The piercing morning sun cut through the clouds as the air filled with the sound of whistles, cheers, and the rhythmic pounding of sneakers against the dirt. The sports festival had entered its second phase, and with it came one of the most chaotic events of all — Capture the Flag, or as the students called it, Pole Toppling.
The festival grounds transformed into a miniature battlefield, the red and white flags standing tall like opposing standards in a war. Class D and Class A formed the Red Team, while Class B and Class C became the White Team. Each class had selected their strongest, and the tension in the air was thick enough to be felt.
"All right, everyone, focus up," I said, standing with my team in the Red Team's prepare area. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough weight to draw everyone's attention — Wataru Ijuin, Akito Miyake, Teruhiko Yukimura, and Kyosuke Okitani.
We had trained for this, though no amount of practice could prepare us for Ryūen's brutal tactics.
"Ijuin, you're our tank. Push through their first line. Akito and I will create openings. Yukimura, Okitani — follow right behind and strike when you see an opening."
"Got it," said Ijuin, cracking his knuckles. His burly frame made him look like a battering ram in human form.
Akito smirked. "Guess we're counting on you, big guy."
"Just don't trip over me," he shot back.
Despite our attempts at humor, the tension was clear. We knew who we were up against — Class C, led by Kakeru Ryūen. They were unpredictable, vicious, and not above playing dirty.
Sudō was also part of the offensive team, his face set in determination as he stretched his arms. "Let's show them what Class D's got!" he yelled, earning a cheer from the surrounding students.
Across the field, Ryūen was grinning, surrounded by his crew — Albert Yamada, Ishizaki Daichi, Komiya, and the rest of his usual gang. He stood tall, hands in his pockets, his confidence almost oozing into the air around him.
The Battle Begins
"Take your positions!" the referee's voice echoed through the megaphone.
Whistles blew. The first match began.
Ijuin charged forward, his large frame plowing through the dirt like a tank. I ran beside Akito, cutting in from the left to force the White Team to split their defense. The clash came immediately — elbows, shoulders, and bodies collided as both sides surged toward the pole.
"Keep pushing!" I shouted, ducking as a Class B student swung his arm at me. I rammed my shoulder into him, knocking him off balance.
But despite our push, Albert Yamada was unstoppable. He tore through our defenses like a bull. His sheer power forced Ijuin back, and before we could react, the flag was taken.
"The first point goes to the White Team!" the announcer shouted.
We regrouped, breathing heavily. Sudō's face twisted in frustration. "Dammit! That gorilla's unstoppable!"
"Stay calm," I said. "We'll switch to defense next. Let's change our approach."
Defending the Flag
For the second round, Class D took the defensive stance, while Class A shifted to offense. I gathered my team again.
"Ijuin, Miyake — your job is simple. Stop Albert. Don't let him through no matter what. Yukimura, Okitani, and I will guard the flag. No one touches it."
They nodded, determination flashing in their eyes.
The whistle blew again.
Class C came charging, their movements chaotic and aggressive. Ryūen's laughter could be heard even over the noise of clashing bodies.
"Hey, Sudō!" Ryūen called mockingly. "Hope you can keep up!"
"Shut the hell up!" Sudō roared, barreling into the crowd.
For a few seconds, the fight was pure chaos. Dust rose as students grappled and shoved. Then, a sharp thud — followed by a grunt. I looked up just in time to see Sudō get kicked in the ribs by one of Class C's students.
He swung wildly in retaliation, but they made it look accidental, each movement disguised as part of the scuffle. The referees couldn't call it foul play — it was too subtle, too perfectly orchestrated.
"Hold the line!" I shouted. But within moments, Albert broke through. The pole wobbled, and in seconds, the flag fell.
"The White Team wins the second bout!"
Ryūen raised his hand in mock salute. "Better luck next time, losers."
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down before turning to my team. "You guys did great. Don't let it get to you — they're just using underhanded tricks. "
They nodded, though frustration was evident on their faces.
After a brief break, the next event was announced — Tug of War for the boys, while the girls competed in Tamaire (Ball Toss).
We gathered at the sidelines to watch. The girls' event ended quickly, with the Red Team narrowly taking the win. Cheers erupted from our section, restoring some morale.
Then came our turn.
Katsuragi and Hashimoto from Class A stood at the front of the Red Team's rope. Katsuragi's voice boomed across the field. "Steady… steady… pull on my mark!"
Ryūen, standing opposite, smirked. "Let's crush them."
The whistle blew.
"PULL!" Katsuragi shouted.
Muscles tensed, rope burned against palms, and the ground trembled as both teams fought for control. The Red Team gained ground inch by inch — and then, with one massive heave, the White Team's line broke.
"Red Team wins the first round!"
Cheers went up, but Ryūen wasn't done. He moved his teammates around, switching positions, whispering something to Albert.
The second round began, and this time the White Team pulled with frightening synchronization.
"Don't give in!" Katsuragi shouted, but the rope slipped from our hands, inch by inch, until the White Team won.
"Final round!" the announcer called.
Both teams braced themselves. For a few moments, neither side budged. Then suddenly—
"Let go!" Ryūen ordered.
The entire White Team released the rope at once.
The Red Team, still pulling with all their strength, fell backward as the rope whipped through the air. Bodies hit the ground, cries of pain and confusion echoing across the field.
Though technically we won the match, it didn't feel like victory. The Red Team's morale dropped, anger simmering in the air.
Next was the Obstacle Course Race. Sudō stepped up, rolling his shoulders. "This one's mine," he said confidently.
When the whistle blew, he launched forward like a bullet, clearing hurdles and crawling through nets with blinding speed. He easily took first place, earning cheers from Class D's side.
"Nice one, Sudō!" I called, giving him a thumbs-up.
"Damn right!" he said, grinning, though his eyes still held traces of frustration from the earlier events.
The next event was the Three-Legged Race for the girls. Suzune was paired with Minori Kinoshita and Mariko Yajima from Class C.
At first, she and her partner maintained a steady pace, overtaking the others. But I noticed Suzune glancing back repeatedly at Kinoshita, who was calling her name with a strange tone.
Something wasn't right.
Just before the finish line, the two collided — a tangle of limbs and shocked cries — and both fell hard. Suzune managed to rise and limp across the finish line, finishing seventh, while Kinoshita stayed down, holding her ankle.
"Is she okay?" I asked as Kiyotaka walked past me toward Suzune.
He gave a small shake of his head. "Probably an act. Class C's been targeting her since the beginning."
The Boys' Three-Legged Race
Next, it was our turn. I watched as Kiyotaka and Hirata took their positions, the crowd buzzing with anticipation.
When the whistle blew, the pairs moved in rhythm, feet slapping in unison. Hirata and Kiyotaka crossed the line first, calm and composed.
Then Sudō and Ike took their turn, shouting in sync as they thundered past the others, earning another victory for Class D.
Momentum was starting to shift — slightly.
Finally, the girls' race resumed. Suzune, despite her injury, paired with Kushida. They started well, but as the race went on, Suzune's limp slowed them down. They finished last.
From the sidelines, I could see the pain etched on her face. Physical pain, yes — but also the sting of frustration.
During the break, Suzune left to get a compress for her injury. The tent buzzed with hushed discussions and whispers of strategy.
Kiyotaka stood quietly near the edge, his eyes scanning the field. I joined him.
"Things are getting worse," I muttered.
He nodded. "Ryūen's pushing every limit he can without crossing the line. And Class A… they're divided."
We both glanced toward their tent, where Katsuragi and Sakayanagi's factions sat apart like rival kingdoms.
"Class B's the only one actually enjoying themselves," Kiyotaka murmured.
"Yeah," I said. "Ichinose's influence."
He didn't reply — his eyes had drifted to Suzune, who was returning from the infirmary, her leg wrapped but her expression resolute.
The first day of the festival wasn't over yet, but already, the battlefield had begun to take shape.
Red versus White.
Class versus Class.