Inside the volleyball court.
"GREAT SHOT!!!"
The boys' roar echoed through the gymnasium, raw and triumphant.
—
"Setter! Give me the ball!"
Sakurai Saki's voice cut through the chaos.
The ball came to him at a tricky angle—low, fast, difficult to read. He leaped.
Outside the court, spectators gasped. For a moment, it looked like wings had sprouted from his back. The jump was that high.
BANG!!!
The ball slammed into the court—or rather, into the boy who'd thrown himself in front of it, attempting a desperate save.
The buzz-cut boy collapsed, catching himself on his hands. His body swayed, arms trembling under the strain. Sweat dripped from his chin.
...I don't want to lose.
Satou was a member of the boys' volleyball club. Losing to an amateur—to someone who didn't even practice—was unacceptable.
"Year 2, Class A scores!"
The referee's voice was neutral. Professional. The scoreboard told the story: 5-11. A commanding lead.
"Four more points." Sakurai Saki glanced at Toyosaki Saburo.
"That last pass was clean."
"Naturally."
Sakurai Saki was, at this moment, utterly without desire. The... tensions his superpowers had created earlier had been thoroughly milked out of him, so to speak.
He was strong.
He was arrogant.
He had nothing to lose.
"Hey!" His voice rang out across the court, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is this all the volleyball club members are capable of?"
He tilted his head, letting his gaze sweep over the opposing team with undisguised disdain.
"Trash belongs in the trash can. You came out here to embarrass yourselves, and this is the strength you brought?"
Silence.
Then, a ripple of hostile glares.
On the sidelines, members of the volleyball club exchanged whispered commentary.
"He's way too arrogant." Someone's voice simmered with anger.
"Sakurai General Affairs is usually pretty friendly, though. Did something happen to him?"
"Maybe he's just too happy and his true colors slipped out."
"Either way, he just mocked the entire club. If he actually wins the championship, where does that leave us?"
"Volleyball isn't a solo sport. One strong player can't carry a whole team. Class 2-A only has a few decent members—they'll fold when they face the club president's team from 2-D."
"Yeah. Shirogane Miyuki's on that team too. It's a guaranteed win."
Sakurai Saki heard every word.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
He simply noted the prediction and filed it away.
Shirogane Miyuki.
Afternoon. Championship match.
Sakurai Saki looked down at Shirogane Miyuki, sprawled on the floor before him.
His expression was annoyed.
Above Miyuki's head, a golden title shimmered—one he hadn't seen during the morning matches.
[Dragon of the Abyss: Success through effort. This is undoubtedly the quality of a genius. Attribute: Increased chance of breakthrough.]
"Sakurai... I..." Miyuki coughed, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "I can't fall yet!"
He pushed himself up.
Again.
He looked like a warrior who'd been knocked down repeatedly, endured countless arrows, and still rose—bloodied but unbroken.
Sakurai Saki stared at him.
You didn't have this title this morning. You're seriously activating your protagonist aura against me?
Where's the solidarity? Where's the friendship?
You started cheating first. Don't blame me for what comes next.
"I will crush you," Sakurai Saki declared. His voice was flat. Certain. "And I will win."
Miyuki grinned—bloody, exhausted, but genuine. "If you can! Then try!" He straightened, swaying slightly. "It's just a friendly match. Losing's fine. Just... don't make me lose too badly."
Ten minutes later.
The scoreboard read 11-15.
Shirogane Miyuki lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, chest heaving.
He hadn't lost too badly. He'd kept that promise to himself.
"Year 2, Class A wins!" The referee's announcement triggered an explosion of noise.
Sakurai Saki was hoisted into the air by his teammates, tossed skyward in celebration.
"HOORAY!! HOORAY!!"
Miyuki sat up on the court, watching his rival ascend. A helpless smile crossed his face.
Still couldn't win. He'd only trained for a week before this tournament. Against someone like Sakurai? It was never going to be enough.
"Shirogane!" Koizumi Ryosuke, the volleyball club president, reached down and hauled him to his feet. "That was incredible."
Miyuki blinked. "I lost."
"Looked closer than the score suggests." Koizumi studied him with new respect. "Your skills—you've been practicing a long time, haven't you? Volleyball techniques don't come naturally like that."
Miyuki sighed. "Yeah. Took a lot of effort."
He'd practiced for months last year. Another week this time. Still not enough.
"Hard work pays off." Koizumi's gaze drifted to Sakurai Saki, still airborne amid his celebrating classmates. "I envy geniuses."
Miyuki nodded slowly. "Yeah."
He didn't know.
Sakurai Saki, fortunately, couldn't hear them. If he had, he might have marched over and punched Miyuki in the arm.
Envy geniuses? This week, Sakurai had been Miyuki's personal volleyball training partner. He'd watched Miyuki practice his receives—stiff, awkward, like a dying alpaca flopping around. It was painful to witness.
And Miyuki still had the nerve to envy geniuses?
But Sakurai Saki, if he could see the golden title still flickering above Miyuki's head, might have understood.
Shirogane Miyuki wasn't a natural. But given enough effort, enough time, enough will—he could achieve anything. Compared to those who stagnated their whole lives, never improving, never pushing past their limits... Miyuki deserved the title of genius.
He just had to work harder than the others to earn it.
"If Sakurai-kun joined the volleyball club..." Koizumi mused, still watching the celebration. "With an ace spiker like that, our offensive pressure would be unstoppable."
Recruitment thoughts were already forming.
In sports clubs, strength was everything. At Shuchiin Academy, family backgrounds were similar—everyone wealthy, everyone privileged. But teenagers were still teenagers. Competitive. Proud. Every year brought new troublemakers, new hotheads.
Everyone understood the unwritten rule:
If you win, you can show off all you want. If you lose... don't blame us for returning the humiliation.
Sakurai Saki had won today.
The mocking from this morning? Already forgotten.
That was just how it worked.
Of course, externally admitted students weren't included in that category.
But Sakurai General Affairs was the exception. His family background wasn't impressive—everyone knew that. But when you were tight with Shinomiya Kaguya and Fujiwara Chika? The two families that basically represented the pinnacle of business and politics in the country?
No one was stupid enough to provoke that.
Sakurai Saki, by association, had become untouchable.
"Besides his Student Council work, Sakurai also has a part-time job." Shirogane Miyuki's voice carried across the court. "He probably won't have time to join a club."
Koizumi sighed. "Ah. What a pity."
After school. The ball games had ended.
Sakurai Saki walked across campus, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He'd just finished helping the Student Council clean up the venue. Now he was heading home.
Friday. The day before the weekend.
His mind drifted to the coming days.
Date with Hayasaka Ai? Or hang out with Fujiwara Chika?
Tough choice.
Liking two girls at the same time came with these kinds of problems. Balance was tricky. If one got something, the other should too—at least, that was how Sakurai Saki, a complete novice at managing multiple relationships, understood the rules.
His phone buzzed.
Itsuki: Sakurai-kun, I lost weight again. Can we talk?
Right. He'd promised yesterday to help with her weight problem.
He changed direction, heading toward the courtyard outside the teaching building.
Nakano Itsuki stood waiting, a star-shaped hair ornament catching the late afternoon light. Unlike Yotsuba, who'd apparently signed up for every event possible, the other four sisters hadn't participated in anything. No sweat. No exhaustion. Just... waiting.
"Sakurai-kun~" Itsuki spotted him immediately. "I... lost weight again."
She glanced around, confirmed they were alone, and then—lightly, experimentally—bounced.
She jumped higher than should have been possible with minimal effort.
Sakurai Saki watched, expression neutral. He'd already consulted Oshino Izuko last night. The solution was straightforward.
The oddity was named Omokani. Heavy Crab.
Two methods existed: have Shinobu eat it directly, or...
"Itsuki." He spoke calmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you've forgotten something."
Itsuki blinked. "Forgotten what?"
"What's your most important memory?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Thought.
"...Mom."
The word came out slowly, realization dawning as she spoke.
Her childhood memories of her mother—they were gone. Vanished. Empty spaces where warmth and love should have been.
Sakurai Saki nodded, unsurprised. "The Heavy Crab feeds on longing. Omoi—feelings, attachments. It granted your wish to lose weight, but it took payment. Your memories of your mother."
Itsuki's face crumpled. "But I don't want to lose weight anymore! I don't care about that!"
"A person's subconscious can't be controlled so easily." Sakurai's voice was gentle but firm. "Even if you say you don't want to lose weight, deep down... you still believe you're too heavy. That's what the Crab latches onto. Your refusal to acknowledge your weight—in a sense, it's the same as wanting to change it."
Silence.
Itsuki stared at him, eyes glistening.
Then Sakurai Saki clapped his hands together—smack, smack, smack—and a mischievous smile spread across his face.
"I have an idea."
"What?!" She grabbed his sleeve. "Anything. I'll do anything."
Sakurai Saki considered her with theatrical gravity. "Itsuki-kun. You need to admit, in front of all the teachers and students, that your body is not slender."
Itsuki's grip tightened. Suspicion flickered in her eyes.
"What's that phrase called?" He continued, clearly enjoying himself. "Burning one's bridges? If the entire school knows your weight, knows your truth, then you can't deny it anymore. The Crab would have nothing to feed on."
"...You're messing with me."
She wasn't wrong.
Sakurai Saki was, in fact, having a wonderful time.
"The Media Department has a campus broadcast every Monday at noon." He pulled out his phone, scrolling casually. "They're short a guest this week. I've already arranged it."
Itsuki stared at him.
"I look forward to your performance, Itsuki-kun!"
She was silent for a long moment.
Then: "Sakurai-kun. Who are you?"
The question hung in the air. Serious. Probing.
If it were Yotsuba, she might have buried it. Let it go. But Itsuki couldn't.
"Your father hired a private tutor." Sakurai Saki shrugged, already turning toward the bicycle shed. "That's all."
Itsuki watched him go, watched his back retreat into the evening light.
He must have his reasons for not telling me.
After a while, she turned and headed home.
By the roadside.
The scenery blurred past as Sakurai Saki pedaled.
[Creak creak~] Shinobu's voice echoed in his mind, tinged with amusement. [You truly are a man of full bad taste~]
Sakurai Saki didn't deny it.
The real reason he'd chosen this method—the broadcast, the public confession—traced back to a specific incident. Last time he'd gone to Itsuki's room to call her downstairs for tutoring, she'd pinned him against the door.
He remembered that.
Sakurai Saki was petty.
Sakurai Saki held grudges.
Sakurai Saki was, by his own admission, a stubborn straight man who didn't let things slide.
But more than that—
This was interesting.
Having Shinobu eat the Crab directly versus watching Itsuki publicly announce her weight to the entire school?
There was no contest.
He could eat three bowls of rice just thinking about it.
Footnote: The Heavy Crab would be dealt with. Itsuki's memories would return. But first... Monday's broadcast was going to be absolutely legendary.