COTE :  Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

This month, the gorilla PE teacher had truly experienced the treatment of his counterparts across the ocean. After swiftly taking attendance, he clasped his hands behind his back, strolled off with lazy, unhurried steps, and his figure vanished around the corner of the corridor leading to the faculty office.

The school had increased the number of PE classes not out of the goodness of their hearts to give students free time, of course, but because if the PE curriculum weren't expanded, the Sports Festival originally scheduled for one month later would probably have to be postponed until the month after next.

Testing the various physical abilities of the students in the class...

Determining the order in which competitors would participate...

Conducting targeted training for students based on the participation roster...

And the endlessly tedious, repetitive rehearsals of the entry and exit procedures!

All of these required each class to organize and coordinate on their own.

Naturally, after the PE teacher left, Class A, under Katsuragi Kohei's leadership, spontaneously began organizing their physical fitness tests.

Since no one knew the participation rosters of the other classes, and since every student was required to participate in all individual events regardless of their fitness test results, the focus of the testing naturally fell upon the higher-point recommended events.

There were four such events in total: the Scavenger Race, the Four-Way Tug-of-War, the All-Year 1200-Meter Relay, and the Mixed-Gender Three-Legged Race.

Of these, the Scavenger Race was a purely luck-based competition, while the Mixed-Gender Three-Legged Race tested the instinctive coordination between two partners.

Naturally, the very first test in this PE class was the relatively simple grip strength test.

Inside the gymnasium, the faint smell of rubber mingled with sweat drifted through the air.

Katsuragi led several Class A students, armed with the only two grip strength dynamometers they had borrowed from the equipment room, recording the results of the entire class on a chart.

Still, for Fuyuji Mikage, this kind of solemn, serious testing was actually quite novel.

After all, if they'd followed the customs of his previous life, it would have gone something like: report your weight, line up from heaviest to lightest, big guys in the back and small guys up front—done.

"I see..."

Still waiting in line, Fuyuji cupped his chin and muttered analytically to himself.

"If your grip strength is insufficient, even if the rest of your body has great power, you won't be able to transmit pulling force effectively. So that's why they need to test grip strength."

Just then, Katsuragi strode to the front of the line and held the dynamometer high above his head, displaying it to the entire class. "Now, Kito-kun and I will first demonstrate how to use the grip strength dynamometer."

"Oh! Do your best, Katsuragi-san! Show them what you're made of!" Totsuka Yahiko leaped out from the crowd to cheer Katsuragi on.

"Very well." Katsuragi nodded deeply. "Here I go!"

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the leader of Class A, Katsuragi Kohei, drew a deep breath. His chest visibly expanded. His feet spread shoulder-width apart as he sank into a steady, rooted stance. With an intensely passionate roar, he bellowed, "HRAAAH—!"

As if channeling the explosive aura of a Saiyan from Dragon Ball, an invisible force seemed to rise and surge around Katsuragi. Even his gleaming bald scalp appeared to steam with a wisp of heat. Then his right hand began to tremble. His originally shiny bald head reddened at a speed visible to the naked eye. The digits on the electronic display began to jump and fluctuate wildly, finally coming to a slow, gradual halt under the breath-held, focused gazes of everyone present.

"Oooh!"

The Class A students let out exclamations of awe in response. They craned their necks, bent forward to peer at the number Katsuragi had squeezed out as if he'd burned through every last ounce of his strength, then turned their heads to glance at Kito Hayato, who had already silently and unobtrusively finished his own test.

[Katsuragi Kohei: 53.5 kg]

[Kito Hayato: 74.8 kg]

The air around them seemed to fall silent for a moment.

Then, in perfect unison, the entire cohort of Class A students let out a collective—

"Tch~"

"Katsuragi-kun, why is it that someone as massively built as you is so far behind Kito? Kito clearly doesn't look as strong as you!" Sanada Kosei pushed up his glasses, his voice brimming with bewilderment.

Matoba Shinji folded his arms and shook his head with a sigh. "53.2 kilograms isn't bad. But as the leader of our Class A, this result falls far too short of expectations. At least break sixty!"

"Come to think of it, have I been deceived by Katsuragi's appearance all along? When school first started, I thought he was super tough just from looking at how brawny he was. Isn't this outright appearance fraud?" Takemoto Shigeru muttered under his breath.

"Barely a scouter reading of five..."

Someone in the crowd mimicked that classic line, drawing a wave of low, stifled laughter.

Expressionless, Kito casually handed the dynamometer to the next student. His eyes, hidden beneath his long bangs, seemed to flick a glance at the number on the other dynamometer. The corner of his mouth lifted into an almost imperceptible smirk. Hunched over, hands in his pockets, he soundlessly slipped out of the line.

"Haah..."

The flush of red on Katsuragi's face faded in an instant. Dispirited, he staggered backward two steps, his lips faintly quivering.

"H-How can this be..."

It was no wonder the Class A students had reacted this way. After all, this result was utterly at odds with the iron-tower, rugged-man physique Katsuragi usually projected.

"I see. The moment one's performance drops even slightly, one is subjected to the verbal lashing and written condemnation of the entire class..." Standing at the very back of the line, Fuyuji folded his arms and nodded calmly, murmuring in a low, reflective tone. "So this is the meritocratic Class A?"

"Yes." Morishita Ai, beside him, nodded with complete understanding. "I heard that the loser must unconditionally obey the winner's orders."

"Eh? I-Is that true?" Yamamura Miki stammered.

"It is, you know." Shiraishi Asuka covered her mouth and confirmed with a soft laugh.

Soon, the two dynamometers were being passed around among the Class A students. As a simple combat-power detection device capable of judging a person's strength purely through numbers, the competitive, comparison-driven spirit spread through the boys' side like wildfire in an instant, each showing off their numbers to display their mighty power.

On the girls' side, the scene was the complete opposite. Most wore expressions of shyness or embarrassment, apparently unwilling to let others see this side of themselves. They accepted the dynamometer with swift, hurried movements, often turning their bodies sideways during the test to block others' lines of sight as much as possible, softly and quietly whispering their numbers to Shiraishi, who was in charge of recording, before swiftly dragging their friends away and fleeing.

However, as a menkyo kaiden practitioner of Ai-style Ancient Martial Arts and Class A's renowned oddball, Morishita Ai was clearly not among the ranks of ordinary girls.

"Here... Morishita-san." The dynamometer was passed to Morishita by the girl in front of her.

After briefly sizing up the shape of the dynamometer, Morishita whipped her head around toward Fuyuji, her eyes sparkling brilliantly.

"Boyfriend-kun..."

"Again?" Fuyuji tugged at the corner of his mouth and pressed a hand to his forehead in helpless exasperation.

Why was it that even though they were already boyfriend and girlfriend, their mode of interaction was still this strange?

"Of course. As the first-generation head of Ai-style Ancient Martial Arts, it's impossible for me to lose." Morishita brimmed with confidence.

"What do you want?" Fuyuji sighed.

"A drink. But we'll talk about that later. Hurry up, hurry up." Morishita impatiently stuffed the dynamometer into Fuyuji's hands and urged him on.

"Fine, then. Taking into account the differences between boys and girls, as long as Morishita-sama surpasses two-thirds of my score, that'll do. However—" Fuyuji spread his palm, and the corner of his lips curled upward. "I may not have practiced much, but my push-ups weren't for nothing."

Accepting the metal device, Fuyuji swept his gaze over Morishita's expression—a mixture of smug pride and hidden anticipation—and flexed his finger joints.

Then, his right hand suddenly exerted force. The digits on the electronic dynamometer jumped and fluctuated, finally freezing at 58.8 kg.

"Not bad?" Fuyuji raised an eyebrow.

Up ahead, Katsuragi, with his 53.2 kilograms, was still drowning in the shadow of being classified as low-combat-power by the Class A boys, unable to pull himself free.

"Hmph hmph, too early to celebrate." Morishita snatched the dynamometer from him and drew close to his side. Her deep blue braids swayed playfully with the tilt of her head. "According to what you said, boyfriend-kun, after your intense physical exercise this morning, you came straight here to the gymnasium for testing without a break. Your entire body must be aching and sore right now. That's victory condition number one!"

Fuyuji stood where he was, watching with leisurely amusement as Morishita puffed out her modest chest, waiting for her to continue.

Morishita simply stared back at him with those clear, wide eyes, unblinking.

For a moment, a delicate silence descended between the two of them. The clamor of the gymnasium seemed to be cut off by an invisible membrane, leaving only their silent, mutual gaze.

"..."

A few seconds later.

"That's it?" Fuyuji finally couldn't hold back. The corner of his mouth twitched as he was the first to break the silence. "What about victory condition number two? Number three?"

Morishita blinked. Her long lashes fluttered like tiny fans. With righteous confidence, she declared, "That's it. One victory condition is enough to beat boyfriend-kun."

"..."

Fuyuji was momentarily speechless, choked by this overwhelming logic. He could only retreat two steps, coincidentally meeting her eager, raring-to-go eyes. "Then may Morishita-sama demonstrate the standard posture?"

"Then watch closely, boyfriend-kun!"

Morishita solemnly accepted the dynamometer. Her slender fingers settled onto the grip. The gazes of the three around her subtly focused.

After all, the physical ability she had displayed on the uninhabited island was truly difficult to categorize.

Morishita drew a deep breath, held it, and focused. Her petite nose flared faintly. Her cheeks puffed up bit by bit from the exertion, like an adorable little pufferfish, her gaze fixed intently on the dynamometer.

"Ora!"

The needle tremulously crept past 20 kilograms, then climbed as slowly as a snail scaling a slope to 30 kilograms...

"35.4 kilograms." Shiraishi reported the result with a smile.

Morishita set the device down and turned to Fuyuji with a perfectly straight face. "Did you see that? That is the mighty combat power of the advanced warrior who has mastered the control of 'ki'—Morishita-sama. I deliberately held back my true strength so as not to discourage the other students."

"I see!" Fuyuji smacked his hands together in sudden, profound realization. "So that breath-holding until your ears turned red just now—was that actually a transformation?"

"That was body temperature regulation!" Morishita kicked him lightly in the shin, then hurriedly changed the subject, grabbing the still-dazed Yamamura beside her. "A bet's a bet. What do you want to drink?"

"Same as you is fine." Fuyuji answered, holding back his laughter.

"That's more like it. Yamamura Miki, let's go!"

"Ah, ah—Morishita-san, slow down!"

Before the words had fully left her mouth, Morishita had already swiftly dragged her companion off, charging toward the vending machines inside the gymnasium with whirlwind energy.

"Honestly..."

Watching the two of them dash off into the distance, Fuyuji shook his head with a mixture of amusement and helplessness.

Just then, a clipboard with a rigid backing board was gently extended before Fuyuji's eyes by a fair, slender hand, blocking his line of sight.

At the same time, a voice—soft as a feather, teasing at the heart—quietly seeped into his eardrum, carrying a hint of coy, playful pouting.

"Fuyuji~ I haven't been tested yet, you know..."

Fuyuji paused briefly, then instinctively accepted the clipboard. "I thought you'd already finished testing." After all, matters on the girls' side had always been entrusted to Shiraishi.

"Well..." Shiraishi tilted her head slightly, her pale golden hair slipping down her shoulder. With feigned seriousness, she declared, "Maybe I didn't want the other students to know my score, so I saved myself for last. Actually, I might be even stronger than Fuyuji."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm..." Shiraishi let out a coy, coquettish nasal hum. Her body leaned forward slightly, tracing the graceful curves that even her red gym uniform couldn't conceal. "Does Fuyuji not believe me?"

"Of course I believe you." Fuyuji smiled and passed her the dynamometer—still carrying the residual warmth of Morishita's hand. "Shiraishi-mama wouldn't lie to me."

"Then..." Shiraishi pressed her palms together, her voice turning even softer, tinged with a coaxing, alluring sweetness. "Let's have a match too. Let's see whose grip strength is greater. The loser has to do one thing the winner says, okay?"

"You too?" Fuyuji stared in astonishment.

"Yep. I've wanted to try this with Fuyuji for a long time now. Watching Fuyuji's match with Morishita-san—I was very envious, you know..."

"I suppose that's fine. But don't push yourself too hard. It'd be bad if you hurt your fingers."

Though he had no idea what Shiraishi was scheming, Fuyuji played along and agreed to her request.

"Fufu~" Shiraishi covered her mouth and let out a soft laugh. Her eyes rippled with a flowing, liquid light. Gracefully, she tucked a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Is Fuyuji underestimating me? Maybe my grip strength is even greater than Fuyuji's."

"Fine." Fuyuji shrugged and flexed his wrist, feeling the soreness from earlier ease just a little. "Then please, Shiraishi-mama, go first. Let me witness the power of Shiraishi-sama." He made a beckoning gesture.

"No!" Shiraishi wagged a slender finger. A radiant, sunny smile blossomed across her face. "That's not how it works, you know."

Fuyuji was completely baffled. "Then how do we compete?"

"First, you have to hold out your hand."

"Hm?" Fuyuji complied and extended his dominant right hand.

In the very next moment, a hand—faintly warm, yet incomparably soft, carrying an exquisitely delicate sensation—slid into his palm with the most natural ease, then deftly reversed grip and held fast.

Vwoom—

Fuyuji went rigid from head to toe, as if struck by a faint electric current. His movements froze in an instant.

He looked down in stunned amazement. Shiraishi's fair, jade-like hand—distinct in every knuckle—was firmly clasping his palm. Her fingertips were even slightly nestled into the taut spaces between his fingers, clenched tight from exertion.

"Fufu~ Just like this! Let's compete one more time!" Shiraishi's face wore the sweet smile of a little fox. Once more, clearly and slowly, she repeated herself. "The loser has to do one thing the winner says, okay."

Fuyuji Mikage: "..."

Crafty Shiraishi-mama. Just declare you the winner already!

In the end, the result was utterly without suspense.

When Shiraishi, wearing the smile of a victor, gently lifted Fuyuji's hand—which, in their fingers-interlocked state, had been completely unable to exert any force—the number displayed on the electronic dynamometer was:

[Shiraishi Asuka: 34.7 kg]

[Fuyuji Mikage: 20.8 kg]

"Fuyuji." Shiraishi gave their still-clasped hands a gentle swing. Her eyes sparkled with a bright, luminous light. "Pretty impressive, right?"

Looking at the smiling face so close to his own, feeling the warmth transmitted from her palm, Fuyuji smiled back—with just a trace of indulgence.

"Impressive. Way too impressive."

Inside the gymnasium, the distant vending machine let out a resounding clatter as a drink dropped into the collection slot.

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50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!