After many days, Aomori returned to the Hero's Starting Ground.
Compared to before, the camp had begun to take proper shape. High-rise buildings for administration and teaching now stood tall, and many facilities were fully equipped.
"It should be time for afternoon classes. Group D should be over there."
He wore a relaxed expression, inspecting the operations as he walked. Before long, he arrived at the gym and peered inside from the doorway.
Scanning the room, he indeed found Fubuki clad in her white-gold armor. She was lying on a mat, arms straining as she performed bench presses. Judging by her performance, she was actually stronger than many of those present, a world of difference compared to when she first put on the armor.
"Not bad, not bad. It looks like she's been putting in the work and hasn't let my efforts go to waste."
After watching for a moment, Aomori quietly departed, just as stealthily as he had arrived. No one, including Fubuki, detected his presence.
Inside the tightly sealed armor, beads of sweat formed on Fubuki's nose. Her chest heaved as she breathed rhythmically. Her arms trembled slightly, yet she pushed upward with determination until her elbows locked.
"50! Ironclad Warrior, well done." Standing beside her was Instructor Locust.
Since Fubuki had arrived a day late and lacked a designated partner, Instructor Locust had taken on the role of spotter, watching over her during her sets. Over these past few days, he had witnessed her growth firsthand and admired her resilience.
He was only puzzled as to why she insisted on wearing a full suit of armor, adding unnecessary difficulty to her training. Instructor Locust had suggested several times that she remove it for physical conditioning, but Fubuki had flatly refused every time. However, the instructor was certain that if she took it off, she would be stronger than most heroes present, at least middle-of-the-pack for Class C.
"Thank you, Instructor. I want to go for another set." After a brief rest, Fubuki requested to continue.
"Take a break. Over-training can actually be harmful to the body."
"Understood," Fubuki thought for a moment and nodded.
"In a couple of days, I'll recommend you for Class C. You've already passed the physical requirements. Once you get there, keep working hard. Don't make me look bad." Toward the end, Instructor Locust intentionally put on a stern face.
"Class C?" A flicker of joy rose in Fubuki's heart. Her hard work over these many days was finally paying off. She immediately raised her voice: "Thank you, Instructor! I will definitely keep working hard!"
"Good. Rest for ten more minutes, then we start the next set."
"Yes, sir!"
…
After finishing her afternoon classes, Fubuki dragged her exhausted body to the cafeteria to pack a meal and returned to her room along her usual route.
The moment she entered her private sanctuary, Fubuki no longer needed to maintain her tough facade. She briskly stripped off the heavy armor, revealing a light camisole and panties underneath. Wearing airtight armor was simply too hot, so she always trained with minimal layers underneath; after all, no one could see through the armor anyway.
Just as she was about to strip off the rest of her damp clothes, she suddenly heard a light cough from beside her.
'There's someone else here?! A pervert?!'
Fubuki didn't even stop to think before unleashing a Hell Storm.
However, the expected powerful vortex didn't appear. Surprised, she turned her head and caught sight of Aomori, who was wearing a calm smile.
"Sensei?!" Fubuki gasped, utterly shocked.
'Wait, what's going on? Why is Aomori-sensei here? Is he here for a night raid? Is that it? Even the Chairman of the Hero Association has moments where he thinks with his lower half. What should I do? Should I refuse? I mean, obviously, I should refuse, right? Though refusing probably won't help; with his strength, he could easily subdue me and treat me... roughly. But if it's Sensei, it's not exactly unacceptable...'
In a single heartbeat, Fubuki had already imagined a hundred-episode melodrama in her head. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes grew misty, and her legs began to rub together slightly.
Seeing the "train" about to derail toward a very R-rated destination, Aomori quickly shouted, "Fubuki!"
"Ah! I'm sorry! It's too fast! I can't accept being a mother at such a young age… we at least have to go on dates to build feelings first!" Jolted awake by Aomori's shout, Fubuki shuddered and blurted out everything she was thinking.
After the words left her mouth, she realized what she had just said. She immediately covered her mouth, her face turning an intense shade of crimson.
"Don't overthink things. I just came to check on you. I won't do anything that violates a sensei's ethics." Saying this, Aomori glanced at her and added, "Also, hurry up and get in the shower, or I really will see everything."
"Ah!" Fubuki finally remembered she was barely dressed. With a vast amount of skin exposed, she bashfully covered her chest with one hand and her legs with the other, bolting into the bathroom like she was running for her life.
After slamming the door, Fubuki covered her face with her hands and let out a faint whimper: "I want to die... I can never show my face again..."
Outside, sitting on the sofa, Aomori was equally speechless. Who would have thought this girl's guard was so low that she couldn't even detect him when he wasn't hiding his presence? He could swear to heaven that what just happened was a total accident; his feelings for Fubuki were strictly those of a mentor, with no ulterior motives.
Though, to be fair, Fubuki really did have an incredible figure. It was quite a sight.
There was no sound from the bathroom for a while. Aomori looked around, stood up, and said in a steady voice: "I'm hungry, so I'm going to find something to eat. I'll come back in a bit."
With that, he walked out of the dorm, making sure the door made a loud noise as he closed it.
Hearing Aomori's words and the sound of the door closing, Fubuki finally emerged from her self-imposed exile. She peeked out of the bathroom door and saw that Aomori was indeed gone.
"Did Sensei leave on purpose so I could feel more at ease? That's actually quite thoughtful."
Fubuki chuckled. She retrieved a set of conservative pajamas and her favorite lingerie from the closet before returning to the shower. She stripped off her damp clothes, gave her body a quick rinse, and changed into the pajamas.
Looking at her short hair in the mirror, Fubuki felt a twinge of regret. "If I had known, I wouldn't have been so impulsive. Now I have no feminine charm at all."
She thought about putting on some makeup, but remembering Aomori's previous distaste for it, she decided against it. Instead, she settled for a bit of perfume and a face mask. To save time, she ate her dinner while the mask was on.
Just as she finished tidying everything up and lay on the sofa to catch her breath, the doorbell rang.
"That fast?" Fubuki took a deep breath, composed her facial expression, and went to open the dorm door.
Outside was, naturally, Aomori. He was dressed in common casual clothes, carrying a large bag filled with unknown items.
"Hello, Sensei. Please come in." Fubuki's face wore a mask of impeccable respect, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. It was as if this was their first meeting of the day and everything prior had been an illusion.
Aomori, a veteran "actor" himself, showed no cracks either. After entering the room with Fubuki, he examined her new hair and asked with a smile, "Was it too hot? Why did you give yourself such a short haircut?"
"Yes, it was just too stifling inside the armor," Fubuki replied, following his lead, too embarrassed to mention her chuunibyou-like goal of "cutting her hair to show her resolve." She nervously touched her hair and stared at Aomori. "Is it too ugly? Does it not suit me?"
"It doesn't matter. Since you won't be showing your face outside anyway, and no one else will see it, utility is best."
Aomori's "iron-willed" straight-man response left Fubuki choked up. She stomped her foot and gave a dainty huff. "And you, Sensei? What do you think of my hair?"
"It's whatever. Both the before and after styles are just average. I'd say it's 'not ugly.'"
"Just not ugly?!" Fubuki, who had always been praised as a peerless beauty, couldn't take that lying down. She was about to retort, but upon seeing the perfect face of her teacher, she suddenly felt like an ugly duckling. Her confidence vanished.
'No wonder. Compared to him, my appearance really can only be called average.'
"If Sensei were a woman, you'd definitely be the type to bring down nations," Fubuki muttered, staring at Aomori. She imagined a long-haired Aomori, and her face began to turn red again.
Realizing the atmosphere was veering off course again, Aomori quickly interrupted her daydreaming. He handed the large bag to Fubuki. "Besides checking on your progress, I brought you a gift."
"A gift?!" Fubuki caught the keyword and perked up instantly. She took the bag expectantly and said happily, "It's quite heavy. Can I open it?"
"Of course."
"Okay, let me see." Fubuki untied the cord, pulled the bag open, and looked inside. "Huh?"
Her expression froze. Her smile slowly faded. She reached into the bag and pulled out a palm-sized rubber ball. Expressionless, she asked, "Sensei, what is this?"
"It's a rubber ball made of special material. It may look ordinary, but it can help your training."
'What was I even expecting?! Didn't the white-gold armor from last time clearly show what kind of person Sensei is?'
Having mentally branded Aomori with the "Iron Straight-Man" stamp, Fubuki forced a polite smile and said exaggeratedly, "Oh, wonderful! This is exactly the kind of gift I was hoping for."
Aomori ignored Fubuki's sarcasm. He pulled another rubber ball from the bag and shook it; the sound of splashing water came from within.
"Do you hear that? Some of the balls in the bag are filled with water. Your first task is to use your esper powers to burst the water-filled balls. Like this."
As soon as he finished speaking, the ball in Aomori's hand began to vibrate violently. It looked as if something inside was trying to break through the shell. Multiple protrusions appeared on the surface, and finally, after vibrating intensely, the entire ball exploded.
The water inside sprayed out, splashing onto Fubuki. Her silk pajamas immediately became transparent, clearly exposing her black lingerie to Aomori's eyes.
Fubuki looked down at her transparent pajamas, her expression blank.
"If I said this was an accident, would you believe me?" Aomori said seriously.
He was answered by a scream: "AH!"
…
Ten minutes later, the two of them were sitting on the sofa again as if nothing had happened. Fubuki, now in a new set of clothes, held a water-filled rubber ball and said skeptically, "Can this really help my training?"
"Trust me." Aomori nodded earnestly. "Don't underestimate it. If you can complete the curriculum I've set, you will learn an incredibly powerful forbidden ultimate technique."
"A forbidden ultimate technique?!" It sounded incredibly impressive. Fubuki opened her mouth slightly, looking at the rubber ball in surprise.
"Now, give it a try."
"Okay!" Fubuki nodded. She exerted her esper powers, manipulating the water inside.
Soon, the rubber ball began to vibrate, but the magnitude was far smaller than Aomori's demonstration, and no protrusions appeared on the surface. After struggling for a while without success, Fubuki finally gave up.
"It looked so simple when you did it."
"You'll have to figure out the trick yourself. If you really can't, you can ask me."
"I will definitely figure it out on my own!" How could she easily admit her incompetence in front of her sensei? 'I won't let him look down on me!' The proud Fubuki made up her mind.
"As you wish. Once you can burst the water-filled balls, the next step will be the empty ones."
"Understood!"
"Then, there's one last thing."
"Hmm?"
Aomori looked at Fubuki's arms and legs, his expression solemn. "Earlier, I saw many bruises on your muscles. It's a side effect of over-training, isn't it? Since you wear that armor, you can't have anyone massage your muscles properly. I admit, I didn't consider that well enough."
"I'll just apply some ointment myself when I get back to the dorm. It's no big deal."
"No. It's often these overlooked minor issues that lead to major trouble. So, lie down on the bed."
"Huh?"
"I'll massage you personally."
"No... that's really not necessary."
"It's fine. It'll be quick."
Fubuki couldn't argue with the authoritative Chairman, so she followed his instructions and lay face-down on the bed.
'This posture... it feels a bit embarrassing. Isn't that place going to be clearly visible to Sensei? And soon, his warm hands will touch my body...' Fubuki's ears burned. She buried her head in the pillow like an ostrich.
"Don't use too much force... I'm afraid of pain."
"Alright, it's over."
"Huh?" Fubuki sat up and looked at Aomori blankly. "It's over?"
She hadn't felt a thing, and it was already over? Wasn't that a bit too fast?
"Yes," Aomori nodded. "You should start feeling it now."
"You're right... the parts that were aching feel warm and comfortable now." Fubuki cried out in amazement. "Sensei, how did you do that?"
"It's a unique technique."
In reality, his hands were simply fast. Using Exploding Heart Release Fist, he had lightly struck the corresponding areas to quickly dissipate the bruising. This required an extremely deep mastery of the technique; otherwise, failing to control the force could easily cause internal injuries.
"Right, and this." Aomori pulled a bottle of medicinal liquor from his pocket and handed it to Fubuki. "Bang-sensei's secret medicinal liquor. It's very effective for reducing swelling. It'll work much better if you use it when you massage yourself later."
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
"Keep working hard. Next time, I'll conduct a combat assessment. Don't slack off."
"Don't worry, Sensei."
After seeing Aomori out and closing the door, Fubuki looked at the medicinal liquor in her hand. A charming smile unconsciously bloomed on her face.
"He actually knows how to give gifts after all, doesn't he?"