As someone who absolutely loathed physical labor, she naturally despised swimming with a passion.
And yet, for this man, she had honestly, genuinely done something so utterly unsuited to her.
"Spread your legs out a little more. You're supposed to be kicking the water, not flailing."
What a two-faced, but surprisingly gentle man.
In the middle of the pool, Makoto held both of Misaki's hands, guiding her bit by bit across the surface as she practiced swimming.
Before the lesson started, this man had been wearing an impatient expression the whole time.
But once the training actually began, he'd been nothing but patient in teaching her.
"Out of stamina again? Alright, five-minute break."
See? That's how he was.
She knew perfectly well how pathetic her stamina was—eight or nine kicks and she'd be gasping for breath, demanding a rest.
Any other instructor would've been cursing up a storm with a student like her, but Makoto never once showed irritation.
Not in his words, not even on his face.
On the poolside—
Shokuhou Misaki sipped at her juice in small gulps, trying to recover her rapidly spent energy.
Makoto, meanwhile, was munching on watermelon like there was no tomorrow.
"I know you don't bother much with physical training because you rely on your mental ability," he said.
"But letting your stamina get this bad… isn't that going a bit too far? I bet with your current fitness, running a single lap around the track would take you ten minutes."
It had only been an hour since they started.
Makoto was already completely blown away—her lack of stamina went far beyond what he'd imagined.
Five minutes of swimming, fifty-five minutes of resting.
"Well, excuse me, but I hate this sort of thing. Sweaty sports? Disgusting. These kinds of activities have no grace whatsoever—they don't suit me at all."
Pouting, she set her cup back down on the table.
But as soon as she said that, Makoto's brows knitted together, and his previously mild tone turned stern.
"Not liking sports is fine. Relying on your ability is fine too—it's powerful enough to justify that. But have you ever thought about what you'd do if you ran into someone who could counter your power, or worse, someone completely immune to it? With stamina this weak, forget fighting back—you wouldn't even manage a decent escape."
Makoto had always hated this flaw many espers had.
This wasn't him targeting Misaki specifically—because of his current activities, he often came into contact with espers who enjoyed bullying Level 0s.
It really was that common.
Never mind the frequent reports about Level 0s attacking espers—the truth was, incidents of espers using their powers to torment powerless students happened far more often.
Why else did so many Skill-Out armed groups emerge?
It wasn't like there were that many irrationally jealous students.
The majority joined those groups because they'd been bullied by espers so often, they had no choice but to band together for protection.
When Makoto recruited them and banned them from clashing with espers, it was only natural for him to protect them in return.
Which meant he'd ended up defeating more than a few espers himself.
Including some powerful Level 4s.
These "great powers," reputedly capable of fighting an entire special forces squad, all fell before him.
How did they lose?
Because their bodies were so frail that, to Makoto, they might as well have been paper—tearable with a touch.
As long as they weren't speed specialists, once he dodged their opening attack, they were basically done for.
Which was why seeing someone like Misaki frustrated him.
Even if training wouldn't make her that much stronger, it would at least give her one more chance at survival when danger came, right?
"My, my… are you worried about my safety?"
If it had been anyone else scolding her in that tone, she'd probably have already used her powers to make them embarrass themselves.
But right now, all Misaki felt was a warm, buoyant happiness—like her heart was about to take flight.
"Something like that. Whatever the case, we're friends now, aren't we? This is just normal concern for a friend."
As if covering something up, Makoto reached out and ruffled her hair roughly.
"Just concern for a friend? What a man who says one thing and means another."
She quickly pushed his hand off her head, but her smile was blooming like a flower.
"What's this? I haven't given you permission, and you're already trying to read my mind?"
Makoto smirked, but didn't deny her words.
"Alright, alright. Let's just say it's concern for a friend."
Misaki didn't press the point any further—her emotional intelligence was far too high for that.
If she didn't know how to handle situations like this, she'd never have been able to strike deals with Tokiwadai's principal.
Besides, her relationship with Makoto wasn't at the stage to go further just yet.
Not only was his interest not strong enough, she herself wasn't mentally ready either.
Still—she'd gotten the most important piece of intel today.
That she wasn't the only one moving toward the other.
If two days ago, her good impression of Makoto had been born from him saving her from danger, and yesterday, it had solidified after she verified the truth of his words, then today, this outing was the natural next step.
She'd already resolved to have him, no matter what—but mutual feelings were far better than one-sided pursuit.
Which meant there was no need to rush.
All they had to do now was slowly move closer to each other over time.
One scene after another played out in her mind, her imagination painting vivid pictures of their future together.
"Spacing out again? What are you thinking about?"
His voice pulled her out of her daydream.
"Nothing much. I was just thinking—you have a point. So, since you're the one who opened my eyes… are you going to take responsibility for that?"