Chapter 202: The Person Who Is Unlike Anyone Else

When Morishita Ai returned to the Class A camp bearing the might of a victor, the entire cohort of Class A students rose to their feet. Standing in two rows on either side, they bowed and applauded, as if welcoming a hero who had single-handedly slain the Demon King and saved the world. (Morishita-sama's Fantasy Time)

"As expected of me... an overwhelming victory..."

Morishita planted one hand on her hip and flashed a victory sign toward Fuyuji Mikage with the other, speaking in a flat, even tone.

"But... is Mashima-sensei really going to be okay?" Yamamura Miki gazed toward the referee's platform with some concern.

On the referee's platform, Mashima Tomonari still stood ramrod straight in place with his usual meticulous precision. Judging by those hollow, vacant eyes, the body was still there, but the soul had probably already departed.

"It's fine. For the sake of winning a single match, Mashima-sensei sacrificing a little for our class's score is well worth it."

Fuyuji waved his hand dismissively and gleefully reached out to pinch the girl's soft, pink cheeks—only to be discovered ahead of time and subjected to yet another round of fumbling, chaotic punches.

After all, he'd already sacrificed Mashima's bonus during the uninhabited island exam last time. Sacrificing a bit of his dignity this time for the Sports Festival was nothing. Once you've done it once, the second time comes naturally. Just get used to it.

Besides, didn't he get another bonus anyway?

The surrounding Class A students nodded in unified, unanimous agreement.

"You two..." Kamuro Masumi's brow twitched involuntarily. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she let out a sigh. "Really are a match made in heaven."

The two, still mid-tussle, instantly halted their movements and turned their heads in perfect, wordless unison.

"Thank you for your praise!"

About a dozen or so minutes later, the last student of the first group, gasping for breath, brought their target before the referee—a specific brand of drink.

This type of target was the kind that, with a bit of time spent, was guaranteed to be found. But if no student in one's class happened to have it, or had thrown the bottle away, one would have to buy a new one all over again.

The competition paused briefly. After a five-minute rest, it was the second group's turn to take the field, with Fuyuji among them.

On the early October field, ginkgo leaves were swept past by the sea breeze, flipping over to reveal their yellowed undersides.

The lingering summer heat steaming off the rubber track had dissipated somewhat. The sea breeze swept across the field, lifting the hems of white athletic shirts, granting every student stepping onto the field a refreshing, heart-soothing coolness.

The participating students from the various classes arrived at the starting line one after another. Fuyuji blended in among them, rolling his shoulders and leisurely stretching his body.

"Fuaah~"

An airy, drifting voice, like the sea breeze washing ashore, reached Fuyuji's ears, instantly lifting his spirits.

Following the sound, a young girl draped in long, snow-white hair strode forward with light, graceful steps, quietly arriving beside him.

"Fuyuji-kun... we're in the same group..."

The girl's eyes bloomed with an inexplicable radiance. Both hands clasped behind her back, her body leaning forward ever so slightly, a serene, tranquil smile surfaced on her face.

Fuyuji was also somewhat surprised. "Shiina-san is interested in the Scavenger Race too?"

Given what he knew of Shiina Hiyori, at this hour, she should have been sitting beneath some secluded, deserted shade, listening to the rustling whisper of the wind through the leaves, peacefully enjoying her quiet afternoon.

"About that... truthfully, I don't quite understand it myself." Shiina tilted her lovely head. A trace of bewilderment surfaced in her eyes. "Because I was suddenly notified by my classmates that I'd be participating in this recommended event."

"Is that so." Fuyuji smiled and did not press further.

He could more or less guess the reason. It was probably similar to his own reasoning for choosing Miki—fearing that the school might suddenly pull some brutal, vicious stunt in the next special exam, and, just to be safe, preferentially assigning the easiest event to score in to students with weaker physical constitutions.

That Ryu-chan... he did have just a little leadership potential after all.

Mm... just a tiny little bit.

"I'll say this in advance, okay—I won't lose to Mister Watson."

Shiina blinked her eyes and drew a deep breath, clenching her small fists to cheer herself on.

Though in Fuyuji's eyes, it looked more like a tiny kitten waving its pink, plush paw pads in an attempt to demonstrate how fierce and formidable it was.

"Hmph hmph. Such confidence, Miss Holmes." Fuyuji still remembered the promise the two of them had made while walking back to the dorms last time. "Then I won't go easy on you either. In a moment, I'll be going on ahead."

"Of course." Shiina nodded emphatically.

After a brief spell of idle chatter, the starter soon arrived beside them.

Bang—!

The starting pistol cracked.

On the red rubber track, several figures shot forward from the starting line simultaneously.

Casting a backward glance from the corner of his eye at that unhurried, leisurely silver-white figure behind him—and feeling the suspended weight in his heart drop by half—Fuyuji swiftly accelerated. He was the very first to reach the lottery-drawing spot.

"Hey there..."

Without the slightest shred of hesitation, Fuyuji, wearing a delighted grin, made a beeline straight for the lottery box in front of his own class's homeroom teacher.

"Ara~ Isn't this that certain someone from that certain family? How come after just a few days—"

"If you dare call me 'a useless thing,' your English homework for the next two weeks will be doubled. And you'll get an extra worksheet every single day on top of that." Mashima Tomonari fixed Fuyuji with a somber, hollow stare. His countenance, in this very moment, bore an unprecedented, terrifying severity.

"..."

Fuyuji silently choked back the words already on the tip of his tongue.

Sadistic teacher. Claiming to be fair and impartial, yet so fond of abusing his authority for personal vendettas.

This unparalleled intimidation transmitted through the microphone to the spectating stands. In the blink of an eye, a wave of boos erupted from the direction of Class A.

"Tch~"

To be mocked and heckled by so many of his own students right to his face—even for the perpetually stern and humorless Mashima, his composure was starting to crack.

"Cough, cough. Hurry up and draw your lot."

He shoved the box before Fuyuji with one hand, carrying a note of urging impatience. Immediately after, he swiftly added another sentence.

"Let me state this in advance—you may no longer treat the referee as your target."

Fuyuji clicked his tongue. As expected of the stingy Mashima Tomonari—he'd actually gone and banned this method of clearing the stage. It seemed he'd been scared witless by the airheaded Morishita-sama.

Forget it.

He rubbed his palms together and plunged his hand into the opening of the box. Closing his eyes, he began groping and rummaging around.

"Now then—let me find that single slip of paper capable of reversing the very fate of the world!"

A series of rustling, riffling sounds followed.

Five seconds later...

Ten seconds later...

Fifteen seconds later...

Mashima stared in silence at the student before him—the one who made him feel equal parts pride and headache. Slowly, a single question mark materialized above his head.

The lots in the box shouldn't be this difficult to draw. What exactly was he trying to do?

"Oh, oh~ I feel it. This mighty power. Subarashii~"

In an instant, Fuyuji's piercing, razor-sharp eyes snapped open. Two fingers, gripping a slip of paper, withdrew from the box. His arm traced a dashing, gallant arc through the air. A resounding, triumphant voice rang out across the entire field:

"My turn! Draw!"

[The Holy Light Unicorn]

The slip of paper between his fingertips quivered and fluttered in the wind. The distant crash and roar of the ocean waves against the shore. The lingering, un-dispersed boos and laughter from the spectator stands. All of it lingered and curled around his ears, refusing to fade. A gust of wind swept across the track. A few ginkgo leaves tumbled and rolled past his rigid, frozen athletic shoes, the veins of the leaves scraping and rustling against the ground—like the sound of a long, drawn-out sigh.

In the midst of the deathly silence, Fuyuji slapped the slip of paper onto the table with a resounding crack and erupted in furious, indignant cursing. "Which bastard came up with this question?! Why don't they just tell me to find a chicken that can play basketball and bring it here?!"

"As for that..." The corner of Mashima's mouth curved into an almost imperceptible smile. Then, with lightning speed, he straightened his expression. "In order to create sufficient differentiation, some degree of difficulty in the questions is entirely normal."

"Re-draw." Fuyuji handed the slip back.

Thirty seconds later. Students from the same group who had set out earlier were already off searching for their targets. Shiina Hiyori also arrived at the lottery-drawing spot in a hurried, bustling rush.

"My turn! Draw!"

[The Correct Answer to the Riemann Hypothesis]

After a long, prolonged silence, Fuyuji slowly exhaled a breath. He turned his head and pointed at the neighboring box.

"I suspect I've drawn from the wrong card pool. This is the forbidden card series. I demand to switch to a different box."

"The opposite box has already been drawn from by another student. Until that student returns the slip, that box can no longer be drawn from."

"Then tell me—who the hell could possibly solve this?!" Fuyuji slammed both palms against the table with thunderous crashes.

The Riemann Hypothesis—one of the seven Millennium Prize Problems in mathematics. Solve one, and you'd receive a million US dollars, become a CEO, and marry a beautiful, wealthy wife as easily as snapping your fingers.

"This, too, cannot be helped." Mashima refused without a change in expression.

In the spectator stands, the entire cohort of Class A students were already laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Morishita Ai picked up her phone and leaned against Yamamura Miki, laughing even as she recorded this entire sequence of footage.

The great first-year mastermind—Lord Moriarty himself—to be humiliated like this.

Unforgivable!

"Again!" Yet another slip of paper was shoved back.

His gaze swept over the handwriting on the slip. Fuyuji's originally contorted, savage expression instantly froze solid. Even his breathing came to a halt for a single moment.

[A Person Who Is Unlike Anyone Else]

In the blink of an eye, the clamor and noise around him seemed to recede into the distance. All that remained was the violent, pounding thud of his own heart within his chest.

Inexplicably, Fuyuji recalled that day.

In front of the library, beneath the grey, hazy curtain of rain—that umbrella printed with a simple, tiny floral pattern. And beneath it, the silver-haired girl, her cheeks faintly flushed, her silhouette in profile...

"..."

Before he could even sort out the threads of his thoughts, his body had already moved on its own.

Fuyuji spun around abruptly—and then came to an equally abrupt halt the very next instant.

Not far away, Shiina Hiyori had her head slightly lowered. Her violet eyes were focused intently on the slip of paper in her hand. A few strands of her silver-white hair were gently lifted by the sea breeze.

The moment Fuyuji's gaze landed upon her—as though by some wondrous, miraculous telepathy—she suddenly turned her head.

Their eyes met.

Fuyuji drew a deep breath and strode toward her with great, sweeping steps. The distance of a few meters closed in an instant.

"Shiina-san." His voice was a shade deeper and lower than usual, carrying a thread of tension.

"Um..." He looked directly into her slightly widened violet eyes and spoke at a rapid, urgent clip, yet with perfect, unmistakable clarity. "I need your help."

"Eh?"

Shiina seemed not to have reacted yet. She stood where she was, still gripping that slip of paper tightly in her hand.

A few seconds later—the girl's fair, snowy cheeks flushed crimson at a speed visible to the naked eye, spreading from the base of her ears all the way down to her neck.

The air around them seemed to freeze solid. Time itself stretched and elongated. A few Class C students who had noticed the commotion over here cast curious, inquisitive glances their way.

Shiina's long lashes fluttered rapidly several times, like the startled wings of a butterfly. She quickly raised her eyes and collided directly with Fuyuji's deep, profound gaze.

For a brief, dazed, stupefied moment—that shy, bashful flush did not recede. On the contrary, it bloomed and deepened even further.

"Alright..."

She nodded gently. Her airy, drifting voice was like a feather touching the ground, yet it fell into Fuyuji's ears with perfect, crystalline clarity. She extended her hand of her own accord—not to take the slip of paper, but to gently pinch the tiny bit of fabric at the cuff of Fuyuji's white athletic shirt. The gesture carried just a trace of careful, cautious testing, yet was also incomparably, utterly natural.

"Let's go, Mister Watson."

The girl raised her head. A faint, shallow yet completely open, unabashed smile blossomed across her face. Her violet eyes sparkled and glistened under the sunlight.

"We'll go together."

Fuyuji's heart felt as though it had been softly, gently bumped by something. An indescribable, warm current instantly surged throughout his entire body. He turned his hand over and, with the utmost, most natural ease, used his own palm to envelop that small, slightly cool hand of hers—the one that had been gripping his cuff.

Shiina's body trembled almost imperceptibly. Yet she did not pull away. She allowed him to hold her hand, and the two of them walked shoulder-to-shoulder with swift, brisk steps toward the referee's platform.

Fingers interlaced?

No. It was an even tighter, more encompassing encasement. Her hand was so small and delicate it was almost completely covered by his large, broad palm. Only the slightly cool tips of her fingers peeked out from outside.

The sunlight danced and leaped upon their bodies. The sea breeze lifted the ends of their hair—black and silver intertwining before separating once more.

"Here... Sadistic Teacher." At this very moment, Fuyuji was brimming with triumphant, high-spirited pride.

"A person who is unlike anyone else."

Beside him, Shiina's eyes widened slightly. Her lips parted faintly. She stared, utterly entranced, at the slip of paper Fuyuji had handed over, then raised her head and looked at Fuyuji's face in profile.

Mashima accepted the slip Fuyuji handed over. Then he looked at Shiina, standing quietly beside him, her cheeks deeply flushed. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch faintly. Still, he nodded with businesslike formality.

"Valid! First-year Class A—Fuyuji Mikage—qualified!"

A person who is unlike anyone else. This was a very broad, open-ended question. After all, every single person was unique. As long as the person brought forth exhibited some distinctive, exceptional trait, it would pass.

"Haah—"

Fuyuji let out a breath of relief. He was just about to say something to Shiina when, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Shiina also carefully, cautiously handing a folded slip of paper to that very same Mashima.

"Sensei... this one... is mine." Her voice remained soft and gentle as ever, yet it rang out with perfect clarity.

There was another one? But her target...

Mashima unfolded the slip Shiina had handed over with a puzzled expression. His gaze swept across the handwriting upon it. Then, he abruptly raised his head and looked at the slip of paper—the one that had just been confirmed from Fuyuji.

Two slips of paper, laid side by side before Mashima's eyes.

Fuyuji's read: [A Person Who Is Unlike Anyone Else]

Shiina's read: [A Person Who Is Unlike Anyone Else]

The same format. The same content!

"..."

Mashima fell silent for a full three seconds, as if digesting this scene straight out of a drama.

In the end, he shook his head helplessly. Stuffing the whistle into his mouth, he blew it once more.

"Bweee—!" The sharp, piercing whistle once again rang out across the field.

"First-year Class C—Shiina Hiyori!" Mashima's voice, amplified through the microphone, spread clearly throughout the entire competition field. "Target item—similarly confirmed—valid!"

Fuyuji was utterly, completely stunned.

He abruptly turned his head and looked at Shiina beside him. An expression of sheer, absolute disbelief surfaced on his face.

Shiina was also raising her head, looking at him. Within those violet eyes, it seemed as though a sky full of crushed, scattered starlight had been gathered and poured. The shyness and embarrassment had mostly receded. All that remained was a deep, profound understanding and a faint, shallow smile. The girl's fingers—completely, wholly enveloped by his palm—secretly, quietly gave his own palm a tiny, gentle scratch.

A person who is unlike anyone else...

Pablo Neruda, the 1971 Nobel Laureate in Literature and Chilean poet, in his work "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair," wrote this single, solitary line:

You are unlike anyone else, because I love you.

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50 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!