"You really ought to stop hugging and getting so touchy-feely with just anyone. Every guy will get the wrong idea and have his heart completely stolen. Please stop creating innocent victims who end up suffering for no reason."
When I clicked my tongue and lightly chided her, Nejire only widened her eyes, then planted both hands on her hips as though she had been wronged.
"What? What are you talking about? Do you think I act like this with just anyone?"
Without the slightest hesitation, Nejire gave a proud, matter-of-fact snort.
"Of course I only do this because it’s you, Yujin. I’d never do it to anyone else, you know?"
At that moment, Mirio, who had been watching from a corner of the waiting room with his arms folded, burst into hearty laughter and chimed in.
"Oh, that’s right! This is the first time I’ve seen Nejire go up to someone first, cling to them affectionately, or pat their head like that since I entered U.A. She’s never done anything like that even with our classmates. It really is amazing!"
My fingers, which had been about to brush across the bridge of my nose, froze at Mirio’s casually delivered testimony.
Unconcerned with the looks around us or whatever misunderstandings people might have, she naturally reached out again and lightly mussed up my pomaded black hair.
"So there’s no need for you to say weird things! Come on, it’s almost time for me to go onstage for the Miss Contest, so make sure you cheer hard for me, okay?"
The neural circuitry I had been about to use to put up an impenetrable wall of smug narcissism and sophistry creaked to a halt.
I was always the one who controlled the pace and shook up the board, yet before this blue-haired woman’s unpredictable, straight-ahead bombardment, I strangely found myself at a loss for a retort.
"Just make sure you bring home the winner’s trophy."
With a soft, incredulous laugh, I gave her a light wave and followed Mirio out to the VIP seating.
They were premium seats with a full view of the stage. I dropped into a leather seat, crossed my long legs, and rested my chin on my hand. The view, at least, was spectacular.
Before long, a boisterous fanfare announced the official opening of the Miss U.A. Contest. Befitting Japan’s most prestigious high school, beautiful female students renowned in the General, Business, and Hero Courses took the stage one after another in dresses and extravagant costumes. Cheers from male students and a barrage of camera flashes erupted throughout the audience.
Hmm…
But my gaze, as I sat there with my chin propped up and surveyed them, was distinctly lukewarm.
Objectively speaking, they were all beautiful. But I had just come from seeing that blue-haired fairy in a pure-white dress practically shove her face right up to mine in the waiting room.
My standards had been forcibly launched straight up to the summit of Everest, so the contestants onstage looked like nothing more than generic mass-produced models.
She’ll win. At that level, she completely wrecks the visual balance.
Just as I yawned widely in boredom and tapped the black inverted-cross piercing on my left earlobe—
Hissss— Boom!!
Purple smog burst from the middle of the stage, and amid a cybernetic electronic shriek that seemed to tear through the eardrums, a contestant who stole everyone’s attention in an entirely different sense rose onto the stage.
"…Good lord?"
I unconsciously narrowed my relaxed eyes and leaned forward.
An uncanny cyborg-style exoskeleton suit plastered all over with aluminum foil, pipes, and blazing neon LED panels. Steam valves hissed from its back, while its wearer, sporting an enormous alien-antenna helmet, stomped through dance steps.
It looked less like a Miss Contest participant and more like a cybernetic mutant that had just escaped from the set of a low-budget 1980s B-movie sci-fi film.
"Kuhahaha! Surprised, Yujin?"
Mirio, chewing popcorn in the seat beside me, laughed heartily and pointed at the stage.
"That’s last year’s Miss U.A. Contest winner, a third-year from the Support Course! With the concept of ‘the pinnacle of SF cybernetics,’ she absolutely tore up the stage and took first by an overwhelming number of votes!"
"…That won the contest?"
As I watched the stage production—a bizarre fusion of the Support Course’s unique madness and craftsmanship—the processing circuits behind my aesthetic standards blanked out for 0.1 seconds.
Once again, the certainty passed through my brain stem that U.A. High School was an insane institution far beyond what the brain structure of ordinary people could possibly handle.
I rested my chin on my hand as I watched the cyborg exoskeleton break-dance onstage, hissing and spewing purple smoke.
That grotesque craftsmanship had launched the very essence of a Miss Contest and all aesthetic standards clear out to Andromeda.
Flicking the black inverted-cross earring on my earlobe with my fingertips, I let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.
"If that takes first again today, it’s blatant election fraud in the U.A. Miss Contest, Mirio."
"Huh? Election fraud?"
Mirio, shoveling a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, blinked his buttonhole-like eyes with keen interest.
"Haha! And what happens if that gets elected through fraud?"
With both hands shoved deep into my slacks pockets, I twisted up the corner of my mouth with the coldest, most serious gaze in the world.
"What happens? If this were Korea, hundreds of thousands of people would gather in Gwanghwamun Square every weekend, light candles, and rise up together. There’d be uproar over a student council impeachment hearing for undermining democracy and aesthetic standards at a prestigious school festival."
"Pwahahahahaha—!!"
Mirio nearly dropped his popcorn tub as he pounded the back of his seat.
He was howling so hard that he clutched his stomach in his uniquely cartoonish fashion, with tears even welling up in his eyes.
"Kuhahaha! A candlelight protest! A student council impeachment! Yujin, whenever you open your mouth, something beyond imagination comes out! Ah, my stomach is killing me!"
I lightly swept back the pomaded hair that had been tousled in the waiting room and smirked.
I had only tossed out a half-joking, half-serious remark about Korea’s intense protest culture, but apparently it was more than enough of a killer line to rupture the laughter of this cheerful U.A. second-year big shot.
Soft, majestic music signaling the final act began to play, and the stage lights took on dreamy pastel hues.
"And now, at last, our final contestant! Second-year Hero Course student, Nejire Hado—!!"
Rising onto the stage at the announcer’s cry was a fairy clad in a pure-white dress.
Fwoosh—
From the tips of her toes, Nejire elegantly released her characteristic spiraling golden wave energy, lightly stepping over gravity and floating into the air.
Her long, wavy blue hair fluttered luxuriantly, while the hem of her dress spun as if swimming through the sky.
It was beauty beyond mere prettiness, a dazzling figure that elevated her Quirk into the realm of art. A collective gasp swept through the audience.
As Nejire performed flamboyant aerial turns and flew across the stage, her gaze landed precisely on the center of the VIP seats.
Beneath neatly slicked-back black hair, the sharp, cool eyes that had cast off the seal known as glasses.
The instant our eyes met, Nejire’s lips bloomed into a bright curve. With an adorable smile in her eyes, she sent me a wink.
"Ohhh! Nejire just openly winked at you from up onstage?!"
Mirio, munching popcorn beside me, whipped his head around in astonishment.
And then—
"…Pwahahahahaha—!!"
Mirio fell backward, pounding the chair’s armrests. His buttonhole-like eyes were swimming with tears from laughing so hard.
After all, the guy who had been posing as Tokyo’s premier cool black-haired heartthrob just moments ago—
Had securely tied a thick blue headband around his head and was holding two ultra otage glow sticks in each hand, fluorescent sky-blue and bright enough to blind anyone.
"Pfft! Kuhaha! Yu-Yujin! What on earth are you wearing with that perfect face?! Where did you even get such terrifying cheering gear?!"
Even amid Mirio’s gut-busting laughter, I didn’t change my expression as I lightly tapped the black inverted-cross piercing on my earlobe.
"It’s my preference. Please respect it."
The instant I finished speaking, I ran an inertial-frame control calculation and maximized the acceleration of both arms.
Flash— Flash—!
With all the physics calculations my frontal lobe could muster, I began furiously swinging the sticks at Nejire floating in her pure-white dress, tracing blue trails through the air alongside windmill steps.
"Go—!! Nejire Hado!! The light of U.A.!! Victory is already ours—!!"
A full-power otage cheer of lunatic intensity, performed from the VIP seats by a cool, handsome man.
Watching that bizarre yet perfectly devoted display from the stage, Nejire cracked up and clutched her stomach as her blue hair fluttered around her. The finale of the Miss U.A. Contest was consequently drowned in the hottest, most joyful cheers in the festival’s history.
.
.
.
"The XXth Miss U.A. Contest! The glorious winner is… Kinuta, a third-year from the Support Course, in her banner robot suit—!!"
Applause poured from the audience at the announcer’s booming declaration. Onstage, the Support Course senior who had once again seized the crown with her bizarre cyborg creation was venting steam from her valves, while Nejire, holding the second-place silver trophy, stood beside her smiling brightly as her blue hair fluttered.
The atmosphere in the VIP seats was utter chaos.
At some point, the blue headband and fluorescent otage glow sticks I had been wearing had vanished without a trace.
I had smoothly fixed my neatly slicked-back black hair and dusted off my jacket collar, returning to the flawless appearance of Tokyo’s top-tier cool black-haired heartthrob. Yet beyond my cool, lowered eyes, the results of calculations I simply could not accept were spinning endlessly.
"…As expected, this school is rotten to the core, starting with its brain-stem structure."
With my hands in my slacks pockets, I gave Mirio, who was still shaking with suppressed laughter beside me, a chilly look.
"Mirio, this is a clear crisis for democracy and an act of aesthetic terrorism. That aluminum-can robot taking first for two straight years? I need to demonstrate Korea’s intense protest culture live in front of U.A.’s main building."
The moment the words left my mouth, I pulled a red megaphone from somewhere inside my clothes.
Just as I cranked the volume dial to maximum and placed my thumb over the siren button—
"Ah, Yujin! No, no—!!"
Nejire, who had already flown over from the stage like an arrow, swooped in as if diving through the air and grabbed the megaphone with both hands.
The sweet scent of her white dress swept into my arms. With the second-place silver trophy tucked carelessly under one arm, Nejire brought her face close enough to touch mine, her round blue eyes sparkling.
"If you protest about student council impeachment and election fraud, you’ll get dragged to the police station again! Ryukyu will seriously break your back!"
"This is a matter of justice and aesthetics. Until that silver trophy turns gold, I’ll occupy the space in front of U.A.’s student council office—"
"Hey, that’s enough!"
Nejire let out a soft laugh, then reached out with her little white hand and ruthlessly tousled my pomaded black hair.
Then she looked up at me with the brightest, most satisfied smile in the world.
"I’m totally okay with second place! I saw you from the stage earlier—you even took off your glasses, tied a headband around your head, and swung those blue sticks around while cheering so hard for me! Seeing that was so fun that it gave me all my energy back!"
One hundred percent pure sincerity poured from her sparkling eyes.
"Just having you cheer for me so sincerely means I accomplished everything I wanted from this Miss Contest!"
That boundlessly energetic brightness struck head-on, and the protest-speech algorithm I had been preparing in my mind shut down at once.
I idly touched the black inverted-cross piercing dangling from my earlobe and, unable to hold it in any longer, let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
"…Seriously. You’ve really mastered the art of making people feel awkward."
I set down the megaphone and shoved my hands into my pockets.
She may have missed the winner’s trophy, but the energy of the blue-haired fairy bouncing beneath Tokyo’s autumn sky was already shining louder than any gold medal could.
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