Chapter 8: Ability Eight: Making Someone Fierce

A sharp whistle blew.

I snapped to my senses.

"Incoming, buddy!"

Akito's voice was blurry, but it became clear as I saw a white ball soaring towards me with high velocity. I instinctively shifted left, and the ball left a trail of gust.

The open area was loud. Students shouting, sneakers skidding on ground—it was the kind of chaos that usually ensued in our PE classes.

Across the court, students from other sections were warming up, laughing, goofing off—like this was the highlight of their academic week. Of course it is. Only in PE class we could experience legally sanctioned violence to shake things up.

Today, we were playing dodgeball.

The midday sun was warm, but our classroom battle is way more than that.

Our coach, Toriko-sensei, a burly man with a buzzcut and the enthusiasm of a caffeinated bull, blew the whistle. "Alright! Let’s see some action!"

Balls were thrown like javelins, especially from my physically gifted classmates. One by one, my team was eliminated.

Akito rallied in place beside me, "Oh man, I live for this! The rush, the movement, the dodging. It’s like real-life anime training arcs."

"Yeah," I muttered, "Better keep enjoying it until you get hit in the face."

There are only three people left in our team. Me, Akito and...Takamine-san.

It's not like I can't focus because of her presence. I just can't stand being in the same team with her.

But the goal here remained the same—survive, or get beaten by balls turned comets into humiliation.

I hung back at first, dodging a few half-hearted throws and catching one with mild surprise. I didn’t bother throwing it. Not yet. Not until—

"Takamine-san!" Akito shouted.

I turned.

A ball was speeding toward her from the left flank—coming from one of the more athletic boys that had lined up a perfect shot.

Instinct kicked in. I bolted forward, reached out with both hands, and caught the ball just inches from colliding with her head. Pain shot as I landed on my still injured shoulder, but I pushed through and stood up.

Silence. Just for a second.

Takamine blinked at me.

"..."

And then...she turned away wordlessly.

No thanks. No glance. No acknowledgment.

She just jogged off to reposition herself like nothing happened.

I stood there, holding the ball, stunned.

"Nice save, buddy!" Akito remarked, positioning himself beside me with a devilish grin. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were her knight in gym-class armor."

"Don’t start."

"And oh, not even a thank you?"

I grunted. “She doesn’t owe me anything.”

"You must be freezing out here. Takamine-san's way too cold."

Without even letting me reply, the next barrage closed in.

The two of us dodged easily, but Takamine-san, despite being way more agile and athletic from the rest of the girls in class, purposefully let herself be hit.

"Looks like your heroism went into nothing, buddy."

"That's her choice."

From the corner of my eye, I saw her walking toward the benches and sat next to a guy that seemed familiar. Too familiar.

Ino Arata, from Class 3-1. He was the student council vice president. He carried an air of captivation and walked with that effortless confidence, all charming smirks and flat-ironed uniform. He wasn't just famous in Class 3-1, but in the school itself, just like Takamine-san.

He leaned in as they talked. They weren’t holding hands or anything, but Takamine-san looked comfortable with his company.

The rumor mill said they were ex-lovers. The fact that they're still this close meant that they were. If not, she shouldn’t have allowed him in her life after the breakup.

Takamine-san is untouchable, except for him.

As if sensing my gaze, Ino glanced over at me. For a second, our eyes locked, mine full of concern and his with amusement.

Did Takamine-san already tell him about my rejection?

Anxiety and jealousy loomed over my chest, sharp and hot.

But then...Ayase’s face flickered in my mind. That small, unsure smile. Her gentle eyes that saw through my walls. The way she catered to me, and made me realize that there's so much more in life rather than butting my head over an unrequited love.

And just like that, the heat cooled.

I inhaled. Exhaled. Let it pass.

Yet, her thoughts didn't save me from getting hit in the abdomen.

"Headshot!" the thrower celebrated.

The whistle blew again. Akito and I were out in the game.

"Team C is eliminated!" Toriko-sensei announced. "Rearrange yourself to change roles!"

This time, we were throwers. I stood at one end of the court and grasped the white ball between my fingertips.

And then I threw. I didn't hold back.

I was fueled by something I can't quite pinpoint. Not jealousy from Takamine-san and Ino. It was different. And it came from Ayase.

The impact echoed across the open area as it slammed into the chest of some poor guy from Team B. He collapsed like he was hit by a train and sprawled on the ground.

"Ouch..."

“Dude!” Akito whispered. “That guy begged for you to go easy.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, brushing past him to grab another ball. “I didn’t hear it.”

My next throw was even harder—enough to throw the second victim off his feet and into a the dusty ground.

"Yo, you're taking this personally!" Akito muttered in worry.

"This is a competition."

Another female student screamed and raised her hands in surrender. But it's too late.

While I held back slightly, Meteorite #3 hit her square in the arm. She didn't groan in pain like the others did, which is good. She's a woman after all so I have to suppress it.

And then Victim #4 got eliminated.

Balls soared like heat-seeking missiles from my hands, and classmates dropped like flies.

Then 5 and 6. I aced them all out.

I was a man possessed.

The gym became a warzone.

"Bro! Chill! You’re gonna kill someone!"

I didn’t reply.

I wasn’t thinking about Takamine-san anymore. The rejection hurts still, and I sent everything on the ball.

And it felt lighter somehow.

I was just...releasing.

One throw at a time.

Until the day it won't feel as heavy any longer.