P.E. Class Dissonance (A Small Show of Force)

The smell of dirt from the field, and the artificial citrus scent of antiperspirant spray.

Fifth period P.E. The activity was soccer.

"Hey Kurose, push up more! You're way too deep on the line!"

A teammate shouted at me.

I was positioned at center-back and gave a halfhearted reply.

"Sorry, my leg hurts. Let me just focus on defense."

It wasn't a lie. Thanks to last night's "hellish regimen," my muscles from thigh to calf were on fire. Every step I took, I could feel the severed muscle fibers squirming as they tried to regenerate.

But the real reason I wasn't moving was something else.

(… I can see too much.)

I narrowed my eyes and surveyed the entire field.

The movements of the students chasing the ball.

The trajectory of the ball they kicked.

The vectors of intention showing who was about to run where.

All of it looked like slow-motion footage, laid bare before me.

Opening my mana circuits had improved my brain's processing speed.

On top of that, the "battlefield awareness" I'd cultivated in my past life was returning.

This peaceful ball game now looked to me like "a chaotic melee full of openings."

(If I move carelessly, I won't mesh with everyone else… Better to just slack off.)

I stifled a yawn and committed to standing around like a post.

I didn't want to stand out. This was still the time to keep my fangs hidden.

But apparently, some people didn't appreciate my attitude.

"Outta my way, Kurose!"

Along with that threatening voice, a forward from the opposing team charged straight at me.

Matsunaga. A soccer club regular who sat at the top of the class hierarchy.

He'd dribbled past the midfield and was barreling straight at me.

"Tch, if you're not gonna try, just leave the field!"

In Matsunaga's eyes, I was probably nothing but an obstacle.

High-speed scissor feint. Fake going right, then burst left.

A perfect juke at the high school level.

An ordinary student would have been left sitting on their rear without even reacting.

But.

(… Slow.)

To my eyes, Matsunaga's movements were sluggish, playing out frame-by-frame.

Weight shifted to right foot. Left shoulder dropped. Eyes darted to the open space on the left.

His telegraphing before the feint was far too obvious.

A Goblin General had sharper feints than this guy.

I held back a sigh and casually extended my left foot forward by a single step.

No Body Strengthening.

Didn't need it.

All I needed was to "place my foot there."

Thud.

"Huh?"

Matsunaga let out a dumbfounded noise.

The instant he tried to cut left, my foot was "already there" at the exact point the ball would pass through, as if it had been there from the start.

The ball stuck to my foot as if magnetized, while Matsunaga stumbled forward, losing his balance.

The star striker went down spectacularly, sliding through the dirt and kicking up a cloud of dust.

I stopped the ball lightly under my sole and looked down at him with cold eyes.

"… What?"

The field went silent for a moment.

Nobody understood what had just happened.

The unremarkable, below-average athlete Kurose Jin had just made the soccer club's ace self-destruct without laying a finger on him.

"Wh-what the hell was that…"

Matsunaga got up, his face bright red with anger.

"You stuck your foot out! That's a foul!"

"I went for the ball. You're the one who charged in."

"Bullshit! There's no way you could react like that!"

Matsunaga stormed toward me as if to grab me.

What a pain, I thought to myself.

This is why I hate childish squabbles. Nothing's more troublesome than violence without killing intent.

I watched Matsunaga's right shoulder move. The trajectory of someone reaching for a collar.

Dodge it? No, that would only add fuel to the fire.

Then.

I shifted half a step to the side.

Timed with his reaching hand, I smoothly dropped my center of gravity.

The art of relaxation.

A classical martial arts footwork technique that momentarily erases your presence from your opponent's perception.

Matsunaga's hand swept through empty air.

Having lost his target, he stumbled again and ended up in the pathetic posture of leaning against my shoulder.

"Whoa, careful there, Matsunaga."

I caught him with a straight face as he nearly fell.

From the outside, it would look like Matsunaga had simply tripped on his own and I had kindly helped him.

"…?!"

Matsunaga stared at me like he'd seen a ghost and quickly backed away.

Maybe his instincts had registered the wrongness on some primal level.

The sensation of "being there yet not being there." The gap in our fundamental caliber as living beings.

"Kurose, you…"

The atmosphere around us shifted.

My classmates' gazes changed from seeing a "slacker" to seeing "something unfathomable."

Crap. I mentally held my head in my hands.

(Overdid it. That's a failed calibration.)

I should have just let him knock me down. But my body had automatically chosen the "optimal solution."

Ingrained combat instincts are troublesome things.

"Just luck, pure luck. Looks like Matsunaga's spikes caught on the turf. I was just desperate to dodge and my legs got tangled up."

I kicked the ball back aimlessly and gave an exaggerated shrug.

Unnaturally casual.

The end-of-class bell rang like salvation.

"Everyone gather! Clean up!"

At the P.E. teacher's call, the students dispersed with bewildered expressions.

I tried to slip away. But then.

"… Hey."

The voice I least wanted to hear came from behind.

Sakaki.

He was holding a ball collection basket, eyeing me with suspicion.

"That didn't look like luck to me."

"What, you were watching?"

"Yeah… You had your foot in place before Matsunaga even made his cut. Like you could see the future."

I tensed up.

It wasn't precognition, but in the sense of "prediction," he wasn't far off.

"Kurose. Did you really get that kind of movement just from 'working out'?"

"… Maybe my talent just bloomed."

"Don't give me that."

Sakaki stepped closer.

His eyes were serious. A mix of concern as a childhood friend and wariness toward the unknown.

"I hate secrets. You're not doing some sketchy drugs, are you? Or maybe you've gotten caught up in some kind of trouble?"

I stopped walking.

His intuition could be brutally sharp sometimes.

I was lying to protect him, and that lie was only making him more anxious.

But I couldn't tell him the truth.

If I said, "Actually my past-life memories came back, and the world is about to end so I'm preparing," I'd be carted off to a hospital.

I answered without turning around.

"Don't worry, Sakaki… I'm just preparing, in my own way."

"Preparing? For what?"

"… For the summer heat."

Leaving that flimsy excuse behind, I hurried toward the changing room.

Sakaki's gaze on my back stung.

But now I understood.

My specs were already starting to exceed the bounds of an ordinary person.

Enough that a single unconscious movement could intimidate those around me.

(Can't hide it forever… Then it's better if the 'real thing' comes sooner.)

I stared at my own palm.

The slight trembling. Was it fear, or eagerness for battle?

I, as an anomaly, was beginning to contaminate this peaceful everyday life.

Would the world collapse first, or would my identity be exposed first?

The deadline was definitely approaching.