It all began with the Inter-high preliminaries in May, but Junta decided not to bore his juniors with the details. In their time, both years experienced the same thing: they watched mesmerized as Arakita, Tadokoro, and Kinjou took turns pulling the Sohoku train, and in the end, they all cheered in ecstasy as Arakita bolted across the finish line - "the assistant's treat," as their seniors called it, and Sohoku's way of impressing upon local competitors that until they found an ace talented and brave enough to go toe-to-toe with the Daredevil, they would not stand a chance against Chiba's strongest road racing club. Of course, the current first-years had no idea that the spectacle they had witnessed carried a much deeper meaning than the year before, but for their sakes, for His sake especially, Junta thought it best to leave out the symbolism.

However, something their newest recruits were also oblivious of, and what Junta knew would bring them much delightful anticipation, was what he and Hajime still referred to among themselves as the Omamori Festival.

That summer, with only seven days remaining of the spring term, Arakita showed up to practice not on his Bianche, but an old rental road racer. The change seemed to surprise everyone except Makishima, but soon enough, Kinjou and Tadokoro began to exchange knowing glances as well, which confused those in the dark even more, and positively infuriated Koga, who had been appointed as the mechanic of the Sohoku Inter-high team, and was determined to spend the rest of the term studying their road racers to guarantee optimal performance for all members.

He was soon reassured by Kinjou that Kanzaki-san would allow him to practice on a near-identical Bianche at the shop, and by his fellow first-years that they were equally clueless in the matter, but Koga continued to suspect wanton selfishness and personal bias, until they arrived at the assembly area in Hiroshima, and the doors of Kanzaki-san's delivery van flew wide open, revealing Arakita's secret.

Inside, they glimpsed six road racers, five of which had been fastened into the back uncovered, while what they presumed was the Bianche had been completely wrapped in a translucent plastic cover. Only after carefully handing down the Bianche did Kanzaki-san remove the plastic, and what he unveiled took the first-years' breath away.

They had never seen anything like it. From the handlebars to the rear spokes, and down the length of the entire frame, the Bianche had been covered in omamori shrine-bought and handmade, of all shapes, sizes, and colors under the warm Hiroshima sun.

"I uh, I have some fans at school, and I let them have a little fun," was all the explanation Arakita offered, and though Koga huffed in disapproval, mostly at the thought that the actual ace of the team received no such distinction, all Junta and Hajime remembered were own their soaring hearts, the camera flashes of intrigued reporters, and the envious looks of other athletes as Arakita showcased his Bianche.

The tournament itself dwarfed the preliminaries in every respect. Confronted by the scale and atmosphere of a national event, and the excitement that continued to mount and surge through its massive audience, Junta and Hajime could do little else than marvel at the relative composure of their seniors, while they themselves gaped like a pair of mackerels out of the water.

As they unpacked, the first-years caught the reigning champions marching through the crowd like a regiment on parade, exuding confidence and gravitas afforded only by the most prestigious road racing club in Japan… and within five more minutes, they suffered conceptual whiplash as Hakone Academy's young Mountain God began his loud and desperate pursuit of Sohoku's most elusive member, crying "My fated rival! Makishima Yuusuke! Stop running! Maki-chaaan!"as he chased an embarrassed Makishima around the assembly area. ("I guess even prodigies are human, somewhere.")

An hour later, they attended the opening ceremony with mixed feelings, uselessly wishing one of their own could have graced that podium in any capacity, any at all… and that very day, their wish was granted when Makishima Yuusuke was called onto the stage to accept the red climber tags he had won with Arakita's assistance, who decided to reprise his infamous performance from last year's Nagatoroyama Hill Climb, and carried Makishima to the front lines, launching him ahead of every other climber, Toudou Jinpachi included. Of course, the first-years only heard the tale in the afternoon; for better or for worse, they had spent most of the tournament in the various feed zones and the road between them, where the only excitement to be had was their teammates closing in for supplies.

For his part, Koga continued to openly resent his banishment to the trenches, but even he beamed with pride as he handed Kinjou his musette bag and cheered him on with everything he had. Hajime was much the same with Tadokoro, while Junta gravitated towards Arakita and Makishima, and all in all, their time was agreeably spent on the first two days, when hope and progress were most evenly matched, and friendly banter filled the feed zone despite their own latent competition of who could support their team better from the sidelines. Koga in particular seemed to thrive on this limited form of rivalry, and though he never said so, Junta could tell he had more fun boasting of Sohoku's talented ace than privately booing his tyrannical assistant.

And then, things changed drastically. By the end of the second day, most of the pack had been culled by exhaustion, mischance, or the time limit set by the organizers, which left the survivors and their support staff in a miserable state of cutthroat tension. Even the feed zone reeked with silent hostility, and Junta still remembered the jab of a Hakone student's elbow in his ribs, whether accidental or deliberate, when he pushed through their group to give Arakita his supplies.

For his efforts, Arakita smiled at him; a haunted, empty smile.

The Inter-high changed him.

It changed them all, really. How could anyone remain unaffected by such a long and arduous tournament? But the results and the aftermath seemed to weigh most heavily on Arakita, who returned to school a shadow of his former self, absent in every way except physically. He still attended practice like before, but now avoided the clubroom like the plague, and ignored his fellow club members indiscriminately; from Shiraiwa to Makishima, no one could keep his attention for long, though he periodically broke through his haze out of a vague sense of responsibility. To Junta, these random gestures of kindness appeared to stem from Arakita's anxiety for the wellbeing of his friends and the first-years, and so he was only moderately surprised when during the first meeting of the fall term, Arakita raised his hand and said,

"One thing before we start, Shiraiwa."

"Oh?" Shiraiwa paused, more curious than wary. "What is it, Arakita?"

"Teshima's birthday," replied Arakita, his intentions warmer than his lifeless tone suggested.

"Really? When is it, Teshima?"

"On the eleventh," replied Junta, his cheeks flushed pink at the idea that Arakita somehow managed to keep track despite his depression.

"Well, then, I guess we'll have a party," Shiraiwa concluded with a smile. "I suppose I can trust you all to do the honors? Since we third-years will be retiring soon…"

"Leave it to us," nodded Kinjou.

"I'll be in charge of the cake!" declared Tadokoro with obvious pride.

"Splendid!" Shiraiwa clapped his hands. "Alright, then, shall we begin? First, about the upcoming cultural festival…"

His words petered out as Arakita raised his hand again. "…Yes?"

"Let Teshima pick the theme."

The others stared at him confused. Arakita frowned.

"His birthday's in September, so let him pick the theme. It's a birthday gift."

Junta flushed crimson this time.

"N-No, it's okay, Arakita-san, I'm sure that the others—"

"It's fine, Teshima..!" Koga tapped his shoulder with a grin so earnest, it made Junta's heart skip a beat. "You're a creative guy. I bet you'll think of something great for us to do!"

"Please do, Junta.." said Hajime in the smallest of voices, and Yaniguchi gave encouraging nods. In the face of such kind entreaties, what could Junta do but surrender with a good grace?

"I'll do my best..!" he scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Thank you for your confidence in me..!"

"So that's settled," nodded Shiraiwa. "Teshima, I expect to hear your proposal next Monday."

"Yes, sir!"

As Arakita made no more interjections, they blazed through the rest of the agenda, and when the meeting concluded, Arakita tapped Junta on the shoulder and said in that worn out voice,

"Have fun, Teshima-chan…"

Junta nodded fervently, determined to make the most of Arakita's gift, and so come Monday afternoon, he and Hajime presented the road racing club with a detailed and hand-illustrated proposal for a Sport Stars Café, where the members were to wear different uniforms according to Junta's specifications…

"A legskin and a jacket…" mused Kinjou, then cracked a smile at the name scribbled next to the design. "Samezura Academy… Interesting! The patterns on the legskin might be a challenge, but I won't give up. Leave it to me!"

Junta hummed, then showed his leaflet to Makishima next, who let out an awkward laugh at his designated sports persona: a green-haired basketball player in an orange uniform, with glasses and taped fingers on his left hand.

"Looks very um, stylish, sho.. What's this? Shoo..toku? Ah, it's a pun, right? From shoot, because he's shooting a basketball, sho…"

"Y-Yes, that's right," Junta rubbed at his nose. "I thought it would look good on Makishima-san, because your hair's already green anyway…"

"Eh?" blurted Makishima, but Junta already moved past him to Arakita, whom he had saved for last as the senior whose approval would settle everything… and so Junta's horror grew all the greater when Arakita blanched at the proposed design: a white and black baseball outfit, complete with a pitcher's glove.

His jaws clenched too tight to speak. Only his eyes moved, darting from the illustration to Junta and back in what seemed to be suspicion, even enmity.

"Arakita-san..?" mumbled Junta, his chest growing cold. Sensing trouble, Makishima glanced at the drawing and let out a strangled sound that finally snapped Arakita out of his stupor.

"A-Ah.. it's, uh… it's really…" he forced out the words, then passed the proposal to Makishima and jerked to his feet. "I need some fresh air."

A moment later, the clubroom door closed behind him. The third-years exchanged confused looks.

"Arakita-san…" breathed Junta. Makishima cleared his throat.

"Um.. Teshima? Can I ask why you picked baseball for him, sho?"

Junta glanced to Hajime, who paled, but stepped forward.

"One time, I saw Arakita-san, down by the Kameishi dam.." he explained in a choked whisper. "He was skipping stones, and with each throw, he wound up like a pitcher would… he looked cool, doing that, so I told Junta he should be a pitcher for the café…"

Tadokoro and Kinjou exchanged looks. Makishima rubbed at his neck.

"Yeah, he.. he used to love baseball, but then got injured and had to quit, so now he kind of hates it, so…"

Junta's heart clenched. His hands curled into tremulous fists.

"I upset him… When he even let me be in charge of the theme..!"

"D-Don't sweat it, sho!" Makishima waved a panicked hand. "I'm sure he knows you weren't messing with him, he just, didn't expect this, sho..! Here," he handed back Junta's proposal. "I'll go talk to him, so wait for us, sho!"

With that, Makishima left the clubroom, too. Shiraiwa shook his head.

"Why does Arakita always have to be the odd one out?" he sighed. "Did he really play baseball? He never said anything about that.."

"He was a prodigy in middle school," replied Kinjou.

"Won an award and everything," added Tadokoro. Shiraiwa whistled, and Junta watched as recognition dawned on Koga.

In a record five minutes, Makishima returned with Arakita in tow, who twitched to a halt as Junta and Hajime rushed over and bowed deeply.

"Arakita-san, we're so sorry!" blurted Hajime.

"You don't have to wear that if you don't want to! We can—" Junta tried to say, but a gentle tap on his head stunned him quiet.

"It's fine, Aoyagi, Teshima.." he heard Arakita say, calm and even. "Just tell me one thing," he withdrew his hand, allowing Junta to straighten and face him. "All these guys you drew for your proposal look different, and that baseball guy doesn't look like me, so why this guy and this uniform?"

"O-Oh," Junta scratched his flushed cheek. "He's ah, he's an ace pitcher who's very strong-willed and confident, so he reminded me of Arakita-san…"

Arakita scoffed, but he looked more amused than he had in weeks.

"Alright," he shrugged. "That doesn't sound so bad. I might even do that scar under the eye. I'm not doing the hair, though. It's a bitch fitting a baseball cap over a pompadour, you know?"

Beside him, Makishima turned away and snorted into his hand. Arakita quirked a brow, and then seemed to catch a meaning that eluded everyone else, and cracked a small, tired smile. That was not lost on the anxious first-years or the observant third-years, and so the happy fate of Junta's proposal was sealed… and just a few days after his late birthday celebration at the club, something else happened that restored Arakita to his usual pluck and good humor. (Probably his appointment as vice captain. Probably.) With no more difficulties to contend with, the road racing club was free to concentrate their efforts on the cultural festival, where the Sport Stars Café made a highly successful debut, for more reasons than the first-years suspected at the time.

They sold out within an hour: too little time to properly enjoy the service part of Junta's project, where the second-years prepared the orders, and the third-years served them in uniform and - supposedly - in character. Thankfully, the first-years did think of a backup plan, which was to compete against each other in various sports on the small outdoor court behind the main school building, which turned out to be just as fun a main event as the café was supposed to be.

So much happened on that court that Junta hardly knew how to relate it all, so he only told his juniors about his favorite moments. There was a basketball match, during which Tadokoro picked up Hajime so he could experience the pleasure of a slam dunk; a no-ice skating routine improvised by Shiraiwa, set to a classical tune hummed loudly by the third-years; Makishima wielding his tennis racket like a baseball bat, swinging his baseball bat like a tennis racket, and shooting with an underhanded form; the way Kinjou demonstrated his butterfly stroke while balancing on a stool; and how the members of other sports clubs ended up joining the fun.

END NOTE:

As early as the preliminaries in May, the Youkai's followers were aware that he was on his way to be able to attend the Inter-high, so on the last week of the spring term, Arakita took his Bianche to Kanzaki Cycle for tuning, then placed it in the entrance hall of his dorm building so his followers could hang their omamori on it without attracting the road racing club's attention. He wasn't completely lying about his "fans" either, because he did gain some after the Nagatoroyama Hill Climb. And yes, until the relevant companion piece is out, this chapter is closest look you will get at the taboo second-year Inter-high.

According to the wiki, Teshima likes sports manga, so I decided to make that his starting point for the cultural festival. I did not assign characters to everyone, since I haven't seen or read enough sports manga to do so, but you probably recognized the ones I did: Yamazaki Sousuke (Free!) for Kinjou, Midorima Shintarou (Kuroko no Basket) for Makishima, and Umemiya Seiichi (Daiya no Ace) for Arakita. Shiraiwa's character shall not be named not to throw shade on anyone in the cast of Yuri! on Ice.

If you caught the callback to the very first fic in this series, kudos to you!