Chapter Text
Naoya ran pretty fast, he thought.
It made him relatively popular in school, which was good, and made him first pick for most races in the sports day, which was bad.
Not that he minded competing in a race, no, but whenever sports day was coming up, he was caught in the crossfire between all the teams that wanted him in their lineup.
The ones he didn't pick would be very upset, something he also didn't want, because the sports clubs' members were relentless. Which was, really, what you would expect from clubs so focused in teams and strength or whatnot - all the different sports were practically micronations, at this point, nations at war with each other and eventually with him.
Even in class, he could feel stares boring into him from all sides, something that made him very fidgety and made more than one teacher ask if he wanted to go to the bathroom. Which was, as one might guess, very embarrassing.
Maki, bless her heart, tried to distract him by absolutely destroying him at Uno during lunch. It worked, until two familiar faces barged into the room.
Hidehiko Uesegi (commonly known as Brown), and Yuka Ayase. Both rubbing their hands in a way that filled Naoya with dread, with grins wider than a fox who just found its way to a chicken coop.
"Theeeeere he is! Naoyeee... Naoriiiiin..... Naonao, my friend, my boy, our champion!", Brown spoke, gesturing widely, just about loud enough for the neighbouring classrooms to hear. He walked with wide strides, as he liked to do, up to Naoya's seat, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him around with a grin. Ayase was close by.
Maki looked at Brown, then Ayase, then traded fearful looks with Naoya, who gulped and decided to bite the bait.
"Cham... pio-"
"Yes! Why yes, my homeboy!" Again spoke Brown, clapping his hands together just to make sure that everyone in the vicinity came to check out what the ruckus was about, "'Cuz there's gonna be a backwards race on sports day! Officially! Authorized by our dearest principal!". The goggle-donning boy cupped his hands around his mouth to megaphone the words 'backwards race' and 'Officially' to, apparently, everyone in town.
Naoya managed to put two and two together.
"And you want me to run it?"
Brown slapped him on the shoulder with a lot more force than necessary.
"Why I'm glad you asked my good amigo! Yes, our very own *Naoya Toudou*, the *Storm of the Halls*, will be *this class' champion for the backwards race*!", the teen shouted, Naoya pondering when would a teacher show up to tell them to shut up and whether people really called him 'Storm of the Halls'.
The earing-having boy was expecting the many race organizers in class (how come they all had to be in /his/ class?!) to complain, but their concerns were elsewhere. Such was the power of Brown's charismatic misdirection.
"Toudou? Backwards race?"
"I know! The other classes are gonna be eating dust!"
"What? No way, man. He runs fast /forwards/, not backwards"
"Totally! You're setting the poor guy up for failure!"
"You morons! Have you never seen him run in the hallways? He's like a crab! He goes as fast backwards as he goes forwards!"
"Crabs go sideways, dipstick, and besides, the race has turns! The guy can't turn while running backwards!"
"Yeah he can!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"YEAH-UH!"
"NUH-UH!"
Oh boy. It was happening again.
Even Nanjo, who considered himself above such petty squabbles, had closed his book and was staring with that "Don't make me turn this classroom around" look at the group of classmates that were this close to starting a school version of a barfight.
Classroom blitz? Wondered Naoya, as Brown and Ayase moved hurriedly, snaking through the lines of tables, towards the group of generic classmates whose names our dear protagonist couldn't hope to remember.
Yuka wasn't there just for show and she decided to demonstrate that she was as manipulative as her business associate.
"Guys... Fighting is so, like, last year. If you throw punches, you're gonna end up all ugly, y'know?" Casually commented Ayase, twirling some of her hair around her finger, "If only there was a way to solve this without a brawl..."
The squabbling group, both guys and girls, had stopped their fighting then, avidly listening to Ayase.
"Ah, my most dear of homeslices, there is!" Brown said, the size of his grin enough to split his head.
With calm, moderated, polite discussion?
"With some... Discreet bets!"
Nanjo, Maki and Mark sighed, shaking their heads. Of course.
Naoya, on the other hand, was deeply interested.
As the group of disagreeing teens were already placing their bets with the bookees, Naoya got up from his seat and walked over to them, wad of emergency-bet cash in his hands, eyes as sparkly as the surface of a spring lake.
"Hey, I'd like to place a bet! What are my odds?"
His two friends looked over at him with sour faces. The betting classmates lowered their money-holding hands and eyed him suspiciously, muttering amongst themselves.
"Hang on, hang on. Toudou, a word?", asked Uesegi, and threw an arm over the other's shoulders to drag him across the clasroom.
"Do racehorses bet on their races?", asked Brown, with the coldest voice Naoya had ever heard him use.
"Don't call Naoya a horse!", Maki corrected, aproaching the duo with the determination of... Of a... Small horse.
"Answer the question, Toudou"
"N-no?"
"And why is that?"
"Because... They're... Horses?"
Brown stared past the two of them, realizing his mistake.
"Do racehorse riders bet on their races?"
"Jockeys"
"Do jockeys bet on their races?"
"Guess not..."
"Right! Because..."
"They'd make it seem like the race has been fixed..."
"Eeexactly! Smart boy, Naorin, have a sugar cube!"
Maki once again complained against treating her friend like a horse, but Naoya had already taken the sugar cube from Brown's hand. The girl gave him a disappointed stare, to which the boy replied with a shrug. This was probably the only payment he was going to get, right? The girl shook her head as she brushed the topic aside.
"Still, as Naoya's /agent/", she said, removing Brown's arm from around Naoya's shoulders and placing her own in its place, "I demand my client be given financial compensation regardless of result!"
"...Nhuh?"
"...Give him money whether he wins or he loses"
Brown shook his head, crossing his arms.
"And where am I gonna get that money if he loses, huh? From my own pocket?" The boy gestured with his thumb to the classmates behind him, who were now placing bets with Ayase, "I'm counting on the schmucks who don't know your backwards-trot to provide my funds!"
"Let me pitch in too, then!"
The trio watched as Masao, often called Mark, approached them with hands in his pockets. "Two fancy dinners if you lose, Nao'"
Maki turned towards him, dragging poor Naoya along with her.
"Is that all you think he's worth?"
Mark chuckled, placing his hands in a placating manner.
"Alright, alright", he spoke, now crossing his arms behind his head, "Name your price, then, Maki."
The girl opened her mouth to say something, but remembered whose agent she was supposed to be.
She again turned her head to look at Naoya, uncomfortably half-crouching with slumped shoulders in order to accomodate for Maki's shorter height.
"Anything's fine with me, really... A dinner with everyone would be nice", Naoya suggested and then shrugged, wincing from the pain that leaning over was causing on his back.
"Well then, a fancy dinner at Peace Burger with as many guests as my client says!", Maki said, shaking hands with Mark (who blushed Just a little bit at the contact) to seal the contract.
Brown was less than amused.
"Hey! What's his motivation to win if he has a consolation prize!", the boy complained, crossing his arms. Mark looked at him slyly.
"What? You don't trust him to win whether he tries or not?", the blonde boy asked in a mocking tone, which shut Brown up. Hidehiko raised a very unsubtle eyebrow at Mark.
"Of course I do! You ever see him run?!", asked Brown, making a long, sweeping gesture with his hand extended out and flat, making a Vwoosh noise to go along, as if to symbolize Naoya's speed.
Mark merely nodded, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"I have. I was there with ya in SEBEC, eatin' his dust", the boy kindly reminded.
"An' ya still bettin' against him?!"
"I am."
Brown leaned forward, inches away from Mark's face, dramatically tapping his finger against the side of his head.
"You all right in attic, Mark'o? I ain't sure I wanna accept a dinner invitation from someone not sound of mind!"
Mark shrugged with that languid smile of his.
"Who says you're invited?"
Brown turned to Naoya in dramatic shock, one hand to his chest. Naoya dismissed his worries with a shake of his hand. Yeah, yeah, you're invited.
"You're already trying to plant the seeds of this-corn between us! Well", Brown said, standing up straight with his nose turned up, hands to the sides of his coat as the other three wondered if he meant /discord/, "It's not gonna work, Marky Boy! Naoya's my champ, and he's gonna take home the gold for me-"
Maki applied a swift punch to Hidehiko's arm to correct him.
"Ow! Us! I meant us!", the boy corrected himself, rubbing his arm in pain, "Geeeez, Maki! Where'd you learn to punch like that?!"
Maki and Brown shook hands, and then Brown and Mark, relunctantly.
"You'll see, Inaba. Me and Naoya are as thick as thieves!", the goggle-wearing boy said, turning on his heels and hurriedly rushing to Ayase's side, who was counting money, sitting cross-legged on someone's desk in a very brazen way.
"Pshaw, you're just thick, Uesegi!", Mark replied, chuckling to himself before turning to Maki and Naoya.
Who were looking at him with odd faces.
"L-Like dumb, y'know! Thick as in dumb!", Mark hastily corrected himself, turning an intense shade of red. "G-Gah, nevermind!", the boy stammered, pulling his hat over his face and stumbling back to his seat.
Naoya sighed, still hunched down due to Maki's arm over his shoulder.
"Oh, right! I should've probably tried to get you out of the situation!", the girl said, placing a hand over her mouth in realization.
"It's fine, Maki", the boy once again sighed, patting the hand on his shoulder, "I'm just sad they didn't take my bet..."