Story:

The black-ponytailed noble was on the track, mid-sprint, in the 200-meter time trial the boys were running—and she was winning.

Not barely winning, not photofinish winning.

Winning openly, pulling away from the fastest boys in the class with every stride, her legs eating the track in a long, gorgeous, utterly impossible stride pattern that belonged on an Olympic broadcast and not a Wednesday school PE period.

Her large breasts bounced and her black high ponytail streamed and snapped behind her like a cavalry banner—

—and none of it hindered her speed in the slightest. Not one percent. It was as if her body had been designed by a committee that included both a sculptor and a war goddess, with the word "compromise" being voted down.

The male classmates she was passing stopped running to watch her pass, which was, tactically, the only way to keep her from passing them anyway.

"What—WHAT is her 200 meter time—" the PE teacher was staring at his stopwatch, pressing it repeatedly as if it were broken. "That's faster than the athletics club record—in school shoes—"

"THAT'S AGAINST THE LAWS OF NATURE!" howled Miffy, cupping her hands, from the stands. "BREASTS DON'T WORK THAT WAY AT THAT SPEED! I HAVE DONE RESEARCH!"

Butterfly crossed the finish line, slowed to a walk, turned to the wheezing boys collapsing behind her, and inclined her head with flawless, ancient-Japanese courtesy.

"Pray forgive me," she said, formally, catching her breath not at all. "In my homeland, we ride horses from childhood. It seems... the wind of this track is favorable."

The crowd roared—cheering now not only for their otherworldly appearances but for their outright otherworldly physiques—and Peach stood in the middle of the ecstatic chaos of her sports field, arms hanging at her sides, staring at the two sisters like a woman watching a weather system arrive.

Faster than the athletics club. In school shoes. At lunch after this, no boy in this school will be able to eat.

...They haven't even been here one full day.