Chapter 037: The Real Show Begins, Ayanokouji's Report!
The four-way tug-of-war competition was about to begin.
Ryuen Kakeru leaned against a pillar of Class C's tent, arms folded across his chest, his gaze falling on the White Team's direction in the distance. His expression was relaxed, and a trace of a smile even hung at the corners of his mouth. "Hikigaya." Ryuen turned his head and glanced at Hachiman, who was standing nearby.
"We'll probably lose the tug-of-war," Ryuen said in a casual tone. "Leave the initiative to me. I'm going to use this match and the upcoming cavalry battle to completely suppress Sudo." Hachiman looked at him without speaking.
"Without Sudo, Class D is beyond saving," Ryuen continued. "Koenji isn't going to play seriously anyway. And that coward Ayanokouji won't dare to stick his head out."
When he said the words "coward," the smile on his face deepened, as if he were savoring something interesting. It was clearly his malicious hobby; he still enjoyed bullying Sudo.
Kanzaki Ryuji, standing next to Hachiman, frowned upon hearing this. He looked at Ryuen with obvious dissatisfaction in his eyes. He took issue with Ryuen's attitude of "proactively giving up the match." The four-way tug-of-war was a group event; if the Red Team won, Class A would also gain points. Ryuen saying "we'll probably lose" was equivalent to saying "I'm going to throw away points."
"Hikigaya-kun," Kanzaki lowered his voice, a hint of displeasure in his tone, "Ryuen is going to give the points to the White Team. Our Class A—"
"It's fine." Hachiman raised his hand and interrupted him.
Kanzaki was stunned for a moment.
"It doesn't matter if we lose the tug-of-war." Hachiman's gaze fell toward the second-year tents. "Nagumo-senpai's side will make up for it. The second-years still have Nagumo Miyabi as an anchor. If he finds that the Red Team's score is too low, he'll adjust things himself."
Kanzaki looked at him, remained silent for two seconds, and then nodded. He said nothing more and stepped aside.
Ryuen watched this scene, and his smile widened. "You're quite good at delegating power."
"It's not delegating power," Hachiman said. "It's resource allocation."
Ryuen let out a snort but didn't respond. He turned back to the Class C group, clapped his hands, and gathered the Class C boys together. Albert stood behind him, his tall frame like a wall.
"In the tug-of-war later, throw the first round," Ryuen commanded. "Don't use any strength; let the other side win."
The Class C boys looked at each other. Someone opened their mouth to say something, but seeing Ryuen's expression, they swallowed their words.
"Second round, full power. Pull that rope over." Ryuen's gaze swept over everyone. "Third round, listen for my command. When I shout 'Release,' everyone let go at the same time."
Ishizaki Daichi scratched his head. "Ryuen, if we let go, won't we just lose directly?"
Ryuen glanced at him.
"If you let go, the rope will snap back. The people on the other side will fall," Ryuen said. "What we want isn't a win; it's to make them fall ugly."
After thinking for a long time, Ishizaki finally understood. It wasn't about winning; it was about being disgusting. It was to make the other side feel bad even if they won, and to make losing an even greater humiliation. This was psychological warfare, not physical warfare.
"Understood!" Ishizaki nodded vigorously at Ryuen's decision.
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Meanwhile, on the second-year field, the boys' pole-toppling competition was underway.
Nagumo Miyabi stood at the front of the Second Year Class A team, hands on his hips, looking at the White Team's camp across from him. His expression was relaxed, a smile on his lips. His short blond hair shimmered in the sunlight.
Achoo!
He suddenly sneezed.
Several second-year students nearby turned to look at him. Nagumo rubbed his nose and smiled, feeling good about himself.
"Some girl must be thinking about me," he muttered under his breath.
A boy next to him heard it and couldn't help but chuckle. Nagumo glared at him, and the boy quickly covered his mouth and looked away. Nagumo pulled his gaze back to the field. The flags for the pole-toppling match had been raised, with the Red and White teams each guarding one. He scanned the spectator stands and then let out a sigh.
"No one's watching," he said with a hint of regret. "The girls are all in their own matches too."
The boy next to him didn't speak. The referee raised the whistle.
"Second-year boys' pole-toppling, first round—prepare!"
Nagumo pulled his thoughts back and stepped onto the field.
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.
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The venue for the first-year four-way tug-of-war was in the center of the sports ground.
Four ropes extended in four directions from a central point, with the Red and White teams occupying two sides each. The rules were simple—pulling the red ribbon across your own line counted as a win. It was best of three.
The White Team boys gathered in a small circle. Katsuragi Kohei stood in the middle. He held a notebook with a diagram of the tug-of-war positions drawn on it. "Regarding the team distribution, I have a suggestion," Katsuragi proposed. "I hope you will arrange yourselves according to our view."
The Class D boys looked at him, and no one objected. They had lost the pole-toppling match miserably just now, and they only wanted to win a round back. Whoever had a plan, they would listen to him.
"Line up according to height," Katsuragi said. "From tallest to shortest, from front to back. The person with the most strength should be at the very back."
This was basic common sense for tug-of-war. Tall people in front, short people in back, and the strongest person as the anchor. This way, the force exerted is most even, and the rope is most stable.
Sudo stood outside the group with his arms folded. He was the strongest person in Class D (since Koenji had forfeited everything); according to this arrangement, he should stand at the very back as the anchor. He nodded, having no objections.
The White Team's line was quickly formed. Thirty-nine people, from tall to short, front to back, neat and orderly. Sudo stood at the back, hands gripping the rope tight, body leaning back slightly, ready to exert force.
Opposite them, the Red Team's line was also formed. But their arrangement was completely different from the White Team's. The Class C students stood randomly, tall and short mixed together, with no sign of following height order. Albert, the strongest, stood at the very front, gripping the rope with a blank expression. Other Class C boys stood behind him, scattered loosely.
Only the Class A students followed the height order, standing in the back.
Katsuragi's brow furrowed. This wasn't a logical formation. Albert standing at the front meant his strength couldn't be used effectively at the critical moment. The random positioning of the others meant the force exerted would be uneven, and the rope would wobble. With this kind of formation, they couldn't possibly win.
Unless they didn't want to win.
"Hikigaya wouldn't let Ryuen mess around like this," Katsuragi whispered to himself.
Totsuka Yahiko, standing next to him, heard this and also frowned. "Katsuragi-kun, are you saying... Hikigaya is being suppressed by Ryuen? He can't unite with Class C?"
Katsuragi didn't answer. He didn't know. He only knew that the Red Team's current formation looked like a heap of loose sand. But Hikigaya Hachiman wasn't the kind of person to be suppressed. He must have a reason. It was just that Katsuragi hadn't figured out what that reason was yet.
"First round—prepare!"
The referee raised the flag. Both teams squatted down simultaneously, hands gripping the rope. The White Team's line was perfectly synchronized, everyone leaning back slightly, their center of gravity on their heels. The Red Team's line was disorganized; some squatted deep, some shallow, and some were even turning back to talk to the person next to them.
"Go—!"
The whistle blew.
The White Team exerted force all at once. From the first person to the last, the power converged into a torrent on the rope. Sudo, at the very back, gritted his teeth, his feet digging two deep pits into the sand. The rope tightened abruptly with a muffled thrum.
And then, the rope came over.
It didn't come slowly; it was pulled over in an instant. The White Team felt a momentary resistance in their hands, and then the rope felt as if there were no resistance at all, sliding rapidly toward them. The red ribbon crossed the White Team's line.
"First round, White Team wins!" The referee raised the flag.
The White Team boys were stunned. They won? They won that easily? They hadn't even broken a sweat before the rope came over. Someone looked back toward the Red Team. The Class C boys were just standing there. They didn't look like they had lost a match at all. If anything, they looked like—they had thrown it on purpose.
Sudo let go of the rope and straightened up. He brushed the sand off his hands, looked toward Ryuen across from him, and his mouth slowly curved into a smirk.
"You Class C guys are trash!" Sudo raised his hand and flipped the bird toward Ryuen, shouting loud enough for the entire field to hear. His expression changed from tension to triumph, and then to arrogance.
The rest of Class D started laughing along. The gloom of being beaten by Class C in the pole-toppling match without being able to fight back was swept away in an instant.
"Ryuen is only at this level," someone said loudly.
"Yeah, so arrogant on the field, but can't handle tug-of-war?" another joined in.
Ryuen stood in the Class C line, arms folded, watching the cheering White Team boys. He had no expression.
"Ryuen," Ishizaki leaned in and whispered, "they took the bait."
Ryuen didn't speak, but his smile deepened.
There were only two minutes of rest. The referee timed the interval, and both teams returned to their areas. The White Team boys were still laughing, high-fiving, and mocking the other side. Katsuragi, standing with the Class B group, watched this and frowned even harder.
"Katsuragi-kun," Totsuka walked over and whispered, "we won."
"I know," Katsuragi said.
"But..."
"It was too easy," Katsuragi interrupted him.
Totsuka was stunned. Katsuragi's gaze fell on the Red Team camp. The Class C boys were huddled together, Ryuen in the middle, saying something. He was gesturing, Albert was nodding, and the others were listening. They weren't arranging tactics; they were—laughing. That smile wasn't the bitter smile of losing a match; it was the kind of smile one only has after winning a bet.
"Second round, prepare!"
The referee raised the flag.
The White Team boys returned to their positions. Their expressions were much more relaxed than in the first round; some were still laughing, and some were making faces at the other side. Sudo stood at the back, gripping the rope, chin tilted up, looking across with full confidence.
The Red Team opposite them had changed their formation.
The Class C people were standing in an arc. Not a straight line, but curved. The rope in their hands wasn't a straight line but a curve. The people in the middle bulged forward, while those at the ends pulled back, making the whole team look like a drawn bow.
Katsuragi's pupils constricted slightly. An arc formation. This wasn't a common tug-of-war formation because it was unstable. The rope was curved, and when force was exerted, the power would be dispersed and couldn't be concentrated in one direction. But if coordinated well, an arc formation could release an enormous burst of power in an instant. Not sustained force, but an explosion.
"They really were throwing the first round. We have to be careful in the second." Katsuragi's voice was very low, audible only to himself.
"Second round—prepare!"
"Go!"
The whistle blew. The White Team exerted force simultaneously, just like the first round, synchronized, with power converging into a torrent. But this time, the rope didn't come over. Not because the White Team didn't use force, but because the Red Team was also using force. The arc formation was pulled straight the instant the whistle blew. Those curved parts released their stored energy at that moment, like a fully drawn bow being suddenly let go.
The red ribbon was jerked violently toward the Red Team. More than half of the ribbon crossed the center line.
The White Team was startled.
"Pull! Pull!" Katsuragi shouted.
The White Team quickly added force. The rope stalemated on the center line for several seconds, wobbling back and forth, the red ribbon leaning this way and then that. But the Red Team's arc formation had already broken apart; their explosive power lasted only for a moment. The White Team's strength was greater and more sustained, and the rope began to be pulled back inch by inch.
But the red ribbon ultimately leaned toward the Red Team's side. The initial advantage was too large; the White Team couldn't catch up.
"Second round, Red Team wins!" The referee raised the flag.
The Class C boys let go of the rope at the same time. Ryuen stood there, hands in his pockets, his gaze on the White Team, his smile even deeper than before.
"Ha... you guys really are trash." His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough. "Let's do it one more time and show them what's what."
Class C's morale soared.
Albert clenched his fists, Ishizaki Daichi gave a roar, and the others followed suit. On the Class A side, Shibata Sou wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced back at Hachiman. But Hachiman was very calm. So, he just continued.
On the White Team's side, the atmosphere was completely different. Those who were laughing just now were now silent. They finally understood—the Red Team hadn't lost the first round; they had thrown it on purpose. To make them underestimate the enemy, to make them let down their guard, and then to show their true strength in the second round to take back the score in one go.
"Ryuen played us like children." Sudo's voice came from the White Team, filled with obvious rage. "That bastard."
His face was flushed red, his teeth grinding. He had been tricked. Not only had he been tricked, but he had also flipped the bird and shouted "trash" at the other side after being tricked. Thinking back now, those actions and words probably looked as pathetic as a clown performance to the other side.
"Third round—prepare!"
Before the referee's whistle even blew, the White Team members had already squatted down. Everyone's expression was tense. Sudo stood at the back, gripping the rope, his feet sinking into two deep pits in the sand.
"Go!"
The whistle blew, and the White Team exerted force simultaneously, without holding back. Thirty-nine people, from the first to the last, their power converged into a torrent. The rope tightened sharply, the red ribbon wavered in the center for a moment, and then began to slowly move toward the White Team.
"Don't lose to a guy like Ryuen—!" Sudo's roar came from the very back of the line, loud enough to drown out everyone else's shouts.
The red ribbon moved a bit further toward the White Team.
The White Team's momentum was rising. The red ribbon was moving inch by inch toward the White Team's side—not fast, but steadily. As long as they kept this momentum, the White Team would win this round.
Right then, the red ribbon suddenly flew toward the Red Team's side at high speed.
It didn't slide slowly; it snapped over. The rope snapped out of the White Team's hands, and everyone fell backward onto the sand. Some fell flat on their backs, some face down, and some were pinned by the people behind them—a complete mess. The White Team fell like dominoes, row by row starting from the back. Sudo, standing at the very back, fell the furthest, landing flat on his back on the sand, the impact making him wince in pain.
The Red Team was still standing in place. The Class C boys had let go of the rope; some were clapping, some were laughing. Ryuen stood at the very front, hands still in his pockets, wearing that punchable smirk.
"You guys were great." Ryuen's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough. "Picking up a win like it was trash. Congratulations, you won this round."
The White Team members climbed up from the sand, brushing themselves off. They won, but no one was happy. Because they knew this round wasn't something they had seized; it was something the other side had given to them. Ryuen wasn't congratulating them; he was mocking them.
"Ryuen, you piece of—!"
Sudo scrambled up from the sand and took two steps toward Ryuen before being pulled back by Hirata from behind.
"Sudo-kun, calm down." Hirata's voice was gentle, but his grip was firm. "If you fall for it and get into a fight, we'll be disqualified, and Class D will be finished."
Sudo grit his teeth, his knuckles cracking, but he didn't charge forward. He stood in place, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Ryuen. Ryuen had already turned around and was walking toward the Class C tent. His back looked relaxed, his pace unhurried, like he was taking a stroll—exactly like when he was kicking Sudo down on the field.
Sudo's eyes turned red.
In the three rounds of tug-of-war, the White Team won two and the Red Team won one. According to the rules, the White Team was the victor. But the White Team members didn't cheer, high-five, or even smile. They walked back to their tent in silence, like a defeated army. They were a defeated army. Not a defeat in points, but a psychological defeat. From the beginning, they had been led by the nose—given a free round, provoked, mocked, and played like monkeys. Winning brought no joy, and losing was an even greater shame.
When Ryuen walked into the Class C tent, Albert handed him a towel. This time Ryuen took it, wiped the sand from his face, and threw it back.
"We lost the tug-of-war," Ryuen said. "Just as planned. Next time, provoke Sudo a bit more, and he'll be broken. He'll just forfeit directly like Koenji."
He said this to Hachiman, who had come over to the Class C tent area.
Hachiman looked at him without speaking.
"Ryuen," Hachiman spoke up.
"What is it?" Ryuen asked.
"Nothing," Hachiman said. "Just reminding you—during the pole-toppling, you found a recording pen on Sudo. You probably think Katsuragi planted it."
Ryuen's brow twitched.
"But Ayanokouji was also there," Hachiman continued. "He knows what you're doing."
Ryuen's brow furrowed again, but quickly relaxed.
"Katsuragi only has those few tricks," Ryuen said casually. "As for Ayanokouji, he was in the Class D crowd at the time. I looked for him but didn't find him. He probably knew I was going to make a move and slipped away early."
Hachiman looked at Ryuen and remained silent for a second. Ryuen hadn't realized where the problem was. He thought Ayanokouji was hiding from him, avoiding his edge. But Ayanokouji
wasn't the type to hide. He was waiting. Waiting until there was enough solid evidence of Ryuen's violations before making a move. At that point, it wouldn't be a matter of reporting a single match; it would be reporting a person, a whole class.
Hachiman pulled his gaze back and said no more. Ryuen wasn't a student in his class; he didn't need to give him detailed warnings. He had given the reminder; if Ryuen didn't listen, that was his business.
Besides, if Ryuen were reported and Class C's points were reduced, it wouldn't be a bad thing for Hachiman. At the very least, Class C wouldn't be able to take first place in the school year.
And so.
The final first-year boys' event of the morning—the cavalry battle—began.
A large circle was drawn in the center of the playground, with fine sand spread inside. The rules of the cavalry battle were simple—each small team consisted of four people: three below acting as the "horse" and one on top acting as the "rider." The rider had a headband tied around their head; if it was pulled off by an opponent, they lost. The last team remaining wins.
The Red Team and White Team each fielded ten small teams for the melee inside the circle. The Red Team wore red headbands, and the White Team wore white ones.
Ryuen stood in front of the Class C group, holding a red headband and tying it around his head.
"Ryuen." Hachiman walked up to him and lowered his voice. "You put hair wax on your headband, didn't you?"
Ryuen's hand paused. He glanced at Hachiman, his eyes holding a trace of surprise and a hint of wariness.
"How did you know?"
"I could tell," Hachiman said. "With hair wax on it, it's hard for others to pull it off. That counts as a minor violation."
Ryuen snorted. "As long as the cameras can't catch it, it's fine."
Hachiman looked at him. "During the pole-toppling, Katsuragi found a recording pen on Sudo. Ayanokouji was also present. If you get reported—the minor violation plus the violation from the pole-toppling—it's a double violation. Your points will be invalidated. You'll become one of the bottom ten."
Ryuen's fingers paused on the headband. His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened.
"As long as you don't do anything unnecessary," Ryuen's voice lowered.
"I haven't done anything," Hachiman said. "Just reminding you."
Ryuen looked at him and said nothing. He tied the headband and then turned to walk back to the Class C group. Ishizaki Daichi leaned in and whispered.
"Ryuen, what did Hikigaya say to you?"
"Nothing," Ryuen said. "Told us to win."
Ishizaki was stunned for a moment, then laughed. "That's for sure!"
On the White Team's side, Katsuragi gathered the captains of the ten teams. People from Class B and Class D formed a circle—thirty-nine people, all eyes on him.
"To capture the bandits, first capture their leader," Katsuragi's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear. "Everyone attack together; take down Ryuen's team first. Once he falls, Class C's morale will crumble."
No one objected. The Class D people hated Ryuen so much their teeth ached, and the Class B people also wanted to win. This was a plan everyone supported.
Sudo stood outside the group, arms folded. His expression wasn't good, his brow furrowed. He didn't object because he knew Katsuragi was right. But he was thinking of something else. He wanted a duel with Ryuen. Not a gang-up, but one-on-one. Having been stepped on by Ryuen on the field and played like a monkey in the tug-of-war, he wanted to pay back all those humiliations.
"What about the teams around Ryuen?" Totsuka asked.
"Others will clear them out," Katsuragi said. "Take out Ryuen's help first, then surround him."
Sudo squeezed through the crowd and stood before Katsuragi.
"Duel," Sudo said, his voice hard. "I want a duel with Ryuen."
Katsuragi looked at him, his brow furrowing. He understood Sudo's feelings. Being kicked down on the field and played like a monkey in the tug-of-war, anyone would want to settle the score. But now was not the time for acting on impulse.
"We don't mind if you want to duel Ryuen," Katsuragi's voice was steady. "But focus on the big picture. The battle plan is for ten teams to go together to surround Ryuen first, while others clear out his helpers. This is also a form of intimidation. If Ryuen is the last one left, I don't object to you dueling him. But the premise is that you must pin him down first."
Sudo stared at Katsuragi for two seconds and then nodded. "Fine."
Katsuragi pulled his gaze back and looked at the others. "Everyone understands?"
"Understood!"
"First round, prepare—"
The referee raised the flag.
Twenty teams stood in the circle—ten from the Red Team, ten from the White Team—facing each other.
Hachiman stood in the Class A team, a red headband tied around his forehead; he was the rider. The three horses below him were Kanzaki Ryuji, Shibata Sou, and another Class A boy. Their task was simple—protect Hachiman and don't let the White Team pull off his headband.
Ryuen was in the Class C team as the rider. The three horses below were Albert, Ishizaki Daichi, and another Class C boy. Albert's shoulders were very broad, and Ryuen stood on top of them very steadily.
On the White Team's side, Katsuragi was also a rider, with three of Class B's physically strongest boys as his horses. Sudo wasn't a rider; he was acting as a horse, with Miyake Akito as the rider.
"Ready—"
Everyone leaned forward slightly, ready to sprint.
Beep—!
The whistle blew.
The White Team all charged toward Ryuen. Their only target was Ryuen Kakeru.
"Charge—!" Sudo's roar came from the White Team. His physical strength was staggering, carrying Miyake Akito at the front of the pack, faster even than those next to him who didn't have a rider. The other White Team units followed behind him like a charging army, creating a massive momentum.
On the Red Team's side, the Class A units tightened their formation. They weren't there to attack, but to defend. Protect their own riders, don't let the White Team pull the headbands, and wait for Class C to break the White Team apart. Hachiman stood on the shoulders of Kanzaki and Shibata, hands resting on their heads to steady himself. His gaze fell on the White Team's charge.
The White Team had already reached Ryuen. Sudo was the first to arrive; acting as a horse for Miyake Akito, he crashed directly into Class C's defensive line. Albert blocked the front; his body was too wide, and when Sudo hit him, it felt like hitting a wall. Miyake Akito reached out to grab Ryuen's headband.
Ryuen tilted his head. Miyake's hand slipped right off the headband. The band had hair wax on it, making it slippery and impossible to grasp.
The rest of the White Team arrived one after another, surrounding Ryuen's unit completely. Some went to pull Ryuen's headband, some to push Albert, and some to drag Ishizaki Daichi. The scene was chaotic. Katsuragi stood in his own unit; seeing the White Team surrounding Ryuen so tightly, he was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he caught a glimpse of the other
side of the battlefield out of the corner of his eye—his own teams were being cleared out by the Red Team.
The Class A units were holding their positions without moving. But the other Class C units had moved. They didn't go to save Ryuen; instead, they attacked the White Team's rear. Of the ten White Team units, nine were surrounding Ryuen, and only one remained in the rear to defend. The Class C members cut in from the side and scattered that single unit.
"Fall back! Defend the rear!" Katsuragi shouted.
But it was too late. After scattering the rear unit, the Class C members charged directly toward Katsuragi.
Katsuragi grit his teeth. He had only one choice now—take down Ryuen first. Once Ryuen fell, Class C's morale would break, and the Red Team's formation would fall into chaos.
"Everyone concentrate! Take down Ryuen first!"
The White Team pressed even harder toward Ryuen. Sudo, carrying Miyake Akito, lunged left and right through the crowd. His strength was too great; Albert was knocked back a few steps by him. Miyake Akito reached out again to grab Ryuen's headband.
Ryuen tilted his head, and Miyake's hand slipped again.
"Are you even capable?!" Sudo roared, his voice filled with obvious impatience.
Miyake Akito didn't speak. His hands were shaking—not from nervousness, but because he knew he simply couldn't pull it off. Ryuen's headband was coated in hair wax, slippery as a fish. He had tried twice, and both times it slipped.
Miyake glanced toward the edge of the crowd. Ayanokouji was standing there; his group had already failed, so he was standing off to the side. Miyake pulled his gaze back. Ayanokouji hadn't given him any instructions.
"I can't grab it," Miyake's voice was very low, heard only by Sudo.
Sudo grit his teeth. "Try again!"
Miyake took a deep breath and reached out once more. This time Ryuen didn't tilt his head; instead, he leaned his head forward. Miyake's fingers touched Ryuen's headband, and he pulled hard—the band slipped under his fingertips and then snapped away from his hand.
Ryuen's hand reached out and snatched Miyake's headband.
Miyake's vision went dark as the headband drifted from his forehead and fell onto the sand. He had lost.
"No—!" Sudo's roar echoed in the circle.
Miyake's unit was out. The White Team had lost a massive combat force.
Katsuragi had no time to check on Sudo's side because his own unit was being attacked by the Class C team. Ishizaki Daichi crashed in from the side, sending Katsuragi's horses wobbling. Katsuragi stood on top, his body swaying, nearly falling. He reached down to steady himself on a horse's head, then looked back.
Totsuka Yahiko was tied up by the Class C people and couldn't come to support. The other White Team units—some were surrounding Ryuen, some were retreating, and some had already been broken by Class C.
Katsuragi took a deep breath and steadied his horse. He needed to deal with the enemy in front of him first.
"To the right!" he shouted.
The horses below immediately turned right. Katsuragi reached out and grabbed Ishizaki Daichi's headband in one go. Before Ishizaki could react, the band had been pulled off.
Ishizaki's unit was out. The Red Team was down one person. But before Katsuragi could celebrate, a hand reached out from behind him and snatched his headband.
Hachiman had somehow circled behind Katsuragi without him noticing. In his palm, he held Katsuragi's headband.
Katsuragi's body froze. He turned his head and looked at Hachiman.
"When were you there?!"
"That... my presence is quite low, I guess?" Hachiman said.
"..." Katsuragi.
Katsuragi opened his mouth to say something but ultimately said nothing. His unit was out. The White Team was down another person.
But Totsuka Yahiko was still there. He was the only White Team unit that hadn't been eliminated yet. When Katsuragi was eliminated, Totsuka had already broken through the Class C encirclement. His target was Hachiman. Hachiman's headband was still there; as long as he pulled it off, the Red Team would lose a combat force.
Totsuka's horse carried him to the front of Hachiman. Totsuka reached out and grabbed Hachiman's headband.
Hachiman tilted his head. Totsuka's fingers slipped from the headband, and Hachiman took the opportunity to reach for Totsuka's headband.
Totsuka tilted his head, and Hachiman's hand slipped. Both missed simultaneously.
Totsuka reached out again, and Hachiman tilted his head again. This time Totsuka didn't slip; his fingers hooked Hachiman's headband and he pulled hard. Hachiman's headband drifted from his forehead and fell onto the sand.
Hachiman's unit was out.
But before Totsuka could celebrate, a hand reached out from behind him and snatched his headband.
Ryuen had somehow circled behind Totsuka. In his palm, he clutched Totsuka's headband—the white one.
Totsuka's expression froze.
Ryuen's unit and Totsuka's unit were out at the same time. The Red and White teams each lost a person.
Only one unit remained in the circle—Ryuen's unit. His headband was still there; he hadn't been eliminated. He was the final winner.
"Red Team wins!" The referee raised the flag.
Ryuen jumped down from Albert's shoulders and clapped his hands. He looked at the eliminated members of the White Team, his smile deeper than before.
"Who else wants a go?" His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.
No one answered.
The cavalry battle was over. It was a crushing defeat for the White Team.
Except.
At this moment, Miyake Akito suddenly stepped forward.
"Referee!" Miyake Akito said.
And Hachiman noticed that Ayanokouji was not far away.
Clearly, the real show was about to begin. Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was preparing to report Ryuen Kakeru.
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