The current captain of the boxing club was Satō-senpai, a third-year from Class A.
—He was the runner-up in last year's National High School Boxing Championships.
The prestige of this tournament was immense—equivalent to a national silver medalist in high school boxing, a legitimate top-tier honor.
With such credentials, Satō-senpai had long been scouted by the national team. After graduation, he wouldn't just secure a spot at a top-tier sports university—he might even go pro directly.
And as a Class A graduate, his academic performance was equally stellar. Even without sports scholarships, he could easily enter elite universities on grades alone.
A true all-rounder with a limitless future.
However, as a third-year, his role had naturally shifted—he'd taken over as club captain while also serving as the de facto coach.
Now, he devoted his energy to training second-years and mentoring first-years.
Satō's personality was as straightforward as his jab—conversations between men were often settled with fists in the ring.
Noon.
When Shimizu Akira brought Karuizawa Kei to the boxing club, Satō-senpai didn't even wait for them to finish explaining before booming with laughter:
"A manager? Hell yeah!"
Then came a heavy fist slamming into Shimizu's shoulder, nearly knocking him back a step—
Among the freshmen, Satō had special expectations for Shimizu. This underclassman was like an uncut gem.
Normally, people with great physiques had dabbled in at least one or two martial arts.
But such individuals often carried hard-to-break habits—like karate practitioners instinctively wanting to roundhouse kick, a cardinal sin in boxing.
Shimizu was different.
This guy had spent eight years doing nothing but fundamentals—like a max-level newbie in a game who refused to specialize.
As a result, when he finally started boxing, his progress was alarmingly fast—his pure foundation became a blank canvas of potential.
Before they left, Satō-senpai clapped Shimizu's shoulder again.
"You don't need to train this often anymore."
Seeing Shimizu's slight confusion, he grinned and added:
"Drop by occasionally. Honestly, your improvement… it's demoralizing for the others."
His gaze swept over the other freshmen practicing nearby. "If you're bored, check out the student council."
Shimizu nodded silently.
This body of his did possess unnatural athletic talent.
"That Satō-senpai… seems to really value you."
On the way back to class, Karuizawa suddenly broke the silence.
Shimizu shrugged. "He's just after my prime physique."
Karuizawa's steps faltered.
In that moment, she realized—she wasn't so different from the boxing captain.
"Asking you to talk to him… I feel kinda bad, haha."
She tried to mask her awkwardness with a light laugh.
Shimizu spread his hands. "80,000 points isn't free."
"By the way—why did you defend Sakura earlier? Don't tell me she has a secret contract with you too?"
"Nope."
"Wha—? Nothing? That's unfair! I paid 80,000 points!"
"You didn't buy exclusive protection rights."
Karuizawa pouted, but Shimizu ignored her.
—She'd paid for his protection, not a monopoly on it.
Afternoon swim class.
As students headed to their respective locker rooms, Shimizu noticed something uniquely Japanese about high school swim lessons—
The girls wore standard one-pieces, while the boys only needed athletic shorts.
It was a public physique evaluation.
Watching a few scrawny boys hunch self-consciously, Shimizu sighed inwardly—in this setting, unfit males were far more embarrassed than girls in swimsuits.
For him, though, going shirtless was no big deal.
In the locker room, Shimizu stood bare-chested when he suddenly noticed—Ayanokōji Kiyotaka's physique was unexpectedly impressive.
His musculature was perfectly balanced, every contour a study in efficiency.
This refined build surpassed even Hirata's athleticism and Sudō's bulk, exuding a quiet, lethal grace.
In the entire class, only Kōenji's godlike frame and Shimizu's own could compare.
The other boys' eyes inevitably gravitated toward the trio. Some subconsciously touched their flat stomachs; others straightened their postures.
Men didn't just compare certain unmentionable sizes—muscles were an equally fierce battleground.
"Shimizu! Ayanokōji! How the hell did you get bodies like that?!"Ike Kanji suddenly crowded in, eyes glowing with envy and suspicion.
Shimizu crossed his arms, dead serious:
*"Simple. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10km run—*every day. And no AC, no matter how hot."
Ayanokōji, as expressionless as ever, replied flatly:
"Nothing special. Just genetics."
"You two—!"Ike's eye twitched. "One's obviously spouting anime nonsense, and the other can't even pretend to try?! Who'd believe this crap?!"
The surrounding boys burst out laughing, though their gazes still lingered on those two flawless physiques—no matter how they joked, envy and jealousy were undeniable.
When the boys arrived at the pool, the girls were just emerging from the locker rooms.
Surprisingly, Hasebe Haruka, Sakura Airi, and a few others didn't head to the pool—instead, they appeared on the second-floor observation deck.
But before the boys could lament Hasebe's absence, a commotion erupted at the pool entrance—
Kushida Kikyō had arrived.
She walked with a light step, the sunlight reflecting off the water accentuating every curve.
Her snowy thighs trembled slightly with each movement; her round hips, hugged by the swimsuit, looked even more lifted; and the generous swell of her chest made every boy hold their breath.
"Whoa—!"
"Damn…!"
Gasps exploded among the male students.
Even Shimizu couldn't help but steal several glances before finally looking away.
(Gotta admit… Kushida's figure is undeniable.)