Classroom of the Elite: Surviving with the Intel System — Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Men Don’t Just Compare Sizes, They Compare Muscles Too!You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

The current President of the Boxing Club was Sato-senpai, a third-year student from Class A.

He was a man of significant prestige, having secured the runner-up position in last year’s National High School Boxing Championship. In the fiercely competitive world of high school athletics, reaching the national finals was a genuine, top-tier honor. With such a glittering track record, Sato had been scouted by the national team early in his high school career. Upon graduation, he was virtually guaranteed a recommendation to a premier sports university, with a very real possibility of stepping directly into the professional boxing circuit.

Yet, his physical prowess was only half the story. To survive and thrive in Class A, his academic performance had to be equally outstanding. Even without his athletic accolades, his grades alone were more than enough to secure entry into a prestigious university. He was the quintessential overachiever, accomplished in both the classroom and the ring, possessing a future so bright it was almost blinding.

However, with his promotion to the third year, Sato’s role within the club had naturally shifted. He no longer just fought; he had taken over the mantle of Club President and assumed the heavy duties of the head coach. Now, he poured his boundless energy into drilling the second-year members and molding the incoming first-year freshmen.

Sato’s personality was exactly like his signature jab—fast, direct, and entirely devoid of pretense. For him, conversations between men were best settled directly inside the squared circle, letting their fists do the talking.

At noon, the rhythmic thud of leather hitting heavy bags echoed through the gymnasium.

When Shimizu Akira brought Karuizawa Kei into the Boxing Club, they barely had a chance to explain their purpose before Sato burst into a booming, echoing laugh. He didn’t even need to hear the full pitch before slapping a hand on his knee and making the executive decision.

“A manager? No problem at all! We’d be glad to have her!”

Following his enthusiastic approval, Sato threw a powerful, friendly punch that landed heavily on Akira’s shoulder, carrying enough force to make the younger boy stumble back half a step.

Among the sea of fresh faces this year, Sato harbored a very specific, intense expectation for Shimizu Akira. To the veteran boxer, this particular junior was like a piece of flawless, unpolished jade.

Normally, incoming students with exceptional physical abilities already had prior exposure to one or two fighting disciplines. While that sounded like an advantage, it meant they always carried hard-to-correct habitual movements. Karate practitioners, for instance, would subconsciously shift their weight to throw a roundhouse kick during a tense spar—an absolute, disqualifying taboo under standard boxing rules.

But Akira was a completely different breed. Astonishingly, this junior had spent eight entire years doing nothing but practicing the absolute bare-bones fundamentals of physical conditioning. He was like a max-level novice account in an RPG, a player who had stubbornly refused to choose a specialized class despite grinding for years.

Precisely because of this bizarre background, the moment Akira officially began learning the systematic mechanics of boxing, his progress was terrifyingly fast. His lack of specialized habits meant his pure, ingrained fundamentals served as the most precious blank canvas imaginable.

Before the two first-years turned to leave the gym, Sato specifically reached out and patted Akira’s shoulder again, his expression turning slightly more serious.

“You know, you don’t need to come to training so often anymore.”

Seeing Akira pause in mild surprise, Sato smiled warmly and elaborated. “Occasionally dropping by is fine. To be completely honest with you, your progress… it’s truly astonishing.” His sharp gaze swept over the other new students who were currently sweating through their footwork drills by the side of the ring. “Having you here every day might actually crush the motivation of the other team members. If you find yourself with nothing else to do after classes, you should go check out the Student Council.”

Akira nodded lightly, accepting the advice without pressing the issue. He knew exactly what Sato meant; the athletic talent housed within his innate physique was simply too overwhelming for a standard high school club environment.

“That Club President Sato… he really seems to think highly of you.”

On the quiet walk back to the classroom, Karuizawa Kei suddenly broke the lingering silence, her voice echoing faintly in the empty hallway.

Akira shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “He’s just coveting my strong physique.”

Kei’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

Standing there in the corridor, a sudden realization washed over her. When it came down to it, she was fundamentally no different from that straightforward Boxing Club President. She, too, was clinging to Akira solely for the physical protection his strength could provide.

“Asking you to go talk to that Club President for me… I feel a little bad about it now, haha.” Kei tried to mask her sudden spike of awkwardness with a light, airy laugh, averting her eyes slightly.

Akira merely spread his hands in a casual gesture. “Don’t worry about it. After all, those 80,000 points you paid aren’t just for show.”

“Speaking of which—” Kei’s tone suddenly shifted, her eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion. “Why did you go out of your way to protect Sakura-san earlier? Could it be… she also signed some kind of secret agreement with you?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Eh—? No? That’s way too sly! I actually had to pay you 80,000 points for that kind of treatment!”and support the real translator.Read at elysianreads.com This is a stolen translation. You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

“You bought my protection,” Akira replied smoothly, his tone entirely unbothered. “You didn’t buy exclusive protection rights.”

Kei puffed out her cheeks, pouting in clear dissatisfaction at the technicality. Akira merely glanced at her with an indifferent expression, pretending he hadn’t heard her quiet grumbling. The transaction was simple: her money guaranteed that he would shield her from harm, but nowhere in their verbal contract did it stipulate that he was forbidden from extending that shield to others.

By the time the afternoon swimming class rolled around, the stifling summer heat had fully set in. Students were successively filtering out of the main building and heading toward their respective changing rooms near the pool.

As he walked, Akira took note of the unique social dynamics surrounding Japanese high school swimming classes. The girls were required to wear proper, form-fitting one-piece swimsuits, while the boys only needed to wear a standard pair of sports trunks.

For the boys, this setup was practically a public execution of one’s physique.

Watching several slender, unathletic boys awkwardly hugging their arms across their chests as they walked, Akira couldn’t help but shake his head inwardly. In this kind of hyper-exposed setting, the scrawny, unexercised boys were probably a hundred times more embarrassed and self-conscious than the girls in their swimsuits.

However, for him personally, walking around shirtless was completely trivial.

Inside the humid, echoing changing room, Akira pulled his shirt over his head. As he stood there with his upper body bare, his gaze casually swept across the room and suddenly locked onto Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.

The quiet, unassuming boy possessed an unexpectedly outstanding physique. His muscle lines were flawlessly proportioned, and every individual muscle fiber presented a perfect, simplified shape designed for absolute physical efficiency. This refined, almost predatory musculature easily surpassed Hirata Yosuke’s well-toned frame and Sudo Ken’s sheer explosive bulk, displaying a restrained yet ultimate beauty of pure strength.

Looking across the entire class, perhaps only Kouenji Rokusuke’s sculpted perfection and Akira’s own maxed-out physique could even be compared to it.

The gazes of the surrounding boys were involuntarily drawn to these three anomalies. Some subconsciously reached down to touch their own flat, thin abdomens, while others unconsciously straightened their backs, desperately trying to project a bit more mass.

Besides secretly comparing certain unspeakable dimensions in the locker room, this silent competition of muscles was a war all on its own.

“Shimizu-kun, Ayanokoji, how on earth did you guys get physiques like that?!” Ike Kanji suddenly leaned over the benches, his eyes sparkling with a volatile mix of intense envy and deep suspicion.

Akira crossed his arms, his expression entirely serious as he looked down at the shorter boy. “It’s simple. One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, plus a ten-kilometer run every single day. And absolutely no air conditioning, no matter how hot it gets.”

Ayanokoji, still completely expressionless as he adjusted his locker, spoke in a flat, monotonous tone, as if merely stating the weather. “Nothing special. I just inherited my parents’ genetics.”

“Hey! You two!” Ike’s mouth twitched violently before he erupted, unable to hold back his loud complaints. “One of you is clearly spouting nonsense from reading way too many comics, and the other is too lazy to even make up a believable excuse! Who are you trying to fool with such perfunctory answers?!”

The surrounding boys couldn’t help but burst into laughter at Ike’s outburst, easing the tension in the room. Yet, even as they laughed, their eyes still lingered for a few extra seconds on those two perfect physiques. No matter how casually they tried to hide it, that underlying envy and jealousy ultimately couldn’t be concealed.

Shortly after the boys successively arrived at the sun-drenched pool area, the girls began to appear in twos and threes at the entrance of the women’s changing room.

However, to the collective surprise of the male student body, Hasebe Haruka, Sakura Airi, and several other girls did not walk down to the water. Instead, they appeared up on the shaded viewing platform on the second floor, clearly intending to sit out the physical portion of the class.

Yet, before the boys could even begin to voice their deep regret over Hasebe’s absence, a massive commotion erupted near the pool entrance.

Kushida Kikyo had made her entrance.

She walked toward the water with light, bouncy steps. The bright afternoon sunlight reflecting off the rippling pool perfectly outlined her stunning figure. Her fair thighs trembled slightly with each confident step, her full curves appeared even more shapely encased in the tight fabric of the school swimsuit, and the proud, heavy curve of her chest made the boys collectively hold their breath in stunned silence.

“That’s incredible!”

Hushed exclamations and frantic whispers erupted one after another among the crowd of boys.

Standing near the edge of the water, Akira also involuntarily let his gaze linger on her for several long seconds before slowly, deliberately withdrawing his attention.

‘I have to admit,’he thought to himself, the splashing of the water fading into the background.’Kushida Kikyo’s figure is indeed impeccable.’You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.