Chapter 045 Ayanokouji: Ryuen, you can spend money to buy me over! Ryuen: Dumbass
The first recommended event of the afternoon was the scavenger hunt race. In the center of the playground, a simple platform had been set up.
Several boxes sat on the platform, containing folded slips of paper. Each box was pasted with a class label—Class A, Class B, Class C, Class D.
Each class sent two students to participate, totaling eight people, regardless of gender, starting simultaneously from the starting line.
The ruleswere also very simple—run to the platform, draw a slip of paper from your own class's box, and then bring the item written on the slip of paper to the finish line. The first to arrive wins.
Speed was required; running fast allowed one to draw a slip of paper earlier.
However, luck was also very important; if you drew something easy to obtain, it could be settled in a few seconds; if you drew something difficult to get, running fast was useless.
Hachiman stood before the starting line, loosening his wrists. To his left was Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, to his right was Ryuen Kakeru, and further beyond were a boy from Class B, another boy from Class C, and two girls—one from Class C and one from Class B. All eight people converged here.
Yet Ayanokouji remained expressionless.
He was not looking at the starting line, nor was he looking at the referee; his gaze fell into the distance, wondering what he was thinking about. Ryuen was wearing a red tracksuit, with his red band continuously tied around his head, but his arms were crossed over his chest, and a trace of a mocking smile hung on the corners of his mouth.
He looked askance at Ayanokouji and snorted through his nose. "Ayanokouji, have you also become this pathetic? Having to score points in this kind of event?"
Ayanokouji glanced at him and did not speak.
Ryuen sneered and continued speaking. "Weren't you quite capable back in Class D? Leaking the participation chart, wanting to report me, and wanting to play the savior. What about now? Unable to find even a single partner, you can only run over here for a scavenger hunt race. Tsk, tsk."
Ayanokouji's gaze retracted from the distance and fell upon Ryuen. His expression did not undergo any change, but within those golden eyes, something was slightly flickering.
"Ryuen." Ayanokouji's voice was very flat, "This time you merely obtained Class D's participation chart; you cannot be certain of a victory yet."
Ryuen's brow furrowed slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"Literally."
Ayanokouji retracted his gaze and looked toward the running track ahead, "You think that obtaining the participation chart means you can win. But the sports festival does not only consist of the participation chart."
Ryuen stared at him for two seconds, and then smiled.
There was no warmth in that smile, only a type of annoyance and disdain after being seen through by someone.
"You fucking have the nerve to say that?"
Ryuen's voice lowered, but it still carried an obvious scent of gunpowder, "Wasn't the participation chart leaked to me by you? While giving me Class D's participation chart, you simultaneously wanted to go and report me. Wild ambition. Next time, there's no need to cooperate."
Ayanokouji did not catch the words.
He just stood there quietly, waiting for Ryuen to finish speaking.
The other competitors before the starting line all looked over—some were curious, some were nervous, and some just stood expressionlessly waiting for the race to begin.
Ayanokouji waited for Ryuen to finish before slowly opening his mouth.
"Ryuen, if you want to win, you need me."
Ryuen's expression stiffened for a moment. "What?"
"This sports festival will be a victory for Class A," Ayanokouji continued. "The class promotion you desire cannot be achieved solely relying on yourself. But I can join."
"? Join?"
Ryuen repeated this word, as if savoring a joke that wasn't funny, "Are you wanting my Class C to put out money and buy you over? You played until you were ruined in Class D, and now you want to come to my Class C? I'm sorry, but my Class C wouldn't dare to have you."
Ayanokouji looked at him without defending himself, without explaining, and without even frowning. He just stood there quietly, waiting for Ryuen to finish laughing.
"We shall wait and see," Ayanokouji said.
Ryuen's laughter stopped.
He looked at Ayanokouji, a trace of vigilance within those eyes.
Because Ayanokouji was too calm—calm to an abnormal degree.
Ryuen opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the referee's voice came from the side.
"On your marks—" The referee raised the starting pistol.
The eight people squatted down simultaneously.
Hachiman's peripheral vision swept over Ayanokouji. His posture was very standard, standard to the point of looking like it was printed in a textbook.
Within those golden eyes, there was no emotion whatever.
Bang! The starting pistol rang out.
The eight people charged out simultaneously.
Ayanokouji was the first. It wasn't just being a bit faster; it was being a lot faster.
His start was like an arrow, catapulting off from the starting line, his stride frequency astonishingly rapid.
The second place was thrown back by several meters by him, and the third place was even further back. His speed did not resemble a sprinter's; it looked more like a cheetah's. The kind of overwhelming speed that bursts forth in an instant, leaving all opponents behind.
"Holy shit!"
Ryuen's voice came from behind, carrying an obvious shock.
Running in fourth place, he looked at Ayanokouji's back, his eyes wide open.
Previously, Ayanokouji had only taken fourth place in the 100-meter dash, so he thought that guy's physical capability was just so-so.
Now he knew—it wasn't that his physical capability wasn't up to par, it was that the guy was hiding it. This instant explosive power was even more fierce than when facing Sudo.
Sudo counted for shit. This was the true monster.
Meanwhile, Hachiman ran in fifth place, neither fast nor slow.
His gaze fell upon Ayanokouji's back, without much fluctuation in his heart.
Ayanokouji's true strength was something he had known long ago. Finishing high school curriculum at four years old, finishing university content at six years old, and capable of knocking down ten adult instructors barehanded at nine years old.
Physical capability? For a White Room student, this was just a basic operation. Even Amasawa, who came over in the second year, could instantly slaughter a crowd of ordinary students.
Ayanokouji was the first to charge up to the platform.
He extended his left hand to draw from Class A's—no, he ran in the wrong direction. The place he stood was before his own class's box, which was white and pasted with the "Class D" label.
He was seen drawing a slip of paper from the box, unfolding it, and lowering his head to take a glance. His expression did not undergo any change, but Hachiman noticed that his expression seemed to fluctuate just a tiny bit.
Then he turned around and ran toward the outside of the playground.
Only, it wasn't toward the direction of Class D's tent; it was toward the direction of the school building.
Ryuen was the second to charge up to the platform.
He drew a slip of paper from Class C's box, unfolded it, took a glance, and let out a curse.
"A basketball? What the hell is this?"
He clutched the slip of paper in his hand, then turned around and ran toward the direction of the equipment room. An item like a basketball was not present on-site; he could only go to the equipment room to get it.
With the back-and-forth, time was delayed.
Hachiman was the fourth to charge up to the platform.
He walked unhurriedly to Class A's box, reached his hand inside to fish out a slip of paper, and unfolded it.
[Ten Friends]
Hachiman stared at those words for two seconds.
"Ten friends" was not "the names of ten friends," nor was it "the signatures of ten friends"; it was literally "ten friends."
The meaning was that he needed to bring ten living, breathing people to run to the finish line with him.
Hachiman folded the slip of paper properly, put it into his pocket, and turned around to run toward Class A's tent.
Inside Class A's tent, Ichinose was standing beside a folding chair, holding a notebook in her hand, verifying the afternoon's participation list.
Amikura Mako sat nearby drinking water, and Shibata Souta was loosening his ankle. Several people looked up as they saw Hachiman running over.
"Hikigaya-kun?"
Ichinose put down the notebook, "What's wrong?"
"Scavenger hunt race." Hachiman caught his breath, "I drew 'Ten Friends.' Have ten people come with me."
The tent fell silent for an instant. Then Mako Amikura was the first to stand up, placing the water bottle in her hand onto the chair.
"I'll go!"
Shibata also stood up.
"I'll go too." Kanzaki Ryuji also nodded.
One after another, ten people were quickly gathered.
It could be said that for Hachiman, this originally should have been a troublesome item, but now, it was actually completed without wasting the slightest bit of strength.
Just like that.
Eleven people ran out from Class A's tent, crossed the playground, and ran toward the finish line.
Hachiman ran at the very front, with ten people following behind him.
Their paces were uniform, resembling a small army under the afternoon sun.
The referee stood beside the finish line.
Watching this scene, he froze for a moment.
Having been a referee for the sports festival at Advanced Nurturing High School for several years, he had never seen anyone complete the scavenger hunt race like this.
For a slip of paper like "Ten Friends," the usual solution method was to find ten people one knew, convince them one by one, and drag them to the finish line one by one.
But Hachiman did not do that.
He directly ran back to his own tent, called ten people, and then ran over together.
It wasn't because he could convince them; it was because they were originally willing to go with him.
This kind of trust was not drawn from a lottery; it was piled up day by day and month by month.
Unity.
The speed of it was surprisingly fast.
Thus, Hachiman led the ten people across the finish line. Obtaining second place. Yes, only second place.
The first place was Kamuro Masumi.
She had arrived roughly half a minute earlier than Hachiman, holding an item in her hand—not an "item," but a cane.
Black, made of wood, with the handle area rubbed to a shine.
Hachiman recognized it at a glance; this was Sakayanagi Arisu's cane.
Hachiman stood beside the finish line, panting, looking at the cane in Kamuro's hand.
"Is that Sakayanagi's cane?" Hachiman asked.
Kamuro glanced at him and handed the long slip of paper over for him to look at.
"The slip of paper wrote a personal item belonging to a friend. It just so happened that Sakayanagi was in the tent, so I borrowed it from her."
Hachiman looked at that cane.
Kamuro had brought this cane from Class B's tent to the finish line, running nearly five hundred meters.
That is to say, during this period of time, Sakayanagi had no cane available for use.
Of course. Sakayanagi giving the cane to Kamuro, as well as Kamuro going to seek the cane from Sakayanagi, both carried a lot of meaning behind them.
Therefore.
"You two have a really good relationship," Hachiman said.
Kamuro's fingers lightly squeezed the cane. the base of her ears turned slightly red, but her expression remained that cold look.
"Just classmates."
Hachiman looked at her. "Sakayanagi has acknowledged you. And you have acknowledged her too."
Kamuro's hand paused for a moment. She did not speak, neither denying nor admitting it. She just stood there, holding that cane in her hand, lowering her head, looking at the tip of the cane.
Hachiman retracted his gaze and did not say anything more.
"By the way." Kamuro suddenly raised her head, "Where is Ayanokouji? Wasn't he the first to draw a lot? How come he hasn't arrived yet?"
Hachiman's brow moved slightly.
He glanced toward the direction of the finish line, then glanced toward the other side of the playground.
Ayanokouji was indeed the first to charge up to the platform, at least a dozen seconds faster than him. By logic, he should have arrived long ago. Unless—the item he drew was difficult to obtain.
"What did he draw?" Hachiman asked.
Kamuro shook her head. "Don't know. But it's definitely not something easy to get—ah, look, he's coming over, holding an item in his hand, looks like a mirror."
A mirror.
The kind of small mirror that girls carry around. If Ayanokouji went to borrow it from the girls of Class D, it shouldn't be difficult.
But the problem was—would the girls of Class D lend it to him?
In the distance, Ayanokouji was running toward the finish line.
His speed was very fast, nearly double Hachiman's speed just now, but the expression on his face wasn't very good.
He held a small mirror in his hand, with a silver frame and a flower printed on the back. He charged across the finish line, and then handed both the mirror and the slip of paper to the referee.
The referee lowered his head to glance at the slip of paper—"Mirror". Then he glanced at that mirror; a commercial street label was pasted on the back, with the price and date printed on it.
Bought today, freshly bought.
"Third place." The referee wrote down
"Third place" on the scoreboard.
Ayanokouji stood beside the finish line, expressionless.
In reality, his inner self was somewhat displeased.
Because. He ran the fastest and drew the lot the earliest, yet as a result, he only took third place.
It wasn't because his speed wasn't enough; it was because no one was willing to lend him a mirror. He ran such a long distance to the commercial street to buy one and then ran back.
With the back-and-forth, he wasted nearly two minutes.
Hachiman looked at him and did not speak.
Meanwhile, Ryuen ran over from behind, charging across the finish line—fourth place.
He was cradling a basketball in his hands, with dust from the equipment room still clinging to the basketball.
He handed the basketball and the slip of paper together to the referee; the referee nodded and wrote down "Fourth place" on the scoreboard.
Ryuen was panting heavily, glancing at Ayanokouji, and then glancing at Hachiman.
"That piece of shit is truly fast." Ryuen's voice was very low, low to the point where only Hachiman could hear it, "Previously when he ran the 100 meters and got fourth place, I fucking mocked him. Dammit!"
Hachiman glanced at him. "It's not that he can't run fast; he just didn't want to run."
"I know."
Ryuen threw the basketball to a nearby staff member, his hands resting on his knees, "I know now."
Ayanokouji straightened up from beside the finish line, patting the dust off his tracksuit. He did not look at Ryuen, did not look at Hachiman, and did not look an anyone.
He turned around and walked toward Class D's tent.
Kamuro stood beside Hachiman, looking at Ayanokouji's back, lowering her voice.
"He went to the commercial street. That mirror has a label pasted on it; it's freshly bought."
Hachiman nodded. "No one lent it to him."
Kamuro fell silent for a second. "His popularity is truly terrible."
Hachiman did not speak.
It wasn't just terrible; it was putrid.
Ever since Ryuen's exposure of information back on the cruise ship, his image in the hearts of Class D's girls had already collapsed.
After the VIP exam, his reputation became even worse.
Before the sports festival, no one was willing to speak to him.
During the sports festival, no one was willing to team up with him.
Now, he couldn't even borrow a single mirror.
A person who had stayed in Class D for nearly a semester couldn't even borrow a single mirror.
This wasn't just poor popularity; this was isolation.
However, this kind of thing was also what he deserved.
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