The entire field buzzed with energy. After a long day of tension, sweat, and bruised pride, it all came down to one last event — the 1200-Meter Mixed Relay.
Every student, from first-years to third-years, gathered around the track. The rhythmic clatter of spikes against the red dirt, the murmurs of excitement, and the occasional cheer painted a vivid backdrop against the late-afternoon sun.
The rules were clear: each class had to field both boys and girls, evenly balanced, from all three school years. Strength, stamina, and strategy — all would be tested.
And just as Class D was about to finalize their lineup, two familiar figures appeared from the school building.
Suzune Horikita and Ken Sudō.
A collective gasp spread among the Class D students. Sudō was still slightly sweaty, a determined look etched across his face, while Suzune limped beside him, her ankle bandaged.
"...You made it," Hirata breathed out, equal parts relief and disbelief.
Sudō lowered his head and gave a deep bow. "I'm sorry, everyone. For causing trouble… for walking out. I was wrong."
The silence that followed was thick — but then, Hirata broke into a small, proud laugh. "That's more like the Sudō I know."
Ike scratched his head, smirking. "Damn, who are you and what did you do with the old Sudō?"
"Shut up, idiot," Sudō muttered, though there was a rare, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. He then turned to Ike. "Sorry, man. I gave you crap earlier. My fault."
Ike shrugged. "No big deal. I didn't exactly shine either."
Sudō clenched his fists. "Then let's fix that now. I'll run the relay. We haven't subbed anyone for it yet, right?"
Hirata nodded. "Yeah. You're in. Welcome back, Sudō."
Suzune, however, struggled to stand straight. She bowed deeply. "I'll have to withdraw. My leg won't hold. I'll… ask for a substitution."
Her voice trembled — not from pain, but from frustration.
Hirata smiled softly. "You did enough, Horikita. Leave this to us."
"I'll run in her place," Kushida offered, stepping forward with her ever-bright smile.
Before Hirata could confirm it, Akito Miyake raised his hand. "Wait… I think I should withdraw. My ankle's been killing me since the 200-Meter Dash."
The announcement caught everyone off-guard.
"I'll fill in for him," Kiyotaka said simply, stepping forward without hesitation.
And so, Class D's final lineup was set:Sudō, Hirata, Kushida, Maezono, Onodera, and Kiyotaka Ayanokōji — the anchor.
The field was packed. Students from every year lined the sidelines, chanting, cheering, and waving banners. Even the faculty had gathered to watch.
Among the runners stood two figures who drew everyone's eyes — Nagumo Miyabi, the second-year Student Council President, and Manabu Horikita, the legendary third-year.
Sudō crouched into position, the baton trembling slightly in his hand.
When the whistle blew, he exploded off the line like a bullet.
"Let's gooo, Sudō!" Ike roared from the sidelines, waving his arms wildly.
Sudō's strides were powerful, his form clean. Within seconds, he took the lead, his raw athleticism on full display. He passed the baton to Hirata with flawless precision.
Hirata continued the momentum, keeping their lead steady, his pace rhythmic and confident. But once the girls took over — Maezono, Onodera, and Kushida — the gap began to close.
The upperclassmen's experience and strength quickly overtook Class D's efforts. By the time Kushida clutched the baton for the final handoff, they were several places behind.
Still, the anchor stood ready — calm, unreadable, focused.
Kiyotaka.
He glanced to his left — and there, holding his own baton, was Manabu Horikita.
Their eyes met briefly.
"You're the anchor?" Manabu asked, surprised.
"I'm replacing my injured classmate," Kiyotaka replied.
Manabu's gaze sharpened. "Your class has changed, hasn't it?"
"If anything changed," Kiyotaka said quietly, "it's my partner — your sister."
Manabu gave a faint smirk. "Interesting."
Kiyotaka looked down the track, then back at him. "Let's make this simple — race me."
That was all it took.
When the batons were exchanged, the world seemed to blur.
Nagumo sprinted ahead, laughing as he took his lead. "I'll be waiting at the finish line, senpai!" he shouted over his shoulder to Manabu.
But Manabu's focus wasn't on him.
As he received his baton, he didn't move — not until Kiyotaka whispered:"Run with everything you've got."
Then they both burst forward.
The crowd erupted.
Kiyotaka's steps were smooth, efficient — almost mechanical. His breathing never faltered. Manabu, with years of disciplined athleticism, matched him stride for stride.
They overtook one runner. Then another.
Two forces — one honed by discipline, one molded by control — clashed in a blur of speed and precision.
The final curve came.
A runner ahead stumbled and fell, blocking Kiyotaka's path for half a second — just long enough for Manabu to slip past and cross the line first.
Kiyotaka finished right behind him, silent, unbothered.
After the Race
Cheers erupted. The event was over — and so was the festival.
"Kiyotaka!" Karuizawa called, rushing up with a bright smile. "That was amazing! You were, like, crazy fast!"
He shrugged. "I just ran."
"Still… everyone's talking about it," she said. "Even Class A."
The final results were soon announced:
1st place: Class B
2nd place: Class C
3rd place: Class A
4th place: Class D
The Red Team, led by Nagumo, won the overall festival.
Still, Class D had managed to earn something far greater than points — unity.
Sō Shibata from Class B was named MVP, edging out Sudō by a narrow margin.
"Tch… can't believe I lost," Sudō muttered, glaring at the ground.
Suzune approached him, her steps careful but firm. "Then as your punishment for losing, you'll call me by my first name."
Sudō blinked. "What?"
"You wanted to earn my respect. You did. So, from now on, call me Suzune."
He froze — then his face turned red. "S-Suzune?! W-wha—"
She smirked faintly. "Also, promise me you'll never use violence again without reason."
Sudō rubbed his neck awkwardly. "...Fine."
The crowd slowly dispersed as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
Kiyotaka was just about to leave when a soft voice called out to him.
"Ayanokōji-kun."
He turned to see a girl from Class A, short hair swaying in the evening wind. "Please come to the front gate at 5 p.m.," she said, then walked away without explanation.
Kiyotaka raised an eyebrow but nodded.
Later, after changing into his uniform, he returned to the classroom. Suzune was there, cleaning up her desk.
"Still here?" he asked.
"I… wanted to reflect a little," she said. "This festival taught me something important. About people — and about myself."
She paused, then smiled faintly. "I'm still going to have to kowtow, though."
"Kowtow?" Kiyotaka echoed.
She shook her head. "Don't worry about it."
When everyone else left, Suzune remained behind — waiting.
Moments later, Kushida returned, closing the door behind her. The two faced each other in silence before heading out together.
Suzune vs. Ryūen and Kushida
The meeting spot was quiet — a corner of the schoolyard, far from prying eyes.
Ryūen lounged against a wall, arms crossed, while Kushida stood beside him with her charming, hollow smile.
"Well, look who decided to show," Ryūen said with a grin. "Didn't think you'd actually come, Horikita."
"I'm here to settle this," she said firmly. "Kushida — stop pretending. I know you've been working with him."
Kushida's smile didn't waver. "So you remember me now, huh? Took you long enough. We were in the same middle school, remember?"
"I remember," Suzune said quietly.
Ryūen laughed. "Beautiful. So you came just to admit defeat?"
He began recounting his entire scheme — from Kushida leaking Class D's participation table, to Kinoshita's staged injury, even revealing that he personally worsened her injury after bribing her with half a million points.
Suzune listened silently, then lifted her phone. "Thank you for confessing. I've been recording this."
Ryūen chuckled, shaking his head. "You think I didn't plan for that? Everything I said is fiction. I'm just entertaining your little fantasy."
He pulled out his own phone and showed the camera feed — proving that her evidence was meaningless without visual context.
"Now then," he said, smiling darkly. "Be a good girl and bow your head. Time for that kowtow."
Kushida laughed softly beside him.
Suzune hesitated — but just as she began to kneel, Ryūen's phone rang.
He frowned and played the audio.
"Class C strategy meeting — pre-festival."Ryūen's voice: 'We'll crush Class D and target Horikita first. Use Kushida to leak the info.'
Kushida's smile vanished. "Wh—what is this?"
Ryūen's grin disappeared as realization hit him. "...So there's a rat in my class too."
Suzune's lips curved slightly. "Looks like you're not the only one who can set traps, Ryūen."
He exhaled through his nose, half-irritated, half-amused. "Ayanokōji… that bastard."
Suzune said nothing, but in her mind, she knew exactly who had orchestrated everything behind the scenes.
Ryūen smirked. "You win this round, Horikita. But I'll be back."
As the sky turned amber, Kiyotaka arrived at the front gate. The girl from Class A was waiting.
"Please follow me," she said softly.
He did — up to the third floor of the special building, a place with no surveillance cameras.
She stopped. "Wait here."
Moments later, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.
"So you came."
Arisu Sakayanagi stepped into view, her cane tapping lightly against the floor.
"I wanted to share the same feeling I had watching you run," she said with a small smile.
Kiyotaka's expression didn't change. "So you're the one who called me."
She nodded. "It's been a long time — eight years and 243 days, to be precise."
Kiyotaka frowned. "I don't know you."
Arisu's smile deepened. "But I know you. From the White Room."
He froze.
"I wanted to say hello — to the masterpiece my father admired so much," she continued. "I have no intention of exposing you. You're mine to destroy."
He stared at her quietly. "Do you think you can?"
She laughed softly. "That's what makes it fun. I'll bury you, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka — and in doing so, I'll bury the man who created you."
He met her gaze evenly. "Then I'll look forward to it."
Their eyes locked — a silent declaration of war.
Back under the golden glow of sunset, I stirred awake, blinking blearily.
"…Where am I?" I muttered.
Ibuki sighed, arms crossed. "On my lap. You fell asleep halfway through the relay, idiot."
I yawned, sitting up slowly. "Oh. Right… the festival."
She raised an eyebrow. "You missed everything."
"Figures," I said with a smirk, then reached out to take her hand. "Come on. Let's go eat. My treat."
Ibuki's cheeks turned slightly red. "W-wait—what are you doing?"
I stood, still holding her hand gently. "You've been sitting here all day watching me sleep. The least I can do is feed you."
She looked away, muttering something under her breath. "…Fine. But no weird stuff."
I smiled faintly. "Deal. After that, I'll walk you back to your dorm."
As we walked off under the fading sunlight, the sounds of laughter and celebration echoed across the school grounds — the curtain quietly falling on the Sports Festival.
Result
Class A:924-->874
Class B:753-->703
Class C:692-->592
Class D:437-->337