COTE : Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

Advanced Nurturing High School, western sports field, near the edge.

Within the sparse, scattered shrubs, beneath the shade of a tree where few ever came and went. Sunlight filtered through the dense, layered leaves, scattering countless tiny specks of light across the grass.

Two figures were nestled in the fallen leaves at the base of a ginkgo tree.

The girl tilted her head and leaned gently against the boy's shoulder, her temple resting against the shoulder line of his white athletic shirt. She gazed straight ahead, her long lashes quivering faintly with each blink of those captivating, fox-like eyes. No one knew what she was thinking.

Her jet-black hair—lustrous as polished obsidian—cascaded downward. Every so often, it was lifted by the sea breeze that swept past, then slowly drifted back down. Time melted away in the shifting shadows of the leaves. The dappled spots of sunlight wandered from her knees to her pressed-together ankles, the edges of her white socks grazing against the grass seeds.

Compared to the faintly melancholic girl, the boy was considerably more at ease. One leg was bent, his elbow propped casually on his knee. The hand on the side where they touched, however, was utterly restless and fidgety.

One moment, he toyed with the tip of the girl's long braid, waving it around like a little brush;

The next moment, he pretended to gaze off into the distance while, inch by inch, stealthily covering the girl's fair, delicate hand—braced against the ground—with his own palm, only to be smacked away by her with a crisp, decisive slap;

Then, a moment later, he raised his hand and, following the strands of her black hair, stroked her back and the crown of her head, as if soothing a heartbroken little white cat.

The whistle sounded from the distant track. Horikita Suzune's delicate nose twitched faintly. Her breath, warm and damp, puffed against the hollow of his collarbone, carrying a cozy, intimate heat.

Coupled with the faint, post-exercise fragrance of the girl's body—mingled with the scent of shampoo, body wash, and an indescribable, heart-stirring, familiar sweetness—it seeped strand by strand into his nostrils, making his thoughts wander and drift.

"Actually... your brother just asked me about your Class D's situation." After a moment of thought, Fuyuji Mikage decided to strike up a topic and divert his own attention.

Horikita's fingers, resting on the grass, curled inward faintly. She stretched her somewhat stiff legs and once again pressed them together, slanting them to one side on the grass.

"Mm..."

"How come you don't seem particularly surprised? I thought you'd grab me by the collar again and interrogate me with that ice-cold face of yours, demanding to know why I didn't tell you this news earlier."

Fuyuji raised an eyebrow and gazed out toward the field, following her line of sight.

On the obstacle course, that upperclassman Tachibana from third-year Class A was, involuntarily, spreading her arms wide and wobbling crookedly across the balance beam. Her swaying, unsteady silhouette shrank into a tiny dot under the sunlight, looking as though she might topple off at any moment.

"Fuyuji-kun, do you take me for an idiot?" Horikita still leaned against Fuyuji's shoulder and spoke softly. "After being toyed with by you using the same method so many times, even an idiot would be able to understand that my brother cares about me—he's just not good at expressing it."

"..."

I'm not so sure about that...

"All-Year Mixed 1200-Meter Relay." Gazing into the distance at the third-year Class A's position, Horikita shifted the topic. "I'm the anchor."

"So?"

"My brother is too." Horikita spoke. "You... should also be the anchor, right?"

"Katsuragi did seem to arrange me as the anchor, come to think of it." Fuyuji tried to recall, his thoughts beginning to drift and wander. "So, according to the usual conventions, are you going to stage a magnificent betrayal against your brother in the competition, thereby proving your growth?"

"What are you thinking..."

An elbow—neither too light nor too heavy—struck Fuyuji in the side of the waist. Three sparrows, hopping and chirping noisily on the branches above, entered Horikita's field of vision. She spoke softly.

"I'm just... a little... looking forward to this match... that's all..."

Oh ho. So it seems Horikita-girl has grown just a tiny, little bit after all. Using Horikita-nii to manipulate her is going to get harder from now on.

"Say... if your brother found out that the sacred filter you've always seen him through, along with all that overwhelming elder-brother authority, has already been shattered to pieces—do you think he'd come looking for me to settle accounts?" Fuyuji cupped his chin and sank into deep contemplation.

Horikita lightly brushed aside the strands of hair clinging to her lips. Her fingertip grazed past her lips, leaving behind a faint trace of moisture.

"Then you'd better fend for yourself..."

"Huh?" Fuyuji turned his head in shock and looked at that fair, pale cheek so close to his own. "You're not going to help me out?"

"Helping my brother teach you a lesson might be doable."

"Oi, oi. He's hailed as the most outstanding Student Council President in Advanced Nurturing High's history, you know. He's fierce. And me—so weak, pitiful, and helpless—you're still going to help him gang up on me two against one?"

Fuyuji raised both hands and struck a fierce, threatening pose, just like Jerry from Tom and Jerry.

Horikita's head shifted slightly. She cast an exasperated, sidelong glance at Fuyuji. "Then can you return the several million personal points you swindled out of him?"

"Cough, cough..."

His palms silently dropped. Like a punctured balloon, Fuyuji quietly shut his mouth. His gaze darted and roamed in every direction, finally settling on a ginkgo leaf spinning and twirling down from above.

Ah~ That bird is so small. That cloud is so white. That money is so little...

Please. Money that had entered his wallet—how could he possibly cough it back up?!

"Hmph!"

A coquettish, nasal huff emerged. Horikita took the initiative to end this topic.

After knowing this person for so long, she could more or less claim to understand him fairly well. Trying to gain even a tiny advantage from him was probably no less difficult than climbing up to Class A.

The most outstanding Student Council President—Horikita certainly believed her brother was worthy of that title. But expecting this guy to be scared of him? That was absolutely, utterly impossible.

In fact, according to the rumors she'd heard from Kushida-san, there were whispers circulating among the upperclassmen that this year's Class A might be the most outstanding in Advanced Nurturing High's history...

The most outstanding Class A...

The most garbage Class D...

Based on her own observations, in a certain sense, that was indeed the case.

Powerful organizational ability. A degree of unity no less than Class B's. Superb execution. And in terms of academics, undisputedly first in the entire grade.

A thin, self-deprecating curve traced across her lips. Horikita unconsciously clenched the weeds on the ground.

If not for the groupings in this Sports Festival, she might never have even had the chance to fight alongside him. Even now, in this Sports Festival—

Just then, Horikita seemed to suddenly realize something. Her expression shifted faintly. Her head slowly lifted from Fuyuji's shoulder and rose. She stared fixedly, directly at him.

"Hm? What's wrong?" Fuyuji, feeling rather unnerved by her stare, spoke up.

"Fuyuji-kun..."

When she spoke again, her voice had already lost its earlier softness and reverted to the cool, icy tone of the ice-cold beauty he'd first come to know.

"I-is there a problem?" A bead of sweat slid down Fuyuji's head. A faint, ominous feeling stirred in his heart.

"We're on the same team this time, aren't we?"

"Of course." Fuyuji's gaze began to fly about in chaotic disarray. He let out a dry laugh. "We're close friends who can talk about anything with each other. Friend!"

"Just now, a question occurred to me. Could Fuyuji-kun help explain it?"

The air instantly solidified. Even the rustling of the leaves seemed to quiet down.

A bone-chilling cold, as if a crack had split open in an ice vault, emanated from Horikita's well-proportioned frame and surged straight toward Fuyuji's face.

"Wh-what?"

Her pinky finger swept the stray strands of black hair behind her ear. Horikita drew two steps closer to Fuyuji.

"Judging from how Class C competed against our class just now, our class's participation roster was most likely leaked."

"Such a thing actually happened!"

Fuyuji's eyes flew wide. He clenched his fist in righteous indignation and slammed it heavily against the grass with heartfelt, empathetic fury.

"That bastard Ryuen—so utterly despicable! What a shameless, filthy, low-down scumbag! To actually come up with a method like this to increase his own chances of winning! If you ask me, more than half the bad deeds in Advanced Nurturing High are his doing!"

Having spoken, he abruptly raised his head and straightened his back, exactly like Justice Bao in a courtroom drama—righteous, noble, and unyielding!

"No problem, Suzune! Allow your intimate, close friend to restore justice for your cla—"

Horikita didn't even blink. She calmly cut him off. "Then why is your class currently in first place, while our class is in last place?"

The impassioned, theatrical voice came to an abrupt halt. The rustling whisper of the wind through the leaves, the distant cheers of encouragement drifting over from the field, the chattering chirps of the sparrows in the trees—all of it was magnified infinitely at this very moment.

"In the team competitions, a considerable portion of our events overlap. The scores from those are identical. Our high-end combat power on both sides should be about even—or rather, our side might even be slightly stronger. So why is the gap between our two classes in the individual events this massive? And why is it that Class C—which, logically, should have been able to make targeted deployments against our class based on the participation roster—is neck and neck with us?"

Her fair, pale palm rose, forming a knife-hand strike. Horikita let out a cold, frosty laugh.

"Fuyuji-kun. Is there anything you'd like to explain?"

"Uh, Suzune. I just suddenly remembered—my pigeon, the one that can do a backflip, I forgot to feed him. Let's end our chat here for today." Fuyuji spoke even as he turned, the fine hairs on his back instantly bristling with alarm. "By—"

He abruptly pulled away, trying to flee. His left foot had just pushed off the ground when his right wrist was instantly seized and locked in place by her fingers.

After more than a full semester—who knew how many days and nights, tossing and turning, grinding her teeth in frustration—

Miss Horikita Suzune had, at long last, successfully deployed the martial arts technique passed down from her brother upon this person who had occupied her thoughts for so long.

Twisting the arm, pressing down the shoulder, knee against the lower back—all in one seamless, fluid motion. The dried branches snapped with crisp, sharp cracks under the heavy pressure. Blades of grass and bits of earth went flying.

The tiny pebbles and grit pressing against his body were rather uncomfortable. The veins of the dead leaves were clearly visible before his eyes. The sharp, grassy scent of crushed greenery rushed into his nostrils. And the strands of her long hair, cascading down to brush against the nape of his neck, brought a faint, tickling itch.

What a familiar scene...

It reminded Fuyuji of the first time he'd been ruthlessly pinned to the ground by his senpai.

Still...

Fuyuji twisted and shifted left and right a couple of times, and discovered that Horikita's strength was nowhere near Senpai's. Her technique wasn't as polished as Senpai's either. In fact, after this period of training, he even felt that the girl on his back was somewhat light and airy, soft and plush.

Hmph hmph. Far too green, Horikita-girl...

"Where is your hand touching?"

The palm that had been stealthily creeping toward the soft, tender inner side of the girl's thigh abruptly froze mid-motion. Then, as if nothing had happened, it loosened its grip by half an inch.

"Suzune, I need to offer a defense on this matter."

"Speak."

"Look... in this exam, you can only get the fifty-point bonus by taking first place while your corresponding team also wins. And your class is already at zero points. So..."

"So since our class can only gain points by taking first place—and all other outcomes make no difference—you, the first-year mastermind, generously decided on our class's behalf which place we'd take this time, is that it?" Horikita supplemented with a cold sneer.

You despicable, shameless bastard. On the very day the rules were announced, I even came over to you specially, wanting to cooperate with you with full sincerity. And then, the moment I turned my back, you sold me out.

Her thoughts reaching this point, Horikita's murderous intent boiled over by yet another degree.

"Cough, cough. You can't put it like that..." Fuyuji's face showed a hint of guilt. "Even without me, given your class's current situation, you probably wouldn't have been able to take first place anyway. So just let our class have this one, Suzune..."

"Regrettably, Fuyuji-kun, this does not exclude your subjective malice. Much like, in a legal sense, murdering someone who is already on the verge of death."

"Wait, wait, wait. I can still explain this!"

Feeling the increasingly intense chill from behind him and the steadily mounting pressure, Fuyuji made one final, desperate struggle.

"Too late. Fuyuji-kun... please... go die in peace!"

The knife-hand rose high, carrying the whistling sound of tearing air. It seemed as though, in the very next second, a certain someone's dog head would be lopped clean off.

"Crunch—!"

An athletic shoe crushed the carpet of fallen leaves. Horikita Manabu stood at the boundary where light and shadow intersected. His backlit silhouette was straight and silent. The gaze behind his glasses, like a surgical scalpel, precisely dissected the two overlapping bodies.

The wind lifted the black bangs from his forehead. The distant cheers of the obstacle race crashed against this sudden, descending deathly stillness—like ocean waves dashing against the reefs and shattering into a thousand fragments.

Beneath the shade of the tree, Horikita Suzune sat astride Fuyuji, her palm raised high, frozen motionless in place.

Fuyuji blinked and reflected that Horikita-girl's pert bottom was soft yet springy and firm—utterly perfect.

"What are you looking at? Never seen two people being affectionate before?"

Horikita Manabu pushed up his glasses. A cold gleam refracted from the lenses. His voice was cooler than the shade of the trees.

"It seems I've come at an inopportune time. Am I interrupting?"

"Yes. You're interrupting my— Mm? Mm?!"

In that very instant, Horikita Suzune abruptly shot out her palm and, with lightning speed, clamped it over Fuyuji's mouth. She spoke in a frantic, urgent rush.

"No, Nii-san! It's not what you think! Please, let me explain! We're just ordinary friends!"

"..."

Then what exactly did you want me to think?

Horikita Manabu glanced at Fuyuji, lying on the ground cheerfully watching the show, then at his own little sister, straddling him.

No matter how much he prided himself on understanding his sister, there was no way he could convince himself—as he once had—that being friends could lead to the two of them stacked on top of each other like this.

"Suzune, you're still a high school student. You're only fifteen. If it's romance, you have the next three years to take it slowly. There's no need to rush."

Immediately after, Horikita Manabu's gaze once again locked onto Fuyuji. His tone was neither sad nor happy.

"Also. Come to the third-year Class A side later for an impromptu meeting."

Having spoken, the Student Council President of Advanced Nurturing High turned around with crisp, clean decisiveness and strode away in great, sweeping steps, leaving behind a scene of utter wreckage and silence.

Horikita Suzune sat dazedly where she was. The hand that had been covering Fuyuji's mouth slid down powerlessly and hung limp at her side. She watched her brother's retreating figure, then lowered her head and looked at Fuyuji, still lying on the ground...

She... was probably already dead...

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