You're Terrible - 5
Before I knew it, the class tournament was racing toward its end.
"Hmm."
I stroked my chin as I studied the scoreboard set up on the main athletic field.
Ainter's class still sat firmly in first place, while mine and Later's were tied for second. From the very first horse race that kicked off the tournament right up to now, this tedious, cutthroat three-way brawl had never changed.
If we win two in a row, we might still pull it off somehow.
I turned the possibilities over in my head while watching Ainter's class cling to that razor-thin lead. Take one match and first place was ours; win the next and we could lock it down for good.
In theory, of course, anyone could be the champion. Reality, unfortunately, refused to cooperate. I had managed to edge out Later for sole second, yet first place remained stubbornly out of reach. Whenever I won, someone else did too; whenever they won, a different guy took the next one. Two in a row? Not a chance.
Persistent bastards.
I glanced behind me and saw the Empire's students all linked arm-in-arm, belting out their cheer song at the top of their lungs.
Not only were there a lot of them, they were talented too—no openings in sight. If anything, the Armein students, hopelessly outnumbered, were putting up a hell of a fight just by staying this close.
That only made it more frustrating. Just a little more, just a little further, and we would be there. If we didn't give up, the chance would come.
And then the first—and last—real opportunity finally arrived.
Erich dropped out.
The ringleader who had turned this into a three-way hellscape, the dark mastermind who had egged Ainter on, the Empire's vanguard who never missed a physical event—Erich had completely withdrawn from the class tournament.
The reason was nothing special. He had gotten into a scuffle with foreign students and been caught by the homeroom teacher. Rumor had it the furious teacher choked him out cold. I was genuinely disappointed I hadn't seen it myself.
Thanks to that iron-fisted crackdown, Erich had been demoted to mere spectator-slash-patient, and the fearless cheering of the Empire's students had softened considerably. Even the most spirited kid didn't want a thrashing from the homeroom teacher.
That boosts our odds in the four-man match.
I turned back to the scoreboard and sorted my thoughts.
The Empire's vanguard was gone, and Ainter's skill still lagged behind mine. Even the psychological pressure from the Empire students' cheers had eased—so Armein's chances of winning the final event, the four-man match, had improved.
Yes. That was enough. If back-to-back victories to lock first place looked impossible, we simply needed to win the last one. Once the tournament itself ended, there would be no need to keep scrambling to hold the lead.
One final win for the overall championship.
A smile tugged at my lips all by itself. Nothing could look cooler than that.
A valiant Armein knight who refused to bow to the Empire's tyranny. After that bitter endurance, a chance had finally come to seize a proud and noble victory. Fortune truly favored those who never gave up.
"Ryutis."
"Huh?"
While I was debating whether to run a little practice with the classmates who would enter the four-man match, Later's voice came from right beside me.
"Ah, Later. When did you get here?"
"I've been standing here for a while."
The blunt reply left me a little embarrassed. I hadn't even noticed a mage—not a knight—approaching. Had I been that obsessed with winning?
A small snort of laughter escaped me. Who would have guessed I would get this fired up over a mere Academy event? I had tried hard to win the last two years as well, but this was the first time I had thrown myself into it so completely. Leave it to Erich to hand us such a magnificent graduation gift.
"There's a match coming up, so keep it short. You heard about Erich too?"
"Haha, even if I didn't want to hear it, I had no choice! They say he's laid up in a nursing-room bed?"
It was rather pleasant that the gift-giver himself was far away, having already done his part.
Still, he was receiving Sera's devoted care, so he probably wasn't too bitter about it. Honestly, getting forcibly subdued by the homeroom teacher was a fate Erich had brought on himself.
A little brother who stabs his own older brother right in the solar plexus.
I laughed again. If the Crassius family had been a royal house, people would already be whispering that Erich was after the crown prince's seat. That was how devastating this little stunt of his had been for the homeroom teacher.
Of course, we found it hilarious, so we let it slide. We felt a little bad for the teacher, but enjoying an Academy event as Academy students wasn't exactly a crime.
"Objectively speaking, Ainter's current skill isn't on our level. With Erich out, it becomes a match between you and me."
"Well, yeah."
I had already reached the same conclusion, so I simply nodded. In another year or two maybe, but Ainter—who had only just begun learning the sword—couldn't stand against us.
It wasn't that I looked down on him. This was simply the iron law of time that no human could defy.
"And the four-man match is worth more points than any other event. Why waste energy on the others? How about we settle everything there?"
"Oh."
The unexpected proposal drew an admiring sound from me.
It wasn't surprise that Later would enter the four-man match. That was a given; I would have been shocked if he sat it out.
The reason for my admiration was simpler.
"You're going to issue a formal challenge that boldly and then lose? What then?"
Later himself had walked up and formally thrown down the gauntlet. This went far beyond a casual chess match in the clubroom; in front of the entire student body he had declared, "Let's decide victory and defeat in the four-man match."
It was a method utterly unlike the Later who prized reason and dignity, yet—
I like it.
To a knight, nothing could be more welcome. Nothing set the blood racing quite like a public challenge from a sworn rival.
"Is there a general who marches onto the battlefield already thinking he will lose?"
"Hahaha!"
Even better words followed.
"All right. Winner of the four-man match takes everything."
Honor, glory, the cheers—all of it.
—Or so I thought, parting from Later in grand fashion only moments ago.
Was that a dream?
I let out a hollow laugh as Ainter's class stepped onto the field.
More precisely, I couldn't hold back the laugh once I saw one particular contestant climbing up with him.
Why is the homeroom teacher here?
A black-haired man strode onto the arena with open irritation written across his face.
The victor who had spectacularly closed out the four-man match two years ago had once again shoved his way into a student brawl.
...Damn you, Erich.
Was this your scheme all along? Sacrificing yourself so that your older brother, the homeroom teacher, could take your place?
If that really was the plan, then Erich was every bit the lunatic people claimed. Either that, or the teacher had squeezed his neck so hard he scrambled the kid's brains.
Word that the Academy class tournament had turned into a national pride-fueled kids' brawl spread like wildfire.
Naturally—every kid out there competing and spectating was the child of a noble house, and once those children contacted home, rumor traveled fast.
Thus the news filtered through the entire Empire and even into foreign countries, and the disaster began.
"Hey, I hear the Academy's in an uproar these days."
"You say that as if it was ever quiet."
It started with the Minister. The very night I had put Erich in a genuine chokehold, a call full of thinly veiled mockery had arrived from him—clearly someone had already filled him in.
"Well, everyone I meet only wants to talk about the Academy, so what can I do? The futures who will lead the Empire are forging friendships with foreign students while showing off imperial prowess—they're calling it a beautiful precedent and looking forward to it."
The Minister's little addendum made my blood run cold. The people he met were fellow ministers or, at the very least, high nobles of Count rank and above. The Empire's leadership itself was discussing the class tournament and hoping for a "beautiful precedent."
And of course no one needed to spell out what that beautiful precedent meant. Imperial victory, obviously.
It was an absolute headache. What had been a simple kids' fight had turned into something even the adults were watching with their shoulders squared.
"It's the students' business, so the students will handle it. All we need to do is cheer them on."
"True enough, but reason and the heart are always two different things."
With that, the Minister had exchanged a few more polite pleasantries and hung up—almost as if his only purpose had been to inform me of the Empire's public mood.
My head had throbbed ever since. If the eyes and ears of the Empire's leadership were fixed on the Academy, this was no longer a simple matter of "ensuring the safety of foreign guests." It had become a big event in which imperial pride demanded an imperial victory.
So what?
Even so, I ignored everyone's quiet expectations and held out as long as I could.
The leadership wanted a win? Did they think I was some low-ranking flunky? The only reason I ran myself ragged was because the single person above me happened to be the Emperor; anywhere else I went, I was a heavyweight who could throw my weight around. There was no reason for me to stick my nose in, endure the "grown adult butting into a kids' fight" criticism, and deliver what everyone else wanted.
If victory in the class tournament actually advanced national interest or touched someone else's honor, I would have considered it. But it didn't. Win and you only polished a little pride; lose and no one got hurt. Just a bit of disappointment.
"Minister."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"His Retired Majesty has begun to take an interest. He says it is a pleasant sight to watch these still-young friends striving for the honor of the Empire."
"……"
But the moment I heard that even the Retired Emperor—who preferred his quiet farm life and online games—had started paying attention, I gave up on everything.
If the Retired Emperor wished for something, you made it happen. He had formally relinquished every scrap of official power when he abdicated, yet his authority and prestige had not dropped to zero. No one ignored the wise ruler who had pulled a crumbling Empire back from the brink.
We're fucked.
The problem was that I myself had forcibly removed Erich, the Empire's main fighting force.
From past experience, the winner of the final four-man match usually took the overall championship—and without Erich, an Empire side that only had Ainter would struggle against either Ryutis or Later. With my own hands I had shredded the Empire's chances of victory.
An imperial subject sabotaging an imperial win, and the Retired Emperor expressing regret upon hearing the news? I didn't even want to imagine that future. If I could avoid it, becoming the adult who crashed a kids' fight was nothing.
"Homeroom teacher... why in the world..."
"I had my reasons too."
And that was how I ended up entering the four-man match this year, just as I had two years ago.
Sorry, Ryutis.
This is a civil servant's reality.
A cold truth a royal like you could never understand even if you died and came back.
Fuck.
The all-or-nothing final match became an imperial victory the moment the monster known as the homeroom teacher crashed the party.
An unexpected outsider's intrusion could easily have sparked an uproar or formal protests, yet the Empire students—who made up the majority—simply roared with applause and cheers, overjoyed at their side's win.
Even the foreign students who ought to have objected were too busy clapping in admiration at the teacher's dazzling swordsmanship. He had probably played the clown on purpose just to forestall any backlash.
Disappointing, but what can you do?
I brushed the dust from my clothes and stepped down from the arena. I had failed to crown the end with victory, yet receiving instruction from a master of that caliber counted as a successful outcome for anyone who walked the path of the sword.
A pure mage like Later, though, would probably find it harder to acce—
"Third place. Where do you think you're going?"
Later's voice from behind stopped me cold.
"...What did you just say?"
"I said third place."
I turned my head with difficulty. Later gave a short snort of laughter and jerked his chin toward the scoreboard.
Exactly as he claimed: my class sat in third, his in second.
"Since you went down before I did, I received the higher score. Looks like I won this time."
The logic was so absurd I was left speechless. We had both lost side by side to the homeroom teacher—how was there a winner and a loser between us?
"This match was too ambiguous. Why don't we just rematch next ti—"
"Sorry, but I have no desire to settle a score with a loser."
...
That blue-haired bastard.
In that instant I learned how to hate someone with my whole heart.