Before long, Yukinoshita Yukino and Kawasaki Saki's tennis match had stretched past the ten-minute mark.
The score stood at four games to two. (4-2)
Though Yukinoshita held the lead, her stamina was failing her, and her performance was visibly slipping.
Kawasaki, on the other hand, built endurance from constant part-time work, chores, and caring for her siblings, had energy to spare.
She'd lost points early on, but as Yukinoshita began to flag, Kawasaki started her comeback.
Another ten minutes passed.
Yukinoshita was gasping for air now, and the score was tied at five-all (5-5).
It was clear that her physical strength was failing her; if they continued, her defeat was inevitable.
Just then, the school bell chimed, signaling the end of class. The impromptu duel between Yukinoshita Yukino and Kawasaki Saki came to an unofficial halt as well.
Kawasaki wiped her brow, her own breath coming in short pants.
"You're lucky the bell rang," she said.
She had to admit Yukinoshita was skilled. For the first half of the match, Kawasaki had been completely outclassed, barely holding on.
Only after Yukinoshita's energy waned did she find her footing. And while her own stamina was better, the difference wasn't vast; she was feeling the strain, too.
Had they played on, the outcome was anyone's guess.
Yukinoshita's face was flushed, her chest heaving, but her pride remained intact.
"I'd say that to the one who was on the back foot the entire match," she retorted.
They stood for a moment on the court, catching their breath.
Kawasaki gave a curt, grudging nod. Yukino responded with a slight, equally measured incline of her head. No words were needed.
After that brief exchange of verbal sparring, they fell silent, gathering their things to leave.
Each had silently acknowledged the other as a formidable rival.
As the two departed, the crowd of spectators began to disperse, buzzing with lively discussion about the match. What had been a minor classroom incident quickly spread throughout the grade, and then the entire school.
A heated rivalry between two beauties—one the famed, unapproachable ice queen, the other a sharp-featured delinquent-type—was the kind of drama that fueled the school's peanut gallery.
As for the boy who had instigated it all, Tanaka Masao, he was forgotten.
Those who did remember him saw nothing more than a convenient tool, a last-minute volunteer to act as the referee.
—
Masao returned to the classroom in high spirits, collected his belongings, and headed for the Service Club with a spring in his steps.
Not only had he skillfully avoided any real exertion in P.E., but he'd also been treated to a thrilling match between two remarkable girls.
Best of all, he was the architect of the entire spectacle. In a way, you could say they'd fought over him. The thought filled him with a deep sense of accomplishment.
He reached the clubroom and knocked. He waited, but no answer came from within. Puzzled, he tried to open the door, finding it locked.
Suddenly, a cool voice sounded from behind him.
"You're early, Masao-kun."
Ordinarily, Yukinoshita's classroom was closer to the clubroom, and she almost always came straight here after class, so normally, she should have arrived before Masao.
Today, however, she'd been delayed by the match. She'd had to change out of her gym clothes, and the physical toll had slowed her walk to a crawl.
On her way over, she'd had time to think. Her interaction with Kawasaki Saki had been brief, but a certain competitive respect had formed between them. It was that very respect that told her Kawasaki wasn't the type to issue a challenge so flippantly.
There had to be a misunderstanding. And the source of that misunderstanding was obvious: Tanaka Masao had been meddling.
Yukinoshita unlocked the door and stepped inside, her voice calm but pointed.
"Masao-kun, that match between Kawasaki-san and myself… you engineered the whole thing, didn't you?"
She glanced back at him, a faint, unnerving smile gracing her lips. "I must admit, quite the clever scheme."
There was no anger on her face. Instead, she wore a smile so charming that it was terrifying.
A cold sweat broke out on Masao's brow.
'I'm done for!'
Yukinoshita placed her things on the table and looked at him, still frozen in the doorway.
"Masao-kun, don't just stand there. Come in."
The more radiant her smile became, the more his anxiety grew.
"Yukinoshita-san… Please, stop smiling like that. It's unsettling."
She tilted her head with an air of innocent curiosity.
"Oh? And why is that? Don't worry. I'm not a monster. I won't do anything… drastic."
'That's exactly what a monster would say!' Screaming internally, Masao resigned himself to his fate and stepped into the room.
Note to self: no good deed—or mischievous plot—goes unpunished. He was now keenly aware of his error. Next time, 'I need to cover my tracks better.'
Though, if he was being honest, he didn't actually believe orchestrating the tennis match was a mistake. It was far too entertaining.
Seeing the look of resignation on his face, Yukinoshita tapped a finger to her chin.
"Now, what shall we do for your training today? Perhaps we'll start with a thirty-minute horse stance to warm up."
Masao couldn't suppress an eye-roll.
"Yukinoshita-san, I think you and I have very different definitions of 'warming up.'"
Nevertheless, he sank into a horse stance.
"A different definition?" she mused. "Do you find a thirty-minute horse stance too easy? Should we increase the difficulty?"
Her eyes glinted. "How about you hold a chair in each hand? That should help build your arm strength as well."
"No! Please! That will actually kill me!"
"You won't know until you try."
Her smile never wavered as she fetched two sturdy chairs and carefully hung one from each of his outstretched arms.
A single chair wasn't terribly heavy, but their awkward shape and size made them incredibly difficult to hold steady at arm's length.
It was a far greater challenge than wielding dumbbells of the same weight.
Masao's arms trembled, the chairs swaying as he barely managed to lift them from the floor.
This display, however, did not meet Yukinoshita's exacting standards.
"Masao-kun, this is unacceptable. Your arms need to be perfectly straight."
"Muri desu! (It's impossible)" he wailed.
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