As the altitude increased, the vegetation around them grew sparse. The biting mountain wind, no longer blocked by trees, blew even more fiercely into their collars.
At last.
The view suddenly opened up.
A relatively flat stretch of high ground appeared ahead. A weathered wooden sign stood crookedly in the dirt, the words "Turnaround Point" painted on it in red.
Nine kilometers.
The long uphill climb had finally come to an end.
For the first-year boys who had just made it through nine kilometers of rugged mountain trails, this was both the finish line and a new starting point.
Several teachers in windbreakers had been waiting there for some time.
Standing at the far end was the homeroom teacher of First Year Class A... Majima Tomoya.
The usually stern-faced man was now scrutinizing the panting students.
He showed no favoritism upon seeing the students from his own class. His gaze was impartial to the point of being almost merciless.
"Everyone, stop at that Recording Point first."
Majima Tomoya's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears.
"Before you begin the return trip, state your class and name in order. This is to make sure no one tries to sneak through—or, worse, turn back without even reaching the Turnaround Point."
The line came to a brief halt.
Though everyone was so tired they wanted nothing more than to lie down on the ground, no one dared misbehave under the teachers' watchful eyes.
Voices rose one after another, some hoarse, others heavy with exhaustion.
The process went quickly. After all, no one wanted to stay in this windy spot for a second longer than necessary.
Once the last student had given his name, Majima Tomoya raised his wrist and glanced at his mechanical watch.
"It's nine thirty."
He lowered his