29 Target standards

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With padding feet, I strode back to the apartment; the sun was still there, yet the trees no longer emitted a shadow; it was nearing the evening, and I still had no idea what I should start with.

Bitterly I peered inside, feeling dejected; I never liked to study.

Tracing back to the days I spent in the orphanage; I just preferred to sleep all day long.

My grandmother's only way to make me sit in front of a book was to reward me with one of her heirlooms, the sweet blueberries she treasured and grew in her small garden. But I guess to her, I was more precious than them.

Fatty Taro was sitting on a white carpet; in front of him was a chessboard, as his hand skillfully moved from pawn to bishop.

Noticing me, he twisted his neck while his hand never left the board pieces, as he chimed, "Looking awful, huh? did you fell on your face?"

"No, I kissed someone's daughter," I coldly answered and didn't stay to entertain his sarcasm any longer.

He laughed, thinking I am uttering a joke; however, indeed, the trick was on me since his arse flamed the apartment with a musical theater just a minute later.

I never saw someone that can fart sequentially with his play, as each time he moved a chess piece, he let out a deadly missile that randomly chose to abide with the physics laws, diffusing in every corner of the room.

"Behind every great fart a great behind," I confirmed this saying tonight, not just one time but throughout the whole twilight.

After some time, my head had a headache while trying to read my new textbook.

Hogan was the oldest between us.

Accordingly, he's an 18-year-old third-year high schooler that never bothered to listen to whatever the professors had to say; he knew darn well why he got accepted into the academy, and that was to kick other people's asses in tournaments. And that's exactly what he did.

I looked at him to discern his reaction, yet I saw an odd sight, fivesome beer bottles were on the table, two were on his hands, as he gulped one of them in one go like he had a sink in place of a throat.

'Wait, how did he sneak alcohol here?'

His eyes were red, and his mouth lazy. He had lived with fatty Taru last year and was well aware of this problem; hence, each night, he drinks till he passes out to forget about the poisonous skirmish.

'But why wouldn't he just move out?'

The explanation came from the system.

'Good friend indeed!'

I hardly went through the textbook while Taru got up, in his hands a laptop, and on his face a wicked grin.

He tapped me on the shoulders and gave me his headphones, saying, "Put this on; it's good for concentration,"

Hogan grabbed his head and drank even more.

Perplexed, I did what he said but didn't play any music.

Leaning back in the chair, I heard him from the bathroom breathlessly ejaculating, "God heaven!" as his farts still heard.

'...' I was speechless.

The apartment was queer, and its people were even queerer.

Shortly, Hogan got out, but I noticed that he didn't spend more than a minute and a half inside.

'Wait, that was fast?' I internally thought.

Hours passed, Hogan collapsed on the ground, and Taru slept on his chair, occasionally talking during his sleep, "This is easy, G5, A3, C7, F8, B1, And checkmate,"

(A/N: chessboard pieces position can be recognized through the vertical letters from 1 to 8, and horizontal numbers from A to H)

"Oh, you don't like that? How about just two moves? G3, A6, Boom!"

I looked at the board to spot the positions, but my brain cells died trying to find G5.

'Fuck it, let's just sleep,'

Of course, that's what I wanted right now, but at this time, the task was harder than I expected.

In fact, I did not sleep at all; someone like me who lived in the open climate my whole life found the place unbearable. Yet, I did not complain.

Either way, it was worth it; since an idea had struck my mind late at night.

'What if I used narcos to formulate hogan a nutritional plan? And make him teach me jujitsu?'

Great Martial Arts was a skill that I always dreamed of possessing, and now it seems like the opportunity to get world-class training was available.

So, I did just that, measuring his height, weight, and body fat while he heavily snorted in my ears.

(A/N: weight was totally measured approximately )

Then, the early morning came, and the boys woke up.

Glancing over, a delicious breakfast was put on the table.

Taru eyes erected, breathing the savory oatmeal porridge and banana pancakes.

I proudly announced and did my assigned routine of flattering society.

"Here you go, future jujutsu hall of famer Grandmaster Hogan, you indeed made a great choice leaving me your room,"

He was still drowsy. Regardless, his instincts led him straight to the table; as I waited for my cooking skills to kick in.

Hogan put the fork on his mouth, and an explosion of flavor took place in his mouth.

Taru's eyes fastly wandered for an extra plate, but he only found one.

He then said, "What about me?"

I shrugged my shoulders, feigning ignorance, "What about you?"

"Don't joke with me, bastard," his expression seemed miserable.

I grabbed my backpack and said, "No breakfast needed for people who can't even finish a race,"

"Hm?"

Hogan broke into laugher while Taru finally understood what I meant; his eyes almost watered down as he rapidly escaped to his room, looking like he dishonored generations of his lineage.

It had been a long time before he stepped out. I had already left, so he only found an extra plate and a note.

The class was white, and the board was electronic; I entered late, and not like what you foresaw, I did not choose to sit on the last row beside the window.

Slowly, the students started to fill the space; some of them looked at me for quick seconds and averted their gazes; the attention wasn't coming from my face or charm, as I was average in that aspect, but from my build, I had an eye-catching physique, which was apparent behind my uniform.

Then, to my surprise, Aiya, My fourth target, showed up; she had a faint smile on her face.

Nevertheless, it switched to a scowl after our eyes met.

'What's wrong now?' I questioned.

< As I said earlier, Aiya doesn't like poor looking people>

'I don't look poor, though!?'

'Hm? My face is pretty decent!'

'And what I should do then?'

Narcos attended to insult me indirectly, so I went ahead and cut him off. 'Yeah yeah, I know that none of the girl's infatuation bar reached 100%'

"Got it," I had to focus my whole vigilance on trying and maxing out either Miku or Ai infatuation.

Ai had quick infatuation leaps, and Miku only needs one troubling point. The only problem was which one to go with?

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