As usual, Shimizu Akira opened his eyes precisely at 5:30 AM.
He rolled out of bed without hesitation and began his daily Saitama-style training regimen:
100 push-ups
100 sit-ups
100 squats
To most, this routine would be grueling—but to him, it was as natural as breathing.
By the final set, far from exhaustion, he felt energy surging through his veins like an unstoppable tide.
"This body really is broken beyond belief."
Wiping sweat off his brow in front of the mirror, he couldn't help but smirk.
Eight years of unwavering discipline had reduced this routine to something as mundane as eating or drinking. His muscles practically ached for greater challenges, but reason held his impulses in check.
After changing into his school-issued tracksuit, he quietly stepped out and headed for the athletic field.
The rubberized track still carried the dampness of last night's rain. His sneakers struck the surface rhythmically—tap, tap, tap.
Come to think of it, he'd been running like this for a full month now.
Yet the scale refused to budge, and his physical metrics remained static.
His body had peaked—no further growth was possible.
Now, his training served not to improve, but to maintain this pinnacle.
Shimizu knew better than anyone: even world-class athletes spent 90% of their effort merely preserving their prime. In some ways, staying at the top was harder than the climb itself.
His breath stayed even, his strides precise. Lap after lap.
When he crossed the 10-kilometer mark, he finally stopped.
Pulling out his phone, the timer read: 29 minutes flat—and that was without pushing his limits in the final laps.
Not bad.
Just as he turned to leave, his peripheral vision caught a slender figure approaching.
—Kushida Kikyō.
Clad in the same tracksuit, she stood at the inner edge of the track, holding out a water bottle and a neatly folded towel.
"You've worked hard, Shimizu-kun! Ten whole laps—amazing!"
"...Thanks." He accepted the offerings after a brief pause.
The chilled water soothed his parched throat instantly. As he wiped his forehead, a question surfaced:
Why is she here?
In over a month of morning runs, this was his first time encountering a classmate.
"Shimizu-kun really is incredible!" Kushida clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head with a radiant smile. "You've kept this up since the first day of school, right? Horikita-san told me you've been training like this for eight years! That's such an admirable habit!"
Shimizu immediately grasped her intent.
(Ah. She wants something.)
"It's nothing special." He shrugged.
—Wait.
Horikita told her?
Since when did those two get along?
This made zero sense.
He knew full well how Horikita Suzune viscerally despised Kushida—and how could Kushida possibly genuinely like someone who'd rejected her "let's be friends" overtures dozens of times with a stone-cold glare?
He could practically imagine Kushida cursing Horikita's name in private.
"How's your Japanese Literature class going, Shimizu-kun? If you're struggling, I could tutor you!" She pressed her palms together, sweetness dripping from her voice.
His mental database flashed her grades: low-to-mid 80s across subjects—hardly top-tier, but more than enough to tutor his abysmal 29.
"Thanks, but Horikita's already helping me."
(And I've prepaid the points for it.)
The moment the words left his mouth, realization struck.
"Oh. You're recruiting for a study group, right?" He nodded. "Sure, I'll drop by sometime. Consider this my vote of support—but don't expect me to sway Horikita. You know how she feels about you."
It cost him nothing to agree.
Besides...
(She's been exceptionally generous with those... 'benefits.')
"Well..." Kushida twisted her fingers, her smile faltering. "I won't deny wanting you there, but—"
She lifted her gaze abruptly.
"That's not why I came today!"
A breeze ruffled her hair as she took a deep breath—
"Shimizu-kun... would you go on a date with me tonight?"
Her voice shrank to a whisper.
"I-I'll pay you! I gave Karuizawa-san 2,000 points yesterday, so 5,000 is all I can offer right now... but I'll cover all expenses! Just... stay with me for a while. Maybe take a few photos?"
Shimizu's expression froze as if she'd spoken in tongues.
"Hold on. We settled that 80,000-point debt ages ago. What's this 'date' nonsense?"
His voice sharpened to a blade.
"Just what kind of resolve makes you offer yourself up like this?"
Paying me to go on a date?
How far was she willing to debase herself to uphold that "angel" facade?
First the compromising photos... now reverse simping with points... was she planning to throw in her actual self next?
What a saint! A paragon of virtue!
In all his life, Shimizu had never met a girl so eager to deliver herself and benefits on a silver platter.