Chapter 201: The Much-Anticipated Scavenger Race

The melodious chime of the bell rang out above the sports field. The lunch break had ended, and the grounds once again stirred with clamor and activity.

The individual competition events had all been completed in the morning. Aside from the students who still needed to participate in the recommended events, the vast majority of the remaining students were already in a state of having nothing to do.

Rather than calling them recommended events, it would be more accurate to say they had been specially set up for the entire student body and faculty to enjoy and relax together.

Moreover, there were only four recommended events in total. Compared to the nine all-participant events in the morning, the schedule was far more relaxed. It was estimated that everything could be finished within just two hours.

The Scavenger Race—the first event of the afternoon.

In countless Japanese school anime, this was the classic, royal-road combination that inevitably appeared alongside the Sports Festival, frequently accompanied by ambiguous, heart-fluttering scenarios that left viewers squealing with excitement.

"So..."

Fuyuji Mikage stood at the edge of the competition field. Raising a hand, he pinched his chin and gazed at the referee's platform, where staff members were continuously hauling supplies up.

"In a moment, when the starting gun fires, I just need to immediately charge over, draw a lot, bring back an item matching the conditions, and the top three finishers will claim victory—correct?"

A faint sigh spilled from Kamuro Masumi's throat. She folded her arms and cast a helpless, sidelong glance at Fuyuji.

"You... just what kind of antique are you, exactly?"

"Bro, someday you'll understand..."

"Ha?" The corner of Kamuro's eye twitched. "What kind of nonsense are you spouting now?"

Fuyuji offered no further answer, fearing that Bro might fly into a rage out of embarrassment and kick him.

"But you have to be careful, okay." Yamamura Miki stood between the two of them. Her slender fingers wagged gently, her small face earnest and serious. "To create enough differentiation, the referees might set some items that are very hard to find. And," she emphasized her tone, "if you choose to re-draw, you have to obediently wait in place for thirty seconds before you can draw again."

"No problem."

Morishita Ai waved a hand and strode forward with confident steps, making her way onto the starting line.

"In a moment, watch as Morishita-sama ends this match with overwhelming victory! Then, riding the winds of my triumph, let's seize the competition in one breath—boyfriend-kun, Yamamura Miki!"

One could only say that when it came to things she was interested in, his girlfriend always possessed a strange, inexplicable confidence.

Yes—for the Scavenger Race, where each class sent six participants divided into six groups, Fuyuji had shamelessly pulled strings behind the scenes.

Although, given the academic performance of the Class A students, there was no way anyone would face expulsion even if they fell into the bottom ten—just to be safe, he had decided to sign up his dear Miki, whose physical ability was the weakest, for the Scavenger Race, where luck played the overwhelming majority.

Then, on one particular day two weeks prior, while eating together as usual, Morishita Ai learned that out of the three of them, two were competing together—and she was not among them. Looking left and right at the two people seated beside her, she suddenly felt that a sorrowful, insurmountable barrier had been erected between the three of them.

And so, Morishita-sama flew into a righteous fury. Shaking her boyfriend by the neck, she demanded to be added to the roster as well.

In the end, the situation had irreversibly spiraled into the scene before his eyes—Morishita Ai, brimming with fighting spirit, standing upon the starting line.

Before long, with the crack of the starter's gun, the race began.

Morishita jogged at an unhurried, leisurely pace in the middle of the pack. Very quickly, she arrived before a row of boxes atop the referee's platform. After a moment of groping and rummaging, she pulled out a slip of paper.

She unfolded the slip and quickly swept her eyes over it. In an instant, those large, sparkling, radiant eyes lost all their luster. Woodenly, she raised her head.

Staaaare—!

Locked in a mutual gaze, the referee, wearing sunglasses, lowered his head and stared with puzzlement at this rather strange girl before him.

Morishita Ai: "..."

The Referee: "..."

For a moment, an awkward, uncomfortable atmosphere descended upon the two of them.

"Ahem. Um... student," the referee finally could bear it no longer and broke the stalemate. Clearing his throat, he spoke. "If you wish to re-draw, please make the request as soon as possible. Otherwise, according to the rules, it will not be granted."

Morishita's eyeballs slowly swiveled twice. She did not answer. Tilting her face upward, she squinted against the harsh sunlight. In a drifting, airy tone, she spoke.

"Are you the referee?"

"Yes. I possess a professional referee's certification." The referee straightened his back.

"But aren't you Mashima Tomonari?" Morishita tilted her head, her blue hair slipping down her shoulder. Staring at him with deep suspicion, she asked. "Did you resign? Quit being a teacher and switch careers to become a referee?"

Mashima Tomonari—or rather, the referee—visibly stiffened. Instinctively, he lowered his head and subconsciously checked over his own attire.

Suit, sunglasses, and he was even wearing a wig... logically speaking, he shouldn't have been so easily seen through.

"As for this... the school is somewhat shorthanded in this area. I'm temporarily filling in as a substitute referee." Mashima straightened his expression, reverting to his usual meticulous, methodical demeanor.

"In that case, Mashima-sensei." Morishita corrected her posture and gave him a respectful bow. "Please, secretly tell me—which box has the easiest slips of paper?"

"Morishita-san. This is merely an ordinary competition. Even if you fail, it's nothing of consequence. In the future, within society..." Faced with his own student, Mashima couldn't help but once again launch into his lengthy, drawn-out lecture.

"Please tell me quickly." Morishita decisively ignored Mashima's sermonizing.

"There is no such thing, Morishita-san."

"What a stingy teacher. No wonder boyfriend-kun says you're a sadistic robot."

"Even so, I cannot tell you." Mashima held firm to his principles. "Also, Morishita-san—although it is not explicitly prohibited, the school does not encourage romantic relationships."

"He also says you're rigid, sadistic, and utterly clueless about human relationships—that if this keeps up, you'll just be a useless person stuck in this position forever, never rising to Head Instructor."

"If you say so, then so be it..."

Mashima was already powerless to refute. He could only hope she would finish the competition quickly, and—when the time came—refrain from dragging her boyfriend over to torment him together.

"Then I win."

A flat, even tone sounded beside his ear. Immediately after, a slip of paper was extended before Mashima by Morishita.

[A Useless Thing.]

Morishita abruptly raised her arm. Her slender index finger, like an unsheathed sword, pointed with pinpoint precision at the referee's platform. With a resounding shout, she declared:

"Mashima Tomonari—the item I have brought is you!"

Thud!

A nearby student who had been in the middle of re-drawing witnessed this outcome. In an instant, he stumbled and collapsed onto the track midway.

You could even do that?!

Directly targeting the referee as your objective—who could possibly be faster than you?!

"Fushuu~"

Morishita wiped the beads of sweat from her fair forehead. Closing her eyes, she basked in self-admiration.

"At first, I was thinking of bringing boyfriend-kun up here. But he probably would've resisted to the death. No helping it—I had to set my sights on Mashima Tomonari instead."

The unruffled, unperturbed voice was rapidly amplified by the broadcast. The atmosphere in the spectator stands began to heat up at a blistering pace. The entire crowd of students burst into roaring laughter. Even the teachers couldn't help but let out chuckles.

Fuyuji stood at the edge of the field, the corner of his mouth twitching upward uncontrollably, utterly unable to suppress it;

Yamamura covered her lips and leaned against Fuyuji's back, desperately stifling her giggles;

Kamuro pressed a hand to her forehead, wearing an expression of "seen it all before";

At this very moment, Mashima Tomonari had already thoroughly and completely turned into a stone statue. Morishita's voice drilled into his ears like a demonic incantation:

Useless thing, useless thing, useless thing...

A long while passed.

Like a drowning man finally breaking the surface of the water, he violently, forcefully shook his head, desperately trying to expel that demonic, looping refrain from his mind. He attempted to defend himself. "Cough, cough! Morishita-san! This does not conform to the rules! The target item description on the slip of paper... and I myself... are completely mismatched!"

"You admitted it." Morishita blinked her eyes. Her calm, indifferent tone remained unchanged.

"I am the homeroom teacher of first-year Class A! I just received a bonus for the first half of the year!"

"You admitted it." Morishita remained utterly unmoved. She continued to repeat herself, her tone even carrying a trace of pity.

"I hold a referee's certification, a teaching license, a fitness instructor certification, and numerous other credentials! I am also the Advanced Nurturing High Teacher of the Year!"

"You admitted it." Morishita calmly dealt the final blow. It was super effective.

"＃%＆*＆%＆!"

Morishita planted both hands on her hips. "Hmph hmph. Come now—hurry up and announce the results."

Time seemed to stretch on for an entire century.

At last, Mashima seemed to have steeled himself with some kind of tragic, heroic resolve. He abruptly snatched the whistle from the table and, with every last ounce of strength in his body, blew it with ferocious, piercing intensity!

"Bweee—!"

The sharp, shrill whistle pierced through the clamor.

He seized that slip of paper and, after crumpling it viciously a few times, practically ground out the announcement through clenched teeth into the microphone:

"First-year Class A—Morishita Ai! Target item—" He paused. His gaze, laden with complex emotion, flicked toward the blue-haired girl before him, whose face wore an expression of utter, triumphant victory. His voice squeezed out, word by word, from between his teeth, saturated with humiliation, powerless compromise, and tragic, heroic resolve:

"Confirmed! 'A Useless Thing'... Mashima Tomonari—is valid!"

Those final two words—"is valid"—were almost too faint to be heard, yet they rang out with perfect clarity across the entire field.

And then, the spectator stands laughed even louder.

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50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!