COTE : Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

September 1st.

No matter which world you're in, it's a day that makes high school students despair.

After two weeks of relaxation, and a full month later, Fuyuji Mikage had once again returned to his throne.

Yes, the summer break that seemed so long on the surface—if you stripped away the two weeks of special exams—left only two weeks of actual vacation time.

This kind of vacation arrangement perfectly matched the style of Advanced Nurturing High School. Pure fraud!

Inside the Class A classroom.

Still not fully recovered from the lingering afterglow of the break, Fuyuji sprawled across his desk as if every bone in his body had been pulled out. He turned his head lazily, his cheek pressed flush against the cool wooden surface, his gaze drifting idly around the classroom.

A small portion of Class A students had gathered in clusters of two or three, leaning forward and lowering their voices as they shared interesting stories from their summer break.

"Hey, hey, did you hear? That love fortune-telling place on the fifth floor of Keyaki Mall—there's an in-cred-ibly amazing master there." Tsukaji Shihori gestured excitedly with her hands.

"Yeah, yeah! Apparently, everyone who's gone to him for a reading," Fukuyama Shinobu clasped her hands before her chest, her eyes sparkling, "has given his fortune-telling skills extremely high praise."

"Too bad, though. That master seemed to be just helping out temporarily. He only came for one day and never showed up again. It's really such a pity." Nakajima Riko let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly.

...

Fuyuji tugged at the corner of his mouth and continued letting his gaze roam aimlessly.

Just then, a breezy voice sounded from behind him.

"Yo~ Fuyuji-san, did you have a good holiday?"

Class A's number one double agent, Hashimoto Masayoshi—who had shone brilliantly in the last special exam—strode into the classroom wearing his trademark unrestrained grin. He nimbly wound his way around several desks and chairs, making a beeline over to exchange greetings.

"It was alright. Just felt like the time went by a bit fast..." Fuyuji lifted his cheek from the desk with a slight effort and leaned back against his chair, producing a faint creak. "What about Hashimoto-san? How was your summer break?"

Ever since returning from the cruise and Mashima Tomonari officially announcing the break, Fuyuji hadn't assigned any further tasks. Naturally, Hashimoto and the others had each entered idle mode.

"It was so-so." Hashimoto walked over to the window and spread his palms, looking rather helpless. "That bastard Ryuen kept coming around to harass me every few days. That guy really doesn't know how to learn his lesson."

Ah...

Fuyuji's aimlessly drifting gaze came to a halt. He could probably imagine what Ryuen's harassment entailed.

It was nothing more than those worn-out thug tactics of his—cornering someone in a narrow alley to beat them up, or trading trash talk back and forth, that kind of thing.

Considering how badly Ryuen had been screwed over by fighting the previous two times, he probably had some psychological scars by now, so it was most likely mutual trash-talking with Hashimoto.

Still, that was pretty disgusting in its own way.

Just picture it: a smooth operator like Hashimoto is sipping a drink, sweet-talking a senior upperclassman for intel—when suddenly, out of nowhere, the school's universally infamous Crap-Eating King pops up. He opens with a provocation and follows up with a barrage of trash talk. The very definition of a shit-stirrer!

That Arisu really is petty.

"Hashimoto-kun, do you need any help?" A steady, deep voice timely inserted itself into the conversation.

Class A's leader, the most ancient Scapegoat King, Katsuragi Kohei, with his accessory Totsuka Yahiko in tow, had made his grand entrance!

After a brief exchange of greetings, Katsuragi turned toward Hashimoto, his brow furrowing slightly out of habit as he returned to the previous topic.

"The Student Council has a special procedure for dealing with this kind of behavior."

"No need to trouble yourself with helping me out." Hashimoto's weight remained propped against the window frame, his hands casually resting on the sill as he gazed out at the scenery. His tone was relaxed, tinged with disinterest. "That Ryuen guy didn't get any advantage over me. After a few attempts, he gave up. His attention's probably shifted to Class D by now. Besides, we've got more important matters lately."

"True enough." Katsuragi nodded in agreement.

The Sports Festival. A few days into the break, Fuyuji had already posted the news that the school would be holding a Sports Festival the following semester to the class group.

"Regarding that," Katsuragi raised a hand unconsciously and rubbed his temple with a headache, "Mashima-sensei will probably announce the relevant rules this afternoon. But I suspect knowing them won't do much good."

An event like a Sports Festival was something practically every student present had participated in before. No matter how the rules changed or how personnel were adjusted, it ultimately boiled down to choosing from a set of specific athletic events—and it was absolutely tied to physical ability. In the end, it all came back to that.

Other exams could be crammed for. You could make a last-ditch effort at the eleventh hour.

Physical ability, however, was the one thing that could only be built through years and months of accumulated training.

In other words, this was a contest of raw physical strength between the classes.

"And on top of that, it's not something we can gather intel on either. Even our own Class A only has a vague understanding of our classmates' physical abilities. Without concrete testing, no one really knows for sure." Hashimoto added.

"All we can do right now is organize our classmates and step up some physical training." Katsuragi let out a sigh and spoke with helpless resignation.

This was something Class A had already begun arranging during the summer break.

Kito Hayato, who could usually be found leaning against the corner, was nowhere to be seen now—precisely because he was currently leading some of Class A's more athletically gifted students on a morning run.

After chatting idly for a while longer, Katsuragi apparently still had Student Council work to handle. He nodded to the two of them and turned back toward his seat, Totsuka trailing behind.

The Sports Festival...

Fuyuji watched Katsuragi walk away, his thoughts drifting into the distance. His body unconsciously slumped back down, melting onto his desk.

Maybe he could use this chance to work on his own barely-passable stamina?

His wandering gaze drifted unthinkingly across the desk, the floor—and then, without warning, a pair of violet-amethyst eyes crashed straight into his line of sight.

Shiraishi Asuka, in the seat next to his, was also sprawled across her desk. Half her face was buried in the crook of her arm, her hair spreading across the desktop like the petals of a blooming flower.

The sunlight happened to fall across her scattered locks, diffusing into a halo of pale gold.

Their gazes clung to each other. The golden sunlight slanted through the glass, dancing upon her long lashes.

Their eyes met, each reflecting the other's silhouette.

Time seemed to slow its flow in that silent, wordless exchange.

After staring for a while, realizing that her gaze was still fixed on him, Fuyuji finally couldn't help but move his lips and speak.

"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

"No." Her voice was muffled in her sleeve, like a hook coated in honey.

"Then why are you still staring?"

"It just feels like it's been so long since I've looked at you like this..."

Fuyuji's ears suddenly burned. He turned his face away and gave a light cough. "Don't we see each other every day?"

"It's not the same..."

The tail end of her words melted into the sudden clamor of cicadas outside the window, carrying that unique languor of late summer fading into early autumn.

And so they remained, childishly staring at each other for who knew how long.

Suddenly, Shiraishi propped herself up. The fabric of her uniform rustled faintly as she sat up perfectly straight, the corners of her lips curving upward. She extended her hand, her voice soft and light as a feather brushing the tip of the heart:

"I'm Shiraishi Asuka. It's a new semester—please take good care of me, okay~" In her violet-amethyst eyes, Fuyuji's figure was reflected with perfect clarity.

Fuyuji froze for a moment. That gentle warmth—the same as always—that had crashed into his sight so unexpectedly made his heart skip a beat. Then, a spreading warmth bloomed from the depths of his chest, and the corners of his own lips couldn't help but lift in response.

Just as swiftly, he extended his hand and firmly grasped her outstretched palm—cool and soft.

"I'm Fuyuji Mikage. Please take good care of me from now on."

...

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