"Hina! Hey, Hina!"
Takumi's voice cut through the heavy, humid air like a jagged knife, shattering the oppressive silence of the heatwave. He bounded toward the girls' gathering spot near the equipment shed, kicking up small clouds of red dust with every step. He stopped just a few feet away from Hina, panting slightly, a grin plastered across his face that was meant to be encouraging but, given the volume, came off as manic.
"Why are you standing way over here?" Takumi asked loudly, his volume knob seemingly stuck on 'stadium announcer'. "Come closer to the track! You need a front-row seat to see me breaking the record! It's going to be legendary!"
Hina flinched visibly. She was standing slightly apart from the other girls, her arms wrapped tight around her midsection, her chin buried in the collar of her zipped-up jersey. Beads of sweat were already gathering at her temples, matting her chestnut bangs to her forehead. The heat was suffocating, but the social pressure Takumi was inadvertently applying felt even heavier.
"I... I'm fine here, Takumi-kun." Hina murmured, her voice barely a whisper against the buzzing of cicadas. She shifted her weight, trying to make herself smaller, to disappear into the shadow of the shed. "It's... it's a little cooler in the shade."
"Shade?" Takumi tilted his head, looking at the blazing sun beating down on her. The shadow of the shed had shifted ten minutes ago, leaving her fully exposed, but he lacked the spatial awareness to notice. "You're not even in the shade! And seriously, aren't you dying in that jacket? It's like thirty degrees out here! You look like a steamed bun!"
He reached out as if to playfully tug at her zipper — a gesture born of innocent, childhood-friend concern but executed with zero social awareness of their current age or surroundings.
"Take it off, Hina! You'll get heatstroke! Or are you trying to sweat off the weight? You don't need to do that!"
The sentence hung in the air, echoing with horrifying clarity.
Hina gasped and recoiled as if he had brandished a weapon. She stumbled back, her face flushing a deep, mortified crimson that had nothing to do with the sun. To her, the jacket wasn't clothing; it was armour. It was the only barrier keeping the eyes of the boys, and their whispers about her chest size, at bay. And Takumi had just announced to the entire class that she might be trying to lose weight.
"Don't!" she squeaked, her eyes watering with sudden, hot tears. "I'm cold! Leave me alone!"
"Cold?" Takumi blinked, baffled. He wiped sweat from his own forehead, flicking it away. "Hina, are you sick? That makes no sense. If you're cold in this heat, maybe we should carry you to the—"
"Takumi."
A hand clamped down on Takumi's shoulder. It wasn't a violent grip, but it was heavy, grounding him instantly.
Renji stood behind him. His presence brought an immediate drop in the temperature of the conversation.
"Save your energy." Renji said, his voice low and cool, contrasting sharply with the heat. "You're shouting so loud that you're disturbing the class in the building. And look at coach Oni. He's already glaring."
Renji didn't scold Takumi for the weight comment, nor did he defend Hina's choice of clothing directly. He simply redirected the protagonist's simple mind toward a new objective.
Takumi spun around, his eyes widening as he looked toward the center of the field. "The oni (demon) coach! Crap! I can't be late for my own legend!"
Renji glanced at Hina. He didn't ask her to take off the jacket or if she was hot. He simply gave her a brief, reassuring nod, a silent signal that said, There you have it.
Hina's shoulders slumped in relief. She looked at Renji with wide, grateful eyes, her hand clutching the zipper of her jacket as if it were a lifeline.
"Okay, let's go and line up." Renji told Takumi gently, steering him away by the shoulder. "Hina will watch from here. She has a better vantage point of the finish line from the shade."
"Right! Good thinking, Renji! Watch me, Hina! Don't blink!"
Takumi sprinted toward the starting line, leaving Hina in peace.
Renji lingered for a fraction of a second. His gaze flickered to the bench deeper in the shade, where Nishimura Mika was currently trying to murder the sun with her eyes.
He then just tapped his own wrist, miming a watch, and then turned to follow Takumi.
…
"Alright, Class 2-A! Gather up!"
The booming voice of Coach Oni echoed across the field. He was a massive man, a former judo champion with a neck thicker than most students' thighs and a whistle that gleamed dangerously in the sunlight. He stood with a clipboard in hand, looking at the students wilting in the heat with the disdain of a spartan general.
"Today is your first practical class, starting with the 50-meter dash measurement." Coach Oni announced. "This is part of your physical fitness evaluation. I want clean starts, no false steps, and full effort. We're doing this in heats of four. Now, first group!"
The boys shuffled forward, most of them groaning about the heat.
Takumi, however, shot his hand into the air like a rocket.
"Coach! Coach!" Takumi shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Coach Oni sighed, lowering his clipboard. "What is it, Hoshino? If you need the bathroom, go quickly."
"No, sir! I have a request!" Takumi stepped forward, puffing out his chest. He pointed a dramatic finger at Renji, who was standing calmly with his hands in his pockets.
"I want to challenge Renji to a direct showdown in the first heat!"
The class murmured. "A challenge? In the middle of a graded physical evaluation class?"
Coach Oni raised an eyebrow, looking from the vibrating Takumi to the stoic Renji. "This isn't a manga or anything, Hoshino. We run in alphabetical order usually; you couldn't just barge in."
"But Coach!" Takumi pressed, his eyes burning with passion. "Renji and I... we are rivals! Throughout the physical fitness evaluation, the measurements in the locker room... the height difference... it all leads to this! I need to prove that spirit beats genetics! Please! Let us run together! It will inspire everyone to do their best!"
It was a ridiculous request. In any normal school, the teacher would have told him to shut up and get in line. But Kosei Academy was a place that, despite being strict, thrived on student autonomy, and Coach Oni, despite his scary appearance, had a soft spot for 'guts'.
Coach Oni looked at Renji. "Kamishiro. Do you agree to this nonsense?"
Renji stepped forward and offered a polite, apologetic smile, it was his usual expression of the weary but supportive best friend.
"If it helps Hoshino settle down, coach, I don't mind." Renji said smoothly. "He's been... quite energetic about this since this morning. It might be better to let him run it out of his system so the rest of the class can proceed peacefully."
Coach Oni snorted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Run it out of his system, huh? Alright. First heat: Hoshino, Kamishiro, Sato, and Tanaka. On the line. Also, if you false start, Hoshino, you're running laps until sunset."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" Takumi beamed, bowing aggressively.
He turned to Renji, his grin wide and predatory in a playful way. "You're now trapped with me, Renji! No escape! The stage is set!"
"Just try not to trip after all these dialogues, Takumi," Renji murmured as they walked to the starting line.