Too Hot

Hirata Yosuke knew this was bad. He was just about to step in and stop them—

BZZZZT—!!!

A piercing broadcast tone rang out without warning, dousing the deck in an icy wave and instantly freezing the conflict that was about to erupt.

A calm, almost mechanical female voice rang clearly through the ship's Amplifier System, reaching every corner:

"Notice: Attention, students. Our ship will be landing on the uninhabited island belonging to our school in thirty minutes. Before then, all students must change into the designated tracksuits. After carefully checking the list of permitted items, bring only the specified backpack, luggage, and your phone to the deck to assemble. Be sure to check again before going ashore! All other personal belongings must be left in your rooms. Please note: time for preparations before landing is limited. The restrooms will remain open during this time, so we recommend taking care of your personal needs in advance."

The announcement was clear and direct, delivered in a strictly businesslike tone devoid of emotion. Yet the unusual demands—"uninhabited island," "change into tracksuits," "bring only the specified backpack, luggage, and phone," "check the list of permitted items," "leave all other belongings in your room"—were like a series of glinting needles, precisely piercing the anger that had just spread across the deck, the brief satisfaction Yamauchi had felt after striking back, and the B-class students' surging urge to resort to violence.

The spiky-haired boy spat viciously and glared at Yamauchi. "Tch. You got lucky, you loser!" Interrupted by the announcement, he and his companions could only force down their near-explosive shame and anger before turning away sulkily to find somewhere to change.

But the resentment of having been exposed in front of everyone, with nowhere to vent it, remained clearly etched on their retreating backs.

The chaos on the deck temporarily subsided, but the mood had taken a sharp turn for the worse.

The D-class students wore complicated expressions: anger and indignation at B class's blatant bullying, urgency over the task the announcement had given them, and deep unease and suspicion about what lay behind words like "no personal belongings," "strict requirements," and "uninhabited island." Was this really just a vacation?

"What the hell is going on..." Kanji Ike broke the silence with a mutter. "We can't even bring any personal stuff? Weren't they calling this a vacation? And now we have to change into tracksuits... What are we supposed to do?"

Hirata Yosuke took a deep breath, suppressing his doubts as he stepped forward to rally everyone. He did his best to sound calm and encouraging. "All right, everyone, we're short on time! Let's follow the announcement and get moving! Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together as D class! First, go change and get ready to assemble!" The D-class students quickly dispersed, their minds in turmoil.

The provocation from B class was no longer the focus. In its place, the announcement had cast a heavy shadow over everyone's hearts, raising questions about how they would have to survive over the coming days.

Yamauchi rubbed his sore shoulder, glancing toward the direction B class had left before turning his gaze to the quiet island, which seemed to carry an inexplicable air of oppression.

The brief thrill of their verbal sparring had long since faded, leaving only growing misgivings about the island vacation that was about to begin.

He clenched his teeth, stopped dwelling on it, and hurried to his cabin with the others.

When the lush green outline of the island finally filled the portholes, the distinct salty freshness of the sea mingled with the increasingly scorching sunlight and swept over them. The first-year students on deck were swept up in excitement, which reached its peak.

Swaying palm trees, white sand, and clear blue waves—the vacation paradise was within reach, instantly washing away the annoyance of the broadcast's rules and the unpleasantness of the clash with B class.

However, the prelude to disembarking once again offered a cold reminder of the strict hierarchy at this school.

"Disembarkation order: Class A goes first. Line up accordingly! Reminder: Cell phones are strictly prohibited on the island! All students must immediately hand their phones to their homeroom teachers! Then follow instructions and disembark in an orderly manner!" The teacher's voice, amplified through a megaphone, was cold and mechanical, utterly lacking the ease one would expect on a holiday.

Urged on by the stern commands, students streamed down the enormous gangway connecting the cruise ship to the pier.

Led by Ichinose, Class A proceeded in orderly fashion, setting foot on the pier first.

Class B followed close behind. The arrogant spiky-haired boy even made a point of lifting his chin provocatively in D class's direction.

Class C moved slowly, with Ryuen wearing his usual nonchalant air.

D class, unsurprisingly, had been placed at the very end of the line.

The deliberate order was like a silent shackle, a heavy declaration of the absolute weight of the "meritocracy."

The scorching sun poured down its heat mercilessly, and the moisture steaming in the air felt thick and sticky.

Sweat quickly soaked through the thin tracksuit fabric.

"It's so hot... I'm gonna die! Can't the people up front move any faster?" Kanji Ike groaned, tugging uselessly at the collar stuck to his neck.

"Even with fabric this thin, we'll be dehydrated if we keep standing here..." Shinohara Ai's cheeks were flushed as she fanned herself without much success.

Yamauchi Haruki paced back and forth, even more irritated. "This Bad Weather!"

The line was moving at a suffocatingly slow pace.

It turned out that at the end of the pier, in addition to the teacher responsible for recording names, several other staff members were checking every student about to go ashore, one by one and with almost unreasonable thoroughness. They weren't just collecting phones; they were also repeatedly inspecting the one small backpack each student was allowed to carry, making sure no one had hidden anything inside.

Their meticulousness rivaled a customs inspection.

The bizarrely strict checks set alarm bells ringing in more and more students' minds: this trip was definitely not just a vacation!

At the very end of the line, Hoshino Kanade was also bearing the heat. Sweat slid along her sharply defined jawline.

Her gaze swept over the long line ahead, then unconsciously settled on Kiyona's face beside her.

A faint blush colored Kiyona's fair cheeks. A few loose strands of hair were damp with sweat, clinging to her delicate ears.

But her expression remained cool and composed, as if even the heat couldn't melt her usual serenity.

Almost as if in a trance, Hoshino Kanade let her hand fall beside Kiyona beneath the wide sleeve of her tracksuit.

Then, with a familiarity that seemed to brook no objection, her slightly warm fingertips brushed ever so lightly against the back of Kiyona's hand.

Kiyona's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and she turned her head toward Hoshino Kanade instinctively.

Her palm was cool and smooth, like a piece of fine jade, a striking contrast to the warmth in Hoshino Kanade's fingertips.

Kiyona's cool gaze settled on her face, silently questioning her.

"Hot," Hoshino Kanade explained in a quiet voice, as calmly as if stating a simple fact.

Her eyes remained fixed on the slowly shuffling line ahead, as though holding hands were the most ordinary thing in the world.

But her fingers quietly curled around Kiyona's, enclosing her cool hand in her own warm palm.

The refreshing coolness spread from their fingertips through her body, strangely easing the heat within her.

The warmth of Hoshino Kanade's palm made Kiyona frown slightly. She almost immediately protested in a quiet voice, with a hint of emotion that was barely perceptible. "...Holding my hand will only make you hotter." It sounded like a statement of physical fact, or perhaps a reminder that this wasn't exactly a normal thing to do.

Still, she didn't pull away.

The hand in Hoshino Kanade's stayed quietly, willingly in her palm. After the initial stiffness, Kiyona's fingertips even curled just a little, almost imperceptibly, fitting more snugly against Hoshino Kanade's fingers.