A Story Starting from Classroom of the Elite

The three of them widened their eyes in disbelief.

They had just scammed the other party that morning; given her personality, would she really reconcile so easily?

Looking her up and down and finding nothing amiss, the Boxing Club President twisted his face and demanded, "Tell me, Kiryuin, what kind of game are you playing?"

"I saw how spectacular your sparring was, so consider this the price of admission."

Kiryuin Fuuka handed over the items in her hands.

"You've been in the club for a year now. We've spent enough time together that I know you. Do you really think we'd believe that?"

Despite their words, the three of them still reached out to take the towels to wipe their bodies.

It was just a sugar-coated bullet; they would take the sugar and discard the shell.

Twisting open the bottle caps, the three of them drank deeply.

The sweet and sour beverage flowed down their throats and straight into their stomachs.

With the replenishment of trace elements and water, their bodies recovered a bit of stamina.

"Now that you've wiped your sweat and finished your drinks, don't flip out when I tell you what I have to say next."

Kiryuin Fuuka clasped her hands behind her back and lowered her head slightly, revealing a wicked grin of a scheme successfully executed.

She tossed the empty bottle toward the trash can.

With a thud, it went in.

The Boxing Club President looked completely indifferent.

You're just a girl, what could you possibly do to us?

"I'm sure you all still remember the time the President danced to a girl group song in the lounge."

"I have a video of it."

"I just shared it with junior Tanaka."

How despicable; how could someone be so shameless?

...The Boxing Club President was about to explode upon hearing this.

The two men beside him hurriedly held him back and whispered in his ear, "President, we recorded it this morning too."

Fine, digging a hole for others to jump into and preparing tools in advance to record videos wasn't exactly a high-difficulty maneuver.

Although everyone was quite shameless.

But compared to the two, his girl group dance was clearly more embarrassing.

"You're so insidious, but I'm not far behind."

"I also recorded it this morning."

"Let's sign a non-aggression pact."

It really was fitting for members of the same club; they didn't hold back at all when it came to sabotaging each other.

Kiryuin Fuuka, who had been triumphant, saw her expression change, her tone turning grim.

"I really didn't expect the President to be this kind of person."

"The feeling is mutual. At the very least, I didn't send it to anyone else to watch. I'm much better than you."

Seeing that her bluff didn't work, Kiryuin Fuuka returned to her smiling face.

"Then, from this moment on, it is forbidden to leak the videos in our possession. We are all in the same boat."

On the ring, Tanaka Yukishin did not step down.

He turned and signaled to Koenji Rokusuke with his eyes.

"Tanaka-kun, aren't you going to take a break?"

Taking off his jacket and leaving only a short-sleeved T-shirt, Koenji Rokusuke flipped over the white ropes and stood opposite Tanaka Yukishin.

"There is absolutely no need. My stamina is still very abundant."

"Good grief. You're clearly the weak one, yet you speak with the authority of the strong."

"Wouldn't it be better to improve your odds of winning through preparation, just like them?"

"Even animals know how to compare. Whether it's sharp claws and teeth, a larger physique, or swift speed and immense power."

"After watching the fight just now, you can't possibly be unable to see the gap between us."

"And now, instead of seizing the opportunity, you're arrogant enough to let me rest."

"Don't do something stupid and become an idiot. I hate communicating with idiots."

Tanaka Yukishin shook his head, suddenly losing all desire to fight.

Between villains and idiots, he hated idiots more.

To use a vivid analogy, a villain is a person of poor character, while an idiot is a mentally chaotic person with no intellect.

A villain's goal is profit, so there is still logic to be followed.

But an idiot has no logic and cannot be communicated with.

They are just a ticking time bomb that is uncontrolled, unpredictable, and possesses an uncertain destructive power.

A typical example—The Three Stooges of Class D, who were bold enough to install cameras in the girls' changing room.

The surrounding spectators and the members of the Boxing Club stopped in their tracks upon seeing this.

"What's this kid's deal? Didn't he see our sparring session with Tanaka-kun just now?"

The Boxing Club President was full of questions.

He had also heard what Tanaka Yukishin said.

Anyone capable of challenging Tanaka Yukishin to a match must have some ability.

But without seeing it with his own eyes, he didn't believe that a second monster could appear in one school, let alone one on the level of Tanaka Yukishin.

"Not sure, he just came here with Tanaka-kouhai."

Kiryuin Fuuka also looked puzzled.

Koenji Rokusuke began to warm up on the ring.

As he warmed up, he spoke.

"There are two reasons."

"First, Tanaka-kun, your performance is undoubtedly monstrous among students. But it isn't particularly outstanding among humans. I have seen even more absurd things."

"Second, have you ever played video games, Tanaka-kun?"

Watching Koenji Rokusuke loosen his muscles, Tanaka Yukishin was curious about how he would convince him.

"I have."

"Then Tanaka-kun should be very clear that victory or defeat is one of the important components of the gaming experience, but it is not everything."

I see.

Tanaka Yukishin recalled the various factions in the gaming world—the victory-seekers, the meta-chasers, the completionists, the aesthetic-focused players, the hoarders, the theory-crafters, the CG-collectors...

Could this guy be treating me like a boss in a Souls-like game?

I don't have time to play along with him.

"Then what is this for?"

"People always feel smaller the more they know. But I won't lose the spirit to move forward because of that. As a friend, Tanaka-kun shouldn't mind sparring with me two or three times a year, right?"

After finishing his warm-up, Koenji Rokusuke assumed a conventional offensive stance.

Left fist forward, right fist tucked against his cheek.

Communicating with smart people is comfortable.

OK, your reason has convinced me.

"Friendly advice: if you can't take it, just concede."

Tanaka Yukishin extended one hand and beckoned to his opponent.

He signaled for him to attack.

Then, he threw a backhand punch that landed on the face of Koenji Rokusuke, who had stepped in to close the distance.

He followed up with a kick, striking Koenji Rokusuke's crossed-arm defense.

He knocked him back two meters instantly.

The audience was speechless.

Why bother? He couldn't even dodge a casual strike.

What is the point of getting beaten up like this?

If you're a masochist, go find a sadist.

Don't tarnish this boxing ring.

If you really want to fight, learn from the others.

Ganging up on a monster is nothing to be ashamed of.

Tanaka Yukishin did not follow up with another attack, standing in place as he watched Koenji Rokusuke reset his stance.

On the ring, Tanaka Yukishin stood with his hands hanging at his sides.

Koenji Rokusuke suddenly clicked the heels of his sneakers together, making a crisp sound, and spread his arms like an eagle spreading its wings. With his knees slightly bent, he formed a unique opening stance—it was neither a traditional boxing guard nor a Sanchin-dachi from Karate, but rather a unique posture that seemed to fuse ancient martial arts.

The Boxing Club President took the towel from his neck, wrapped it around his fist, and swung it in imitation: "Is this... the breathing and throwing technique of Aikido?"

"Not entirely." Kiryuin Fuuka traced her chin with her fingertip. "Looking at the orientation of his toes, it's more like a modified Capoeira footwork."

Koenji's opening stance adjusted subtly with the rhythm of his breathing, his center of gravity shifting fluidly between his front and back feet.

When the ball of his right foot ground against the floor for the fifth time, his entire body suddenly transformed into an arrow released from a bowstring.

His approach path was not a straight line, but a zigzag maneuver closing in, his left hand held in a claw shape to probe the way, his right fist tucked at his waist, ready to strike.

Tanaka Yukishin remained motionless, only dropping his shoulder suddenly once his opponent entered a two-meter range.

This subtle movement caused Koenji's pupils to constrict; the left leg he had intended to step forward with was forcibly retracted, changing mid-motion into a low-level side kick to probe.

The sole of his shoe hissed as it cut through the air, yet just as it was about to touch his opponent's shin, it was intercepted by a foot that had moved faster despite starting later, striking his ankle.

"Smack!"

Amidst the sound of the collision, Koenji used the force to spin his body, and the right fist hidden behind him finally bared its fangs.

This concealed uppercut carried the kinetic energy of his entire body's rotation, aiming straight for the jaw from below.

The fist left an afterimage in the air, but was intercepted midway by a vertical palm—Tanaka Yukishin had raised his left arm at some point, his forearm precisely deflecting the opponent's wrist.

Seriously, why would anyone have such a stupid fighting mindset.

Spinning during a one-on-one? Do you think you're Jackie Chan?

If I wasn't expecting something more from your fancy tricks.

I would have just punched you in the face again a moment ago.

Tanaka Yukishin habitually complained in his mind.

A roar burst from Koenji's throat as he took the momentum to press his center of gravity fully forward, attempting to neutralize the power gap through close-quarters grappling.

Just as his left knee rose to deliver a strike, a force like a collapsing mountain slammed into his abdomen.

"Bang!"

The ring emitted a dull vibration as Koenji slid backward and slammed into the ropes, the back of his body causing the elastic fibers to stretch violently with a teeth-gritting creak.