Horikita Suzune stood within Class D's camp, drawing her gaze back from Shikime Natsu as she prepared to keep watching the events that were about to come.
It was at this very moment that she suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.
That sensation—it was as if she were being stared at by some strange, uncanny thing.
Horikita Suzune's brow knit slightly, and then she turned around, sweeping her gaze across the crowd behind her.
The students of Class D were each busy with their own affairs—some chatting, some warming up, some drinking water.
No one had noticed her gaze.
Kushida Kikyou stood not far off as well, that gentle smile on her face as she talked about something with a few of the girls.
Everything looked perfectly normal.
That was what Horikita Suzune thought to herself, and then she turned her head back around.
Perhaps it had just been her imagination.
She gave the matter no further thought, and her gaze once more settled on the schoolyard.
By now, the first event, the hundred-meter sprint, had entirely concluded.
In the first-year boys' division, first place went to Class A, and in the girls' division, first place likewise went to Class A.
The results of the second-year and third-year races came in one after another as well. Overall, the scores of the Red Team and the White Team were locked in a fierce, neck-and-neck battle.
Out on the schoolyard, the referees were organizing the contestants for the second event to take their positions.
The second competitive event was the hurdles race.
Shikime Natsu stood among Class A's ranks, his gaze falling on those hurdles set up on the schoolyard.
Unlike ordinary hurdles races, the hurdles the school used appeared to have undergone some special design.
The crossbars of the hurdles were somewhat lighter than normal, and there seemed to be some kind of cushioning device at the joints.
Shikime Natsu observed them for a moment and roughly grasped the school's intent.
The hurdles race was different from the hundred-meter sprint; hurdling itself carried a certain degree of risk.
If an athlete's posture wasn't correct while clearing a hurdle, or if excessive speed threw off their center of gravity, it was all too easy to strike a hurdle, fall, and get injured.
The school had probably taken this into account, which was why they had switched to this type of hurdle—to reduce the possibility of students having accidents after hitting one.
Still, if someone struck a hurdle with an incorrect posture, it would nonetheless cause a certain amount of injury.
After all, any sport carried risk. The most the school could do was minimize that risk as much as possible, not eliminate it entirely.
That was what Shikime Natsu thought to himself, and then he cast his gaze toward the starting line.
The first-years' hurdles race was about to begin.
Each of the four classes had sent out several boys to compete, and the representatives of each class were of rather uneven skill—at the very least, the boys Class D had sent out didn't look like the type who were particularly good at sports.
"On your marks—"
The referee's voice rang out. "Bang—!"
The starting pistol fired.
Eight boys burst off the starting line all at once.
Class A's two boys had remarkably quick reactions off the start, especially that long-legged boy, who rushed to the front after only a few strides.
His hurdling motions were exceptionally fluid—the takeoff, the airborne phase, the drive downward—every link of the movement executed to near-textbook standard, with scarcely any wasted motion.
Class B's track-and-field team member wasn't about to be outdone either, sticking tightly behind Class A's runner, the gap between the two of them holding steady at about half a body length.
Class C's two boys couldn't put their explosive-power advantage to good use in the hurdles event. Though they ran fast, their hurdling motions were somewhat stiff, and each hurdle cost them a bit of time, so they gradually fell behind the runners ahead.
As for Class D's two boys, they were left in the dust right from the start; both their technique and their speed lagged noticeably behind the runners in front.
In the end, Class B claimed first place in the hurdles race.
Class A took second by a razor-thin margin.
Class C and Class D came in third and fourth, respectively.
After the race ended, that long-legged boy from Class A walked back to his team, a hint of self-reproach on his face.
"Sorry... I'm sorry..."
He lowered his head and said to his Class A classmates,
"I dragged everyone down..."
There was a trace of frustration in his voice.
After all, at the start Class A had held a considerable advantage. If only he had been a bit more steady, a bit faster, first place should have been within their grasp.
But because of him, Class A had only taken second.
His heart felt truly bitter about it.
"It's fine, it's fine." Hashimoto Masayoshi walked over, patted him on the shoulder, and said with a smile.
"Second place is already plenty good, and you ran really fast."
"That's right, don't beat yourself up over it."
Another boy from Class A came over as well and comforted him.
"There are still plenty of events left. We'll just win it back later."
"Exactly, it's just the outcome of one race. No need to take it so much to heart."
One after another, everyone spoke up to console him.
Listening to everyone's comforting words, the long-legged boy felt a little better inside.
He took a deep breath, then lifted his head, his gaze growing resolute once more.
"Mm, I'll do my best in the events ahead!"
"Now that's the spirit."
Everyone chuckled, and then turned their attention back to the schoolyard.
The next event, the third, was the pole-toppling contest.
The rules of this event were also quite simple: within a designated area, teams had to work together to knock over the opposing side's pole while protecting their own.
Each class sent out a number of boys, who were divided into two groups to face off against each other.
At this point, Shikime Natsu also stepped out from Class A's ranks and stood in the staging area, looking entirely composed.
The moment Shikime Natsu appeared in the staging area, the atmosphere on the schoolyard instantly changed.
"Look! Shiki's about to take the field!"
"Are you serious? He's competing in the pole-toppling contest too?"
"Now there's going to be a good show!"
Such murmurs rose and fell throughout the crowd.
After all, the name Shikime Natsu was known to practically everyone at this school—not a single soul was unaware of it.
His ability was something everyone had witnessed with their own eyes.
Over in Class B's camp.
Kanzaki Ryuuji stood at the very front of the team, his expression somewhat grave.
His gaze was fixed tightly on Shikime Natsu, and a few traces of regret surfaced in those eyes.
Shikime Natsu was going to compete?
Originally, Class B and Class C had joined forces—if Shikime Natsu didn't take the field, then with Ryuuen Kakeru's methods, they should have been able to seize victory in this event.
After all, Class C had quite a few physically strong boys.
Take Yamada Albert, for instance—that big fellow gave off a sense of pressure just by standing there.
And there was Ishizaki Daichi too. Though he didn't look as brawny, his stamina was quite good and his explosive power wasn't bad either.
Add in the coordination of a few of Class B's boys, and they should have been able to win this event—especially since Class D's Sudou Ken had been expelled, and among Class A's and Class D's entrants in the pole-toppling contest, there wasn't anyone particularly strong.
Katsuragi Kouhei looked to be pretty big in build, but he was a humanities student; his athletic ability could only be counted as average.
But now that Shikime Natsu was taking the field, the outcome was entirely different.
That was what Kanzaki Ryuuji thought to himself, and his brow couldn't help but furrow tightly.
Ryuuen Kakeru, standing at the very front of Class C's team, had also seen the figure of Shikime Natsu stepping up into the staging area.
Ryuuen Kakeru could only give up. Shikime Natsu alone could directly decide the outcome of the battle—this was practically the shared understanding of everyone present.
Wanting to defeat Shikime Natsu was, fundamentally, impossible.
This much, Ryuuen Kakeru understood perfectly well.
But at the very least, some fighting spirit was still necessary.
He couldn't very well just surrender outright, could he?
That would only be even more disgraceful.
That was what Ryuuen Kakeru thought to himself, and then he lifted his head, his gaze falling on the figure of Shikime Natsu.
"Get ready to go out there!"
He shouted to the few boys of Class C, a hint of battle-lust in his voice.
"Yes!"
Yamada Albert, Ishizaki Daichi, and the others answered in unison, falling in behind him as they headed toward the competition grounds.
The competition grounds were divided into two zones, with a white line down the middle serving as the boundary.
At the center of each zone stood a pole roughly two meters tall, its base fixed onto a circular platform, requiring a certain amount of force to topple.
The Red Team and the White Team each sent out ten boys to conduct offense and defense within their respective zones.
Shikime Natsu stood among the Red Team's ranks, his gaze sweeping over the players of the White Team across from him.
The White Team was composed of the boys of Class B and Class C. Standing at the very front were Ryuuen Kakeru, Yamada Albert, Ishizaki Daichi, Kanzaki Ryuuji, and the others.
Their expressions were all grave, their eyes locked dead onto Shikime Natsu.
Clearly, the very existence of Shikime Natsu placed enormous pressure on them.
Shikime Natsu looked at them, gave a soft little laugh, and then flexed his wrists.
"On your marks—"
The referee's voice rang out.
"Begin—!"
With the referee's command, the players of the Red Team and the White Team charged out at the same time.
The White Team's tactic was obvious: defend and counterattack.
Yamada Albert and several tall, large-framed boys guarded the pole, standing like a wall and shielding it tightly.
Ryuuen Kakeru, meanwhile, led the other boys in a charge toward the Red Team's pole.
On the Red Team's side, several boys likewise charged toward the White Team's pole.
The two sides met near the white boundary line in the middle, and a fierce struggle broke out.
Shoving, pulling, blocking.
And yet Shikime Natsu stood where he was without moving, choosing not to make a move right away. To Shikime Natsu, this contest seemed to be of no particular consequence whatsoever.
Ryuuen Kakeru noticed Shikime Natsu's inaction, and a flicker of confusion rose in his heart.
What on earth was that guy doing?
Why wasn't he making his move?
That was what Ryuuen Kakeru thought to himself, but he had no time to ponder it, because several of the Red Team's boys had already rushed to their pole and were trying to knock it over.
"Albert! Hold them off!"
Ryuuen Kakeru bellowed.
"Understood!"
Yamada Albert answered, then stretched out his arms and blocked the several Red Team boys from getting through.
His strength was tremendous—he alone held back several people.
The Red Team boys strained with all their might, yet none could break through his defense.
It was at this moment that Shikime Natsu moved.
His foot gave a light tap against the ground, and his whole body surged forward like a gust of wind toward the White Team's pole.
His speed was tremendous—scarcely anyone present could even register how Shikime Natsu had moved. In the blink of an eye, Shikime Natsu had already threaded through the crowd and appeared before the white pole.
His body tilted slightly forward, his right foot pushed off the ground, and his whole body leapt into the air.
Then his right foot came down hard against the very top of the pole.
"Bang—!"
A dull, heavy sound.
The pole toppled at his blow.
From the moment Shikime Natsu sprinted forward to the moment the pole fell, the whole process took no more than two or three seconds.
Everyone stared blankly at Shikime Natsu out on the field, their mouths hanging wide open, their eyes bulging round.
Ryuuen Kakeru and Kanzaki Ryuuji had both imagined how Shikime Natsu might win, but neither had expected that Shikime Natsu would actually choose such a rather ordinary method to secure victory.
Of course, even this ordinary method was something the few of them could hardly defend against—after all, that kind of speed and explosive power simply wasn't the stuff of an ordinary human.
As for whether anyone might be even stronger, no one present had any idea. At the very least, they had never seen such a person; the only powerful person they had ever seen was Shikime Natsu, and him alone.
Over in the third-years' camp.
Horikita Manabu stood at the very front of the team, his gaze falling on Shikime Natsu. This fellow Shikime Natsu really was quite extraordinary. If Shikime Natsu were to join the Student Council, then there'd likely be nothing left for him to do.
Thinking this, Horikita Manabu's gaze fell once again upon Horikita Suzune. Now that Horikita Suzune had become Shikime Natsu's friend, then... Horikita Manabu hoped his younger sister could learn something from Shikime Natsu.
Nagumo Miyabi, too, stood among the second-years' ranks, watching Shikime Natsu's figure.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and then a wry smile spread across his face.
This guy really wasn't human.
It was a good thing he'd long since abandoned any notion of pitting himself against Shikime Natsu.
Otherwise, the one standing out on that field losing face right now might well have been himself—and at least his Private Points were safe.
If he'd kept making bets and the like with Shikime Natsu, no amount of Private Points would have been enough to cover his losses.
Over in Class D's camp, Horikita Suzune watched Shikime Natsu's figure, those wine-red eyes carrying a complicated look.
And out on the field, the match had already been decided by Shikime Natsu's divine kick.
The students of Class A erupted into cheers, all of them excitedly hugging one another.
"That was amazing! Shiki-san!"
"You're our hero!"
"That one kick—I can brag about it for a whole year!"
One after another, everyone crowded around, expressing their admiration to Shikime Natsu.
Shikime Natsu gave a soft little laugh but didn't say much of anything.
And just then, Morishita Ai, who stood watching the match from the edge of the schoolyard, arms folded across her chest, gazed at Shikime Natsu's figure, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.
The corners of her mouth curved slightly upward, and those beautiful eyes carried a trace of pride.
Truly worthy of being her boyfriend.
That kick had been beautifully done.
Not far away, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka also stood within Class D's camp, watching Shikime Natsu's figure.
There was no expression on his face, but the light in those eyes was somewhat complicated.
As expected, he was no match for Shikime Natsu.
Even though he had trained for a very long time in the White Room, he was absolutely no opponent for Shikime Natsu.
Especially the speed with which Shikime Natsu had just sprinted forward—it was downright terrifying.
That instantaneous explosive power was something even Ayanokouji Kiyotaka himself felt he fell far, far short of.
His father wanting him to defeat Shikime Natsu—how could such a thing ever be accomplished? He might as well go and fight the man himself.
Even if all of those instructors from the White Room came at Shikime Natsu together, it likely still wouldn't be enough to beat him.
That was what Ayanokouji Kiyotaka thought to himself, and then he let out a soft sigh.
Forget it. He wouldn't think about it anymore.
In any case, he would just pretend he hadn't heard any of those things Ayanokouji Atsuomi had said. He'd simply ignore them.
After all, so long as he didn't withdraw of his own accord, that man had no way to force him out—unless he sent someone over to make him withdraw. But then... while he truly couldn't handle Shikime Natsu, the people Ayanokouji Atsuomi sent over to deal with him weren't necessarily beyond his ability to handle.
That was what Ayanokouji Kiyotaka thought to himself, and then his gaze continued to sweep across the schoolyard.
The other students of Class D, once their surprise had passed, had no particular reaction at all.
After all, for Class D, this Sports Festival was basically all about mere participation.
Whether they took first place or last place, Class D's Class Points were already zero.
No matter how much worse things got, they couldn't get much worse.
So no matter how astonishingly Shikime Natsu performed, it had nothing to do with them.
This mindset, in fact, let them stay quite relaxed throughout the Sports Festival.
Soon, the fourth event began.
The fourth event was the borrowed-item race.
Compared to the other events, this one leaned more toward amusement than toward competition.
The contestants had to draw a slip of paper from a designated box. Written on the slip was an item they needed to borrow, and the contestant then had to find that item in the shortest time possible and bring it to a designated spot.
The item could be anything—a book, a pen, a piece of clothing, even a person.
The one participating in this event for Class A was Morishita Ai.
Morishita Ai stepped out from Class A's ranks and stood in the staging area, her beautiful long purple hair tied up into a high ponytail, revealing her fair neck and delicate collarbone.
Her expression was very calm, yet in those beautiful eyes flickered a trace of anticipation.
"Ready, go!"
With the referee's command, the borrowed-item race began.
The contestants ran up to the designated box one after another, reached in, and drew out a slip of paper.
Morishita Ai also reached in and drew a slip from the box.
She unfolded the slip and glanced at what was written on it.
On the slip was a single line of words:
"Something golden."
It seemed to be an item, and at this moment Morishita Ai's gaze fell upon Shikime Natsu, who was watching the match from the edge of the schoolyard.
Then she strode forward, running in the direction of Shikime Natsu.
Seeing Morishita Ai running toward him, Shikime Natsu couldn't help but be taken aback.
"What's the matter?"
He asked.
"I'm borrowing you for a sec."
Morishita Ai ran up in front of Shikime Natsu, reached out, and grabbed hold of his wrist.
"Borrowing me?"
Shikime Natsu looked at Morishita Ai, then nodded, thinking to himself that maybe Morishita Ai had come to him because the word on the slip was something like an important person.
After all, in all sorts of galge or romance games, that kind of thing was quite common, you could say.
"Mm, borrowing you."
Morishita Ai nodded, then pulled Shikime Natsu along, running toward the designated spot.
The referee, standing at the designated spot, watched Morishita Ai come running over dragging Shikime Natsu along, and couldn't help but be taken aback.
"This... this... this is..."
The referee looked at the slip of paper in Morishita Ai's hand, then looked at Shikime Natsu, and his expression turned somewhat subtle.
"Something golden... is this?"
"That's right."
Morishita Ai nodded, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Take a look at his eyes—aren't they golden?"
Hearing this, the referee's expression turned even more subtle.
He looked at the slip, then looked at Shikime Natsu, then looked at Morishita Ai, then looked at Shikime Natsu again.
This...
According to the rules, there didn't seem to be any problem with it.
After all, what was written on the slip was "something golden," and Shikime Natsu's eyes were a pale gold. And the slip never said it couldn't be part of a person's body.
"Passed."
Hearing this answer, a smile appeared on Morishita Ai's face.
She turned around to face Shikime Natsu, then held up two fingers in a "peace" sign.
____
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