Chapter 195 194: Fuyuji Mikage Will Be Remembered in Infamy for All Eternity

The clamor of the Sports Festival was like a tangible ocean wave, crashing wave after wave against the tents of the Red Team's Class A camp.

On the distant track, the crisp crack of the starting pistol, the deafening cheers and shouts of encouragement, the intermittent broadcast announcements, mingled with the squeaking friction of various athletic shoes against the rubber track, all converged into a chaotic torrent of background noise, lingering beside every person's ears.

"Next event, the second-year hurdles race is about to begin. Participating competitors, please gather at the check-in area immediately! Repeating, the second-year hurdles race is about to begin, please..."

The broadcast rang out once more, piercing through the canvas of the tent.

Inside the camp, Katsuragi Kohei was seated in a chair, notebook in hand, his brow tightly furrowed, his fingers moving back and forth between several names;

Several girls from the logistics team were busily and frantically counting the freshly restocked energy drinks and power bars;

Near the edge of the tent, far from the core area, the unemployed personnel were gathered in a tight, buzzing heap, occasionally erupting with suppressed exclamations or bursts of laughter, doing who-knows-what;

A little further from the tent, several Class D students craned their necks, their faces full of curiosity as they peered inside the tent, yet, suppressed by Class A's pressure, dared not approach, only able to watch from a distance.

On this matter, since students were not permitted to freely leave the sports field during the Sports Festival, and aside from the first-years' own events, they also had to wait for the second and third-year students to finish theirs, the Sports Festival—which seemed so tightly packed in terms of time—actually left students with nothing to do for two-thirds of the time, requiring them to find their own ways to kill time.

And since the conventional methods of killing time had, in truth, already been experienced by Fuyuji and the others countless times on the uninhabited island, ordinary tabletop games could no longer stir Class A's atmosphere.

Therefore...

In a mixture of grief and indignation, Fuyuji made a decision that, once known, would cause his identity as a transmigrator to be remembered in infamy for all eternity.

"Archery Volley!"

Sugio Hiroshi slammed the picnic mat with a resounding smack and threw down a card with imposing momentum, his face wearing that aggressively charged grin, his gaze locked directly onto Tsukasaki Taiga beside him.

The moment the words fell, Tsukasaki braced one hand on the ground and leaned his body back. After roughly sweeping his eyes over the scene, he unhurriedly plucked a card from his hand and lazily played it. "Dodge~"

"Dodge." Yet another card was tossed out with a light, airy flick.

"Nullify." The voice was crisp and decisive.

"Eight Trigrams Formation. Pass."

"Rattan Armor. Invalid."

"One damage."

"Nullify."

...

Watching this fervent, heated scene before him—the crowd of people looking utterly, thoroughly entranced—Fuyuji, in the role of liege, shifted his gaze from the cards and once again cast it toward the other side of the sea.

The sky at that moment was covered by a single, enormous, grey-white canvas, hanging low over the uninhabited island of Advanced Nurturing High. Occasionally, the wind swept across the high altitude, and the thick, heavy carpet of clouds seemed to be subtly nudged by an invisible hand, revealing the deep, azure blue sky beneath.

"I... will probably be nailed to the pillar of shame in history..."

Fuyuji gripped the cards in his hand, let out a long sigh, lowered his head, and spoke in an utterly despondent tone. "I knew full well the evil nature of this game, and yet I still recommended it to others... I've created several dozen more players of this cursed game in this world. After I die, I'm definitely going to hell—the eighteenth level kind..."

"Um... Fuyuji-san, it's your turn." Beside him, the universally beloved first-year heartthrob Satonaka Satoru weakly spoke up.

"Oh."

Snapping back to his senses, Fuyuji swiftly raised his head and casually drew a card. Regrettably, his Eight Trigrams Formation judgment failed, and he had no Dodge in his hand.

Faced with this moment of dire crisis, a cold gleam flashed through Fuyuji's eyes. As if possessed by the very general on the card itself, he directly bellowed toward the side.

"Kito! Protect the Liege!"

On the picnic mat, a liege card bearing the name "Cao Cao" was openly and prominently placed at the very front. Its skill effect: When Cao Cao activates his liege skill "Protect the Liege," Wei faction characters may play a Dodge in his stead.

"..."

Kito Hayato stared at the cards in his own hand, then racked his brains trying to recall his own role. His lips moved faintly.

Boss—has it ever occurred to you that I'm a rebel...

"Hurry up, hurry up." Fuyuji glanced at the cards in his hand and urged him once more.

The second-years' competition was about to start. If Senpai dominated the field and took first place but didn't see him there, she'd probably hang him from a tree and flog him tonight!

Just then, the crowd that had been gathered behind the game, observing all along, began their armchair strategizing.

"That won't work, Kito." Hashimoto Masayoshi, who possessed a wealth of experience playing the turncoat, placed a hand on Kito's shoulder and spoke in his usual frivolous tone. "At this distance, first equip your horse, then concentrate firepower and take out Yoshida. That way, the visible numbers will be two against four. The turncoat will reveal themselves on their own soon enough."

"Oi, oi, Hashimoto. Is that really how you play this?" Shimizu Naoki, who had been itching to jump in from the side, offered a dissenting opinion.

"Then how would you play it?"

"Obviously, first you do this, then that, and finally this. Won't you be sitting pretty and secure that way?"

"No, no, no. Where would you get all the cards you need that smoothly? You'd be dead before you even got eighty percent of them." Toba Shigeru timely inserted himself into the discussion.

"No, you should do it this way."

...

In an instant, the Class A crowd broke into a chaotic, clamorous argument, the volume so loud that it even momentarily drowned out the cheers from outside the tent.

Five minutes later.

Seeing the time dwindling away, time-management master Fuyuji glanced at Katsuragi, muttering and murmuring beside him, and shoved his cards straight into his hands.

"Katsuragi, play this round for me. I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

With that, before Katsuragi could even open his mouth to refuse, Fuyuji had already spread his heels and bolted toward the track, vanishing beyond the tent in the blink of an eye.

Watching Fuyuji's figure disappear into the distance in a flash, Katsuragi—still in a dazed, bewildered state—stared at the various cards in his hands, then turned his head toward the few people still locked in heated debate behind him.

"Um, how do you play this?"

The clamorous debate fell silent for a moment. Hashimoto and the others exchanged glances, then simultaneously leaned in, jostling and shoving each other as they clamored in a cacophony of voices.

"Katsuragi, listen to me. First, swap out the Eight Trigrams Formation and equip the Rattan Armor."

"No, no. The Eight Trigrams Formation is the strongest. If you're lucky, the enemy will never be able to hit you."

"Bullcrap. Rattan Armor only fears Fire Attack and Lightning Strike. But with the liege skill, you can have others play Dodge for you. What's there to be afraid of?"

"You won't be saying that when you get struck by lightning next time."

...

Three minutes later, accompanied by the sound of a guilty, whistled tune.

Katsuragi, his face covered in black lines, surrendered his seat at the game and returned to his little stool.

What the hell is this broken game?! I'm giving it a negative review!

Dead in just two rounds—absolutely zero gameplay experience whatsoever!

At the very same time, by the track a short distance away, Fuyuji—still blissfully unaware that his Lord Cao Cao had already been one-shotted into oblivion—was currently cheering and waving his arms with frantic, fervent energy.

"Senpai, do your best! Senpai, you're the coolest!"

And yet, in truth, whether he cheered for Kiryuin Fuka or not, the outcome of this utterly one-sided slaughter of a race would not have changed in the slightest.

Her silver-white hair billowed across the track, glinting with a faint shimmer under the sunlight. The wind swept it back against her head and neck, sleek and smooth as a length of silver satin.

From the moment the starting pistol rang out, Kiryuin, with her tall, slender figure and astonishing leg length, directly left the second-place runner so far behind that even her taillights were nowhere to be seen. The race distance, which was only the length of a few classrooms, was stretched by her into a gap of nearly half that distance.

Without the slightest surprise, among the girls, Kiryuin was like an F1 race car charging into a field of senior citizen mobility scooters. With an uncontested, overwhelming lead, she was the first to cross the finish line.

Amidst the clamorous cheers, Kiriyama Ikuto, the current leader of the second-year Class B who also served as the Student Council's treasurer, stood on the grass. His fist unconsciously clenched tight, his expression complex as he watched Kiryuin stroll leisurely at the finish line.

"Kiryuin..."

As one of the very few former leaders of the second-year Class A in Advanced Nurturing High's history who had been overtaken by another class in less than a year, Kiriyama was undoubtedly filled with bitter unwillingness at the current state of the second year.

If only... if only Kiryuin had just put in a little effort in class competition... just like she was doing right now...

"It's Kiriyama."

Kiryuin's gaze lingered on Kiriyama for a single moment, then swept swiftly across the surroundings. Her voice was as casual as if she'd spotted an ant by the roadside.

"Is there something you need? I'm in a very good mood right now. I have no interest in chatting with you at length."

"Why?" Kiriyama asked in a low voice.

Kiryuin did not turn her head. Her gaze was still roaming and drifting in all directions. "What 'why'?"

"At this point, Nagumo has already unified the second year. What use is it even if you contribute during this Sports Festival?!" Kiriyama abruptly raised his head, his volume rising a notch before he could stop it.

"Oh, so that's what you're talking about—"

Her indifferent voice came to a halt. Kiryuin's roving head paused. The corner of her lips instantly curled upward. Without so much as a single extra glance at Kiriyama, she headed straight toward the side.

At the very same time, a black-haired boy darted out from the other side of the track and came up beside Kiryuin. Twisting off the bottle cap, he handed over the drink.

"Senpai, are you tired? Multi-function electrolyte drink. Replenish your energy. Keep up the good work in a bit."

Fuyuji circled around behind her and, like an obsequious sycophant, began kneading her shoulders, then the back of her neck, then her arms... Under the sunlight, the tips of Kiryuin's silver-white hair brushed across the back of his hand, carrying a faint, fragrant scent of shampoo.

"I didn't see you just now. Were you off getting a drink?" Kiryuin closed her eyes in considerable enjoyment and slowly leaned the greater part of her body weight against him.

"That's right."

Kiryuin shot a glance at the energy drink in her hand. "Why didn't you bring glucose?"

"..." Fuyuji's hands paused mid-motion. Slowly, a question mark materialized. "Is there a difference?"

"I want glucose next time." Without answering Fuyuji's question, Kiryuin directly issued her command.

"..."

From a standpoint of universal reason, Fuyuji still maintained that sports drinks were more effective than glucose. But he also knew one more principle—never try to reason with a woman. Therefore...

"Alright, alright. Next time, I'll bring Senpai glucose. Got it."

Hearing the answer she wanted, Kiryuin finally took a light sip of the drink Fuyuji had handed her. Her fair, pale neck arched upward slightly, like a swan.

A few seconds later.

"Tastes bad."

After offering her brief assessment, Kiryuin turned around and casually stuffed the drink back into Fuyuji's hands. Her slender fingertips hooked the collar of his shirt, forcing him to bend down to her eye level. "Remember—if I don't see you there next time, tonight Senpai will hang you from a tree."

"Alright, alright." Fuyuji, his survival instincts flaring to their absolute maximum, accepted the drink and nodded like a chick pecking at rice.

"Also..."

"Also?"

In the very next second, a flawless, exquisite face suddenly magnified within his line of sight. The faint, refreshing fragrance of lavender, mingled with the faintly salty trace of post-exercise exertion, came rushing toward him. Immediately after, a patch of warmth covered his cheek.

"Chu~" An almost imperceptible sound followed.

"You ran quite well just now, a reward for you. Keep up the good work. Next year—remember to defeat him on the competition field."

Having spoken, Kiryuin—the tips of her ears now quietly tinged with a faint blush of red—turned around with crisp, clean decisiveness and strode back toward her own class's camp.

"Alright."

Watching Kiryuin's retreating figure, Fuyuji, only belatedly catching on, examined the energy drink in his hand. Tilting his head quizzically, he twisted off the cap and downed a huge gulp.

"It doesn't taste bad at all. How could she say it tastes bad? And she specifically wanted glucose..." Sweet, with just a touch of coolness like a faint breeze after exercise.

Crack—!

Kiriyama Ikkei, who had witnessed this entire scene with his own eyes, instantly turned into a stone statue. Staggering backward two steps in utter disbelief, he lowered his head and violently shook it, then raised it once more.

Yet, to his continued shock, he found that the black-haired boy was still standing there in the distance. This wasn't a dream?!

Just then, Kiriyama seemed to suddenly realize something. He abruptly wrenched his head around and looked toward Kiryuin, who had already begun walking back.

"Don't tell me... the reason you're putting in effort at this Sports Festival..."

"Oh, you mean that?" Kiryuin picked up the earlier topic. A wild, unrestrained grin bloomed across her face. "Isn't it only natural? Senpai has to set a good example for her adorable kouhai."

In that very instant, a surge of fury erupted from the very depths of Kiriyama's being. He clenched his fist and demanded in a low voice.

"If you're this responsible, then why—back then—wouldn't you contribute even a little bit to the class?!"

"Come now, Kiriyama. Don't say such foolish things. It's obviously because I don't have the slightest bit of interest in this class. Whether it's the people in this class, or the so-called benefits of graduating from Class A..."

After those two short sentences, Kiryuin had already lost all interest. She continued striding forward on her own, heading toward the White Team camp.

"If you've got this much free time to fuss around here, why not go think about how to deal with Nagumo instead? Right now is a once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunity for that alliance of failures of yours, isn't it? Forget it... judging by the looks of it, you probably don't have the guts anyway. That's precisely why I can't muster even the slightest bit of interest in the second year."

"..."

His fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked audibly, yet Kiriyama could not utter a single word.

Casually retrieving her phone from the class's storage area, Kiryuin once again headed elsewhere.

"Oh, that's right..."

Her forward strides silently came to a halt. Kiryuin turned her head. For the very first time today, her gaze truly rested upon Kiriyama.

"Although I don't believe you're capable of causing him any trouble, he's a person who detests trouble quite a bit. Just in case, I'll give you a warning here. Don't turn those crooked little schemes of yours onto him. Otherwise, your fate will be far more miserable than it is now."

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50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!