A flawless blue sky without a single cloud. A gentle autumn breeze blowing comfortably.
The weather is neither too hot nor too cold—just right, perfectly suited to this day.
The Sports Festival.
Every student in the school, dressed in jerseys, completes the opening march and gathers for the ceremony.
Once the athlete's oath is finished, the students divide into the Red Team and White Team to prepare for the events.
The two teams face each other across the track, making any contact outside the competitions nearly impossible.
The school, ever thorough, broadcasts the start of the first event... the 100-meter dash.
The teachers conduct the festival with unsmiling faces. Medical staff stand ready on both the Red and White sides.
Rest areas and emergency cottages are prepared, ensuring every contingency is covered.
"First heat runners, please get ready."
The official signals, and the call goes out.
I'm in the first heat. I walk to my lane alongside another boy from Class C.
My hair is neatly tied back with the hair tie Kamuro-san gave me, and I've already finished a thorough warm-up.
This time, I've been ordered to win every single event I enter.
It's a task I could complete without much effort, but I won't allow myself to slack.
I've prepared to draw on every talent available. I'll face them all head-on and crush them fairly.
"…So you're Kamukura, huh."
As I settle into my starting position, a hostile glare locks onto me.
It's Ken Sudō from Class D.
We only learn who we're matched against from other classes on the day itself.
His presence here confirms that Class D's entry list is exactly what we expected.
"I've heard you're the guy with the best physical ability in Class C."
"That's correct."
"Then let's both go all out."
"You can't beat me."
Veins bulge on his forehead, but I ignore him, step into my lane, and drop into the crouching start.
Class C's target this sports festival is Class D. Ryuuen has been devising every possible strategy to destroy them.
The first event, the first heat, the first confrontation.
Anyone would want to win here and seize momentum for their class. It's the obvious play.
Which is exactly why we can turn it against them. This is the perfect chance to crush their spirit right from the start.
That's why I'm here.
I relax my body and wait for the signal.
A few seconds later, the starting gun cracks through the air.
I call upon the talents of countless elite sprinters.
I explode off the blocks, reaching top speed almost instantly.
"…Damn it!!"
A frustrated shout rises from behind around the 20-meter mark, but I ignore it and keep accelerating.
In a short sprint, there's no need to think about anything else.
Just move forward. That's all.
It's boring.
I cross the finish line completely alone.
There's no need for the goal camera to make a close call.
Ken Sudō finishes next, followed by a student from Class A, then one from Class C, and finally two from Class B.
Fourth place goes to the other Class C boy.
He was the slowest 100-meter runner in our class.
Yet this result—after roughly one month of training—is proof of real progress. Exactly the kind of outcome that will lift Class C's spirits.
"…Are you really a high school student?"
The official checking the camera asks me that.
I simply nod and walk away.
The rest of the events proceed without incident.
Nothing particularly noteworthy occurs.
If anything stands out, it's the absence of Rokusuke Kouenji.
But that's actually convenient. If he'd participated, others might have lost points. A fortunate miscalculation.
"Good work out there!"
When I return to the tent, Ishizaki approaches with a wide grin.
The first-year boys' 100-meter dashes are over; next come the girls.
I decide to watch to kill time.
The first heat is already running. Checking the results, Class C girls take second and fourth.
Things are going smoothly. No Class C boy finished below fifth in the earlier races.
Incidentally, Ryuuen ran in the fifth heat and took first; Ishizaki followed right behind in second.
"Man, this is the best~"
Ishizaki slumps into a seat with a lazy, satisfied expression.
As the second heat begins, he stares intently, refusing to miss a moment.
"Total eye candy. Look at that bounce."
He keeps spouting pointless commentary.
The third heat starts. There, full of determination, is Shiina.
"Kamakura-san, which girl are you rooting for?"
"I'm interested in Shiina's growth. She pushed herself to follow my instructions even when she was completely exhausted.
A little over a month isn't enough to completely fix poor natural athleticism, but I intend to see the results for myself."
I focus on Shiina instead of answering his question directly.
The gun fires, and they all take off.
Her crouching start looks decent now, though still imperfect.
Her leg extension and hip height aren't quite right, so her initial burst lacks power.
Even so, she swings her arms with everything she has, drives her legs forward, and maintains her posture as she runs.
"Oh! You've got this! Go, Shiina!"
Ishizaki is completely caught up in the race. It's an improvement over his earlier remarks, but he's still loud.
With thirty meters left, she's sitting in fifth.
But she's close to third and fourth. There's still a real chance.
"Go, Shiina!"
Ten meters to go. The gap shrinks further.
The top two have already finished, but the next three are neck-and-neck.
She throws her arms with desperate intensity.
Impressive.
My analytical ability foresees a bright outcome from her effort.
The three girls cross the line almost simultaneously.
Ishizaki falls silent, holding his breath for the official result.
Then Shiina—hands on her hips, panting—breaks into a radiant smile.
The placements are confirmed.
Fourth place for Shiina. It may not sound impressive, but it's undeniably a positive step.
More than anything, she conquered herself.
"Yes! She did it!"
Ishizaki's voice cracks slightly with emotion.
Shiina toddles back to the tent.
"I gave it everything I had."
"You did great."
Still breathing hard, she flashes a small victory pose.
"It's all thanks to Kamukura-kun's coaching."
"I only provided the starting point. You're the one who seized the result with your own strength."
There are still plenty of areas to improve, but reaching this level is entirely the fruit of her effort.
Her athletic evaluation will undoubtedly rise.
She wipes sweat with the towel she brought. Through the gaps, her face glows with pure joy.
"Looks like Ibuki's up next."
Ishizaki, watching the fourth heat, informs me.
"There's no point watching an outcome that's already one hundred percent certain."
"Come on, just watch anyway."
Since I have nothing better to do, I turn my attention to the race once more.
The gun sounds. Ibuki immediately pulls a full body length ahead of the pack. She maintains perfect form all the way and wins by a wide margin.
With her innate athletic talent plus my guidance, defeat was never an option.
She returns to the tent quickly after finishing.
"Not bad, huh, Ibuki?"
"Obviously."
She puffs out her chest at Ishizaki's praise, looking smug.
Then she notices my gaze, lifts her chin, and gives a short, triumphant snort.
"You're still too slow."
"Say something nice for once."
"Your victory was guaranteed. It's boring."
"…Hmph. So you were confident I'd win."
That faintly pleased expression doesn't suit her usual demeanor at all.
Because she's so straightforward, if she showed this face more often instead of her typical scowl, she'd probably make friends easily—beyond just me.
"Horikita-san is pretty fast, isn't she?"
At Shiina's comment, I shift my attention to the track.
The final girls' heat has begun.
To target Horikita as planned, Yajima-san and Kinoshita-san from Class C are participating.
The two track club members take first and second. Yajima edges out the win in the sprint and claims first place.
Still, despite the gap, Horikita secures third.
Her speed rivals Ibuki's. She has solid athletic ability too.
"The girls are finished, so next are the second-years. Wanna watch?"
"No need."
There's nothing in particular I need to do, and observing the enemy at this stage is pointless.
I glance briefly at Horikita breathing heavily on her shoulders, then leave the tent.
...
The upperclassmen's 100-meter dashes conclude, and the festival moves to the next event.
The second event is the hurdles... ten hurdles set at 10-meter intervals over 110 meters.
This event carries two penalties.
Touching a hurdle adds 0.3 seconds; knocking one over adds 0.5 seconds. These additional times can accumulate up to a maximum of five seconds, forcing runners to prioritize clean jumps.
None of that matters to me.
I taught the Class C students the correct way to clear hurdles.
Some still clip them, but our technique is far superior to the other classes.
"To think I'd end up in the same heat as you."
Katsuragi, already waiting at the starting line, speaks to me as I take my position.
He's now the leader of Class A. Still, he's no match for me.
"It seems you won't be resorting to any dirty tricks this time."
"There's no need for me to hold back."
"…So dirty tricks are the same as holding back to you?"
"Yes. Ryuuen uses every underhanded method available as part of his strategy, then selects the optimal path to victory."
His style of fighting without restraint means using everything at his disposal to win.
Sometimes his pursuit of enjoyment earns him painful retaliation, but that, too, is quintessentially him.
I'm different.
When I fight without restraint, it's a direct, straightforward contest—no tricks.
There's no need for cowardice. It's a waste of time. I simply shatter every obstacle in my path with talent alone.
"If it's a pure test of ability, I'll meet you with everything I have."
"Feel free. You still can't beat me."
"You already think you've won."
"Let me ask the reverse... do you think you can beat me?"
Katsuragi's face darkens. He must have watched my 100-meter race.
The official calls us to assemble.
My hurdles race begins.
As before, I draw on the talents of countless elite athletes.
I clear every hurdle without penalty and take first place.
It's boring.
I'm being serious. But I'm not exerting myself fully.
I refuse to compromise, so I run earnestly—yet when there's no real competition, it's simply tedious.
I return quickly to the waiting area to observe the other runners.
A few finish fifth, but none are last. Most place fourth or higher.
Solid results.
Still, in overall points, the Red Team leads.
As expected, the White Team's upperclassmen—second- and third-years alike—can't overcome Class A.
"Next is the team event, pole toppling. Male students, please prepare early."
The announcement echoes.
Pole toppling—boys only.
Overt violence is prohibited, but a certain degree of physical contact is expected.
I use the Ultimate Shiatsu Practitioner's talent on myself, massaging away fatigue.
Once finished, I begin final preparations.
…
The hurdles are over, and the first-year boys now face their first team event of the sports festival.
This best-of-three pole toppling match is won by the first side to topple the opponent's pole twice.
We're still in the preparation phase, gathered in the waiting area.
If we're going to use this time effectively, it might as well be for a final strategy meeting.
"Kuku. Looks like this team event plays right into Class C's strengths."
Ryuuen approaches me.
This class has plenty of students experienced with fighting. A contact-heavy event like this definitely favors us.
"Hey, Kanzaki. Let Class C handle the attack in this one."
He calls out to Kanzaki, who has just arrived in the waiting area.
"Fine. That's the rational choice. I'll inform Class B."
Kanzaki quickly scans the Class C group and nods in agreement.
Class B's strength lies in teamwork. Their individual abilities aren't weak, and every student is united and motivated. Their coordination is highly refined.
Yet in raw power and command, Class C dominates.
Ryuuen's army moves on his word alone—an attacking force stronger than any other class.
"However, if we fail to topple the pole in the first round, we'll switch to defense."
"Kuku. Fine by me. Relax—I'm not losing."
Ryuuen flashes a confident grin and gathers the class to issue instructions.
"This time we'll split into two units, Albert's and Kamukura's. Roughly an 8:2 ratio."
"First unit, led by Albert, charges straight through the front. Second unit, with Kamukura, targets gaps in their defense and topples the pole. If the enemy's weaker than expected, the first unit alone can finish it."
When he finishes, he adds the usual...
"You know what happens if you fail, right?"
That alone tightens the expressions of the previously excited students.
Everyone delivered results in the individual events earlier. But that's no excuse for complacency.
"You guys are absolutely winning this. Kouenji's idiot isn't here, so put everything into it!"
As the officials signal readiness, a fired-up shout rises from the A-D alliance side.
The voice echoes, rallying those around them, but Ryuuen only sneers and continues adjusting his forces.
Battles aren't won by spirit alone. That's what he believes.
"From what I can see, Class A is defending and Class D is attacking."
"Doesn't matter who we face. In this kind of thing, victory comes from striking the enemy's weak point where they least expect it."
"Do well. I won't cover for you if your fouls are exposed."
"Like I'd make a mistake that obvious. You, on the other hand—topple the pole both times. If you're going to produce results in every event, that should be easy, right?"
"Pointless question. Though it looks like we could win even without my involvement."
As we exchange this relaxed banter, the signal for the match to begin sounds.
Class B immediately falls back, forming a defensive ring around their pole.
"Do it."
A single word from the king.
With just that, Class C's students transform into fearless assault troops.
Led by Albert, powerhouses like Ishizaki and Komiya charge at the forefront.
"Anyone who wants to get crushed, come at me!"
Class D's Sudō Ken roars as he barrels forward.
He's an excellent spearhead, but Class B's defense isn't thin enough for one person to break through alone.
Kanzaki and another student—Shibata Sō—shout commands, using numbers to halt Sudō's advance.
"Keep going, you idiots! I'll carve the path!"
At his words, more Class D students pour forward.
They stream past us.
And among them is him—participating with his usual air of lazy indifference.
In pole toppling, direct clashes between attacking teams are forbidden.
Attackers may only engage the defenders—those are the rules.
Of course, it's impossible to tell at a glance who is attacking and who is defending.
To resolve this, there's a dedicated white line.
Defenders may only protect within that line, so there's no mistaking which side is which.
"Albert's really soaking up all the hate, huh."
The vanguard is literally blowing the defensive line apart from the front.
Class A is fully tied up just holding the direct assault.
A perfect opening. The flanks are wide open—this is the ideal moment for the second unit to strike.
"Go."
Ryuuen gives me the signal.
I drive power into my legs and charge.
I hit top speed instantly and accelerate even further.
Humans self-impose limiters with their own brains.
Even when they claim to give everything, it isn't truly 100%. The brain automatically caps output.
The maximum one can intentionally produce is around 80%. Far from full power.
But I can unleash 100% through will alone.
Because that is how I was made.
"Watch the sides! Kamukura's coming!"
While desperately containing Albert, Katsuragi still manages to bark orders.
Class A is already at its limit just stopping the rest of Class C.
No one is assigned to me. I don't slow down; I attack from the left.
"Borrowing your shoulders."
I place a hand on each shoulder of two Class A students whose names I don't know.
Then I push off their shoulders and the ground, launching myself upward.
Ultimate Gymnast. With this talent, it's child's play.
"No way!?"
I soar high, as if clearing a fifteen-level vaulting horse, and seize the tip of the pole with both hands mid-flight.
Using leverage, I throw my full body weight onto it. The pole, suddenly burdened at the top, begins to tilt under my mass.
The referee, seeing it start to fall, immediately blows the whistle for safety.
The first match is decided. Victory to the B-C alliance.
Still gripping the pole, I land.
"…You a monkey or what?"
"I'm human. Can't you tell by looking?"
"That's why I'm asking—because I couldn't tell by looking."
Back in the waiting area, Ryuuen says that to me.
Of course I understand the metaphor.
Viewed objectively, the scene did resemble a monkey swinging from a branch, so the comparison is fair.
"…Hey, Kanzaki. No objections if we attack again next round?"
"…None. Go ahead."
Ryuuen exhales heavily before confirming. Kanzaki shoots me a wary glance.
"Ryuuen, can I move to the first unit next time?"
"Hah? Got a problem with the plan?"
"No. I'm simply bored."
"Kuku. Fine. I'll handle the second unit myself."
In the first match, Ryuuen never attacked. After issuing orders, he merely observed the field.
There had been no need for him to join the charge.
But that's dull. For him, this competitive game is entertaining—he'll find it worthwhile.
"Second match, same formation. Except Kamukura's in the first unit now.
That's why I won't forgive a failure on the opening push. Don't slack off."
He drives the point home.
Morale in Class C is sky-high after the first win. Add the tyrant's command, and motivation reaches its peak.
After a short break, the referee readies the starting gun.
I'm already prepared to use every talent at my disposal. My body is in perfect condition.
I won't use 100%—that would be excessive—but I will be serious.
"If you refuse to step into the light, I'll drag you out myself."
The A-D alliance has switched; Class D now defends.
My gaze fixes on one person among them—an expressionless boy bracing the pole to keep it upright.
Someone I've spoken to a few times.
Right now, only he can dispel my boredom.
From the moment I spotted him earlier, I had a premonition.
That's why I asked Ryuuen to place me in the first unit.
"Crush them."
The second match begins, and Ryuuen gives the order.
Simple, yet sufficient.
Class C roars and charges forward.
A moment later, I run.
…
Pole toppling is a boys-only event.
Until the next event begins, the girls remain spectators.
Watching boys clash at full intensity is thrilling in its own right.
Some cheer with everything they have, some fall in love, some indulge in less wholesome fantasies.
What each person focuses on differs, but everyone is enjoying the sports festival.
"Masumi-san, the second match is starting."
"Yeah. But from what we just saw, no one looks capable of beating Kamukura."
Two girls sit in Class A's waiting area.
Sakayanagi Arisu and Kamuro Masumi are watching like everyone else.
Sakayanagi cannot participate due to her illness.
Yet even she is smiling.
"Of course. My predictions are always correct."
Sakayanagi smiles faintly, looking pleased with herself.
Kamuro quietly sighs at her master's childish boasting.
She's exasperated by the starry-eyed gleam in her classmate's eyes—like an idol-obsessed fan.
"It's begun."
Sakayanagi grips the cane on her lap with both hands to keep it steady and immerses herself in the second match.
Her sapphire-blue eyes are fixed on one boy.
The long ponytail is distinctive.
His somewhat dark crimson eyes evoke blood and inspire fear in most viewers, yet Sakayanagi gazes at them with sparkling fascination.
He is Kamukura Izuru—a genuine genius and monster created as the hope of the world.
"…Oh?"
Kamukura does not move even after the signal.
While the rest of Class C surges forward, he remains still.
His stance looks as though he is locking onto something—capturing a target.
Or concentrating to draw prey out with certainty.
Several possibilities flash through her mind.
Then Kamukura moves.
His initial burst is so explosive it could be mistaken for teleportation, kicking up a trail of dust.
Sakayanagi's superhuman kinetic vision tracks every perfect motion, and she smiles in satisfaction.
"So fast."
Kamuro mutters in stunned disbelief.
No wonder. Kamukura, motionless for several seconds, is suddenly leading the charge in the space of a single blink.
He accelerates explosively and plunges alone into the enemy formation.
In an instant he crosses the defenders' line.
The Class D students guarding the perimeter move to intercept him, but—
"…Whoa, is that even okay?"
Kamuro winces.
The boys who tried to stop him are sent flying like panels in a comic.
"He's fine. He appears to be holding back."
"That's holding back? He's not human."
Sakayanagi states it calmly, her analytical ability unfazed.
"…That—"
Yet even Sakayanagi, possessor of rare talents, witnesses something incomprehensible.
It is the movement of one boy.
An utterly ordinary-looking high school boy. He releases the pole and begins running, mirroring Kamukura's approach.
But what shocks Sakayanagi is not the act of intercepting.
It is the profile of his face—an impact on the level of the Big Bang.
"…It can't be!?"
Sakayanagi stares fixedly, urgency creeping into her voice.
Far from ordinary, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is in motion.
After saying something to Hirata Yōsuke beside him, he lets go of the pole and retreats toward the waiting area.
While every eye is drawn to the conspicuous Kamukura, Ayanokouji secures ample run-up distance.
Then he kicks up dust of his own and charges.
The gap closes rapidly.
Both leap.
They collide.
Right forearms slam together, killing each other's momentum and impact.
Perfectly matched force. They land at the same instant, neither yielding a single millimeter.
Every gaze in the venue converges on them.
The continuing stalemate between the two fills the arena with fervor befitting a festival.
"It's been a while, Ayanokouji-kun."
The cane slips from her lap and rolls across the ground.
Sakayanagi covers her mouth with both hands and speaks in a voice thick with emotion.
***
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