The sun filtered through the gymnasium skylights, warm light reflecting off the polished wooden floor. The familiar hum of students chatting mixed with the rhythmic squeaks of shoes and the metallic clicks of the grip strength dynamometer being reset again and again.
Today's P.E. period was not just another class — it was a preliminary strength assessment for the upcoming Sports Festival.
"Alright, line up by attendance number!" the instructor called out.
Class D shuffled into order, murmuring amongst themselves. The silver grip device gleamed ominously on the teacher's desk, as if silently judging everyone's physical worth.
Sudō Ken grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Finally, something I can destroy."
"Try not to actually break it this time," Horikita muttered as she stepped aside.
Kōenji lounged nearby, combing his hair with his fingers, uninterested. "Fufu, such primitive measurements bore me. My brilliance cannot be captured by mere digits."
"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're perfect," Ike groaned.
Soshi Miyamoto — calm, collected, watching from the middle of the line — waited his turn, Airi whispering beside him. "I'm a bit nervous… what if my grip strength is like, really low?"
I smiled lightly. "Then I'll carry your grocery bags for the next month."
"E-Eh! You don't have to—"
"Relax. It's just numbers," I said.
When Kiyotaka Ayanokōji's name was called, the class's idle chatter stilled a little.
He picked up the dynamometer casually, expression unreadable. Inwardly, he was calibrating — recalling that the average grip strength for a male first-year was around 36–38 kg. He'd aim slightly below average.
Too weak looks suspicious. Too strong draws attention.
He squeezed gently… but slightly misjudged.
Reading: 57.2 kg.
"Whoa! He's second only to Sudō!" Yamauchi yelled.
Even Sudō blinked. "Wait, seriously? Ayanokōji? Dude, I thought you were just a study type!"
Kiyotaka blinked in mild surprise, his tone flat. "Guess I overdid it."
The teacher nodded approvingly. "Impressive strength, Ayanokōji. You're right behind Sudō."
Kōenji yawned. "Had I cared to participate, I'd have scored far beyond that."
No one replied.
When Soshi stepped forward, he gripped the device once, testing the handle. He didn't bother to pretend to be weak — nor did he overexert. His strength wasn't exceptional, but balanced.
He squeezed until he felt the mild strain in his wrist, then released.
Reading: 54.0 kg.
"Still strong," Hirata commented from behind him. "That's above the average by a good margin."
I shrugged modestly. "Guess the morning push-ups paid off."
"Or maybe you've been fighting bears behind the dorms," Haruka teased.
Airi giggled. "He probably could."
The test continued until everyone was done, except for Kōenji, who waved off the teacher's repeated requests with a flamboyant, "I refuse to waste effort on mundane assessments."
"Fine," the teacher sighed. "Kōenji, marked as absent for data."
By the end of the session, the results were clear:
Sudō Ken – 68.5 kg
Ayanokōji Kiyotaka – 57.2 kg
Soshi Miyamoto – 54.0 kg
Hirata Yōsuke – 49.3 kg…and the rest followed.
Horikita jotted notes in her clipboard, murmuring quietly. "So these will be our core participants for the high-power events."
"Pole Toppling," Sudō said confidently, slamming a fist into his palm. "That's where I'll shine."
I raised an eyebrow. "Funny. That's where we shine."
Sudō grinned. "Guess we'll see who shines brighter."
After the class ended, Horikita gathered everyone."As a safety measure, the finalized participant list must not be photographed. Keep it memorized or written by hand if you must. If this information leaks, our entire strategy could collapse."
Everyone nodded seriously. The memory of the cruise ship exam still lingered — a reminder that even the smallest leak could lead to chaos.
Airi raised her hand timidly. "But… do you really think someone would leak it?"
Horikita hesitated, then said, "We can't be sure. But in this school, that's always a possibility."
Kiyotaka, leaning against the back wall, watched her silently. He could already sense the tension simmering under the surface.
The following days blurred into a routine of sweat and exhaustion.
Every afternoon, the track field filled with the echoes of shouts, the thuds of shoes, and the sharp blast of the coach's whistle.
"Faster! Keep your rhythm!" Sudō barked, pacing like a drill instructor.
Despite his usual brashness, he was surprisingly effective as a coach. He corrected stances, demonstrated proper posture, and kept morale high.
"Use your body weight in the tug of war, not just your arms!""Horikita, your stride's too long on the hurdles — shorten it by a step!""Miyamoto, when you're toppling the pole, pivot your center foot inward more!"
I nodded, adjusting my stance. "Got it."
"You're improving fast," Sudō admitted. "Guess you're not just a brain type."
"Neither are you, apparently," I replied dryly.
Sudō laughed. "Hah! Damn right."
From the far side of the field, two figures from Class B were quietly taking notes. Binoculars flashed in the sunlight.
"Seems Class D's focusing heavily on coordination," one whispered.
"Yeah, but look at their leader. That red-haired guy — Sudō. Total powerhouse."
Elsewhere, members of Class A were doing the same, analyzing posture, timing, and potential weaknesses.
But Class C remained eerily silent. Their classroom curtains were drawn; not a single student was seen outside.
I noticed this one afternoon and frowned. "Ryuuen's class isn't even watching. Strange, huh?"
Horikita crossed her arms. "It's not strange. It's calculated."
Kiyotaka, standing beside her, nodded. "He doesn't need reconnaissance. He's already planning something else."
As the sun sank below the horizon, painting the track in orange, Sudō approached Horikita again, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Hey, Horikita," he said, voice earnest for once. "If I get the best results in Class D during the festival… can I call you by your first name?"
The class around them went silent, half in shock, half in amusement.
Horikita blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, as a reward!" Sudō said quickly, blushing slightly. "Like, motivation! If I'm the top performer, I earn the right to call you Suzune!"
The silence deepened. Then Horikita sighed, crossing her arms."…Fine. But only if you're not just the best in Class D, but in the entire year."
Sudō's eyes widened. "Seriously?! Alright! You're on!"
He stormed off to resume training, more fired up than ever.
I chuckled quietly. "Guess that's one way to increase motivation."
Horikita shot him a sharp look. "Don't encourage him."
Later that week, Horikita practiced the Three-Legged Race with several partners — but no matter who she tried with, her movements clashed.
"Left—no, right—wait, stop—!" Her partner stumbled, nearly falling.
Soshi watched from the sidelines with Airi, shaking his head. "She's too rigid. She treats teamwork like a math equation."
Airi giggled nervously. "I don't think she's used to depending on people."
"Yeah," I said. "That's her weakness — and her potential."
Nearby, Kiyotaka paired with Hirata for practice. The two moved in near-perfect rhythm, their strides synchronized like clockwork.
When they finished, Horikita frowned, visibly frustrated.
"You're too focused on controlling," Kiyotaka advised calmly. "Instead, focus on feeling your partner's pace. Let your steps match naturally."
She scowled slightly but nodded, determined. "I'll adjust."
By mid-September, Class D's routine had become ironclad.
Morning: academics.
Afternoon: full-scale training.
Evening: strategy discussions.
The school grounds echoed with the pulse of youthful competition. Even students who once slacked off — like Ike and Yamauchi — began putting in genuine effort, spurred by Sudō's coaching and the contagious drive spreading through the class.
"Let's go! Again!" Sudō shouted, clapping his hands as his classmates ran drills. "You're getting better! Don't stop now!"
He wasn't wrong. Times were improving. Coordination was smoother. Even the weaker athletes were starting to hold their own.
Hirata often met with Katsuragi from Class A to coordinate Red Team strategies.
Under the bleachers one afternoon, they shared notes."If we focus our top runners in the relay, we can offset Class B's coordination advantage," Hirata suggested.
Katsuragi nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. And Class C?"
"They haven't revealed a thing. It's unnerving."
"Then assume they'll disrupt the event," Katsuragi said firmly. "Prepare for sabotage."
Hirata smiled faintly. "You think like a soldier."
"I think like someone who wants to survive this school," Katsuragi corrected.
The following week, Horikita still struggled with the Three-Legged Race. Frustration was etched into her every step.
Kiyotaka eventually approached her during break time, rope in hand."Let's try something," he said simply.
She frowned. "You?"
"Why not? I'm average enough not to throw you off."
They tied their legs and began running slowly, step by step. Kiyotaka's calm breathing matched her sharp focus.
After several laps, he spoke quietly. "You're pushing too far ahead. You think winning means leading. But in some races, it means listening."
Her eyes widened slightly. "…I see."
They kept moving until their strides finally synchronized. When they reached the line, Horikita exhaled, sweat on her brow — but a faint smile touched her lips.
"…Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper.
Kiyotaka shrugged. "You improved yourself. I just pointed it out."
That evening, Soshi sat on a bench near the dorm courtyard, the sound of cicadas buzzing softly in the background. His team — Yukimura, Miyake, Ijuin, Okitani, and Airi — rested nearby, sharing cold drinks.
"You think we've got a shot?" Miyake asked.
I looked up at the stars. "If effort equals outcome, we're already halfway there."
Airi smiled faintly. "That sounds like something Kiyotaka would say."
Soshi chuckled. "Maybe. But I mean it."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the night breeze carrying the scent of grass and summer.
Somewhere deep down, Soshi felt it — the fragile but growing unity of Class D. And yet, beneath that unity, he sensed something else. A quiet distortion. A pulse of tension waiting to snap.
Elsewhere, Kiyotaka sat by his dorm window, phone in hand, screen glowing faintly.
Observation: Class D's morale improving rapidly. Probability of betrayal event approaching 85%.Likely trigger: Internal rivalry, personal gain, or manipulation by Ryuuen's class.
He closed the document and stared into the darkness.
In the silence, he could hear the faint echoes of laughter from the courtyard — his classmates training, joking, living as though this was just another festival.
He envied them a little. But that feeling passed quickly.
"Betrayal is part of growth," he murmured. "Let's see who plays their hand first."
By the end of the second week, Class D's progress was undeniable.Sudō's strength. Horikita's leadership. Hirata's diplomacy. Soshi's stabilizing influence. Even Airi's shyness was fading as she joined team drills with confidence.
But for every rise in morale, there was an invisible counterweight. A tension building unseen.
The Sports Festival was only a few days away.