Watching Yukio fly off, Yagami could only stare in disbelief. He couldn't accept being ignored like that. Koenji and Yukio just dismissed him? He was a bona fide White Dorm genius—how dare they ignore him?
No. He wouldn't let it stand. He had to make them notice him. His expression darkened; he swore he'd make both of them pay for their indifference.
Ishizaki, Shiina, and the others stayed behind to watch the jeep. Even though the jeep could handle the island's terrain easily, leaving it unattended invited trouble: other classes could slash tires or let the air out while they weren't looking. That's why the class always kept their jeep in a locked warehouse back at the port.
Yukio had reminded Ishizaki to watch the vehicle.
Soon the helicopter put Yukio down. The pilot and medic looked resigned—they'd never expected the distress-call helicopter to be used as a taxi by a student.
But the pilot didn't argue; life on the cruise ship was dull. The crew were hired in shifts and mostly on standby. Getting to fly a trip was a welcome change, and Yukio had given extra pay, so they were happy to take him along.
The instructor in charge of the task—apparently a teacher from another grade—was stunned when Yukio stepped off the helicopter. He hadn't expected a student to arrive via chopper.
No one else was around; the safety watch had marked Yukio as first, and there was no sign of Koenji. Yukio smiled faintly—he was already in a favorable position in this contest.
Now all that remained was to wait.
It took about ten minutes before Koenji arrived, staring at Yukio in disbelief. He couldn't understand how he'd lost.
There was no jeep nearby—so did Yukio also cut through the woods? Why was Yukio ten minutes faster?!
Koenji, always supremely confident that he was the most perfect person in existence, felt a little shaken. But he straightened up quickly—he was the son of a conglomerate; he wouldn't fall apart over a small blow. "Hahaha! Yukio-kun! Very good, very good!"
"You deserve to see my most beautiful power!"
Yukio waved mildly. "We have to wait for more people. This round needs eight teams."
The task at this location was simple—even Yukio's class had specifically chosen this special exam task: free sparring. It required eight teams, so they had to wait. Koenji was patient enough, though in the meantime he kept flexing his biceps, which left Yukio unimpressed. After this, he decided, he'd keep his distance from Beautiful Bro—they didn't mesh.
They waited nearly forty minutes before enough people gathered. The other teams eyed Yukio and Koenji warily, focusing mostly on Koenji, who they considered the biggest threat.
But Koenji ignored them. When the teacher announced the start, he invited Yukio to be the first match.
Yukio happily agreed; he wanted it over with. After a brief warm-up, he gave Koenji a look.
Koenji struck a confident pose. Yukio planted his foot hard, surged forward, and launched a lateral kick aimed at Koenji's waist.
If the kick landed solidly, Yukio could seriously compromise Koenji's kidney function. But the goal of hitting the waist was not to maim so much as to wreck his balance—in free fighting, disrupting an opponent's center of gravity is crucial.
Koenji, alarmed, knew Yukio was dangerous, but he didn't panic. Maintaining his composure, he reached out and swiped for Yukio's face.
Yukio's kick connected first, unbalancing Koenji. He managed to raise his right arm just in time to block Koenji's weak swipe.
Koenji was shocked. He'd assumed Yukio's physique could take the blow, but reality slapped him: he couldn't.
Thrown off balance, Koenji began to topple. He gritted his teeth and tried to stay upright, but he couldn't keep his footing.
Yukio didn't give him a chance. Continuing his forward motion, he drove his shoulder and elbow across, landing a lateral elbow to Koenji's ribs that sped up his fall.
Koenji wasn't without skill. As soon as he hit the ground he rolled, dissipating the follow-through, and used that motion to half-rise to his feet.
Yukio kicked again, this time aimed at Koenji's solar plexus.
Realizing the danger—Yukio's physical power meant a solid kick here could stop his heart for several seconds—Koenji didn't dare take it head-on. Drawing on his experience, he slapped both palms down hard onto Yukio's raised leg, pinning it before Yukio could fully lift it.
Using the kick's force as a rebound, Koenji exploded up, shoulder and hip in a line, whipping a palm strike at Yukio's head.
He went from being knocked down to counterattacking in one fluid motion.
Yukio, fired up, felt the gust of the strike and instinctively leaned back, pushing off with his feet and leaning out of range. The empty space where the strike should have landed left Koenji unsettled: his attack hadn't connected, and his momentum was spent.
Sure enough, Yukio used the backward fall to his advantage. With his head low and legs high, he flipped while driving his hips, and both feet snapped up into Koenji's face.
The kick sent the recently rising Koenji staggering back several steps. Unable to stop the momentum, Koenji fell backward. Yukio popped up and pressed the attack.
"Still beautiful?" Yukio thought. "If you want beautiful, I'll kick your face again."
"Hahahaha! I give up!"