COTE :  Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

Five minutes later, beneath the shade of a tree at the edge of the running track.

A sports drink was lobbed with precision toward Fuyuji Mikage, slumped lifelessly on the bench. Another was tossed to Nagumo Miyabi, who stood not far off, bracing his hands on his knees and panting lightly.

"Electrolyte drink. More suitable than plain water."

Horikita Manabu's voice was as steady as ever. Only the rise and fall of his chest and the fine sheen of sweat at his temples betrayed the ferocity of the chase just moments before.

Fuyuji, already playing dead, caught the drink. Without a word, he twisted off the cap and gulped down several mouthfuls, then let out a satisfied sigh.

At the same time, taking advantage of the fact that most of Nagumo's attention was focused on Horikita Manabu, his thighs quietly shifted—like a crab, he imperceptibly scooted two body-widths outward, attempting to put some distance between himself and the greasy blond beside him.

Nagumo, having only just entered the sports ground, had expended far less stamina than the other two. He raised a hand and ruffled his blond hair a few times, shaking it out like a peacock flaunting its plumage. With a tone of genuine regret, he asked, "Why did it suddenly end just now? Abandoning a match halfway through is no good, you know."

Fuyuji and Horikita Manabu's faces both darkened. Who the hell ever said this was a match?!

"It was not a match. Merely a normal morning workout." Horikita Manabu adjusted his glasses and corrected him.

"No matter. Tomorrow we can try running a half marathon." Nagumo was utterly unbothered and enthusiastically began pitching tomorrow's training regimen to the two of them. "Though if we follow today's schedule, we might not have enough time. We'd need to start an hour earlier."

"I'll pass. That kind of morning training is still a bit too intense for me."

Fuyuji tilted his head back and waved a limp, exhausted hand at Nagumo.

Compared to Fuyuji's blunt refusal, Horikita Manabu clearly had a better grasp of how to handle this increasingly unhinged Student Council Vice President. His expression unchanged, he merely replied flatly, "Engaging in such intense exercise too frequently will only backfire on the body. Physical training requires regular, alternating cycles. This does not align with the original purpose of my morning routine."

"Fair point. However..."

Nagumo, having been refused, showed no sign of dejection. On the contrary, he nodded with an expression full of agreement. But when he turned toward Horikita Manabu, the flames of competitive spirit instantly reignited in his eyes. "Horikita-senpai's speed is as fast as ever. And to think you'd come out for physical training this early."

After taking a shallow sip of his drink, Horikita Manabu replied, "Simply a normal response to the upcoming Sports Festival. As for you—" His tone shifted abruptly, his gaze sharpening in an instant. "As the Student Council Vice President, I recall that this morning's meeting regarding the approval of sports club budgets was entrusted to you to preside over. At this hour, why are you here?"

Nagumo's grin froze for a split second. Then, with a deliberately nonchalant wave of his hand, he said, "Trivial matters can be left to others. There are no exams lately. It's nothing more than approving some club documents anyway." He suddenly rose to his feet, drink in hand, his blond hair swaying wildly in the breeze. "At the Sports Festival—let's have a match where we wager everything! I'll show you what true 'meritocracy' looks like! The one who wins will definitely be me!"

Fuyuji Mikage: "..."

There it is again. That baffling, inexplicable confidence...

Having spoken, Nagumo turned around with a deliberately dashing flourish. Drink in hand, he strode back toward the sports ground. "Today's training quota still hasn't been met. I'll be heading back now. This match was thoroughly enjoyable, farewell, you two~"

We already said it wasn't a match! x2

Gazing into the distance at Nagumo's retreating figure, Fuyuji strained out a single sentence with immense difficulty. "That guy... how exactly did he develop such a warped personality? And you actually agreed to let him join the Student Council back then?"

Raising a hand to straighten his glasses—which had slipped down slightly, the lenses reflecting a cold, sharp arc of light under the sun—Horikita Manabu spoke in a tone utterly devoid of ripples. "Personality is not a prerequisite for joining the Student Council. And in my view, your own vile personality is only marginally better than his. No—perhaps it is even more severe."

"..."

Fuyuji felt he had just been subjected to the most egregious slander in all of history!

All he'd done was take a mere four or five million points from him, shatter his perfect image in his little sister's heart, tell Nagumo about his money troubles, privately spread gossip about the two of them, and swindle his secretary a little tiny bit. Was that really so bad?

"Tomorrow." After pulling out his phone and glancing at the time, Horikita Manabu asked, "Continue?"

After precisely zero-point-one seconds, Fuyuji shot upright on the bench with a whoosh. His expression solemn and grave, he declared, "Of course. I have no habit of quitting halfway. I hope you don't either."

Horikita Manabu nodded, returned his phone to his pocket, and turned to walk toward the teaching building.

"Third-year Class A still has matters to attend to. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Fuyuji smiled and waved farewell with a hint of profound meaning.

Please. Tomorrow, he was heading to the sports ground near the teaching building. You and Blond Senpai can have fun on your own!

The steady, measured footsteps gradually receded into the distance, finally vanishing at the end of the tree-lined path leading to the teaching building.

Like a scoop of melted ice cream, Fuyuji sank deep into the cool bench. Every muscle in his body seemed to be wailing in agony. Wave after wave of soreness—born of accumulated lactic acid—crashed ceaselessly against his nerves.

There was still some time before class. He could afford to sit here a little longer.

A cool breeze swept past. The leaves overhead rustled softly, brushing across Fuyuji's entire body.

Like a piece of red-hot iron quenched in water—the instant his pores dilated, the pent-up, stifling heat escaped as white vapor from every cellular crevice. He slowly closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to remain within this brief moment of tranquility.

However, this peace did not last long.

A set of footsteps—deliberately softened, yet impossible to fully muffle against the hard ground in athletic shoes—drew near from afar and came to a halt before the bench, perfectly blocking the sunlight that had been spilling across his face.

This resentful little gaze...

Without even lifting his eyelids, Fuyuji knew exactly who had come—purely from that familiar aura, cool and faintly aloof, and this entrance that practically screamed "I'm here to demand answers."

"Yo, Suzune..."

Fuyuji lazily cracked open one eyelid. His gaze swept past those straight calves—unstoppable even in athletic wear—and landed on her cheeks, which should have been broadcasting "please stay at least five meters away from me" but were now faintly, ever so faintly, puffed out.

"So early in the morning. Instead of enjoying your solitary, tranquil morning reading time, you came all the way here to find me. What for?"

"Can you not use the same trick every single time? It's always this one..."

Horikita Suzune's cool, clear eyes scraped over him with helpless exasperation.

You know and you're still asking? Do you enjoy watching me embarrass myself that much?

"Can't help it. The moment I think about how that usually ice-cold, keep-everyone-at-arm's-length face of Suzune's will twist into that expression of utter humiliation, fidgeting reluctance, and 'I'd rather die' defiance—I just go all waku-waku."

Horikita's chest heaved violently. She drew a deep breath, her fist clenching rock-hard. In a frigid voice, she said, "This kind of warped psychology—Fuyuji-kun, could I ask you to please go see a psychiatrist?"

"I just finished exercising and my brain's a little scrambled. I can't understand what Suzune is saying at all..." Fuyuji opened both eyes and gazed at that awkward, delicate face with feigned bewilderment. "So... the thing you wanted to ask is?"

"..."

With that single sentence, Fuyuji had killed the match.

Like an ice cube tossed into magma, Horikita's just-clenched fist went slack in defeat. The ice-cold beauty of Class D lowered her proud head. A few strands of black hair cascaded down beside her cheeks. A voice as faint as a mosquito's whine leaked through the seam of her lips.

"So... did my brother... ask you to do morning training together?"

This humiliated voice... this fidgeting expression...

"Ah~" Fuyuji clutched his chest and let out a satisfied sigh. "Today was not in vain. So it really is true that good things happen after exercising."

"Spit it out!"

Horikita's face had gone completely black. A bone-chilling cold burst forth from her. Her long, jet-black hair—lustrous as lead powder—rose without any wind. Step by step, she advanced on Fuyuji.

"No." Fuyuji replied calmly.

"A lie." Horikita's voice abruptly spiked in volume. "I clearly saw my brother say something to you at the end, and you nodded in agreement."

"Ara~ Suzune." Fuyuji was instantly possessed by the spirit of Shinnosuke Nohara. With feigned bashfulness, he waved a hand. "So you've been paying this much attention to me all along?"

Horikita, who had been closing in step by step just moments before, froze as if someone had pressed a pause button. She stood there, utterly choked up, stunned in place. Two blushes of red rapidly flew onto her cheeks. Fluster, indignation, bewilderment, mixed with some indescribable, unnameable emotion—all of it cycled through her face in the span of a few seconds. Finally, as if throwing caution to the wind, she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Stop changing the subject! Tell me what it was! What are you two doing tomorrow?!"

"Fine." Fuyuji spread his hands helplessly. "He did indeed ask me to train with him tomorrow." As he spoke, a teasing, half-smiling expression surfaced on his face. "Though I have no intention of getting mixed up with him again tomorrow. If you want to go, go ahead. As for the time, place, and whatever else was said after that..."

"Your condition!" Horikita ground out through clenched teeth, crisp and decisive.

After so many times, she had more or less figured out Fuyuji's way of speaking. Rather than letting him run her around in dizzy circles, it was better to face it head-on.

"Oh~ Suzune, you've finally learned this efficient method of communication. You've taken a great step forward into the adult world."

"Cut the chatter."

"Fine..."

After gathering himself for a brief moment, Fuyuji cleared his throat and slumped back peacefully on the bench. His gaze drifted up toward the leaves overhead, his eyes turning evasive.

"Suzune, did you know? During intense exercise, the muscles' oxygen demand spikes sharply. Blood is prioritized to the muscles, leading to a relative decrease in blood supply to the brain."

"Of course I know basic principles like that. What's your point?"

Horikita furrowed her brow and stared down at Fuyuji from above.

Ignoring the gaze stabbing straight at him, Fuyuji leaned back against the bench. His eyes flicked rapidly over Horikita as he continued his utterly serious, perfectly straight-faced nonsense.

"If excessive sweating causes a drop in blood volume, it will further reduce blood supply to the brain. Under such circumstances, the best solution is to lie flat on the spot to reduce muscle oxygen consumption and promote blood to circulate back to the brain. However, I have one bad hab—"

"State your condition!"

Horikita, her head now swimming from Fuyuji's excessively long and convoluted sentences, cut him off without the slightest mercy.

"I require a pair of fair, tender thighs to gently cradle my neck, so that blood may swiftly flow back to my brain. Commonly known as a lap pillow." Fuyuji spoke in a perfectly calm tone.

"Fuyuji-kun." Horikita's lips tugged into a smile utterly devoid of warmth, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Did you happen to hit your head while running just now? Or do you need me to help you clear your mind?"

Unfazed, Fuyuji replied with absolute confidence. "You still owe me money, you know."

"So what? I only agreed to cook for you."

"Yes. But I believe Suzune will give me a lap pillow."

"In your dreams!"

With that, she spun around sharply. Her long black hair traced a graceful arc through the air. Without a backward glance, she strode off toward the teaching building.

"Take care..."

Fuyuji leisurely pulled out his phone while waving her goodbye.

Five minutes later...

Beneath the shade of the tree, sunlight dappled and danced. A breeze skimmed past the treetops, and the leaves rustled softly, as if whispering secrets.

"Ah~~"

An immensely satisfied, drawn-out sigh rang out, shattering the brief silence.

Feeling the sensation of thin fabric pressed close against his face, and that unconcealable, exquisite smoothness, Fuyuji let out yet another moan of contentment.

Turning onto his side, he faced his head toward Horikita's stomach. Breathing in the alluring fragrance lingering around him, he peacefully closed his eyes.

A pale, slender hand came to rest gently upon Fuyuji's face, slowly stroking. Her long fingers traced absentmindedly across his neck. An unprecedentedly gentle voice drifted down from above.

"Fuyuji-kun. If you dare deceive me, I will kill you right now, and then commit suicide."

"It's true. There is indeed a student in the Student Council who harbors affection for Horikita Manabu. Everyone in the Student Council knows that." His voice was somewhat muffled, buried as it was in the fabric, but his tone carried firm conviction.

Of course, whether this student was male or female—that, Fuyuji did not know.

Silently nestling a little closer toward her stomach, Fuyuji murmured with a trace of regret. "Too bad it's not Suzune's most common uniform skirt and black knee-high sock combination. I can't experience zero-distance contact with Suzune's thighs—"

"Will your mouth kill you if you stop talking?!" Before he could finish, Horikita clamped a hand over his mouth. Her pretty face flushed red, she glared at him with a mixture of shame and fury. "Say one more word and I'll throw you off right now."

"Fine..."

Ten minutes later.

"Are you done yet? If you've pillowed enough, get off me right now!"

"...I fell asleep."

Fuyuji mumbled indistinctly. Not only did he not move, he buried his head even deeper toward that warm, soft sanctuary.

The warmth of the girl's thighs and their wonderfully elastic texture transmitted themselves with absolute clarity. That unique fragrance belonging to Horikita—crisp and cool, tinged with the scent of books and ink—mingled with the faint, salty trace of post-exercise perspiration, aggressively seizing control of Fuyuji's olfactory senses.

"Shameless bastard! Get off!"

"Not getting off!" Like a koala, Fuyuji wrapped his arms tightly around Horikita's waist, his grip tightening. "Five more minutes... just five more minutes..."

"Get off." Horikita forcefully pried at his arms, her voice carrying a faint tremor.

"Not getting off." Fuyuji held on even tighter, his face buried even deeper.

...

Beneath the shade of the tree, a flustered, mortified, yet crisp and lovely voice—interwoven with the rising and falling sounds of exercise from the sports ground—burst into Fuyuji's eardrums.

At this moment, the sunlight was just right, the breeze gentle and mild, the lap pillow soft and yielding, and his mood utterly excellent.

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50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!