So Hot

Hirata Yosuke sensed something was wrong and was just about to step forward to intervene—

"BZZZ—!!!"

A piercingly loud broadcast siren suddenly blared, acting like a bucket of ice water dumped over their heads, instantly freezing the conflict that had been about to erupt on the deck.

A calm, almost mechanical female voice transmitted clearly through the ship's public address system to every corner:

"Attention: Students, please take note. This ship will arrive at the uninhabited island belonging to our school in 30 minutes. All students must change into the designated sportswear before this time, carefully verify your items against the checklist, and proceed to the deck carrying only the specified backpack, luggage, and mobile phone. Please double-check before disembarking! All other personal items must be left in your respective rooms. Special reminder: Preparation time before disembarking is limited. Restrooms remain available during this period; students are advised to handle personal needs in advance."

The broadcast was clear and concise, yet the tone was strictly professional, devoid of any emotional color. However, the sequence of unusual requirements—"uninhabited island," "change into sportswear," "carry only the specified backpack, luggage, and phone," "verify item checklist," and "leave all other items in the room"—acted like several cold, gleaming steel needles, precisely piercing the anger that had just permeated the deck, the brief satisfaction brought by Yamauchi's counterattack, and the surging violent impulses of the Class B students.

The spiky-haired boy spat fiercely, casting a vicious, hateful glare at Yamauchi: "Tch, consider yourself lucky, you piece of trash!" Forced to stop by the broadcast, he and his companions could only suppress their near-explosive humiliation and anger, turning away sullenly to find a place to change.

But the resentment of being exposed in public, with nowhere to vent, remained clearly etched on their departing backs.

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

Complex emotions intertwined on the faces of the Class D students: anger and frustration at the blatant bullying by Class B, a sense of urgency brought by the broadcast's tasks, and intense unease and suspicion regarding the implications behind keywords like "prohibited personal items," "mandatory regulations," and "uninhabited island"—was this really just a vacation?

"What the hell is this..." Ike Kanji broke the silence, muttering under his breath, "We aren't even allowed to bring personal items? I thought this was a vacation? And we have to change into sportswear... what are they actually planning?"

Hirata Yosuke took a deep breath, pushing down his own misgivings, and stepped forward to steady the morale, his voice striving to remain calm and encouraging: "Alright, everyone, time is tight! Act according to the broadcast immediately! No matter what lies ahead, Class D will face it together! Go change your clothes and prepare to assemble!" The students of Class D dispersed quickly, their minds in turmoil.

The provocation from Class B was no longer the focus; in its place was the massive shadow cast by the broadcast instructions, a heavy weight pressing on everyone's heart regarding how they would survive the coming days.

Yamauchi rubbed his shoulder, which was aching from the collision, his gaze sweeping over the direction Class B had left, then turning toward the quiet yet inexplicably oppressive island.

The brief thrill from the earlier verbal sparring had long since vanished, leaving only growing doubts about the island vacation life that was about to begin.

He gritted his teeth, stopped thinking, and like everyone else, walked quickly toward his cabin.

When the outline of the lush, green island finally filled the porthole, and the salty, fresh scent of the sea mixed with the increasingly scorching sunlight hit them, the excitement of the first-year students on the deck was fully ignited and pushed to its peak.

Swaying coconut groves, white sandy beaches, and clear, turquoise waves—the vision of a vacation paradise was within reach, instantly washing away the annoyance of the broadcast rules and the unpleasantness of the conflict with Class B.

However, the prelude to landing coldly signaled the strict hierarchical system of this academy once again.

"Landing order: Class A students first, line up in sequence! Reiteration of discipline: Mobile phones are strictly prohibited from being brought onto the island! All students must immediately surrender their phones to your class teacher! Then, follow the guidance and disembark the ship in an orderly fashion!" The teacher's voice, holding a megaphone, was cold and formulaic, lacking any of the ease expected of a holiday.

Urged on by the stern instructions, the students filed down the massive gangway connecting the cruise ship to the pier.

Led by Ichinose, the Class A students stepped onto the pier in an orderly fashion.

Class B followed closely behind, and that arrogant spiky-haired boy in the group didn't forget to tilt his chin provocatively within the sightline of Class D.

Class C moved slowly amidst the indifferent posture of Ryuen.

Class D, without any suspense, was arranged at the very end of the line.

This deliberate ordering was like a silent shackle, heavily declaring the absolute weight of "meritocracy."

The scorching sun poured down its heat without mercy, and the water vapor evaporating in the air was sticky and heavy.

Sweat quickly soaked through the thin fabric of the sportswear.

"It's... it's hot as hell! Can the people in front move faster!" Ike Kanji couldn't help but wail, futilely tugging at the collar sticking to his neck.

"Even with fabric this thin, if we keep standing here, we'll be dehydrated soon..." Shinohara Satsuki's cheeks were flushed, and she fanned herself in vain.

Yamauchi Haruki paced back and forth, even more irritable: "This damn weather!"

The speed at which the line moved was suffocatingly slow.

As it turned out, at the end of the pier, besides the teacher responsible for recording names, several other faculty members were checking every student about to land one by one, almost harshly—not only were they confiscating mobile phones, but they were also repeatedly verifying the single, small, regulated backpack each person was allowed to carry, ensuring there was no contraband hidden inside.

The meticulousness of the process was comparable to customs security.

This bizarre level of control made the alarm bells ring in the hearts of more and more alert students: this trip was definitely not a simple vacation!

At the very end of the line, Hoshino Kanade was also enduring the heatwave, sweat sliding down his defined jawline.

His gaze swept over the long queue ahead, unconsciously landing on the face of Kiyona, who was standing side-by-side with him.

A faint flush had appeared on her fair cheeks, and a few stray hairs were soaked with sweat, clinging to her delicate earlobes.

Yet her expression remained cold, as if even the high temperature couldn't melt that inherent stillness.

As if guided by some unseen force, under the cover of his wide sportswear sleeve, Hoshino Kanade's hand dropped naturally, moving closer to Kiyona's side.

Then, with an unquestionable familiarity, his slightly warm fingertips made the lightest contact with the back of the hand hanging at Kiyona's side.

Kiyona's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and she subconsciously turned her head to look at him.

Her palm was cool and smooth, like fine jade, forming a sharp contrast with the heat of Hoshino Kanade's fingertips.

The girl's cold gaze fell on his face with a silent question.

"It's hot," Hoshino Kanade whispered, his tone as calm as if stating an established fact.

His gaze remained on the slowly crawling line ahead, as if this act of holding hands were the most ordinary thing in the world.

But his fingers quietly curled, wrapping her entire cool hand into his own warm palm.

That coolness flowed through his entire body from his fingertips, strangely alleviating the heat within him.

The burning heat in his palm made Kiyona frown slightly, and she almost immediately retorted in a low voice, her tone carrying a trace of barely detectable fluctuation: "...You holding it will only make it hotter." It was as if she were stating a physical fact, or perhaps reminding him of the irrationality of the gesture.

However, she did not pull away.

That hand being held remained quiet and compliant within his palm; even after the initial stiffness, her fingertips curled ever so slightly—almost imperceptibly—to press more closely against his knuckles.

Hirata Yosuke sensed something was wrong and was just about to step forward to intervene—

"Bzzzz—!!!"

A piercingly loud broadcast siren suddenly blared, acting like a bucket of ice water dumped over their heads, instantly freezing the conflict that had been on the verge of erupting on the deck.

A female voice, so calm it sounded almost mechanical, transmitted clearly to every corner of the ship through the public address system:

"Attention: Students, please take note. This ship will arrive at the uninhabited island belonging to our school in 30 minutes. All students are requested to change into the designated sportswear before this time, and after carefully verifying the list of permitted items, proceed to the deck with only the specified backpack, luggage, and mobile phone. Please be sure to double-check before disembarking! All other personal items must be left in your respective rooms. Special reminder: Preparation time before landing is limited; the restrooms remain available for use during this period, and it is recommended that students handle their personal needs in advance."

The broadcast was clear and concise, but the tone was strictly professional, devoid of any emotional color. However, the sequence of unusual requirements—"uninhabited island," "change into sportswear," "carry only the specified backpack, luggage, and phone," "verify the item list," "leave all other items in the room"—acted like cold, gleaming steel needles, precisely piercing the anger that had just permeated the deck, the fleeting satisfaction brought by Yamauchi's counterattack, and the surging violent impulses of the Class B students.

The spiky-haired boy spat fiercely, his eyes glaring at Yamauchi with malice: "Tch, consider yourself lucky, you piece of trash!" Forced to stop by the broadcast, he and his companions could only suppress their nearly explosive shame and anger, turning away sullenly to find a place to change.

But the resentment of being exposed in public, left with nowhere to vent, remained clearly etched on their departing backs.

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

Complex emotions were intertwined on the faces of the Class D students: anger and frustration at the blatant bullying by Class B, a sense of urgency brought by the broadcast's tasks, and intense unease and suspicion regarding the implications behind keywords like "prohibited personal items," "mandatory regulations," and "uninhabited island"—was this really just a vacation?

"What the hell..." Ike Kanji broke the silence, muttering under his breath, "We aren't even allowed to bring personal items? I thought this was a vacation? And we have to change into sportswear... what exactly are they trying to do?"

Hirata Yosuke took a deep breath, pushing down his own misgivings, and stepped forward to steady the morale, his voice striving to remain calm and encouraging: "Alright, everyone, time is tight! Act according to the broadcast immediately! No matter what lies ahead, Class D will face it together! Go change your clothes and prepare to assemble!" The students of Class D dispersed quickly with chaotic thoughts.

The provocation from Class B was no longer the focus; in its place was the massive shadow cast by the broadcast instructions, a weight concerning their survival for the next few days that pressed heavily on everyone's heart.

Yamauchi rubbed his shoulder, which was aching from the collision, his gaze sweeping over the direction Class B had left before turning toward the quiet yet inexplicably oppressive island.

The brief thrill from the earlier war of words had long since vanished, leaving only a growing suspicion about the island vacation life that was about to begin.

He gritted his teeth, stopped thinking about it, and like everyone else, walked quickly toward his cabin.

When the outline of that lush, green island finally filled the porthole and the salty, fresh scent of the sea mixed with the increasingly scorching sunlight hit them, the excitement of the first-year students on the deck was completely ignited, pushed to its peak.

Swaying coconut groves, pristine white beaches, and clear turquoise waves—the image of a vacation paradise was within reach, instantly washing away the annoyance of the broadcast rules and the unpleasantness of the conflict with Class B.

However, the prelude to landing coldly signaled the school's rigid hierarchical system once again.

"Landing order: Class A students first, line up in sequence! Reiteration of discipline: Mobile phones are strictly prohibited on the island! All students, please hand over your phones to your class advisor immediately! Then, follow the guidance to disembark in an orderly fashion!" The teacher's voice, holding a megaphone, was cold and formulaic, lacking even a fraction of the ease expected of a holiday.

Urged on by the stern instructions, the students filed down the giant gangway connecting the cruise ship to the pier.

Led by Ichinose, the Class A students stepped onto the pier in an orderly fashion.

Class B followed closely behind, and that arrogant spiky-haired boy in their ranks did not forget to lift his chin in a provocative manner within the line of sight of Class D.

Class C moved slowly amidst the indifferent posture of Ryuen.

Class D, without any suspense, was arranged at the very end of the line.

This deliberate ordering was like a silent shackle, heavily declaring the absolute weight of "meritocracy."

The scorching sun poured down its heat without mercy, and the water vapor steaming in the air was sticky and heavy.

Sweat quickly soaked through the thin fabric of their sportswear.

"It's... it's hot as hell! Can the people in front move faster?" Ike Kanji couldn't help but wail, tugging futilely at the collar stuck to his neck.

"Even with fabric this thin, if we keep standing here, we'll be dehydrated soon..." Shinohara Satsuki's cheeks were flushed, and she fanned herself in vain.

Yamauchi Haruki was even more irritable, pacing back and forth: "This damn weather!"

The speed at which the line moved was suffocatingly slow.

As it turned out, at the end of the pier, besides the teacher responsible for registering names, several other faculty members were checking each student about to land one by one, almost harshly—not only were they confiscating mobile phones, but they were also repeatedly verifying the single, small, regulation backpack each person was allowed to carry, ensuring there was no contraband hidden inside.

The meticulousness of the inspection was comparable to customs security.

This eerie level of control made the alarm bells ring in the hearts of more and more alert students: this trip was definitely not just a simple vacation!

At the very end of the line, Hoshino Kanade was also enduring the roasting heat, sweat sliding down his defined jawline.

His gaze swept over the long queue ahead and fell unconsciously on the face of Kiyona, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside him.

A faint blush had risen on her fair cheeks, and a few stray hairs were soaked with sweat, clinging to her delicate earlobes.

Yet her expression remained cold, as if even the high temperature could not melt that inherent stillness.

On a whim, hidden by the sleeves of his oversized sportswear, Hoshino Kanade's hand dropped naturally, moving close to Kiyona's side.

Then, with an unquestionable familiarity, his slightly warm fingertips touched the back of Kiyona's hand, which was hanging at her side, ever so slightly.

Kiyona's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and she subconsciously turned her head to look at him.

Her palm was cool and smooth, like fine jade, forming a sharp contrast with the heat of Hoshino Kanade's fingertips.

The girl's cold gaze fell on his face with a silent question.

"Hot," Hoshino Kanade whispered, his tone as calm as if stating a settled fact.

His gaze remained on the slowly crawling line ahead, as if this act of holding hands were the most ordinary thing in the world.

But his fingers quietly closed, wrapping her entire cool hand within his warm palm.

That coolness flowed through his entire body from his fingertips, strangely alleviating the heat within him.

The burning heat of his palm made Kiyona frown slightly, and she countered in a low voice almost immediately, her tone carrying a fluctuation that was barely detectable: "...It'll only be hotter if you hold it." It was as if she were stating a physical fact, or perhaps reminding him of the irrationality of the gesture.

However, she did not pull away.

That hand being held remained quiet and compliant within his palm; even after the initial stiffness, her fingertips curled ever so slightly—almost imperceptibly—to press more closely against his knuckles.