COTE : Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

At the same time, Palette Cafe.

The evening sunlight slanted through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm patches of light across the tabletops. The air was rich with the mellow fragrance of roasting coffee beans, mingled with the sweet, fresh scent of the female students' perfumes.

Amidst the lilting laughter of the girls of Advanced Nurturing High, Fuyuji Mikage silently pushed the leather-bound black menu across the table.

"So, Senpai—there is that kind of thing, right?" A glint of keen light flashed through Fuyuji's eyes. His expression brimming with anticipation, he lowered his voice. "A forbidden cultivation method for rapidly boosting physical ability in a single month."

Yes, ever since his academic performance had been whipped into shape by his senpai and he had successfully achieved the feat of placing within the top ten of the grade, Fuyuji—who had already developed a full-blown path dependency—had once again sought out Kiryuin Fuka.

He intended to let the Class A masses witness what it meant for one person, in one month, to create a miracle.

Kiryuin Fuka leaned back languidly against the soft sofa cushions. One arm rested casually atop the backrest, while her other hand idly took the heavy menu. At the same time, she crossed her long legs, sheathed in sheer black stockings. The tip of her dainty foot hooked her leather shoe, bobbing it up and down with a leisurely, unhurried rhythm.

After sweeping her eyes over the gilded title, Kiryuin finally lifted those ruby-like eyes of hers. Fixing Fuyuji with an amused, half-smiling gaze, the corner of her lips curved into a playful arc. "Five million?"

"It may be a bit mercenary, but..." Fuyuji straightened his back, interlaced his fingers and placed them before his mouth, and confessed openly. "Yes!"

"Seems that Nagumo fellow actually did something good for once."

Kiryuin raised a hand and summoned a waiter. After ordering two espressos, she added a matcha mousse.

"He actually managed to make a slothful kouhai like you proactively propose physical training."

"Cough, cough." Fuyuji's face betrayed a hint of embarrassment. In his defense, he protested, "I do exercise normally too, you know."

The result being that for the past two months, Morishita Ai had stopped doing morning races with him—because she had already lost so thoroughly she'd gone numb. The kind where even her lips pouted as she walked. Every so often, she'd mutter under her breath, full of lingering resentment, "Stingy Fuyuji Mikage. Won't even go easy on Morishita-sama."

"So, Senpai." Fuyuji once again steered the topic back. He slammed both hands onto the table, leaning forward sharply, his eyes burning with intensity. "There is that kind of thing, right?"

Kiryuin lifted the small, pristine white porcelain coffee cup, wisps of steam curling from its rim. She blew gently across the surface and spoke flatly. "I wonder..."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"I say, Kouhai-kun..."

After letting out a long sigh, Kiryuin—completely contrary to her usual demeanor—shook her head and gently set her coffee back down on the table.

In the span of a lightning flash, the fair hand that had just released the coffee cup shot out with whip-like precision, accurately seizing the shell of Fuyuji's ear. Without the slightest mercy, she twisted it nearly half a turn.

"Every single time, you only come looking for your Senpai when you need something. The moment it's done, you dust off your backside and trot off without a care. You never even think to initiate a phone call on your own. Senpai has no idea which Pacific Ocean you've forgotten her in."

The force in her hand gradually increased as she slowly pulled Fuyuji toward her. Warm breath, carrying the rich aroma of coffee, ghosted softly against his ear. Her slightly magnetic voice seeped into his ear like a fine, tingling electric current. "Such an unadorable kouhai... tell me, just how should Senpai deal with you..."

"Ow, ow, ow! Senpai, Senpai! Let go first!"

Fuyuji sidestepped over to Kiryuin's side in one swift stride, trying to prevent her from applying any more force, his face contorted in a pained grimace. "Didn't I just send you messages a couple of days ago?"

"More of your Land of Light jokes? Funny videos? Or perhaps that book you 'accidentally' sent me and then swiftly retracted—'How to Be a Gentle and Domestic Wife'?" Her ruby-like eyes narrowed. "Were you throwing shade at me?"

Seeing that one ear was already turning red, Kiryuin decisively switched to the other ear and continued twisting.

"But I still contacted you, didn't I?" Fuyuji hissed in a breath of cold air, his body once again forced to lean toward her as he continued his sophistry. "At the very least, it proves I haven't forgotten you, Senpai."

"That part is true." The pressure on his ear lessened by a fraction.

"And Senpai, didn't I come find you on my own initiative this time?"

Thoroughly pained to the point of discomfort, Fuyuji unconsciously drew a few inches closer to Kiryuin.

The distance between the two of them shrank in an instant. Their bodies drew near—so near that Fuyuji could clearly smell the familiar, faintly aggressive fragrance in her hair, and could even see his own reflection within those ruby eyes beneath her silver lashes.

Beneath the pleated skirt of her uniform, her long legs—sheathed in sheer black stockings—were now practically pressed against his trouser leg. That exquisite texture and the faint hint of skin tone peeking through carried a startling presence and heat, reminding him even more vividly than the sharp pain in his earlobe of the oppressively charged presence of the senpai before him.

Kiryuin clearly hadn't anticipated him suddenly closing in like this. Those crimson eyes of hers—which were always the ones appraising others—contracted ever so slightly the moment Fuyuji's abruptly magnified face entered her field of vision. A fleeting flush of pink surfaced on her cheeks and vanished in a flash.

As if scalded by the sudden close-range heat source, she instinctively released Fuyuji's ear. Folding her arms, she recrossed her long legs and turned her gaze toward the scenery outside the window.

"Glib-tongued, crafty kouhai."

Fuyuji didn't deny it. Like a pardoned prisoner, he rubbed his burning, reddened ears, then lifted his coffee cup and downed a huge gulp, as if trying to extinguish some awkward tension.

...

A brief silence spread through the air, steeped in the fragrance of coffee and the sweet scent of pastries.

Fuyuji cleared his throat and was the first to speak, cautiously resuming the previous topic.

"Cough, cough. So, Senpai—your answer?"

Kiryuin casually swept back her waterfall of silver hair, revealing the elegantly contoured line of her neck. Directly and bluntly, she said, "There isn't one."

"Ha?" Fuyuji's eyes widened in disbelief. "How can there not be?"

"I should be asking you—why would you think such a thing exists?"

"Because Senpai's physical ability is so outstanding, and yet I never see you training. Isn't that because you have some kind of special technique?"

"I see." Kiryuin nodded, propped her chin on her hand, and turned her head to look at him with an expression of leisurely amusement. "You've got quite the imagination, haven't you, boy?"

"Then how did Senpai get this level of physical ability?"

"You want to know?" A trace of a smile played at the corner of Kiryuin's lips.

"Mm, mm." Fuyuji nodded like a chick pecking at grain.

"Very well, then..."

Kiryuin rose from her seat with crisp, clean efficiency, her tall, slender figure stirring a faint breeze. She stretched her body with lazy indolence, her white uniform blouse neatly tucked into her pleated skirt, making her waist appear all the more slender.

"Follow me."

Casually tossing her ladies' shoulder bag to Fuyuji, Kiryuin swung her black-stocking-clad long legs forward and headed straight for the exit without so much as a backward glance.

"Eh? Where to?" Fuyuji hurriedly strode after her.

"You'll know once we get there."

...

The evening sunlight had already lost its earlier harshness. Following Kiryuin's brisk and vigorous strides, the two quickly passed through the campus tree-lined avenue and arrived at the second floor of Keyaki Mall.

This is... a gym?

Fuyuji tilted his head back and came to a stop beneath a massive sign. Through the glass sliding door, he could vaguely make out a few students working out inside.

"Keep up!"

Apparently finding Fuyuji far too sluggish, Kiryuin—who had already pushed open the door and entered—raked a glare over him, then headed straight for the gym's front counter.

The attendant at the counter seemed quite familiar with Kiryuin. After a brief, succinct exchange, they promptly handed over a key card with both hands.

"Senpai, you're not thinking of..."

A sense of increasingly ominous foreboding washed over Fuyuji. His instincts told him that if he didn't leave now, something extremely unfortunate was about to happen. "Uh... Senpai, I just remembered I have something to do. I'll be taking my lea—"

"In your dreams!" Kiryuin seized Fuyuji and dragged him directly toward the depths of the gym. "Didn't you want a crash course? Simple. With your talent, as long as you endure just one month, your physical strength will improve by at least one tier at minimum."

"Wait, wait, wait! Senpai, Senpai! I was joking!" Fuyuji's voice rang out, brimming with sheer terror.

"Begging for mercy now? Too late!"

...

Keyaki Mall, inside the Advanced Nurturing High private gym.

Unlike the bright lighting at the entrance, the interior's illumination leaned toward colder tones. The air carried a faint scent of rubber and metal, along with a trace of the crisp freshness of cleaning agents.

The air conditioning was set at just the right temperature, dispelling the stuffy heat that exercise might bring.

Pinching his chin, Fuyuji surveyed the gym with a mixture of resignation and a thread of curiosity. The space wasn't especially enormous, yet it felt exceptionally open and airy.

"Does Senpai come here often?"

Judging by how familiar she'd been with the place just now, and that dedicated private locker, she was clearly a regular here.

"Otherwise, where do you think my physical ability comes from?" Opening her locker, Kiryuin explained with her back to Fuyuji. "As a school that uses fully equipped facilities as a selling point for enrollment, Advanced Nurturing High naturally has a gym. Due to class competition, some people also dislike being seen working out by students from other classes. So, by paying just a tiny bit more in points, you can enjoy this kind of private booking service."

As she spoke, Kiryuin pulled a set of athletic wear from her locker and tossed it to Fuyuji.

"Get changed."

Looking at the pure white athletic wear in his hands, then at the eager, raring-to-go excitement on Kiryuin's face—

Fuyuji tugged at the corner of his mouth and said, deadpan, "Senpai, this isn't training at all, is it? You've been holding a grudge about that book I sent you this whole time, and you dragged me here just to beat me up, didn't you?"

Kiryuin, who had been walking toward the changing room with an identical set of athletic wear, paused mid-step—then continued forward as if nothing had happened.

"Nothing of the sort. You are Senpai's beloved kouhai."

Liar... Senpai, your lies are as terrible as ever.

"Alright, cut the chatter and go get changed. Since you said you wanted to train your body, see it through to the end. People who give up halfway lose points in Senpai's book."

"..."

Watching Kiryuin's slender figure recede into the distance, Fuyuji let out a helpless sigh.

What's that saying again? "Well, you're already here..."

Ten minutes later.

"Standard procedure. First, let's test your degree of body control."

Kiryuin set her stance, her body sinking slightly. Her legs were spread shoulder-width apart, knees faintly bent, forming a stable, explosive-ready starting posture.

"Though I don't believe one month is enough to dramatically boost your stamina to the level of the top ranks in the grade, I can at least help you build the habit of regular exercise within this month. The cross-campus race isn't a purely stamina-based competition anyway. So long as you're not a liability in that regard, it should be enough."

A bead of cold sweat slid down Fuyuji's forehead. He retreated two steps, the tips of his feet subtly angling toward the door, as if about to bolt at any moment.

"So... you called me here to get beaten up?"

"Ah. That's right." Kiryuin nodded and admitted it with perfect composure. "Compared to all those tedious tests, this gives a far more direct sense of your physical strength. Don't worry—Senpai will go easy on you."

Her voice had barely faded when a faint tear through the air rang out. A straight punch shot straight toward Fuyuji's right shoulder.

"Oi, oi, Senpai! Someone could die here!" Fuyuji stared in horror at the fist hurtling toward him. His waist twisted sharply, he sidestepped half a pace, and the fist's edge grazed past his shoulder.

"Oh?" Kiryuin arched an eyebrow in surprise at the missed strike. "Not bad. You actually dodged that..."

Though she had only intended to test Fuyuji's level at the start, she hadn't expected him to evade her attack with such ease.

"Again. The next strike will be faster." Her lithe left leg lifted high and swept across like a whip, slicing through the air.

"Senpai, Senpai! If that hits, I'll be disfigured! I still need my face in class, you know!"

Fuyuji wailed in protest. He ducked low and retreated swiftly, the ends of his hair brushing past her snow-white ankle, leaving a fragrant breeze in their wake.

"Then just dodge it." Kiryuin's offense continued without pause, her speed increasing even further. "Of course, you may also counterattack me if you wish."

"What kind of logic is that?!" Fuyuji rolled aside once more.

Immediately after, following another hair-raisingly close dodge, Kiryuin suddenly stopped. Her shapely brows furrowed slightly as she fixed Fuyuji—who was bracing his hands on his knees and panting—with a piercing, fiery gaze.

"Have you trained in this area before? Turn off that strange technique of yours."

After her second attack, she had tried launching strikes from blind spots outside Fuyuji's field of vision. Yet every time, it was as if he had eyes on the back of his head. Whether by a subtle tilt of his shoulder or an eerie twist of his waist, he always managed to slip away at the very last possible instant, his movements carrying an indescribable sense of rhythm.

"Hm?" Fuyuji's fleeing motions came to a halt. Belatedly catching on, he replied, puzzled, "But I already turned it off, though."

Yes. He, Fuyuji Mikage, was not using any cheats!

Though there might have been a tiny element of payback mixed in, Kiryuin had set aside her own time and come here specifically to help him improve his physical ability. Keeping his perception ability active under these circumstances would truly be cheating.

"Ho~"

A wild, unrestrained grin bloomed across Kiryuin's face.

"Seems it's not just academics. Your natural talent on the physical side is also top-tier. Probably because you've been living far too comfortably—even you yourself haven't noticed it."

"..."

Is that so? Could it be I've been working hard in the wrong direction? Am I actually One Punch Man?

A fleeting question flashed through Fuyuji's mind. But before he could think it through, another attack came flying at him.

"In that case, we'll have to push even harder. A talent like this—if you don't make good use of it, even the heavens won't be able to stand watching and will take it back!"

"Hold on!"

"There's no pause button. In a real match, the opponent won't stop just because you call for a time-out."

...

Fuyuji dodged and fled, weaving and darting throughout the gym. After more than a dozen exchanges, Kiryuin still hadn't managed to so much as graze him.

"Huff... huff... huff... Senpai. Br-break time."

A dozen or so minutes later, in the relatively spacious gym, Fuyuji braced his hands on his knees and panted heavily, facing off against Kiryuin from a distance of several meters.

"This is a gym, not an octagon!"

Kiryuin's fair cheeks were now covered with a thin sheen of fine sweat. A few strands of silver hair clung to her temples, tinged with a post-exercise flush of pink. Her breathing was also somewhat quickened, her full chest rising and falling faintly.

"Kouhai-kun... you've been hiding your skills pretty deeply. Not letting me land even a single hit carries far more weight than any Sports Festival event."

"So... can we end... this now?" Fuyuji forced out a smile even uglier than a grimace.

"No." Kiryuin flatly rejected Fuyuji's ceasefire request.

"Senpai still needs to look good in front of her kouhai. To end this without landing a single strike—that truly isn't Kiryuin Fuka's style."

Then, she drew a deep breath and shot forward once more like an arrow loosed from its bowstring!

This time, the speed was even faster, the angle more precise and ruthless. Her slender calf snapped straight as a blade, sweeping directly toward Fuyuji's flank.

A counterattack erupted in a flash of lightning!

Fuyuji retreated half a step, feigning evasion, his movements seemingly a shade slower than before.

Yet, at the very instant the tip of Kiryuin's foot was about to touch his ribs, his center of gravity sank with an eerie shift—as if he had predicted every trajectory of her force. His left leg shot out like a viper, hooking with flawless precision around the ankle of her supporting right foot.

In that split second, Kiryuin felt the ground vanish beneath her. Her cascading silver hair came pouring down like a brilliant waterfall, tracing a dazzling arc beneath the lights. Her long, graceful right leg carved a futile, swaying curve through the air, her body toppling backward beyond all control.

The very next second.

A muffled thud mingled with the rustle of fabric spread outward. Her scattered silver hair spilled ink-like across his shoulders and neck. The crisp, cool scent of cedarwood from her hair crashed into his nostrils.

Fuyuji instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and back. Through the thin athletic wear, his palms could feel with vivid clarity the taut, arched curve of her spine.

Their bodies pressed tightly together. Kiryuin's chest was heaving just as violently as his. Their scorching breaths intermingled and rose, rapid and urgent, within the tiny space between them, the heat astonishingly intense.

The cold white beams pouring down from the gym's ceiling lights stretched the silhouettes of their tightly overlapping forms, casting them in sharp clarity across the polished acoustic flooring.

After a few seconds of silence.

"Senpai, you hit me." Fuyuji held Kiryuin in his arms, his face breaking into a joyful grin. "We can end this now, right?"

A single crystalline bead of sweat slowly rolled down the elegant, taut line of Kiryuin's throat—stretched taut from how her head was thrown back—and finally soaked into the slightly open collar of Fuyuji's shirt, spreading a small, dark patch of dampness.

Kiryuin parted her lips slightly. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, she peacefully closed those wine-red eyes of hers. Her profile nestled close to his chest as she let out a sigh—wistful, yet laced with a trace of a smile.

Warm breath ghosted across Fuyuji's sweat-dampened neck.

"Yes..." Her voice was low as a whisper, carrying the faint pant of post-exertion and an emotion beyond words. "It hit..."

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