Crushing Hard: Beyond Muscles & Makeup

One lunch break in early autumn.

The training room attached to the high school gymnasium was filled with a quiet heat and a lot of tension.

Twenty or thirty muscular male students were packed into the room lined with training machines.

They were members of the judo and rugby clubs.

They were watching the bench press rack with bated breath. Weight plates were stacked on the barbell in multiple layers, like a Baumkuchen cake.

The weight was actually 130 kilograms. Even a typical scooter body weighs less than 100 kilograms.

Near the rack, two large guys—the judo club captain and the rugby club captain—were trying to steady their ragged breathing, but even they couldn't lift the 130-kilogram barbell.

That's why now, everyone's attention was focused on the final challenger.

Namely, me—Koshi Suda.

Haaaah . . .

Sharpening my concentration with a deep breath, I slowly approached the bench press.

Go, Suda!

Fiiiiight!

Deep, masculine cheers rose from all directions.

I wasn't in the judo club or the rugby club. I was not part of any club in the school, though I was on good terms with both groups.

Just because I wasn't in any club didn't make this a reckless challenge for me.

Although I was only a first-year high school student, I'd been strength training for nearly three years. I started with home workouts in middle school, and since entering high school, I've been using this training room too, dedicating myself to intensive strength training.

As a result, my short-sleeved, short-legged gym uniform felt tight. My pecs, deltoids, and trapezius muscles made the fabric strain, and even the limbs extending from my sleeves and hems clearly showed a defined muscle structure.

I tightened the wrist wraps, checked the fit of my lifting belt, and lay down on the bench press.

Then I gripped the 130-kilogram barbell and tensed my entire body.

Hup!

With a sharp exhale, I unracked the barbell.

I lowered the barbell while feeling the extraordinary 130-kilogram load on my arms, shoulders, and chest.

Blood surged through my veins, muscle fibers fired. The deep-voiced cheers from around me grew even more intense.

My entire body felt a swelling sensation, like my skin might burst open.

As if releasing that pressure.

NNNNGGGGHHHH! RAAAAH!!!

With a primal roar, I thrust the barbell upward in one explosive motion.

At that moment, thunderous cheers erupted, making the training room shake.

Everyone was excited. I was excited too. After all, I'd just broken my personal record.

After returning the barbell to the rack and jumping up, I saw the judo club captain and rugby club captain wearing respectful smiles.

So you finally surpassed me, huh . . . I hate to admit it, but man, you're seriously amazing, Suda.

The judo club captain was praising my hard-fought effort.

Hah, hah . . . it's nothing special. I was only able to achieve this record because you all were here supporting me. Thank you so much.

I truly meant it, so I bowed my head.

C'mon, you should be more excited, Suda! That's a huge record, man! Gah-ha-ha!

After being congratulated by the rugby club captain as well, I deliberately raised the corners of my mouth.

I was genuinely happy inside, but apparently, compared to others, I'm rather lacking in facial expressions. My friends point this out to me often.

Then the rugby club captain, who had been laughing boisterously, suddenly took on a serious expression and started to speak.

Hey Suda, you really should join the rugby club. What's the point of those muscles otherwise? Such a waste!

It was a passionate recruitment attempt.

The judo club captain wasn't about to stay silent about this either.

Huh?! You rugby club guys barely make it to the prefectural tournament! That's exactly why Suda's muscles are being wasted! Hey Suda, join the judo club! Let's aim for the national championship together!

What did you say?!

You heard me! Got a problem!?

The rugby club captain and judo club captain looked like they were about to come to blows, and the concerned members from both sides hurriedly stepped in to stop them.

Feeling I needed to defuse the situation, I sheepishly addressed both of them.

I'm very flattered by both your invitations, but . . . I am a trainee.

Yes, I was a trainee.

I devoted myself daily to strength training, but not for martial arts or sports.

I wasn't even pursuing bench press records.

My goal was to obtain an ideal body.

To never neglect rigorous training and self-discipline for that purpose was my commitment.

I'm a pure-blooded muscle fanatic who finds profound meaning in that pursuit alone.

The day after benching 130 kilograms, I headed back to the training room after school.

Today was Wednesday.

On Wednesdays, due to the sports clubs' practice schedules, the training room was often empty—perfect for training to my heart's content.

. . . or so I thought.

. . . Hm?

When I peeked through the small window in the sliding door, I saw someone was already inside.

And that someone was a gyaru.

Most users here were guys from sports clubs, and even the few girls occasionally seen were hardcore members of sports teams.

In such a place stood a gyaru in a tracksuit, her wavy blonde hair tied up.

I knew her name.

Aina Inura. We were in different classes, but she was a first-year like me.

She was a well-known celebrity whose fame extended far beyond our school.

Inura had an account on Anstagram where she posted selfies with clothes and sweets, and remarkably, she had over 500,000 followers.

She was a rapidly rising influencer in the Gyaru Nation.

She was vastly different from a muscle fanatic like me in both vibe and cultural sphere. She truly belonged to another world.

Plus, Inura didn't belong to any club, and if I remembered correctly, she wasn't good at physical activity or sports.

Why would someone like Inura be in the training room of all places?

Since there were no other users around, it didn't seem like she was accompanying someone either . . .

Inura was trying out various training machines and exercise equipment with obvious unfamiliarity.

Oh! They have an exercise bike! Wait, what's this? My feet don't even reach the pedals. That's hilarious!

She straddled the exercise bike and dangled her legs.

Whoa! This makes me so much taller!

She hung from the chin-up bar while giggling and squealing with delight.

Ohhh! They even have a balance ball! This is awesome! So fun! Hahaha! Whoa—

She sat on the balance ball, bouncing up and down until she toppled over backward.

It was both endearing and slightly nerve-wracking to watch . . . Don't hit your head, please . . . ?

Eventually, Inura's attention turned to the Smith Machine.

A Smith Machine is a barbell fixed on rails that guide its path. It comes with a safety stopper that prevents the bar from dropping below a certain height, making it safe to perform bench presses and squats.

Inura lay down on the bench and began doing bench presses with the Smith Machine.

She was using a relatively light weight of 10 kilograms, and was raising and lowering the barbell quite smoothly.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but I suddenly caught my breath.

Inura had forgotten to set the crucial safety stoppers.

I hurriedly slid open the door and rushed into the room.

At the same moment, Inura's strength must have reached its limit. She lowered the barbell all the way down to her chest.

And what happens then?

Huh? What?! Wait a second! What's happening?!

Realizing the situation she was in, Inura called out in panic.

Since she hadn't set the safety stopper, Inura was trapped between the 10-kilogram barbell and the bench press, unable to move.

What is this? What do I do . . . ?!I really can't move . . . ?!S-Someone—

Fear mixed into Inura's voice as she called for help, and almost simultaneously—

I moved immediately to help her.

Hup!

I lifted the barbell in one breath and freed Inura.

Haa, haa, uh, ah . . .

Inura remained lying down, momentarily dazed. She must have been truly desperate, as the corners of her eyes were moist with tears.

When her eyes finally focused on me, Inura sprang up with a look of surprise.

S-Suda?!

Yeah.

Actually, Inura and I came from the same middle school and were acquainted with each other.

At one point, we even got along well due to some complicated circumstances.

But that was no longer the case.

W-wait, wait, wait, no way, this can't be happening, am I dreaming? Uh, um.

The moment Inura realized who I was, she turned bright red and became flustered.

Even her trademark cat-like eyes were downcast, refusing to meet my gaze.

. . .

Her mouth opened and closed as if searching for words, but in the end, she just pressed her lips tightly together and fell silent.

She was probably embarrassed that I'd seen her in such a compromising situation.

But this is how Inura always acts toward me.

I don't know the exact reason, but she started acting strangely distant at some point, but only toward me.

She became cold, or rather, she started showing nothing but awkward expressions.

She began acting like she was avoiding me . . . or even as if she disliked me.

So . . .

Well, anyway, I'm glad you weren't hurt. The Smith Machine has safety stoppers, so you should make sure to set them properly next time . . . Well then, take care.

I offered this bit of advice out of concern, then hurriedly tried to leave the training room.

Huh?! Ah . . . w-wait!

Hmm?

. . . T-thank you for helping me. I'll be more careful next time . . .

Oh, y-yeah.

So it was just a thank you—I felt relieved inside.

Inura's cat-like eyes look rather sharp when she's serious, so I was worried about what she might say.

But wait, what? Did you come here specifically to help me . . . ?

From Inura's perspective, if I left now, I'd look like a guy who appeared just for the rescue. But that wasn't the case at all.

No, I just came for my regular strength training . . . I come almost every Wednesday after school.

Oh, r-right. Of course that's it . . . I see . . .

What does she mean by I see . . . ?

While I was curious about that, there was something else that caught my attention even more.

I have to say, it's surprising. I never expected to see you in the training room, Inura.

Yeah . . . I w-wanted to start strength training.

Whoa . . . ! Is that so? That's great. Yeah. Strength training is awesome.

Her unexpected answer made my excitement spike.

Strength training was an ultra-premium tool directly connected to mental and physical growth, an endless wonderland of pursuit.

I was genuinely happy that one more person had discovered its magnificence, nobility, and enjoyment.

B-but, I don't mean I want to get super muscular like you or anything! It's just that, a little while ago, I got a modeling request from an apparel brand through Anstagram.

Modeling? That's amazing . . .

Y-yeah . . .

As expected of an influencer in the gyaru high school community. So she gets these kinds of requests.

I was genuinely impressed, yet also bewildered, as if I was hearing about a world completely separate from my own.

Then Inura covered her mouth with the sports towel she was holding and mumbled one last addition.

S-so I was thinking I might need to . . . lose some weight? That's why . . . strength training . . .

Dieting—probably the most common reason women start strength training.

I understood that. I did, but . . .

. . .

I was at a loss for words.

Inura had probably gotten the wrong idea.

I debated whether I should get involved, but I couldn't help being concerned, so I asked.

. . . Inura? By the way, how many kilograms do you want to lose, and by when?

Well, the photoshoot is around mid-November, so I want to lose about five kilograms by then . . . ? I'm hoping to get my waist nice and trim.

I see. About five kilograms in a month and a half, huh.

. . . Does that seem impossible?

No, it's totally doable.

Really?! Yay!

Yeah. By the way, Inura, what did you eat for dinner last night?

Curry.

. . . What about this morning?

Leftover curry.

. . . I see. Second-day curry is delicious, isn't it?

Yes!

That's not the point.

I even had seconds for breakfast.

That's an automatic fail. I'd heard enough. My assessment was complete.

As I suspected, Inura was completely misunderstanding the situation.

So hey, Suda, do you know any machines that are good for dieting? I might try to work hard on that.

Despite everything, she was already fully motivated. Her attitude toward me seemed to have softened somewhat too.

That only made it more painful, but . . . pretending not to notice Inura's misunderstanding would be dishonest.

With a heavy heart, I told her.

Um . . . Inura? This is really difficult to say, but . . . in your case, what you should work on first isn't strength training . . .

Huh?

You need to restrict your diet.

. . .

I just wanted to tell her that approach would be more effective.

But apparently my delivery was poor.

. . . nngh!

Inura's expression, which had been soft until moments ago—it tensed up visibly.

Her large cat-like eyes that had been looking up at me started darting around, unable to hold my gaze.

And then.

I-I guess you're right! Got it! Sorry for bothering you!

Inura stood up forcefully and fled from the training room.

Wait! I-Inura . . . !

I called after her, but my voice lacked strength and didn't reach her.

Left alone in the silence, I gradually became painfully aware of my blunder.

No, Inura had just made a common misunderstanding.

Many people think of strength training or aerobic exercises like running as methods for weight loss. The reasoning being that they can burn fat through these activities.

It's not entirely wrong. However, from a dieting perspective, those methods are extremely inefficient.

This is because the amount of fat that can be burned through strength training and aerobic exercise is minimal.

In reality, what determines weight and fat levels is mostly diet.

Therefore, dietary restriction is the most important aspect of weight loss.

Rather than doing strength training, one should first and foremost stop eating curry.

. . . but still.

Wasn't my way of saying that just now incredibly insensitive . . . ?

With my already stern face and unfriendly demeanor, saying it like that probably gave off a Don't come to the training room just for dieting vibe, didn't it?!

Or a Don't you dare be eating curry vibe, didn't it?!

Aaaarrrgghhh! This is terrible! I'm the worst! I really screwed up!

She definitely hates me now!

And of all people, it had to be Inura . . . the girl I've always liked!

As I was writhing in agony over my massive blunder, I noticed a sports towel sitting on the bench.

It was Inura's. She must have forgotten it.

She'd probably come back for it eventually, so leaving it here wouldn't be a problem.

However, it felt wrong to just leave a forgotten item after finding it.

. . . Haah . . .

It was incredibly awkward after my blunder, but I had no choice.

I took the sports towel and went after her.

Since Inura was in her gym clothes, she must have headed to either the changing room or classroom—making this guess, I quietly made my way through the sparsely populated school building after classes.

First, I peeked into Class 1-C, Inura's classroom.

For a moment, I thought no one was there. The room was so deserted.

But looking more carefully, there was a girl in gym clothes sitting alone by the window, and it was Inura—I held my breath.

. . . sniff . . .

Inura was resting her elbows on the desk, using her fingertips to wipe away the glistening tears from her eyes.

She was crying.

. . .

Did I make her cry? Was what I said that serious? I felt panicked and confused, but at the same time, I also remembered something.

A certain scene from middle school.

This wasn't the first time I'd witnessed Inura's tears. It was the second.

The first was during the summer of our third year of middle school, in a deserted library after school.

Back then, too, Inura had been crying alone.

That's why I couldn't just stand by and do nothing—I called out to her.

Inura, are you okay?

That one phrase was what sparked my summer memories with Inura.

And now, by some strange coincidence, I had unconsciously spoken those same words.

?! W-What? S-Suda?! Why are you . . . !

When I called out to her, Inura turned around with a start and hurriedly wiped her eyes.

You forgot your towel, so . . .

Oh . . . yeah, thanks for going out of your way.

Taking the towel from me, Inura mumbled her thanks softly.

But her eyes were still tearful, her gaze nervously darting about.

Nnggh . . .

A fierce sense of guilt pierced through my chest.

I bowed my head deeply.

Anyway, forget about the towel! My attitude earlier was terrible, wasn't it?! After you showed interest in strength training, I brushed you off so coldly . . . ! I'm really sorry!

In this situation, I couldn't think of any other reason why Inura would be crying.

That's why I apologized, but apparently that wasn't the issue.

Oh . . . not at all! You've got it wrong, totally wrong! There's no need for that! It's just, how should I put it . . . I realized what a complete idiot I am . . . So I felt embarrassed, or maybe pathetic . . .

When I raised my head, Inura was hunched with her shoulders drooping dejectedly.

An influencer in the Gyaru Nation, always bright, energetic, and radiant—that was my image of Inura.

But right now, there wasn't a trace of that image to be seen.

In contrast to her flashy appearance, she was showing a vulnerable side.

It was the same during that time in middle school. Just like now, Inura had been crying over her own shortcomings.

As if we were tracing back to those memories, I spoke to Inura.

There's nothing to be embarrassed or feel pathetic about. It's totally normal to stumble on something that's new to you. Besides, changing your diet involves nutrition science and exercise physiology, which makes it actually difficult for beginners to tackle it on their own.

. . . Nutrition science? Exercise physiology? I don't understand any of that stuff . . .

Yeah, I was completely lost at first too. Actually, I'm still studying it all. And what I've learned is that not only is there so much about the human body that remains unknown, but everyone's physical make-up is different, so there's no absolutely correct diet method. Yet if you take the wrong approach, you won't just fail to see results—you could actually harm your health.

That sounds impossible then . . .

Don't worry. There may not be a perfect answer, but there are definitely optimal solutions. Would you like to know them, Inura?

Huh?

I'm a muscle fanatic who loves strength training. But at the same time, I also have a bit of a head start when it comes to body shaping in general.

That's why I want to help people who are just starting dieting—or body shaping.

And above all else, I genuinely want to help her.

Even though Inura might not think very highly of me, I like her.

Think of me as your personal trainer. Come to me for advice anytime, about anything.

. . .

At my suggestion, Inura held her breath as if caught off guard.

The uncertainty in her eyes gradually gave way to a rekindled light.

Personal trainer . . . so you'll be like my teacher?

Yeah.

Like back in middle school?

That question resonated deeply in my chest. Because it meant Inura remembered what happened between us in middle school.

I hesitated for a moment.

That's right.

I nodded.

Almost immediately, Inura's complexion brightened, and she leaned forward eagerly to respond.

Yeah . . . yeah! That's perfect! That would be so helpful! I'd love that!

Her enthusiastic self came back when she replied. In that moment, I felt so relieved I nearly collapsed.

If she'd given me a lukewarm reaction like, "Oh, well, I wasn't really looking for anything that serious . . . " I probably wouldn't have recovered from the disappointment.

I wiped away the sweat that I suddenly realized was pouring down my face like a waterfall.

Inura also let out a relieved sigh and sank back against the backrest.

Her hair caught the evening sunlight, flowing beautifully as it shimmered.

And then she spoke.

I'm so glad . . . It's been a while since we really talked, and you've gotten all muscular, but . . . Suda, you haven't changed at all from middle school.

Inura flashed me a bright, friendly smile.

. . .

A wave of nostalgia washed over me.

It was the smile she'd stopped giving me some time ago.

Why had she started avoiding me?

I had no idea. At least, I couldn't think of anything I'd done.

I'd probably done something wrong without realizing it, causing her to keep her distance.

So I figured I should keep my distance from her too.

Besides, Inura was from a different world. My feelings for her were nothing but a hopeless crush.

. . . That's what I'd been telling myself.

And so I too had been trying to avoid any interaction with Inura as much as possible.

But something unexpected happened.

. . . Hey, so, Suda, would you mind . . . giving me your contact info?

Inura timidly held out her smartphone.

Ah . . . yeah! Right! I'll give them to you!

I felt embarrassed about my strange eagerness, but regardless, at that moment, the distance between Inura and me surely narrowed a little.

I became Inura's personal trainer for her diet.

★

I—Aina Inura—am in love with Suda.

It all started in the summer of my third year of middle school, with studying for high school entrance exams.

I didn't have any particular school in mind, but I felt like I had to study for the entrance exams because everyone else was doing it.

That's when all those years of hardly studying finally caught up to me.

I couldn't solve any of the practice exam questions.

I thought, oh no, I need to start from the basics, so I tried working backward through each subject to figure out what I didn't understand. It wasn’t enough to go back to the first year of middle school—I had to rewind all the way to fifth grade.

Fifth grade was when I first got into fashion, so it made a weird kind of sense that I'd sacrificed my academics to polish my gyaru appearance.

And then I felt completely lost.

Of course I knew it was my own fault, but I still felt like crying.

Actually, I was literally crying while working on elementary school practice workbooks.

I was way too embarrassed to tell my friends or parents about it, so I would secretly study in the library after school—

Inura, are you okay?

That's when Suda approached me.

A boy I only knew by face—we'd been in the same class just once during our second year of middle school.

He was the class representative, not yet the muscular guy he is now—just a studious, glasses-wearing honor student.

He seemed difficult to approach, lacked emotions, rarely smiled, and didn't seem to share my interests or sense of humor. We had barely talked before, and yet . . . Suda came up to me when I was crying.

And without laughing at my elementary school workbooks, he started teaching me.

It was tough, but eventually my academic ability reached middle school level, and I was able to start attending cram school.

That meant I no longer needed Suda to teach me.

In our third year, we were in different classes, so we lost touch again, but that just made me watch him from afar more often.

And that's when I realized I had fallen for Suda.

After becoming aware of my feelings for him, I studied even harder than before.

Thanks to Suda lowering his school standards for the sake of having access to the training room, I was somehow able to just barely squeak into the same high school.

But we couldn't get into the same class, of course, and I was so hyperaware of him that I couldn't talk normally like when he was tutoring me. I couldn't even properly greet him when we ran into each other.

Despite managing to get into the same school, time just kept passing with things stuck like that.

While I was feeling frustrated about all this, a modeling offer landed in my lap.

When the offer came in, I was super excited but also felt a lot of pressure. But since it was such a great opportunity, I decided to go ahead and accept it.

The problem, though, was my weight. My body shape.

As my Anstagram followers increased, I'd been having more fun posting, which meant I was trying out more sweets and snacks—and I'd started to develop a little inner tube around my stomach.

Obviously, I couldn't be a model like this.

I had to diet and lose weight.

When it comes to dieting, that means exercise, right? Strength training? Maybe I should do abs or running—thinking along those lines, I realized our school has facilities for that sort of thing, so I decided to check out the training room.

I knew Suda frequented the training room too, so I thought it might create some kind of opportunity between us . . . I went with that small hope in mind.

But the result was a complete disaster.

I forgot to set the safety device on the machine, which led to Suda seeing me in an embarrassing position, and of all people, it was Suda who pointed out that my dieting approach was completely wrong.

Faced with my own incompetence, I couldn't help but cry.

I felt even more pathetic for breaking down in tears.

But even then, Suda spoke to me kindly again.

He agreed to be my personal trainer for my diet—to be my teacher.

Just like in middle school. Just like when I was crying while working on elementary school workbooks.

Suda helps me even when I'm a complete mess.

He doesn't laugh at my shortcomings, but simply and directly supports me.

He might have transformed into a muscular guy since middle school, but Suda hasn't changed at all from back then.

I really am in love with Suda, just as I thought.

So.

Alright, Inura, let's aim to lose five kilos in six weeks.

Yeah, I'll work super hard! I can do it!

With Suda supporting me, I can accomplish anything.