Koenji raised his hand in surrender.
The duel had been over in seconds. The six other teams watching—students and the supervising teacher included—looked like their eyes were about to pop out. That kind of fight far exceeded anything they'd expected.
There were no drawn-out three-hundred-round battles, no three-day brawls. Just a few exchanges and the outcome was decided.
Everything had been rapid and ferocious, brute physicality pitted against brute physicality. Who'd dare challenge such monsters? The students from the six teams swallowed hard; their hearts thudded like drums.
Just watching Yukio Shō and Koenji fight—if any of them had gone up against those two, they'd have been one-shot killed.
At the thought of that, every one of them backed down inwardly. Better to forfeit against Yukio and Koenji—give up the top two spots and quietly fight for third.
Even the teacher supervising the exam was pale with fear. Thankfully Koenji gave up. Had the fight continued, with those two's skills, it might actually have ended in someone getting seriously hurt.
If something dangerous had happened, the supervising teacher would take the blame—no one wanted that.
They all breathed a private sigh of relief. Lucky Koenji surrendered.
What they didn't know was Yukio and Koenji had deliberately used only fighting techniques, not killing techniques. If they'd used lethal methods, a victor would've been decided even faster—three seconds could be enough to see life or death. Both of them were simply exercising basic restraint.
Yukio paused and looked at Koenji, still smeared with mud and shoe prints. He wanted to laugh—so this self-styled paragon of perfection could have a filthy, disheveled day too.
Koenji, however, didn't seem bothered by the loss. He scrambled up from the ground and threw his head back, laughing loudly. "Hahaha! Exhilarating! Perfect!"
"Once again, like a merciful and perfect ruler, I've shown the world my beauty! Ahahaha!"
Yukio watched him laughing to himself and felt his cheek twitch. Good grief—what a guy.
A few rounds and he'd "shown the world his beauty"? Yukio didn't want to think about the wiring inside Koenji's head—clearly not wired like a normal person. Better to minimize contact with someone whose worldview was that different.
When Koenji finished laughing, he swaggered aside and pulled two bottles of water from his backpack. He tipped one over his face and scrubbed away the mud stains Yukio had kicked onto him. The other he poured over his short, golden-maned hair. He even brought out a compact and a wooden comb.
He handed the compact to a nearby third-year student. "Hold this for me, please."
The senior blinked, flustered, and instinctively took the mirror. Because of the height difference, Koenji half-squatted and combed his blond hair, using the water to slick it into a pompadour.
Satisfied, he nodded. "You're so lucky! To get such a close view of my beauty—my mercy and your good fortune! Ahahaha!"
The senior's brain shorted out—he could barely compute what was happening.
Koenji didn't continue the conversation. He took back the mirror and comb, then, still damp in his sportswear, composedly approached Yukio. "Yukio-kun, my feeling about beauty was right!"
"You're better than I imagined."
Koenji traced the first time he'd really noticed Yukio back at the unmanned-island special exam, when Yukio's team returned early to the ferry. He'd had a face-to-face with Yukio then, and he'd sensed Yukio wasn't someone to take lightly. He'd left after a brief exchange.
Now, from the facts, Koenji believed his own intuition was even more vindicated—more beautiful, in his mind—so even though he'd lost in fighting, he felt smug and joyful. In short, he was practicing pure spirit-victory.
Yukio didn't want to entangle himself further. You couldn't reason with a person like that. He gave a casual nod in reply and looked to the members of the other six teams. "Next?"
The exam wasn't over. Yukio was looking for his next opponent. He'd come all this way for the assignment—if he didn't take first place, wouldn't that be a loss?
"Ah?" The other teams didn't dare go up next. That would be like going to the bathroom with a lantern—asking to get massacred.
Although their lives weren't realistically in danger, just from Yukio and Koenji's fight they knew how strong those two were. Nobody was foolish enough to step forward to be beaten.
More than twenty students waved their hands at once, refusing like fans wildly waving at an idol. "No, no—we'll pass."
"Yeah, let the third-year seniors go first!"
"No, you first-years should step up—seniors should take care of the juniors!"
Seeing their resistance, the supervising teacher snapped back to his senses. He didn't want Yukio and Koenji to fight the remaining teams—no more incidents, please. He announced immediately, "Then Yukio, you're first for this assignment. Koenji is second. The rest of you, start choosing who takes third."
Satisfied, the six teams retreated to the other side of the field without wanting any more contact with Yukio and Koenji.
Yukio left calmly. He still had to cross the woods to get his vehicle. Probably tonight Horikita would get the news of Koenji's defeat—he wondered what her expression would be.
As the unmanned-island special exam slowly moved toward its end, Moon City, Yagami, and the others began to show their own moves.