Lunch break ended, and the afternoon session began.
The recommended events were about to start. As the name implies, these were competitions open only to students who had been nominated.
Only the elite chosen from each class could participate, so high-level performances were expected.
They were treated as the main attractions—like the star lots in an auction—and the crowd's excitement was guaranteed to reach fever pitch.
The event to kick things off was the borrowing race. I was scheduled to run in the final heat for first-years.
"In the borrowing race, some tasks are quite difficult. If you draw one, you may request a redraw, but you'll have to wait thirty seconds before drawing again.
Anyone wishing to redraw should inform the judge at the drawing station during the competition. The race ends once three participants reach the goal. That is all."
The judge finished explaining the rules.
I headed to the waiting area for the final heat runners.
Soon, the first heat began.
The judge holding the lottery box was about ten meters away, so the initial dash was a sprint to reach it.
Observing the participants' athleticism, it was clear the overall level was high, as expected.
But the real test came after drawing the task. Some moved smoothly, some headed straight back to their own camp, and some froze in place.
"Somebody! Lend me a watch!"
"Any handsome guys around?"
"Who the hell slipped in 'opposite sex's socks'?!"
If you didn't have the item on you, you had to shout to find someone who did.
There were clearly some outrageous tasks mixed in. Avoiding those was the key to victory.
And in that moment, what mattered most was "luck."
"Shaa! Piece of cake!"
The winner let out a triumphant roar.
It was Ken Sudō from Class D. Luck had smiled on him too. After his recent slump, this momentum marked his full comeback.
Second and third places were decided shortly after, ending the first heat.
The starting signal for the second heat rang out immediately.
This one included our "king," Kakeru Ryūen, and the self-proclaimed pacifist, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji.
They drew their tasks almost simultaneously. Ryūen started moving at once, while Ayanokōji froze.
"Excuse me! Anyone got a spare jersey I can borrow?"
"Cash?! They implemented the point system—why even include a task like this?!"
As usual, some participants called for help to search more efficiently.
The gap between those who drew easy tasks and those who drew duds was obvious.
Ryūen took first place, followed quickly by second and third.
For the record, what he presented to the judge was a headband. Lucky draw.
Ayanokōji had to redraw twice. Unlucky.
The heats continued at this pace until, at last, the final first-year heat arrived.
The moment it started, I dashed toward the lottery box.
"If luck decides to glitch, this could actually be interesting."
I reached into the box. It held a decent number of folded slips.
Careful not to grab more than one, I pulled out a single slip and unfolded the quadruple-folded paper.
"A cute girl with big breasts!!"
With a loud crunch, I crushed the paper in my fist.
A miss. An unmistakable, catastrophic miss.
Whoever prepared these dud tasks clearly included someone with a rotten personality and a twisted mind.
I considered staying to request a redraw, but the other participants were already moving.
Any time lost here would almost certainly mean defeat. Sensing that instinctively, I reluctantly started running.
I had to win. I forced myself to accept it.
I headed back toward my own camp.
There was only one person I could ask. On the white team, the only student who could handle being shown this blatant sexual-harassment task, who met the conditions, and who would conveniently play along was her.
"Ichinose-san. Follow me without a word."
"Eh—me?"
Honami Ichinose. Leader of Class B. The exact person I'd been looking for, the only one who fulfilled every requirement.
Her eyes widened like saucers, and I nodded in response.
"If it's me, I'm totally happy to help, but 'without a word' is asking a bit much, don't you think? At the very least, I should confirm whether I fit the task, right?"
"I'll explain on the way. You're the only one who meets the conditions. I'll owe you a favor if needed—just please come."
"…If you're that insistent, there must be a reason. Okay, I'm in.
Also, fair warning—I'm the type who collects whatever favors she can get!"
Once I'd briefed her on the essentials, Ichinose leaped down from the spectator seats.
All that remained was to reach the goal. Thanks to her quick decision, first place seemed assured.
"So, what exactly did the task say?"
She tried to confirm while we ran.
"Please just play along."
I handed her the crumpled slip.
"…Ah, I see. Also, this handwriting kind of looks like Hoshinomiya-sensei's, doesn't it?"
That woman. I recalled Class B's homeroom teacher, the one who'd forced me to imitate voices multiple times during the cruise exam.
"If I've offended you, I apologize. Still, you were the only one who fit the conditions."
"…It's kind of embarrassing. And 'cute' is pretty subjective, you know…"
The same Ichinose who'd been bewildered moments ago now blushed faintly as she ran.
Her emotions certainly kept busy.
"Objectively speaking, your appearance is well-proportioned. There's no issue."
"Th-thank you…?"
I steered the conversation away from the uncomfortable part by complimenting her looks outright.
She gave an awkward, embarrassed smile. The expression that surfaced naturally from her heart was, objectively, pleasant to observe.
We reached the goal together without further incident.
The judge's inspection passed without problems, and the slip was collected.
I was declared first. I'd somehow preserved my shot at the Outstanding Player Award.
"For the cover story, should I say it was a girl with peach-colored hair?"
"That works."
She flashed a bright smile and continued, beaming.
"Getting a favor from you is pretty huge. How long is this favor good for?"
"However long you decide."
"Got it. I'll treasure it!"
With that, she returned to her camp in high spirits.
Having finished my event, I began walking back to mine as well.
Next up were the second-years. Their first heat had already begun.
That was when I spotted a familiar male student.
"Miyabi Nagumo."
Running in the first heat was none other than the school's vice president—and the very person current student council president Manabu Horikita had asked me to deal with.
He drew his task, immediately borrowed the item, and finished first.
It was partly luck, but more than that, it was his overwhelming popularity.
The moment he returned to his camp asking to borrow something, a crowd volunteered. That simple sequence of actions was enough to mark him as the undisputed top of the social hierarchy.
As I analyzed him, Nagumo—surrounded by girls as he returned—noticed my gaze.
He smiled and changed direction toward me.
"Been a while since we met in front of the student council room. You remember me, right, Kamukura Izuru?"
"Yes, I remember."
He signaled the girls to step back, then appraised me with the same narrow-eyed stare as before.
"I wasn't interested back then, but I never imagined you'd perform like this."
"It almost sounds like you're interested now."
"I'd love to call that overconfidence… but after watching you dominate this sports festival, I have to admit it."
He snorted, cracked his neck, then opened his eyes wide.
The view before him had shaken off the cocoon of boredom. His gaze held the pure excitement of a child discovering new playground equipment.
He seemed genuinely delighted from the depths of his heart.
"I'm thrilled. I thought things would get boring once Horikita-senpai graduates, but with a junior like you around, that changes everything.
Your academics and athletic ability go without saying. Just looking at the special exam records makes it obvious your intellect is a full head above the rest of the first-years.
And today, with my own eyes, I confirmed there was no exaggeration in your abilities."
"You're unusually talkative today."
I didn't know where he'd gathered the information, but my capabilities were apparently an open book to him. For someone who controlled an entire grade, that was child's play.
"I've always been talkative. More importantly—why not join the student council?
There's a grade gap between us. The only way to close it is to get closer. That would give me more chances to play with you."
"I've had my fill of invitations."
I turned down Miyabi Nagumo's blatantly combative offer.
His aura—like a starving beast—was tolerable enough, but at his current level, he wasn't worth my time. Boring.
"Had your fill, huh… Horikita-senpai was paying attention to you too. Looks like his eye for people really is sharper than mine. I was the fool."
Since he meant it sincerely, it was clear he respected the student council president.
I detected no hidden hostility or desire to see him fall.
"Are you analyzing me right now?"
He grinned, clearly enjoying the conversation itself.
"Your eyebrow twitched just a little. Was it that surprising that I read your thoughts?"
"You're clumsy at provoking reactions."
Naturally, my expression hadn't moved an inch.
He was simply bluffing to try and shake me. Still, since his guess was correct, his predictive ability was impressive.
That said, if he wanted to make my eyebrow move in a battle of deception, he'd need someone on the level of Junko Enoshima.
"Fine. From now on, more exams will mix grades. I can learn about you there.
I won't be able to bother you until Horikita-senpai graduates, but afterward, you're my target. Look forward to it."
Having said his piece, he turned away.
He called to the girls waiting for him and started back toward his camp.
A thoroughly self-centered person. Nothing existed in his head except himself and whatever caught his interest.
Honestly, I felt like ignoring the student council president's request entirely.
Still, since I owed the president a small debt, I supposed I could give him a little face.
"Miyabi Nagumo, Vice President."
"…What?"
I called out, and he turned only his upper body toward me.
"Was the information you got from Nazuna Asahina useful?"
At that, his eyebrow twitched slightly.
A hit. It had been pure bluff with no basis, yet he'd reacted.
Over summer vacation, a girl had approached me with some ulterior motive.
Nazuna Asahina. I didn't know if it was on his orders, but his reaction confirmed he was involved in investigating me.
"If you want to play with me, you should train your facial muscles a bit more."
"…You really are a cocky junior."
Miyabi Nagumo's mouth curved into a wide arc before he headed back to his camp.
The cheerful aura radiating from his back only drew more people toward him.
Just as Horikita-senpai had predicted. I was now officially in his sights.
"Let us look forward to an unpredictable future."
I needed to return to my camp to prepare for the four-way tug-of-war.
My next opponent was Rokusuke Kōenji—a person who just might bring me something unexpected.
My heart did not leap with anticipation.
Even so, I resumed walking without suppressing the faint stir of excitement.
...
The borrowing race ended, and the next recommended event—the four-way tug-of-war—was about to begin.
The participants had taken their positions, seated in front of the ropes laid out on the ground.
I, who was originally supposed to compete, was now watching from our camp, seated.
It was thanks to Kōenji Rokusuke's scheme—or rather, his whim—that I'd been swapped out.
My arm was injured, so in the end it worked out for the better.
Still, considering we'd had to spend the points we'd accumulated as a class, it was hardly a happy resolution.
"Ayanokōji-kun, is your arm all right?"
Horikita, having returned to our camp, noticed the ice pack pressed against my arm and asked.
"As you can see. According to Hoshinomiya-sensei, it's not the kind of injury that heals quickly."
"…It's your own fault. Kamukura-kun's physical abilities are abnormal. You're lucky the collision only left you with that much damage."
"Well, I suppose I got hit in a good spot. I've always had decent luck in that regard."
"What place did you get in the borrowing race?"
"…Dead last."
Horikita let out a heavy sigh and directed a sharp, disdainful glare at me.
I met her gaze, then turned my attention back to watching the match.
"…Hey, Ayanokōji-kun."
Her voice was unusually timid as she spoke.
It didn't sound like the Horikita I knew. The event was still in the explanation phase, so we had time.
I decided to engage.
"Did Ryūen contact you?"
"…You saw right through me."
Horikita sat down on the pipe chair beside me.
The eyes that had felt stronger than before were now dim, like a light about to go out—faint and fragile.
"What did he say?"
"In short, he's trying to pin false blame on me for causing Kinoshita-san's injury."
She briefly explained the situation afterward.
He claimed Horikita had deliberately tripped the highly athletic Kinoshita as sabotage against Class C. Ryūen was pushing that angle and threatening to report it, though it was completely unfounded.
But the evidence was Kinoshita's injured leg, putting her at a disadvantage. That was the scenario Ryūen had envisioned.
And if she wanted him to drop the accusation, he demanded one million private points as compensation—plus Horikita groveling on her knees.
"So that's the mess you brought on yourself, and you've been worrying about it."
"…Exactly."
Horikita tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to compose herself.
From her profile, I could see frustration filling her eyes as she seriously pondered the matter.
"So, what do you want me to say?"
"What do you mean? Your opinion… No, my evaluation based on this sports festival."
Horikita frowned, bracing herself for something unpleasant.
She already knew. She was aware she'd been nothing but a burden during this festival.
And now she wanted to hear it from someone else's mouth. The Horikita from early in our enrollment would never have done that.
"I see. If you're fine with harsh criticism, I'll give you an overall assessment."
Though her expression soured, Horikita nodded.
"If I had to score you out of a hundred… I'd say around forty."
"…You really don't hold back."
"I thought that would be better for you right now. …Do you know where you went wrong?"
"Underestimating Ryūen-kun's strength, and becoming a hindrance to the class."
"Correct."
Everything Horikita had done before the sports festival was right.
Vigilance toward Class C, communication with Class A, improving Class D's abilities, and countermeasures against potential traitors.
But one critical misstep had triggered a domino effect of negative consequences.
That was her vigilance toward Class C—or more precisely, toward Ryūen.
She'd probably prepared several plans against Kamukura.
She'd pitted Sudō, who boasted the best athleticism in Class D, against him, observed during group events, and intended to find an opening somewhere.
She believed that as long as she didn't give up, victory was possible, and she'd continued analyzing with those determined eyes.
But Kamukura's overwhelming presence had caused her to let her guard down against Class C's true leader.
"You knew Ryūen's strength. A formidable enemy who doesn't care about methods. Why did you drop your guard?"
"…I won't make excuses. It was my arrogance.
I recognized Ryūen-kun as a tough opponent. Yet somewhere in my heart, I mistakenly thought that since I'd beaten him on the cruise exam, I'd be fine—and that if I didn't give up, an opportunity would come.
Plus, I'd planned to stop Kamukura-kun somehow… but seeing even you end up with that injury, honestly, I'd already given up."
"If you can analyze yourself that thoroughly, you'll be fine. You didn't need to hear my evaluation just to push your already strained mind further."
"I wanted a chance to reflect on myself. And… I wouldn't have acknowledged my arrogance until Kamukura-kun pointed it out."
"So the enemy handed you salt. Your high pride blinded you with frustration, and you used me under the pretense of confirmation."
"Something like that."
She'd grown, but Horikita was still Horikita. Proud, assertive, and until this very moment, she hadn't uttered a single word of weakness.
"But your countermeasures against the 'traitor' weren't wrong."
"Are you trying to console me?"
"No, it's fact. In this sports festival, the traitor had the advantage.
No matter how many precautions you take, unless you persuade the traitor, the participation forms will be seen after the deadline—making it hard to prevent."
"…But I couldn't persuade her."
"I saw your effort. And you planned countermeasures assuming you couldn't stop her. That was restricting the traitor's future actions."
With Karuizawa and the others' help, Horikita had succeeded in deepening distrust toward Kushida.
Kushida's greatest weapon was the class's trust. But between this incident and her behavior on the cruise exam, that trust was fading.
Thus, if a similar exam came again, the risks of betrayal now outweighed the rewards for the current Kushida.
If she betrayed again, the "ideal" Kushida Kikyo would vanish from this school.
If Chabashira was asked whether anyone had come to check the forms after submission—and evidence of that was secured—it could be checkmate.
And with that evidence, the next betrayal wouldn't just erase the "ideal" Kushida from the school.
────It could erase Kushida from this school forever.
"…The match is starting."
Horikita ended the conversation and turned her gaze to the field, so I followed suit.
The participants had picked up the ropes and were preparing.
"Yeah."
I replied and focused on the match.
This one was important. How far could Kōenji—who possessed athletic ability surpassing even Sudō in Class D—go against Kamukura?
It was a good chance to analyze.
From what I could see, Kōenji appeared unusually motivated. We'd get to witness Kōenji at full seriousness.
"Which side will win—red or white?"
"Who knows. That's impossible to say."
Kōenji's true strength was an unknown quantity. Kamukura, on the other hand, was a monster whose depths I couldn't fathom even when facing him directly.
Only the gods knew who would win.
Kōenji burned with fighting spirit; Kamukura radiated no intensity at all.
As I watched the two polar opposites, the starting signal rang out.
...
Four-way tug-of-war.
The event involves two ropes tied together in a cross, with four teams pulling from each direction.
One class is assigned to each direction, with four people allowed to hold the rope per team—for a total of sixteen participants.
It's a single, no-resentment match. Everything rides on one decisive pull.
Class B holds opposite Class A; Class C holds opposite Class D.
Since it's a recommended event, only those with exceptional strength from each class grip the ropes with their powerful arms.
"Hey, Kōenji! Hold the damn rope properly! And match the timing with us!"
"It is not I who must match you. The three of you should match me."
"Don't screw around! And switch places already—I'm supposed to be at the front!"
"The front is where the strongest power in the group belongs. In other words, my place."
Kōenji answered Sudō—who had veins bulging across his forehead—with a loud, mocking laugh.
The atmosphere felt almost casual for a competition, yet their team's cohesion didn't appear disrupted in the slightest.
"Let's calm down. Sudō-kun, you yourself said earlier that it might be better to match Kōenji-kun's timing, didn't you?"
Hirata spoke with a smile, trying to soothe the two.
The other classes were wary of Class D's unknown factor and Sudō, who rivaled the school's top athletes.
Yet looking at Hirata's smiling face, he seemed to approach the match with room to spare.
If they were lacking focus or growing complacent, such wariness wouldn't be necessary.
"Kuku. Class D's mental fortitude is surprisingly solid. They'll be satisfying to crush."
Ryūen wore a sadistic grin.
He, too, projected an air of complete confidence.
"Kōenji showing up—wasn't that outside our predictions?"
"True, it was unexpected. And instead of their team atmosphere worsening, it's actually improving.
I don't know what happened, but we can find out later. Kuku. They have no chance of winning anyway."
Ryūen responded to Ishizaki's concern with a bold smirk.
His confident expression held no trace of bravado.
The reason lay in Kamukura, who stood at the front holding the rope.
"You seem quite motivated. For an unknown-obsessed pervert."
"I'm simply a little curious about his abilities."
Kamukura's red eyes fixed on Rokusuke Kōenji.
A man whose physical capabilities made even the title "Super High School Level" feel inadequate.
Noticing Kamukura's gaze, Kōenji returned a fearless smile.
It was a smile that reveled in the situation, yet showed not the slightest hint of carelessness.
He was fully prepared to fight. His overflowing fighting spirit needed no words.
"It's about to begin."
Kamukura said that to Ryūen, and the judge immediately prepared to start the match.
Tension rippled not only through Class C but through every participant on the field.
The spectators sensed the atmosphere and focused intently.
The chatter faded away. It was truly the calm before the storm.
All that could be heard was the sound of swallowed breaths and the powerful grip on the ropes.
In the silence charged with intensity, the judge raised one hand to signal the start and covered his ears.
A faint, gem-like red. A deep, blood-like red.
As if to emphasize the contrast, both pairs of eyes opened wide.
──────Bang! The signal sounded.
The ropes were yanked with tremendous force from two directions.
"Damn it!!"
The participants desperately shouted, straining to keep the ropes from being pulled into the opponent's territory as they resisted the immense power.
The sources of that overwhelming force were Class C and Class D.
Two male students pulled without even bending their knees, using only the strength of one arm.
Veins bulged as both poured everything into their grip.
The instant the signal rang out, Kōenji and Kamukura unleashed their superhuman reflexes and power.
"As expected, you understand. That in tug-of-war, technique isn't what matters—it's pure, raw power."
Kōenji's lips curved into a delighted arc.
He gripped the rope with both hands, dropped his knees low, and began pulling with his full body weight.
The rope gradually shifted toward Class D, and Kamukura's feet—gouging the ground—were dragged along with it.
In that moment, the balance between the two colossal forces shattered.
"We can win this!"
Sudō roared to rally his teammates.
Classes A and B followed suit, their encouragements echoing across the field like a mountain call.
"Tch. You lot better give it everything. You know what happens if we lose, right?"
With a click of his tongue, Ryūen issued orders that drew out his team's maximum effort.
Ishizaki and Komiya flinched, then poured even more strength into the rope.
Albert did the same, devoting his powerful arms and steel-trained muscles solely to pulling.
Yet even so, Class D still held the advantage.
Their strength was enough to keep dragging Kamukura Izuru's feet across the ground.
"Magnificent. Then I suppose we should exert full effort as well."
After those words, Kamukura assumed an ideal—almost perfect—stance.
He gripped the rope with both hands and lowered his hips.
The frictional force from the rope on his hands, the frictional and normal forces from the ground on his feet. And gravity.
As if controlling every vector to a single point, he unified all the generated forces into pure pulling power without dispersing any.
A perfect stance created perfect movement, and perfect movement produced a perfect flow.
The rope, which had been shifting toward Class D, began reversing as if time itself were rewinding.
"…Excellent!"
Kōenji shouted with glee.
He matched the effort with even greater force, but he only managed to slow the rope's movement—he couldn't reverse it.
The cross point of the ropes returned to its starting position.
The power difference between Classes A and B was remarkably balanced.
Thus, the decisive disparity emerged in the pull between Classes C and D.
Yet overall, Class C possessed superior physical ability. Between Albert and Sudō, Albert was stronger.
The same went for Ryūen versus Hirata, and Komiya versus the remaining Class D participant.
And, of course, the difference between Kamukura Izuru and Rokusuke Kōenji.
Bang! Bang! Two gunshots rang out.
This was the signal for the end of the match. The center of the rope had shifted toward Class C's side from its original position.
In other words, victory belonged to the white team, which included Class C.
"Hahaha. As I thought, you possess physical ability surpassing even mine."
As the participants returned to their waiting areas, Kōenji approached Kamukura and offered praise.
Despite having just suffered defeat, Kōenji let out a booming laugh.
"However, this loss will only guide me toward becoming an even more perfect organism. Therefore, next time, I will win."
"You don't entertain even the slightest possibility that you'll lose again."
"Naturally. My abilities tell me it is entirely possible."
He believed in his own strength without limit.
That confidence—rooted in solid foundation—could not be broken by anyone.
It was Rokusuke Kōenji's greatest charm.
"Interesting. Next time, let us compete in a true one-on-one."
His facial muscles twitched faintly as Kamukura accepted Kōenji's challenge for a rematch.
He, too, seemed to desire it. This match could be called Kamukura's victory.
Even the prideful Kōenji acknowledged his own defeat.
Yet both already understood that the contest hadn't been equal between them.
External factors—like the power gap between Sudō and Albert—had played a role.
Thus, they couldn't definitively declare this the true deciding battle.
For the two geniuses, that fact needed no words—and it was reason enough for a rematch.
"It's been a long time since I truly enjoyed myself, Kamukura-boy."
With those words, Kōenji turned away.
His steps headed toward the cottages, where he intended to rest.
Kamukura watched him go, then returned to the waiting area for the next event.
***
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