The morning of the sports festival brought a chaotic, vibrant energy to the academy grounds. The air smelled of dry earth, sunscreen, and the faint, metallic scent of nervous anticipation. White canvas tents lined the perimeter of the track, packed with students clad in their respective team colors.
Underneath the shade of the Blue Team's canopy, the music club had claimed a small corner for themselves.
"I am going to die," Yuna Takahashi announced softly.
She stood at the edge of the tent, looking less like a high school student and more like a ghost that had wandered onto the field. Dark circles framed her usually bright eyes, and her PE uniform hung slightly loose on her slumped shoulders.
Miyu immediately rushed over, pressing a chilled sports drink against Yuna's cheek. "Don't die yet, Yuna! The opening ceremony hasn't even started!"
"The student council… it's a black company," Yuna muttered, accepting the bottle with trembling hands. "I was sorting equipment manifests until midnight. And the vice president just kept smiling while handing me more folders. It was terrifying."
Rei, sitting on a cooler nearby, winced in silent guilt. That's definitely Shiori's doing, he thought. She probably took my share of the work, finished it flawlessly, and then somehow offloaded the rest onto Yuna just to establish dominance.
"Well, you're here now," Reina said. She was leaning back in a folding chair, entirely. "Just don't pass out during the three-legged race."
"I'll try," Yuna sighed, twisting the cap off her drink. She finally looked around, offering Rei a weak, apologetic smile. "Sorry I missed club practice yesterday, Rei. Did you guys play without me?"
"Just a little," Rei said, tossing her a clean towel. "Miyu practically forced us. Focus on surviving today. You're entered in the scavenger hunt first, right?"
Before Yuna could answer, a sharp squeal of feedback echoed across the athletic field, silencing the roaring crowd.
The large speakers mounted on the light poles crackled to life.
"Testing, testing. Can everyone hear me?"
The voice ringing out across the campus was perfectly modulated, calm, and soothingly aristocratic. It was a voice that commanded immediate attention.
Rei's eye twitched.
"Good morning, students, faculty, and esteemed guests," Shiori's voice flowed from the speakers, smooth as silk. "Welcome to the annual Autumn Sports Festival. I am Shiori Hayakawa from the broadcasting committee, and I will be your primary commentator for today's events. I expect all participants to demonstrate honor, integrity, and a desperate, clawing desire to crush their opponents. Have a wonderful day."
Miyu burst out laughing. "Your sister is ruthless, Rei!"
"She's just getting started," Rei muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Let us begin with our first event," Shiori continued over the PA system, her tone utterly serene. "The traditional First-Year Scavenger Hunt. Will all participants please report to the starting line? Please ensure you have stretched. Pulled hamstrings are highly unseemly."
"That's my cue," Rei said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.
Reina finally lowered her book, raising an eyebrow. "You're in the scavenger hunt?"
"Someone had to do it," Rei said. "And the more points I get today, the better." Because if I lose this festival, Shiori is going to hold it over my head for the rest of our lives.
Rei stepped forward, his posture relaxed but his focus razor-sharp. He blocked out the noise, waiting for the starting pistol.
Bang!
The runners surged forward in a chaotic sprint. Rei moved smoothly with the pack, reaching the center table and snatching a folded slip of paper from the wooden box. Without breaking his stride, he flicked it open.
[ Something black. ]
Rei slowed his pace, blinking down at the paper. That's… incredibly vague.
All around him, students were sprinting in every direction in a blind panic—some shouting for specific teachers, others frantically begging upperclassmen for their gym shoes.
Rei didn't panic. He stopped completely, standing like a stone in a rushing river, and simply observed. His eyes swept over the crowded sidelines, filtering through the sea of team colors until his gaze snagged on a familiar figure.
…Shun.
Standing near the equipment shed, completely detached from the chaos, Wrapped neatly around his left bicep was the black armband of the disciplinary committee.
Rei didn't hesitate. He pivoted and broke into a dead sprint toward the shed.
"Shun!" he called out, skidding to a halt just inches away.
Shun blinked, pulling his attention away from his phone. "Rei?
"I need that armband," Rei interrupted, his voice even but urgent. He pointed at Shun's arm. "My prompt is 'something black.' Can I borrow it?"
Shun stared at him for a second his eye's was sharp like he's observing.
"…Fine.." Shun muttered.
Rei caught it, a faint, appreciative smile crossing his face. "Thanks. I owe you one."
Without another word, Rei turned and sprinted back toward the judges' table, easily weaving through the exhausted, stumbling competitors.
Moments later, the loudspeakers crackled.
"And the first-place winner of the scavenger hunt is… Rei Hayakawa!"
Polite applause rippled across the field. Rei stood near the finish line, his breathing barely elevated, looking as composed as if he had just taken a light morning stroll.
One event down.
A short while later, the focus shifted to the eastern quadrant of the campus.
The girls' tennis tournament drew a massive crowd. Rei slipped through the throngs of students, finding a quiet spot near the chain-link fence to watch.
On one side of the court stood Shiori.
On the other, a rotation of terrified opponents.
The matches were less of a competition and more of an execution. Shiori moved with a chilling, mechanical precision. Her form was flawless, her footwork completely silent, and her strikes brutally clean. She didn't grunt, she didn't sweat, and she never seemed to exert more effort than was strictly necessary.
One by one, the other girls fell. They simply couldn't keep up with her suffocating pace or the pinpoint accuracy of her returns.
Until the semi-finals.
"Next match: Miyu Takasugi versus Shiori Hayakawa!"
A ripple of excited murmurs passed through the spectators. Rei's posture straightened, his attention entirely locked on the court.
Miyu stepped up to the baseline. She was bouncing lightly on her heels, gripping her racket tight. Despite the intimidating aura radiating from the opposite side of the net, she wore a bright, unyielding smile.
Shiori stood perfectly still, her expression as calm and detached as ever.
Before the umpire could call the start, Miyu pointed her racket across the net. "Hey, Shiori! No matter who wins this, we're still friends afterward, okay?"
Shiori looked at the energetic girl for a long moment. Then, the faintest tilt of her head accompanied a small, polite nod.
"Of course."
The whistle blew.
And from the very first serve, the atmosphere on the court changed.
Miyu played brilliantly. She was far better than anyone expected, launching into the match with explosive speed and a fierce, grinding determination. Her shots were sharp, curving aggressively toward the baselines. She wasn't backing down—she was fighting tooth and nail for every single point.
From the sidelines, Rei watched the rally intensify.
She's playing incredibly well, Rei thought, his eyes tracking Miyu's desperate, sprawling save. She isn't losing because she's weak.
The rallies grew longer. The sharp thwack of the ball echoed in rapid succession. The tension in the crowd swelled, some students practically holding their breath as Miyu refused to let the ball drop.
But even so—
Rei exhaled quietly, leaning his shoulder against the cold metal of the fence.
The moment Shiori entered this bracket… the result was already decided.
It wasn't arrogance on Shiori's part. It was simply an absolute, undeniable certainty. There was a fundamental difference in their levels—a chasm of skill and instinct that no amount of willpower or friendship could bridge.
Shiori adapted to Miyu's rhythm, methodically dismantling her defense.
Minutes bled away until, with one final, devastating cross-court shot that kicked up a plume of white chalk from the boundary line, it was over.
Silence hung over the court for a split second before the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.
"Game, set, and match! Winner—Shiori Hayakawa!"
Miyu stood near the backline, her chest heaving, sweat dripping from her chin. She stared at the spot where the ball had bounced past her, panting heavily. Then, she let her racket drop slightly and broke into a wide, exhausted smile.
"…You're seriously amazing," Miyu called out, wiping her forehead.
Shiori stepped forward, walking calmly to the net. Without hesitation, she extended her hand.
Miyu took it firmly. But instead of just shaking it, the energetic girl yanked Shiori forward, wrapping her in a tight, sweaty hug.
"Don't get too full of yourself, though," Miyu laughed into her shoulder. "I'm definitely going to beat you someday."
Shiori stiffened for a fraction of a second, entirely unaccustomed to the brazen affection. But she didn't push Miyu away.
"…I'll be waiting," Shiori replied, her voice soft but sincere.
Later that afternoon, the sun began to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the pavement.
The crowds had temporarily dispersed toward the food stalls in preparation for the final relay races. Shiori walked away from the tennis courts alone, her pristine uniform completely unruffled, her expression an unreadable mask.
Rei approached from the opposite end of the walkway.
For a brief moment, beneath the dappled shade of the campus cherry trees, their paths crossed.
Shiori stopped.
She didn't look at him directly, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
"…I'm winning," she said.
It was a simple sentence. There was no pride in her tone. No boastful excitement, and no malice. It was delivered with the cold, absolute weight of a mathematical fact.
Then, without waiting for a response, she continued walking.
Rei remained rooted to the spot. He turned slightly, watching the back of his sister's head as she slowly disappeared into the throngs of laughing students.
A quiet, unsettling thought surfaced in his mind, wrapping around his chest like a tight band.
…Which one is the real her?
Was it the girl who had leaned her head against his shoulder just days ago, her voice soft and vulnerable in the quiet of their estate?
Or was it the girl he had just witnessed on the court? The cold, untouchable machine, composed of ice and driven solely by the absolute necessity of victory?
Rei lowered his gaze to the pavement.
"…Shiori…" he murmured to the empty air.