The championship match was scheduled for 6 PM, which meant Sakura High School had four hours to recover from their semifinal victory, eat dinner, and prepare for what would either be the greatest triumph in the school's volleyball history or a devastating defeat that would haunt them for years.
Kenji found himself in the unusual position of being both the team's emotional anchor and their strategic mastermind, while simultaneously trying to avoid Nurse Yamada, who had somehow acquired an entire cheering section of what appeared to be other school nurses from neighboring districts.
"This is getting ridiculous," Agent Sato observed as they watched the growing crowd of supporters. "She's turned your volleyball match into some kind of... medical professional networking event."
"Look at their signs," Kenji said with mounting dread. "Half of them are about school health initiatives, and the other half are just my name with hearts."
"That one says 'Nurses ♡ Kenji-kun,'" Sato pointed out. "That's not about health initiatives."
"I'm aware."
"We need to accelerate our investigation timeline. This situation is spiraling completely out of control."
Before Kenji could respond, he was approached by a familiar figure: Principal Watanabe, who had apparently been observing their conversation from across the gymnasium.
"Takahashi-kun," the principal said, his tone carrying the kind of authority that made both agents straighten instinctively. "Might I have a word with you privately?"
Agent Sato gave Kenji a warning look, but there was no polite way to refuse a direct request from the school principal.
"Of course, sir."
They walked to a quiet corner of the gymnasium, away from the pre-match crowds and the increasingly enthusiastic nurse cheering section.
"I've been watching your performance today with great interest," Principal Watanabe began. "Your volleyball skills are quite impressive for someone who supposedly just started playing competitively."
"I've been working hard in practice," Kenji replied carefully.
"Indeed. But it's not just your athletic ability that interests me." The principal's eyes were sharp and calculating. "It's your overall... presence. The way you carry yourself, the way you interact with other students, the way you handle pressure. Very mature for seventeen."
"I've always been mature for my age."
"So I've been told. Tell me, Takahashi-kun, what do you know about our school's nutrition program?"
The question came out of nowhere, and Kenji felt his investigative instincts spike.
"The nutrition program?"
"Yes. We've been implementing some very innovative approaches to student wellness. Particularly in the area of... dietary supplements."
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"I think you do." Principal Watanabe's smile was knowing and slightly unsettling. "I understand you've been working with Nurse Yamada on some research projects."
Every alarm bell in Kenji's head was ringing now. This wasn't casual conversation—this was recruitment.
"She mentioned some ideas about nutrition and athletic performance," Kenji said cautiously.
"Excellent. And what did you think of her... samples?"
"They were interesting."
"I'm glad to hear it. You see, Takahashi-kun, we're always looking for students who can appreciate innovation. Students who are mature enough to understand the bigger picture."
"What bigger picture?"
"The future of education. The future of human potential." The principal's voice took on an almost evangelical quality. "What if I told you that we've developed methods to enhance cognitive function, improve physical performance, and create more positive social interactions among students?"
"I'd say that sounds too good to be true."
"Skepticism is healthy. It shows intelligence. But what if I could prove it to you?"
"How?"
"By showing you the results. Students who have participated in our program show remarkable improvements across all metrics. Better grades, better relationships, better overall life satisfaction."
"Through pudding?"
Principal Watanabe's eyebrows rose. "You're very direct. I like that. Yes, through carefully formulated nutritional supplements that happen to be delivered in dessert form. It makes compliance much easier."
"Compliance with what?"
"With the program, of course. Students are much more willing to participate when the experience is pleasant."
Kenji was getting the distinct impression that he was being recruited for something much bigger than a school nurse's hobby project.
"What kind of program are we talking about, exactly?"
"A global initiative to improve educational outcomes through nutritional intervention. We're working with schools in seventeen countries now, with remarkable success rates."
"Who's 'we'?"
"The International Development Consortium for Educational Excellence. We're a research organization dedicated to maximizing human potential through innovative approaches to learning and development."
Kenji noted that the acronym—IDCEE—was suspiciously close to what Agent Sato had found in the intercepted message: IDC.
"And you want me to participate in this program?"
"I want you to help lead it. Your natural maturity and leadership qualities make you an ideal candidate for a more... active role in our research."
"Active how?"
"Helping us refine our methods. Testing new formulations. And eventually helping us recruit other promising students."
This was it—the recruitment pitch that would give him access to the inner workings of the conspiracy. It was also potentially the most dangerous moment of his undercover career.
"I'd need to know more about what's involved," Kenji said carefully.
"Of course. That's why I'm inviting you to a special presentation after your match tonight. Win or lose, I think you'll find it very... enlightening."
"Where?"
"The school library. After the building closes to regular students. Just a small group of our most promising participants."
"Will Nurse Yamada be there?"
"Naturally. She's one of our key researchers. I believe she's quite... enthusiastic about your potential."
Before Kenji could respond, Coach Nakamura's voice echoed across the gymnasium: "Team meeting! All players report to the staging area!"
"Duty calls," Principal Watanabe said with a smile. "Good luck tonight, Takahashi-kun. I look forward to our continued conversation."
As the principal walked away, Kenji felt like he'd just been invited to join a cult. A pudding cult. Run by school administrators.
His phone buzzed with a text from Agent Sato: "What was that about?"
He typed back quickly: "Full recruitment pitch. Meeting tonight at the school library after the match."
"That's perfect! We'll finally get the full scope of their operation!"
"Or we'll get caught and end up as test subjects for experimental desserts."
"Either way, it beats teaching English grammar to teenagers."
"Speak for yourself."
The team meeting was a study in controlled chaos. Fifteen teenage boys trying to manage their pre-championship nerves while their coach attempted to deliver a motivational speech that would either inspire them to greatness or cause them to overthink everything and fall apart completely.
"Remember," Coach Nakamura said, "we've already exceeded everyone's expectations just by getting here. Whatever happens tonight, you should be proud of what you've accomplished."
"But we want to win," Kimura said with the intensity of someone for whom second place was equivalent to total failure.
"Of course we want to win. But we win by playing our game, staying focused, and supporting each other. Don't try to be heroes—be a team."
"What about their strategy?" asked one of the second-years. "Seijo Academy is known for their aggressive serving and quick attacks."
All eyes turned to Kenji, who had somehow become the team's unofficial strategic analyst despite having learned everything he knew about volleyball from three days of practice and a handful of YouTube videos.
"They rely on intimidation," he said, drawing on his experience reading opponents in various undercover situations. "Big serves, loud celebrations, trying to get in your head. The key is not letting them dictate the emotional tempo of the match."
"How do we do that?"
"Stay calm. Communicate constantly. Celebrate our own good plays, but don't react to their theatrics. Make them beat us with skill, not psychology."
"That's excellent advice," Coach Nakamura said. "Very mature perspective."
"He's so cool under pressure," one of the first-years whispered. "Like he's been through this before."
If only they knew, Kenji thought.
The championship match began at exactly 6 PM with all the pomp and circumstance that a prefecture tournament could muster. The gymnasium was packed with spectators from both schools, local media, and what appeared to be every school nurse in a fifty-mile radius holding signs with Kenji's name on them.
Seijo Academy was everything their reputation suggested—tall, athletic, and carrying themselves with the confidence of a team that had won this tournament three times in the past five years. Their warm-up routine was a display of power and precision that left several of Kenji's teammates looking intimidated.
"They're really good," Kimura observed, watching their opponents spike balls with thunderous force.
"They're skilled," Kenji agreed, "but they're also showing off. Teams that are confident in their abilities don't need to intimidate their opponents during warm-ups."
"You think they're nervous?"
"I think they're human. And humans make mistakes when they try too hard to look invincible."
The match began with Seijo Academy serving first, and their opening serve was exactly what Kenji had expected—a bullet designed to make a statement rather than strategically place the ball. It was powerful but predictable, and their receiver handled it easily.
"Good pass!" Kenji called out, settling into his position. "Run the play!"
The first rally lasted twelve touches, with both teams displaying the kind of athletic ability that made volleyball beautiful to watch. Seijo eventually won the point with a well-placed tip, but Sakura High had proven they belonged on the same court.
The first set was a back-and-forth battle that showcased both teams at their best. Seijo had the individual talent, but Sakura High had something harder to quantify—chemistry, determination, and the kind of collective will that could overcome individual limitations.
With the score tied 24-24, Kenji found himself at the net, facing Seijo's ace spiker in a one-on-one blocking situation. The spiker was taller, stronger, and more experienced. But Kenji had twenty years of reading people, predicting their moves, and staying calm under pressure.
The spike came exactly where he'd expected it—a powerful cross-court attack aimed at the corner. Kenji's block was perfectly timed and perfectly positioned, sending the ball straight down for the point.
Set point, Sakura High.
They won the first set 26-24, and the gymnasium erupted in celebration. The nurse cheering section was particularly enthusiastic, with what appeared to be a coordinated chant of "Kenji! Kenji! Kenji!" that made him want to disappear into the floor.
"Focus!" Coach Nakamura called during the break between sets. "One set doesn't win a match. Stay disciplined, stay together."
The second set was where Seijo Academy showed why they were the defending champions. They adjusted their strategy, targeted Sakura High's weaknesses, and played with the kind of precision that came from years of experience in high-pressure situations.
Despite Kenji's best efforts to keep his team focused and strategic, they lost the second set 25-19.
"It's okay," he told his teammates during the break. "We expected this to go three sets. Now we know what they're capable of, and we know we can compete with them."
"But they looked so much better that set," one of the players said, the confidence draining from his voice.
"They played better," Kenji acknowledged. "But they also showed us their full strategy. Now we can counter it."
"What do you mean?"
"They're trying to end rallies quickly now, avoiding the long exchanges where our teamwork gives us an advantage. If we can extend the rallies, make them work for every point, we can wear them down."
"How do we do that?"
"Better defense. More digs. Make them spike the ball three or four times before we give up the point."
The third and deciding set was volleyball at its absolute peak—two teams playing with everything they had, neither willing to give an inch. Every point was earned through effort, skill, and determination.
With the score tied 14-14 (first to 15 wins), Seijo Academy had the serve. Their server was their captain, a tall senior with the kind of focused intensity that suggested he'd been preparing for this moment his entire high school career.
The serve was perfect—powerful, precise, and aimed at the one spot in Sakura High's formation that was most difficult to handle. But Kimura, their libero, made a spectacular dive to keep the ball alive.
"Up!" Kenji called, positioning himself for the attack.
The set was perfect. The timing was perfect. And for one moment, everything came together exactly as it was supposed to.
Kenji's spike was unstoppable—a thunderous attack that hit the court with the kind of force that left no doubt about the outcome.
Match point. Championship. Sakura High School.
The celebration was immediate and overwhelming. His teammates lifted him onto their shoulders, the crowd went wild, and somewhere in the chaos, he could hear the nurse cheering section chanting his name with what might have been religious fervor.
"We did it!" Kimura was shouting. "We actually won! We're prefecture champions!"
"This is the best day of my life!" added another player.
As Kenji was carried around the court on his teammates' shoulders, he caught sight of Agent Sato in the crowd. She was applauding politely in her role as supportive teacher, but her expression suggested she was having the same surreal experience he was—watching a forty-year-old government agent being celebrated by teenagers for winning a high school volleyball tournament.
The medal ceremony was everything he'd expected and more. Standing on the podium with his teammates, wearing his gold medal, listening to the school song being played over the gymnasium's sound system, Kenji felt a complex mix of pride, guilt, and complete bewilderment at how his life had reached this point.
"Speech!" someone called from the crowd. "Let Takahashi give a speech!"
"No," Kenji said quickly, but his teammates were already pushing him toward the microphone.
Standing at the podium, looking out at hundreds of faces—students, parents, teachers, and an entire contingent of school nurses—Kenji searched for words that would be appropriate for a seventeen-year-old volleyball champion without being completely dishonest about his actual feelings.
"Thank you," he began, his voice echoing through the gymnasium. "This has been... an incredible experience. Playing with this team, learning from Coach Nakamura, representing Sakura High School—it's been an honor."
The crowd was hanging on every word.
"I want to thank my teammates, who welcomed a transfer student and made me feel part of something special. I want to thank our coach, who believed in us even when we didn't believe in ourselves. And I want to thank everyone who came out to support us tonight."
He paused, looking out at the sea of faces.
"This championship belongs to all of us. But more than that, it represents what's possible when people work together toward a common goal. When they support each other, trust each other, and never give up."
The applause was thunderous.
"Thank you, Sakura High School. I'll never forget this."
As he stepped away from the microphone, Kenji realized that despite all the deception and absurdity, he actually meant every word he'd said. These kids had earned this victory, and being part of it—even under false pretenses—had been genuinely meaningful.
The post-match celebration continued for another hour, with photographs, interviews, and countless congratulations from supporters. Through it all, Kenji kept catching glimpses of Principal Watanabe, who would smile and nod whenever their eyes met, clearly expecting him to remember their appointment at the school library.
Agent Sato managed to approach him during a brief lull in the festivities.
"Great speech," she said quietly. "Very... heartfelt."
"It was."
"Ready for phase two of tonight's mission?"
"As ready as I'll ever be to infiltrate a pudding conspiracy meeting."
"Just remember—we need to gather intelligence, not blow our cover."
"I'll try to keep that in mind while Nurse Yamada is offering me experimental desserts and telling me how mature I am."
"This is so weird."
"You're telling me."
As the celebration began to wind down and the gymnasium started to empty, Kenji prepared himself for what would either be the breakthrough moment of their investigation or the most uncomfortable recruiting meeting in the history of undercover work.
Possibly both.