Hearing Shirase's words, Kirisu Mafuyu's expression grew awkward, her eyes glinting with embarrassed irritation. "Are you looking down on me? Kojima-san was right—you really don't understand the value behind the word 'adult'."
Shirase gave her a look full of sympathy. "If you trust Kana-nee's words, you're doomed."
Kirisu-sensei immediately froze. "What do you mean?"
Shirase sighed softly. "Kana-nee is famously stubborn and reckless in private, especially when dealing with minor things. I'd hate to see a beautiful teacher like Kirisu-sensei end up becoming a fool like Kana-nee."
"Who are you calling a fool?" Kirisu Mafuyu finally snapped.
She'd completely miscalculated; he'd effortlessly led her by the nose again.
Quickly regaining her composure, Kirisu-sensei sat down abruptly in her chair, crossing her slender legs tightly wrapped in black stockings. She suddenly softened her gaze uncharacteristically, picking up an apple from the desk. "Since you seem to have so much to say on this topic, why don't we just sit down right now and have a nice, long chat?"
"What do you want to talk about?" Shirase immediately stepped back half a pace, wary.
Unexpectedly gentle, Kirisu-sensei smiled sweetly, holding the apple elegantly. "Let's talk about exactly why you think I'm a fool."
Without another word, Shirase bolted from the room.
Watching his retreating figure comically dash away, Kirisu-sensei deliberately raised her voice in mock anger: "Stop right there!"
Without looking back, Shirase shouted, "Don't even try it! If you want an apple, slice it yourself!"
Kirisu Mafuyu bit into the apple, lips curving slightly. "Smart, not falling for it."
But then she imagined how Kojima Kana likely interacted with Shirase at home.
Having an attentive boy around to brighten the mood, not to mention one who could cook well enough for Kana to rave about his dishes—
She suddenly felt a bit envious.
...
Meanwhile, out on the soccer field, everyone had fully settled into training. The upcoming friendly match against a powerhouse had understandably unsettled many first-year newcomers. But following the steady examples of Shirase and Hayama—who trained calmly without any outward anxiety—combined with their recent victory, the rookies gradually found their footing again.
"Isshiki-san's idea to arrange friendly matches was a really good one," the captain quietly commented to Shirase during flexibility exercises.
"Mm," Shirase agreed sincerely.
Winning friendly matches brought plenty of benefits, rapidly helping the newcomers mature and boosting their confidence significantly.
The captain sighed beside him. "I still can't believe a team that placed in the top eight nationally last year actually wants to challenge us. Thankfully, they're busy right now, so the match is scheduled two weeks later."
As he spoke, Shirase noticed the captain's face suddenly twist strangely. Arms that were previously extended smoothly now clutched awkwardly at his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Shirase asked, concerned.
The captain looked both embarrassed and pained. "Before you got here, I opened a can of fermented herring."
"What kind of canned fish?" Shirase wondered if he'd misheard.
"You know, that super famous fermented herring from the internet videos."
Shirase went quiet a moment, then asked, "How did it taste?"
"Honestly, not too bad—just really salty. Those online videos exaggerate its foulness. I didn't find it difficult to swallow at all."
"So now you have an upset stomach? Want to go to the toilet?"
"Absolutely not!"
Unexpectedly, the captain abruptly stood up with a tortured expression, gritting his teeth dramatically. "Everyone's training so hard for the upcoming match. As the captain, I have to put in even more effort than everyone else!"
Shirase wanted to ask what going to the toilet had to do with effort, but then the captain proclaimed solemnly: "I absolutely won't lose so easily to mere poop!"
Shirase: "..."
As the captain stumbled away looking severely constipated, Hayama Hayato—who'd overheard the bizarre exchange—walked up curiously. "What were you two talking about? Why did the captain's expression look so weird?"
"He's locked in a fierce battle with poop," Shirase replied with a straight face. "From the current situation, the captain seems to have the upper hand."
A large question mark slowly formed above Hayama's head.
Then suddenly, from the captain's direction, they heard a suspiciously wet "prrrt" noise.
Hayama immediately went silent.
Shirase sighed heavily. "Seems I misjudged. The captain's at a clear disadvantage now—guess he's done for."
In other words, key goes into the rear end—the shit-show's about to start.
Hayama smiled helplessly, shaking his head. "What kind of ridiculous conversation is this?"
He quickly changed topics. "Our substitute lineup's still far too weak. Yesterday I tried inviting a few more students, but they all declined. The reason they gave was that they didn't want to embarrass themselves in front of so many spectators."
Shirase nodded, understanding perfectly. He'd experienced similar rejections himself. Even the students who'd previously begged to be his followers had awkwardly refused when Shirase mentioned the soccer club needed people.
If it were just about filling out the roster, they might've been fine with joining. But now, after winning a friendly match, substitutes would inevitably get rotated onto the field—and with matches against elite teams, even potentially tens of thousands of spectators at nationals—it was understandable that many people balked at the thought.
Not everyone was willing to stand on a huge stage and compete.
And besides, they didn't really like soccer to begin with.
That's why Shirase had tried inviting Hikigaya Hachiman earlier. Even when he got turned down, he didn't feel disappointed. Over the past few days, he'd grown accustomed to hearing "no."
After training, Isshiki Iroha followed closely beside Shirase, looking distressed. "Honestly, right now I have no clue how I'm going to gather intel on a top-eight national team."
Shirase glanced sideways at the worried-looking girl. "They're already famous—shouldn't getting intel actually be easier?"
Isshiki let out a frustrated whine, her eyebrows drooping. "If only it were that simple! Even if I searched online every single day, all I'd find would be information everyone already knows."
"Ah, got it. You mean you want detailed strategies and data on individual players? That's indeed tough. Don't stress yourself out too much over it."
"Ugh."
The two walked out of the school gates together. Seeing Isshiki seemed headed the same direction as him, Shirase didn't comment further.
But when he looked ahead, his footsteps suddenly paused. Near the convenience store entrance was a suspicious figure, peeking furtively in their direction.
"Shirase?" Isshiki glanced at him, confused.
Shirase didn't immediately reply, because at that moment, the furtive figure locked eyes with him. Shirase swore he saw the tiny tuft of hair atop the figure's head bounce twice excitedly.
In the very next moment, a cute doll-like face broke into a radiant, joyful smile.
Looks like it's doomsday for Kamen Rider again.
Turning his head, Shirase spoke seriously to the puzzled Isshiki: "No matter what you see or hear in a moment, don't ask questions."
"Huh?" Isshiki grew even more bewildered. "What does that mean?"
Shirase didn't respond.
Because that woman with the eyes of a Kamen Rider was now giggling happily, confidently swaggering toward him.
The way she walked positively radiated arrogance.
It positively radiated a stride that recognized no family.