Noon.
Sunlight slanted through the broadcast room window, cutting a bright strip across the mixing console. Satoru Gojo sat in a swivel chair with his legs crossed.
"All right-one minute until the match officially starts~"
He drew out the last syllable, gazing through the window at the competition grounds below, bleached pale by the sun. Shadows dappled the ground beneath the trees, and the grass stirred slightly. The competitors from both teams were already in position, like arrows ready to fly.
"Now, a few words of encouragement from Utahime Iori~"
A short "Huh?" came from in front of the microphone, followed by the sound of a chair being moved.
Utahime Iori was pushed up to the microphone, a trace of fluster still lingering on her face. She cleared her throat and leaned closer, her voice stiff with forced composure.
"Ahem... um, well..." She tapped her fingers twice against the edge of the desk, as though searching for a rhythm.
"It is a competition, after all, so you might get a little hurt..." She paused and glanced at Satoru Gojo, who was watching her with a broad smile, and her voice grew a little quieter.
"But sometimes you should help one another, too..."
"Time's up-let the match begin!"
Satoru Gojo suddenly spoke, sounding as breezy as someone announcing the hour. Cut off mid-sentence, Utahime whipped her head around, her face flushing red.
"Gojo!"
Just then, the broadcast room door opened. A beautiful woman in a white coat walked in at an unhurried pace, her long hair falling behind her shoulders and an unlit cigarette held between her fingers. Her gaze swept the room and settled on Utahime, who stood red-faced in front of the microphone. The corners of her lips lifted slightly.
"I'm not late, am I~? Honestly, what did Gojo