reps required pacing—too fast and the supporting arm would be overloaded.
The other teams were stunned. One team member, offended by their nonchalance, switched to single-arm push-ups, tucking his other hand behind his back to show he could do it too. The third-years, though, stuck to two-arm push-ups—whatever it took to win.
They thought Yukio and Kiryuin were cocky. Single-arm push-ups looked simple but tested real fitness; they believed they could outlast them and teach them a lesson, even stop Yukio from taking first place. After all, Yukio was arrogant enough to follow Kiryuin into one-handed reps.
But Yukio and Kiryuin were unhurried, precise—every rep consistent—clearly holding back reserves.
The others started to falter. Even those who trained daily couldn't keep that up. They wanted to push through with a final effort, but physical limits don't bend to will. Sweat stung their eyes; they could smell the salt. Arms began to burn. They glanced at Yukio and Kiryuin hopelessly.
Those two hadn't broken a sweat; their synchronized, steady single-arm push-ups looked almost choreographed. It made people wonder how they were so in sync.
Slowly the others collapsed, gasping, barely able to push themselves up. At that point, Kiryuin smiled satisfied, did a few more reps, then laughed as she rose. Yukio stopped too and took the handkerchief she handed him.
The defeated third-years had nothing to say and left in a hurry.
When Yukio returned the handkerchief, he asked, "Is that okay? They'll probably go tell other third-years bad things about you."
"I don't care." Kiryuin truly didn't. She waved it off and tugged Yukio toward the SUV. "I usually keep to myself—class events and special exams, I hardly join. If it weren't for private points and telling you that crucial info, I'd still be sleeping comfortably at the port instead of getting up early to earn points."
"Give me the keys. I've driven an SUV before, but I haven't driven one on a deserted island yet~!"
Yukio handed over the keys and took the passenger seat; he knew Kiryuin loved thrills and wouldn't refuse.
"Yoo-hoo, let's go!" She fired the engine, shifted, and the SUV thundered down the island road. The sudden acceleration shoved Yukio back. "Senpai, didn't you say you'd be safe while chasing thrills? This isn't like you—going this fast right away."
"Hahaha!" Kiryuin gripped the wheel, exhilarated. "You drive safely in the city, of course. But this is a deserted island—no pedestrians, no guardrails. If we flip, no one will care. I've wanted to go faster for a while!"
Yukio's face twitched. "No, senpai, if you actually flip this car, I'll be very upset."
Kiryuin shot him a teasing look. "I know you'll need it later. I was just saying it. I'm not really taking you off-roading."
After a short while, the rough island road had them both jostled. Kiryuin decided she wanted a different thrill. She pulled over and, eyes glinting, stared at Yukio. "Okay, I've driven this. Now I want to try another car."
Yukio looked out and realized she'd driven them to a very secluded spot facing the sea—three sides bordered by slopes—a place few students ever came.
"Senpai—you don't mean—?"
"Looks like you get it~" Kiryuin nodded with satisfaction, then swung over the armrest. "Honestly, I've always wanted to try it in a car."
Yukio knew Kiryuin's rulebook, but this felt bolder than usual. "Senpai, isn't this a little... too stimulating?"
"Not at all." She didn't care. "If you're chasing thrills, you commit."
Yukio slid his face away for a second, then back, expression odd and meaningfully amused. "You're really horny, aren't you."