Luckily, we secured the first throw, and without hesitation, I boldly seized the ball. Taking out one of their players right from the start would be a strategic move. With the no-revive rule in place, any eliminated player would be completely out of the game rather than moving to the outer field. That meant there was no downside to going for the kill immediately.
But judging by the opposing team, this won't be as easy as I thought. Nearly all the students in Class 1-D are athletic—most likely because of her. That girl's presence must have inspired the entire class to take an interest in sports, pushing them to give it their all. I already saw it in their eyes—the way they admire her, looking at her as if she's their idol.
But that's no reason for me to be discouraged. I tightened my grip on the ball, planting my left foot forward for better support and force. However, instead of following the usual strategy of targeting the weakest player, I set my sights on their strongest one.
I had two reasons for this. First, it would catch them completely off guard. Second, at this very moment, I am in peak condition—perfectly ready to unleash a throw with maximum power.
Just as I had planned, he was completely caught off guard. Though he almost managed to catch the ball, and his teammates even rushed to support him from behind to absorb the impact. But in the end, the sheer force of my throw was too much. His hands trembled the moment he caught it, and before he could steady himself, the ball slipped from his grasp.
That was close—but I still managed to take him out.
Loud cheers erupted from Sanae, Yuka, and Misaki, their excitement contagious enough to get the rest of my classmates hyped up as well. However, amidst the cheering, a group of guys started booing me—probably the petty type, just like those three.
Speaking of which, the three guys on my team loudly clicked their tongues, clearly displeased with my success. Meanwhile, the two girls on my team flashed me a thumbs-up and said, "Well done."
As for those three guys... I had a feeling they were about to make things even more difficult for me.
Since I had eliminated a player, the ball was returned to me. Once again, I set my sights on my next target—the second-strongest player on their team. I steadied myself, preparing for another powerful throw.
But just as I was about to launch it, one of the three guys on my team "accidentally" fell right into my line of shot.
It was no accident.
They were deliberately sabotaging my throw, trying to mess up my aim and hand over possession of the ball to the other team.
With great difficulty, I managed to adjust my throw at the last second, but the change in angle weakened its force. As a result, the opposing team easily caught it.
"Sorry, I fell," the guy said as he stood up, laughing shamelessly.
The audience from our class might not know the full extent of their scheme, but it was obvious to everyone that his fall wasn't an accident. Angry shouts erupted from my classmates, calling him out.
Meanwhile, the group of guys who had been booing me earlier erupted into cheers. They probably knew exactly what these three were up to—and they were openly supporting them.
Since the opposing team caught the ball, possession shifted to them. And just as I expected, they immediately targeted the three guys on our team—likely seeing them as easy eliminations.
Those three didn't even put up a real fight. They "pretended" to dodge or catch the ball, but it was obvious they had no intention of staying in the game. One by one, they let themselves get eliminated without resistance.
This strategy wasn't bad. With the outer players excluded from the final count, our team was now down to just two players, while they still had four. If they simply focused on dodging and running down the clock, they would secure the win.
And to make things worse, they still had possession of the ball. At this rate, we were at a massive disadvantage.
I grinned. Even though we were at a disadvantage, this situation actually worked in my favor—those three idiots were finally out of the picture. With them gone, I could focus entirely on the game without any more sabotage.
Right now, my top priority was regaining possession of the ball. If I could get my hands on it, I'd have a chance to turn the tide of the match.
But there was one more thing to keep in mind—I had to protect my remaining teammate. If she got eliminated, my only path to victory would be a "complete wipeout" of their team. And with the limited time left, that would be nearly impossible. At best, I could only force a draw if it came to that.
Before the opponent could prepare their throw, I leaned in and whispered to my teammate,
"They'll definitely target you. When they do, don't try to catch the ball—just let your body go loose. Don't ask questions, just trust me."
She barely had time to process my words before the ball came hurtling toward her. But as I had instructed, she didn't try to catch it.
But just as she thought the ball was about to hit her, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward me, yanking her out of the way at the last second.
Instead of taking the risk of catching the ball and possibly getting eliminated, dodging was the smarter choice—especially when we had this much space to move around.
But that wasn't the end of it. The ball bounced off our court, and their outer players caught it. Without hesitation, he aimed a fast throw straight at my feet.
I grinned, Don't underestimate my reflexes and flexibility.
If I were alone on this court, I was confident I could dodge every throw for the rest of the match. So the moment he launched the ball at my feet, I simply let go of my teammate's hand and executed a flawless no-hand backflip.
The ball whizzed past harmlessly, and the next thing I knew, the entire court erupted into applause. Even the two P.E teachers were clapping at my performance.
With the ball back in our possession, I wasted no time. I launched two rapid throws in succession, eliminating their two weakest players.
Right now, I didn't have the luxury of going after their strongest members—I needed to reduce their numbers as quickly as possible. And with that, the playing field was even.
Both teams were now down to two in-field players each.
However, after putting so much strength into my last three throws, a dull ache began creeping into my shoulder. The strain was starting to catch up with me.
Because of that, my next throw lacked power. The ball didn't have the same force behind it—just enough of a difference for the opponent to catch it with a bit of effort.
Once again, they aimed for my teammate, and once again, I pulled her out of harm's way—this time, a little closer to me.
Realizing that hitting me directly was proving difficult, their outer player quickly caught the ball and fired it at her back.
Not happening.
I had already decided—I would protect her until the very end. It was our only path to victory.
Without hesitation, I placed my left hand on her back, pulling her even closer. At the same time, I let myself fall backward, planting my right hand firmly on the ground to support both of our weight and prevent us from hitting the floor.
For a brief moment, our eyes met. Her face was flushed red, she is surely embarrassed or even uncomfortable.
"Sorry. It must have been really uncomfortable to be touched like that. I'll be more careful from now on."
Sure, I wanted to win—but that didn't mean I could just do whatever I wanted.
This time, I had crossed the line. I got too caught up in the game, too focused on victory, and I didn't consider how she might feel.
"Ahem." She cleared her throat, and fixed her hair, "It's okay. Things like this happen in a game. And… I understand how you feel. I want to win this match for our class too."
I let out a quiet breath of relief. I am glad that she isn't calling me out or making a fuss about it.
But there was no time to dwell on that. Only two minutes remained. This was the crucial moment of the match. Whoever eliminates a player now is guaranteed to win.
With my shoulder still aching, I handed the ball to her. She hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "Can I really do this?"—her expression said it all.
Sensing her doubt, I leaned in and whispered something to her.
She took a deep breath. "All right, I'll try."
But she was still too tense, her grip on the ball unsteady. I gave her a reassuring nod.
"Don't overthink it. Just trust yourself."
She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepared to throw. The two opponents tensed, ready to react—whether to catch or dodge.
She aimed exactly where I had told her—at the foot of the guy on our right.
He quickly realized that the ball's trajectory was too low to risk catching, so he lifted his leg to avoid it. But in doing so, he put himself in a vulnerable position, balancing on one foot.
Recognizing the danger, his teammate instinctively moved behind him, ready to support him and shield him from any follow-up attack from our outer player.
I grinned. Just as I predicted.
The moment the ball hit the ground, and his teammate rushed to cover his back, I was already a step ahead.
Even before the ball could reach our outer player, I shouted, "Don't catch it! Slap it back at the player on your right!"
It wasn't a pre-planned strategy, so she panicked for a split second, caught off guard. But to her credit, she quickly adjusted and did exactly as I said.
The target of my call was the player rushing to cover his teammate's back. If our outer player had caught the ball before throwing, even a brief delay would've given her enough time to reach her teammate and possibly catch it herself.
However, because our outer player simply slapped the ball instead, she was a few milliseconds faster.
The opponent, caught mid-sprint, had no time to react. With her momentum still carrying her forward, she couldn't stop, couldn't dodge, and definitely couldn't catch the ball.
It was all about prediction and timing.
Of course, while I had orchestrated the plan, most of the credit belonged to my two teammates—they were the ones who actually pulled it off.
The whistle blew. Now, they were down to just one player, while we still had two. With only about a minute left, all we needed to do was focus on dodging, and victory would be ours.
The ball returned to us, and she decided to try the same tactic again—aiming for his leg.
But a trick like that doesn't work twice against someone who isn't a complete idiot.
This time, instead of lifting his foot and risking his balance, he simply slid it back, effortlessly dodging the ball. And when our outer player attempted a follow-up attack, he was ready—dodging again with ease, still maintaining perfect control.
With only a few seconds left, this final throw would decide the fate of the match.
He gripped the ball tightly, as if loosing all hope he put everything in this last throw. There was no more strategy, no more trickery—just raw force.
And that raw power was aimed directly at my teammate's face.
I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, but the speed at which the ball was traveling, even if the ball is soft, the impact would hurt a lot if it hit her.
The ball was too fast. I wouldn't be able to pull her away in time like before, nor could I catch it.
Seeing it speeding toward her, she instinctively closed her eyes, bracing for impact.
But before it could hit her, I threw myself forward, pushing her aside with my own body. The ball whizzed past, almost grazing me, and because of its sheer speed, their outer player couldn't catch it either.
I hit the ground first, keeping her close to absorb the impact. Even though I had promised myself not to hold her like this again, this was an emergency—I didn't have a choice.
Winning was important, but aiming at a girl's face with that kind of force, just to win a friendly match? That was crossing the line.
"Sorry, I touched you again." I apologized immediately as I got up.
"N-No, I should be thanking you instead... You saved me there," she replied, her face slightly flushed.
Silence fell between us. Gosh, this is so awkward now.
The awkward tension shattered with the sharp blow of the whistle, signaling the end of the match.
And—we won.
Cheers erupted from our classmates, accompanied by loud claps and shouts of excitement. We were the only team from our class that had managed to defeat Class 1-D.
The girl who had been playing as our outer player came running toward us, practically bouncing with excitement. Without thinking, the three of us exchanged high-fives, caught up in the thrill of victory.
Amidst the celebration, the embarrassment from earlier was completely forgotten. And honestly, that was for the best.
"Now that I got to know you a little, you're actually a good guy," she said with a small smile.
Hearing her words, I paused for a moment, I turned back to face her, meeting her eyes, and gave her a bright smile in return. "Glad to hear that."
In my previous life, there were too many misunderstandings about my personality. No matter what I did, people always assumed the worst of me, and I never really got the chance to clear up those misconceptions.
But now... things were different.
More and more people were starting to see me in a positive light. They were accepting me for who I am, treating me as a friend, and willingly spending time with me.
And I couldn't help but feel happy about it.
I glanced at the group of guys—now joined by the three idiots from our team—who had been praying for my failure. They were still glaring at me, their eyes filled with envy and frustration, their teeth clenched in irritation.
To their negative emotions, I responded with nothing but a mocking smirk.
It's not possible for everyone to like me. That's just how life is. No matter where I go, there will always be people like them—people who despise me for petty reasons or reasons they can't even explain properly.
But that's fine.
I don't need everyone's approval.
I just hope that, little by little, more people will come to understand me.
Though it's not like I'm dissatisfied with my current life, I can't help but think about the future.
I look at the three girls waiting for me to return to their side—the first ones to accept me, to appreciate my kindness without suspicion, and the ones who genuinely want to know more about me.
They are my friends.
Even if nobody else understands me, as long as they do, that's enough.
No matter what I tell myself, deep down, I know I really enjoy spending time with them. But how long will this last? One day, we'll have to choose our own paths, walking toward different futures. On top of that, I still don't know what my existence in this world truly means or how much time I have left here.
But until that moment comes—until this time we share fades away—let me enjoy it.
And if I can, I will do everything in my power to protect those smiles, the ones that unknowingly put a smile on my face, too.
With a bright smile, I walked toward them, feeling lighter than before. They were smiling too, waiting for me—warm, welcoming, just like always.
But then, as I got closer, my steps halted on instinct and I just noticed.
Wait… Why do their smiles look so scary?!
A chill ran down my spine as I suddenly felt like i am approaching my own grave.