Special Week, King Halo, and El Condor Pasa had been warned: the Pleiades training camp was built on a foundation of grueling, repetitive basics. Even in their daily lives at the Academy, they spent the vast majority of their time on drills that others might find monotonous. Sometimes, hearing about the flashy, specialized techniques their friends were practicing, they felt a pang of envy. But then they would look at Rampage—the physical embodiment of "The World's Fastest and Strongest"—and remind themselves that her brilliance was forged in this very same mundane fire.
Their dedication to the "boring" stuff was already yielding undeniable results. During their recent Academy evaluations, the instructors had been stunned.
"The three of you—Special Week, King Halo, El Condor Pasa—your metrics are off the charts. You aren't doing anything... reckless, are you?"
The instructors were worried they were overworking themselves with high-intensity specialized training. In reality, it was the exact opposite. They weren't doing anything "special" at all; they were simply doing the basic movements better, faster, and more often than anyone else. The skeptical look on the instructors' faces when they heard this was a memory the three girls shared with a quiet sense of pride.
"Spe-chan, is it true? Is that really all you do at Pleiades?" Tsurumaru Tsuyoshi, a friend from Team Canopus, had asked.
"Well, it's not the only thing, but yeah, it's mostly just drills like this," Spe had replied. "Isn't it the same for you, Tsuru-chan?"
"Yeah, sounds about right," Tsuru had agreed.
Tsuru's own times were impressive, though they lacked the sheer explosive power of the Pleiades trio. What the instructors failed to realize was that for a girl with Tsuru's delicate constitution, reaching those times through pure fundamental training was a miracle of coaching—a testament to the skill of her trainer, Minamisaka.
"Our trainer, Okinocci, teaches us all sorts of tricks and strategies, though," Seiun Sky of Team Spica had chimed in. "I guess every team has a different vibe."
"Hana-san teaches us many things with an eye toward the future," Grass Wonder of Team Rigil added. "But even for us, the basics are the core. Still, Pleiades and Canopus seem to take it to an extreme."
It was Trainer Blackuma, who happened to be assisting with the class that day, who offered a different perspective.
"You're wrong," he had said flatly.
"How so?" the girls asked.
"When a trainer sees talent like yours, it's only natural to want to polish it—to draw out that unique brilliance. That leads to a focus on 'application'—specialized tactics and flair. Okino and Tojo are great trainers, but they aim for a broad, sharp kind of strength. Minamisaka and Rampage? In a sense, they don't give a damn about your 'talent' yet."
He explained that focusing on the basics was about building a vessel large enough to hold that talent later, and more importantly, making sure that vessel didn't break.
"You can teach 'application' in an afternoon to someone who understands the game. But you can't rush the basics. The basics are proportional to time. They grow exactly as much as you put into them."
The instructors had fallen silent, nodding in agreement. From that day on, the three girls had thrown themselves into their "boring" drills with a newfound ferocity. Let the others call Pleiades "plain"—they knew exactly what they were building.
"Phew... Alright, let's take five!"
"Thank you very much!" the three girls chirped in unison.
As Kamizuru called for a break, the girls retreated to the shade of a large parasol. They had just finished a grueling set: sand sprints, reaction ball catches, and squats performed while fighting the pull of the tide. It was unglamorous, exhausting work, but they had completed every rep with perfect form.
"Still..." El Condor Pasa said, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked toward the ocean. "Rampage-san is still walking."
Even as they rested, Rampage remained waist-deep in the water, a set of heavy truck tires harnessed to her waist. They had been at their drills for ninety minutes; for every second of that time, Rampage had been silently trudging through the surf. The waves weren't "stormy," per se, but they were high enough to satisfy a surfer. Each swell threatened to knock her off balance, yet she moved with an eerie, immovable stability.
"Do you think we'll have to do that eventually?" King wondered aloud, her voice a mix of dread and fascination.
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