Chapter 3: In-Class Voting

Chapter 3:
In-Class Voting

 

THE FOLLOWING DAY was Tuesday, March 2nd.

Chabashira strode into morning homeroom shortly after the bell rang. It was a sight we saw every single day, and my classmates were all relaxed. She’d announced our test results yesterday, informing us that we had all successfully passed the year-end exam. And there were still a few days left before the final special exam of the year began on March 8th. There was no reason for anyone to be nervous, so their relaxed state was only natural.

However, Chabashira had a remarkably grim look on her face as she stood at the podium. She projected a sense of tension and anxiety, and those feelings spread to the students, too.

“Um, did something happen?”

Hirata, the person always putting the harmony of the class first, took the initiative to speak up. She didn’t answer him right away, but remained silent, almost like she was reluctant to speak at all. In the past, she’d always mercilessly launched into an explanation of whatever test we were facing, no matter how harsh it was. Given that, it didn’t take long at all for the students to understand that something was off about this situation.

“—There is something that I have to tell you all.”

She finally opened her mouth to speak. Her expression was as stern as always, but the strain in her voice gave me the impression she was struggling as hard as she could to get the words out.

“Just as I told you yesterday, the final special exam for your first year will begin on March 8th. After you complete this special exam, you will be promoted to second-year students. That is typical of how things have worked in past years.”

Chabashira turned around, picked up a piece of chalk, and extended her hand toward the blackboard.

“However, this year, things will be slightly different from previous years.”

“Different?” Hirata asked, sensing that something was off.

“Even after taking your year-end final exams, not a single person has been expelled this year. Getting to this point without a single expulsion has never happened before in the history of this school.”

“That just means we’re really good, doesn’t it?” said Ike, cutting in. I didn’t think he was supposed to be celebrating, though. If Chabashira were acting like her usual self, she would probably have sternly reminded him not to get carried away.

“That’s right. And the school recognizes that, too. Normally, you could say this would be something to celebrate. Even we, the faculty and staff, hope to have as many students as possible make it to graduation. However, it must be said that problems arise when things don’t go according to plan.”

The way she phrased that was strange. Hirata and my neighbor, Horikita, also sensed something off about her choice of words.

“You sound like something’s bothering you. Like you’re bothered about the fact that no one’s been expelled so far.”

“That’s not true. But sometimes things happen that I didn’t expect,” she replied.

She’d said this would normally be cause for celebration, but her tone was grave. Horikita spoke up, as if trying to banish those feelings.

“What are you trying to say? That there’s something wrong with us?” she asked.

But nothing we said would change whatever Chabashira was about to tell us. She wasn’t free to do as she pleased. She was an employee of the school. Her only role was to convey its instructions to us.

“The school has decided that, in consideration of the fact that no one has been expelled from the first-year class—”

The words seemed to get stuck in Chabashira’s throat. She struggled to get them out.

“—as a ‘measure for exceptional circumstances,’ a supplementary special exam will be held immediately, starting today.”

Chabashira wrote today’s date—Tuesday, March 2nd—on the blackboard, as well as the words “supplementary special exam.”

“Wait, what? What is this all about?! Dude, another special exam? That’s the worst thing ever! The school’s acting like a whiny little kid! They didn’t get their way since no one got expelled, and so they’re adding this other test!” shouted Ike.

Chabashira just ignored everything he said. Students had no right to object, and in fact…maybe she was the one being forced to give us this test against her wishes. She looked much tenser than usual. She wasn’t trying to scare us—it likely that the school really had decided on this test in a hurry.

“Something tells me things are a little different from the way they’ve been so far,” Horikita muttered quietly, having realized that there was no point in fighting back.

“Only the students who pass this special exam will be able to go on to take the special exam on March 8th,” said Chabashira, pausing for a moment after that brief explanation.

“Come on, I don’t get this at all! I can’t believe they’re only giving us this extra special exam now!”

“Your frustration is completely understandable. This special exam is being administered although it was never previously planned for. Even though it’s just one more test than what students in the past have taken, the fact that it places a burden on all of you cannot be denied. This is something that the other teachers and I are taking very seriously,” said Chabashira.

The teachers were taking it seriously, huh? Which meant it was specifically the instructors who were taking it seriously, while the school administrators might not feel the same way. At least, that was one way to interpret her phrasing.

It was certainly true that adding special exams would be tough on the students. If it was a written exam that tested academic skill, then students would have to study harder. If it was a physical exam, they’d have to train for it in a similar fashion. Regardless of the test’s contents, forcing the students to take it was harsh.

That being said, it wasn’t going to go away, no matter how much we complained.

Chabashira continued speaking.

“The contents of this special exam are exceedingly simple. The dropout rate isn’t high at all, either, at less than three percent per class.”

A dropout rate of less than three percent. That certainly sounded low. But this supplementary special exam would certainly be unlike any written exams we’d had so far. There was no need to specifically mention the dropout rate. In fact, such an expression had never been used in any of the previous exams.

The students who noticed this felt even more suspicious. I looked over at my neighbor, who coincidentally looked over at me at the same time, causing our eyes to meet.

“What is it, Ayanokouji-kun?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“If you look at me for no reason at all, that comes off as creepy, you know?”

“…Yeah, I guess so.”

I decided to just look out the window. The classroom was small enough that I could hear everything being said no matter where I was looking.

“Just what kind of test will this be? And what will it be testing?”

“You seem anxious, but really, there’s nothing to be worried about. The supplementary special exam has absolutely nothing at all to do with your intellectual or physical ability. It’s something so simple that, when the time comes, anyone can do it. That’s right. It’s as simple as writing your own name on your test paper. And there’s only a three percent chance you’ll get expelled as a result. You would agree that that’s a low chance, right?” said Chabashira.

She still hadn’t touched on the core issue—the actual contents of the exam.

“…The difficulty level doesn’t matter. From our point of view, even three percent is scary.”

“That’s true. You have a point, Hirata. I do understand how that three percent scares you. However, whether or not you can reduce that risk depends on what you do in the time you have before the actual test. As I’m sure you’ve probably already guessed,” said Chabashira.

“How was that number derived? Based on what you’re saying, it sounds like it’s a simple lottery. Is that it?” asked Hirata.

The odds that someone from our class would be expelled were high. Chabashira had casually thrown out the three percent figure, but the burden this exam would place on the students was greater than they could imagine. Hirata, understanding this right away, pressed Chabashira on that point.

“Please tell us. Just what kind of test will this be?”

“The title of this special exam is: ‘In-Class Voting.’”

“In-Class… Voting?”

Chabashira wrote out the title of the exam on the blackboard.

“I’ll now explain the rules behind this special exam. Starting today, you will have four days to evaluate your classmates. You will choose three students who you think deserve praise, and three that you think deserve criticism, and cast your votes on Saturday. That is all,” she explained.

So the students would be evaluating one another? If you thought about it in simple terms, then students like Hirata and Kushida would get a lot of votes and come out on top. On the other hand, students who were considered annoying or thought to be dragging the class down would sink to the bottom. The urgency of the situation was evinced by the fact that the test was being held on a Saturday, which was originally supposed to be a day off. However, based on what Chabashira said—

“Th-That’s it? That’s all there is to this exam?”

“That’s it. That’s all there is to it. I told you, didn’t I? It’s a simple test.”

“Wait, how do you determine pass or fail—a good score or a bad score—with a test like that?”

“I will explain that part now.”

Tightening her grip on the chalk further, Chabashira continued to write.

“The core of this special exam is the number of praise votes and criticism votes each student gets as a result of the polling. The top student—in other words, the student who gets the most praise votes—will receive a special reward. This special reward will not be private points, but instead, one ‘Protection Point.’ This is a new system.”

We hadn’t heard of that kind of point before. Of course, everyone’s attention was piqued.

“In the unlikely event that you are up for expulsion in the future, Protection Points will allow you to reverse that decision. Even if you fail a test, Protection Points will allow you to nullify questions you got wrong, based on the number of such points you have. However, these points cannot be transferred to others.”

It was no exaggeration to say that every student in the classroom was more shocked than they’d ever been before.

“I’m sure you all understand exactly how powerful these points are. In fact, they are worth, comparatively speaking, about twenty million private points. Of course, if you are an excellent student with no fear of expulsion, then they might not be worth that much,” she explained.

That probably wasn’t true. No matter who you were, you would absolutely want the ability to nullify expulsion. There wasn’t a student out there who wouldn’t welcome having that power. This was an extravagant reward.

In fact…it was far too extravagant. Depending on how you used them, these Protection Points could become an incredibly dangerous weapon. And, given how extravagant the reward was, it was clear that the penalty suffered by whoever came in last would also be significant.

“So, does that mean something bad will happen to the bottom three students…?” asked an anxious Hirata.

“Not necessarily. In this case, only one student—the one who received the most criticism votes in the entire class—will be given the penalty. Other students will not be penalized, no matter how many criticism votes they receive. After all, the purpose of this supplementary special exam is to elect one student to be in the lead and one student to come in last.”

“What kind of penalty is it?”

“This supplementary special exam is not like the ones you’ve had thus far. One aspect, in particular, is different—and it is that this test is being held to resolve the problem of a lack of dropouts. That is the purpose for which it was designed,” explained Chabashira.

Yep. What the students should be concerned about was the reason why this supplementary special exam was being held in the first place. If this exam was being held because no one had been expelled so far, then—

“This special exam is, as I explained, quite easy. This is not a difficult test, irrespective of whether you have poor grades or are bad at sports. But why, then, did the school prepare such an extraordinary reward as Protection Points? Because this is an exam where it is probably impossible to advance without someone being expelled.”

Chabashira turned and looked at all of us, one by one.

“That’s right. The student who places at the bottom will…be expelled from this school.”

If there was a vote, there would be results. If there were results, someone would place first and someone last. And the person who came last would be expelled. The outcome was inevitable. No matter how exceptional the class, or how mediocre, the results would be the same. The only difference would be the question of who.

So that’s what kind of exam this is, huh?

The school, frustrated by the lack of students getting expelled, had decided to hold this supplementary exam. It was an exam that had to result in someone being kicked out—if not, there would be no point in holding it in the first place. But the person who popped up in my mind was none other than Sakayanagi’s father, the board chairman. You couldn’t assess everything there was to know about a person just from meeting them once, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d implement such an outrageous exam.

“U-Uh, I don’t really get it, sensei. S-So, you’re seriously saying that if someone comes in last place, then…that person is gonna get expelled?”

“That’s correct. That person will be on the chopping block, so to speak. But don’t worry. The class as a whole will not be penalized even if someone is expelled this time around. That’s the nature of this exam,” replied Chabashira.

This was clearly different from the special exams we’d seen thus far. Although the probability of expulsion varied from individual to individual, there was usually an equal chance for everyone to avoid expulsion together. This time, however, the exam was designed to ensure someone would be sacrificed. This was the “measure for exceptional circumstances” that the school had prepared.

It was precisely because they were pressing for a forced expulsion that they were dangling something like Protection Points before us. But even so, the risk we were being made to bear was disproportionately high.

“You’re probably thinking that this is outrageous. As your teacher, I think so, too. But it’s been decided, and there’s nothing we can do to fight it. We have no choice but to follow the rules and take this special exam,” said Chabashira.

“Seriously? Really…?”

A dark cloud loomed over our class, which had only just managed to survive the year-end final exams. This weekend, one of us would be gone.

“The time you have until voting day is limited, so please allow me to continue explaining the rules. The number of praise votes and criticism votes for each student will be made public at the end of the exam, meaning the entire class’s results will, too. However, information about who specifically voted for who will not be disclosed. The voting will be conducted anonymously,” said Chabashira.

They had to make the voting anonymous if they were going to administer this exam. Praise votes aside, the matter of who gave who criticism votes would continue to be an issue for a long time afterward.

“Continuing on. One praise vote and one criticism vote will cancel each other out. If someone received ten criticism votes and thirty praise votes, they would effectively end up with a positive value of twenty. Regardless of whether it is praise or criticism, you cannot vote for yourself. You are also not allowed to vote for the same person more than once.”

“What if we abstain…? Could we, for example, only submit praise votes?”

“No. Naturally, you cannot. You must fill in three names for praise votes and three for criticism votes. Also, even if you miss school on the day of the special exam because you are feeling ill, you will still have to cast your votes,” replied Chabashira.

That meant we couldn’t leave our ballots blank or abstain from voting. Several students looked deeply troubled. This exam certainly posed a serious threat for people who anticipated getting a lot of criticism votes. The students who’d made it this far by piggybacking on others’ efforts would be feeling all the more pressure right now.

“…No, it’s too soon to be giving in to despair,” said Hirata, offering words of comfort to Ike and the others, to try and calm them down. “Sensei said that it was ‘probably’ impossible. That means there must be some kind of loophole.”

In the tests we’d taken so far, Chabashira had chosen her words to give us hints about how to make it through. But how would that work this time? The ‘probably’ in her statement seemed to imply there were a limited number of methods we could use.

“It’s not easy, but there most certainly is a method you can use to avoid expulsion,” said Horikita.

“Wh-What do you mean, Horikita?”

“If we choose three people to receive praise votes and three people to receive criticism votes, and as long as we can control the voting by having everyone in class band together on this, then we’d essentially cancel everything out, so the students getting only praise and the students getting only criticism would all end up with zero. If we did that, then no one would end up in last place. Am I wrong?” said Horikita.

“I-I see, that makes sense! Wow, way to go, Suzune!”

It was possible, if all our classmates cooperated. But if even just one person turned out to be a traitor, then the student targeted for betrayal would be sent down the path of expulsion. Also, there was a tempting reward waiting for whoever claimed the top spot, in the form of Protection Points. People like Kushida, who hated Horikita, might be a problem. Was it possible to compensate for that by making adjustments to the plan?

If Kushida was assigned to cast a criticism vote for Horikita, that might avert the danger, to some extent. If the final vote totals were made known to us afterward, it would probably help identify who’d turned traitor. We couldn’t afford to backstab each other on a whim.

“What Horikita said just now about controlling the vote would be meaningless,” said Chabashira.

“What do you mean?”

“If no one is selected to be in first place and last place in this exam, the results will be rejected. Whether intentionally or accidentally, if the results end up showing that everyone has received a total of zero, then another vote will be held. In other words, the exam will be repeated endlessly until a decision is made on whom to expel.”

The escape route that the students were desperately scrambling for had just been cut off.

“Wait, isn’t that…kind of a strange rule? If we genuinely happened to end up with a total of zero after choosing who to cast our praise and criticism votes for, then we’d cast our votes the same way the second time, producing the same result. If you overrule the results by force, then you can’t say those results were based on a fair evaluation,” replied Horikita.

“Horikita, your reasoning is correct. If you wound up with a total of zero by coincidence, then it’s true that making you cast your votes again would be contradictory. But think about this realistically. In a test where you’re being asked to rank someone first and someone last, it should be extremely unlikely that you’d just so happen to wind up with a zero-vote total for every single person. No?”

Chabashira made a very good point in her response, too. A zero-vote result across the board wasn’t happening unless the vote was intentionally set up to be that way.

“…Then, what happens if two or more people tie for first or last place?”

That outcome was quite likely.

“There will be a deciding vote. If the vote remains divided even then, and a decision cannot be reached, the school will use a special method that they’ve devised in order to break the tie. I cannot explain what that method is at this current time,” said Chabashira.

So she’d only reveal it to us in the event the vote ended in a tie? The chances of such a deadlock were pretty low.

“There’s no need to worry about that. In truth, the chances of actually getting to a tiebreaker are next to zero,” added Chabashira, sharing my opinion.

“Why is that? I think it’s probably enough.”

“Well, that’s because…where praise votes are concerned, we’ll be asking you to vote for students outside your class, too.”

“Outside our class?”

“You will be asked to choose one student that you deem worthy of praise from the three other classes. Naturally, each of those votes will also count as a praise vote. In other words, in the unlikely event that a student is disliked by their entire class but is liked by everyone in the other classes, it’s entirely possible that they would come out with about eighty praise votes, even after subtracting the criticism votes they would get from their own class,” she explained.

That was quite irregular. It meant you could theoretically secure over one hundred praise votes, which did certainly make the chances of a tie much, much lower. I supposed the big picture for this supplementary exam was now visible.

 

Supplementary Exam – In-Class Voting

EXAM CONTENTS:

The exam consists of a poll, wherein students in each class will each cast three praise votes and three criticism votes.

RULE 1:

Praise votes and criticism votes effectively cancel each other out. Praise Votes minus Criticism Votes = Final Result.

RULE 2:

Students cannot cast votes for themselves, regardless of whether they are praise or criticism votes.

RULE 3:

Voting multiple times for the same person, leaving the ballot blank and/or abstaining from voting, etc., are not permitted under any circumstances.

RULE 4:

The exam will be conducted repeatedly until a first place and last place have been decided. The student in last place will be expelled.

RULE 5:

Each student will also be required to cast a separate praise vote specifically for a student in one of the other three classes. This vote is mandatory.

 

That was all. Those were the details of the supplementary exam. There was no doubt that it was simple and straightforward, but it was also the cruelest exam we’d had so far. Someone from our class, and from each of the other classes, was going to disappear, this weekend.

But…

“Sensei, why did you say that it was ‘probably’ impossible? From what I’m hearing, it doesn’t sound like there are any loopholes.”

“That’s right. There are none. However, there are variables at play. I’m sure this thought has crossed your minds, but things change when you use private points,” she replied.

“You’re saying that we can resolve an expulsion with our points?”

“Twenty million points. If you can come up with that amount, then the school will have no choice but to rescind the expulsion.”

Which was precisely why she’d said “probably” before, huh? Not restricting the transfer of private points meant negotiation was a viable tactic. In other words, the ability to buy praise votes with money was recognized as an ability in and of itself, and you were free to go ahead and do so.

The school was basically telling us to employ what abilities we wished. The skills we’d demonstrated to those around us over the past year. The financial power that we’d accumulated through our exams. Perhaps even what you might call the power of teamwork, through our friendships.

“P-Please wait a minute. Twenty million points, that’s…”

“It’s impossible, even if you pooled all of Class C’s points together. However, you could scrape together points from the other classes, or you ask for the upperclassmen’s charity. If you do that, then it’s not an impossible amount.”

It was true that we could realistically accumulate that much if we transferred points between classes or grade levels. As for gathering enough to protect one person in Class C, however—that would be difficult. The odds were high that not even Class A or Class B could gather enough points for that, even if they collected points from their peers. And even if they did manage to gather that many, it was doubtful that they’d actually use those points to protect a single student. Sacrificing all the wealth you’d accumulated so far was a considerably risky move.

“That is the only method you can use to defend yourselves. Let me just say this: it is absolutely impossible poke holes in the rules set by the school in any other way. Now, the rest is for you to assess and decide,” said Chabashira, finishing her speech just as homeroom came to an end.

As our teacher disappeared from view, the students succumbed to feelings of dread.

“What do we do?! What do we do?! Dude, this is seriously the worst exam ever, isn’t it?!”

“Will you boys shut up?!”

“The hell are you telling us to shut up for?! You’re probably thinking about how you’re going to give me criticism votes, aren’t you?!”

The guys and girls clashed with shouts and jeers, quickly turning into a jumbled mob with both sides on their guard.

“How unsightly,” sneered one male student, watching the guys and girls fighting. It was none other than Kouenji Rokusuke, the single most peculiar student in our class. “Really now, there’s no use kicking and screaming now, is there?”

“And how the hell are you, of all people, so calm about this? Are you even aware of how much trouble you’ve caused the rest of the class so far?” said Sudou, pressing Kouenji for a response.

It was certainly true that Kouenji’s capricious nature had complicated things for the class many times so far.

“You selfishly withdrew from both the uninhabited island test and the sports festival, remember?”

The class’s eyes fell on them. The more weak-willed of them, not wanting to be expelled themselves, were currently looking for someone to be the scapegoat.

“It would appear the one who doesn’t understand this situation is you, Red Hair-kun.” Kouenji crossed his legs and laid them on top of his desk. “You seem to think that what you’ve developed over this past year is the key to this particular special exam.”

“That’s because it is!” snapped Sudou.

“No, it is not. This special exam is focused on the next two years.”

Kouenji outright rejected Sudou’s opinion. No—the whole class’s opinion.

“Huh? What are you even talking about…?” said Sudou uncomprehendingly. He probably thought this was one of Kouenji’s usual ridiculous antics.

“Don’t you see? This special test is, quite literally, a special case. It’s customary that a class that has a student expelled is severely penalized, no? However, no such penalty exists this time. In other words, this is an excellent opportunity to remove an unnecessary student, you see,” said Kouenji.

“Well, that’s all the more reason you’d be a target, Mr. Troublemaker!” snapped Sudou.

“No. I will not be a target.”

“Huh? …And what exactly makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, that’s because I’m quite superior,” declared Kouenji with unapologetic, overwhelming boldness.

Sudou flinched in the face of his unwavering confidence.

“I’ve always placed near the top of the class in written examinations. Near the top of my entire grade level, actually. In fact, I came in second by a slim margin on the year-end final exam. Of course, if I were to really put my mind to it, getting first place would be no trouble at all. You understand that I surpass you when it comes to physical ability as well, don’t you?” added Kouenji, flaunting the depth of his potential.

“Y-Yeah, and so what? It’s pointless if you don’t take anything seriously!”

“I agree. In that case, I will, as they say, ‘turn over a new leaf.’ Beginning with this exam, I will become a useful student, one who contributes to the class through the various exams and such. Don’t you think that would be a rather significant boon for our class?” said Kouenji.

“Wh-Wha-… Who would even believe something like that?! I’m way more useful to the class than you are!” shouted Sudou.

He was completely justified to say so. I had no reason to believe what Kouenji had just said, and neither did any of the other students. In fact, we couldn’t imagine him taking things seriously, starting with this exam. Honestly, it was likely nothing would change. If he made it through this exam, it was obvious that he’d return to leading a carefree life, doing as he pleased.

“Well then, allow me to turn the question around. What you just said, that you are more useful than I. Is that something everyone here believes?” asked Kouenji, not addressing just Sudou, but the entire class. “Actually, I suppose it’s not just Red Hair-kun. There’s really no guarantee that a student who hasn’t been useful thus far might become useful in the future, is there? You can make whatever claims you want, as I just did. But what you really need is hidden skill. If you don’t have that, then you won’t be able to convince anyone.”

The notion that students without ability had to work hard to turn over a new leaf. The notion that students with ability had to work hard to turn over a new leaf. Kouenji was saying that, though those two statements sounded similar, they were actually quite different.

He seemed certain that he wasn’t going to collect criticism votes and end up in last place. If anything, he seemed to be welcoming this supplementary exam with open arms. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t in any danger at all. Depending on how things went, he was at real risk of accruing criticism votes. For better or for worse, he was being much too blunt.

But if I were being totally honest, I agreed with Kouenji. If you considered the class as a whole, then we needed to come to a clear decision about this supplementary exam. It wasn’t a popularity contest—it was a chance to single out and eliminate an unnecessary student for the whole class’s sake.

The exams we’d taken thus far had probably had past instances where students who possessed some exceptional strengths also had some weaknesses, and got expelled because of those weaknesses. To put it more plainly, all we had to do was look at Sudou, the person engaged in argument with Kouenji. Though blessed with great physical prowess, his academic skills were near the bottom of the class. In fact, he’d almost gotten expelled from school once before because of his academic shortcomings.

But, with Horikita’s help, Sudou had started to gradually make up for those shortcomings. As a result, he’d begun to demonstrate his value as an asset to the class.

Like Sudou, most people had both strengths and weaknesses. But there were also more than a few people who weren’t blessed with strengths. They were notable only for their weaknesses, and in a bad way.

Every human being had the potential to grow. But people blossom at different times, and some people just have less room for growth in the first place. That was precisely why we need to make the most use of this test. Unfortunately, it seemed Kouenji was the only person in our class to have come to that realization.

“Oh, shut up, Kouenji, you’re just spewin’ a bunch of crap. I think that you’re the unnecessary one. And nothin’ is gonna change my mind.”

“No matter how incompetent your closest friends might be?”

“Incompetent? …You’re seriously calling my friends incompetent? Screw you!” Sudou slammed Kouenji’s desk and glared at him harshly.

“Yes, I certainly did. I suppose that’s all then, hm? If you wish to decide for yourself, you are free to do so, but in that event… Well, I’m sure with them in it, our class will remain a failure. Truly defective.”

Kouenji, completely unperturbed, casually combed back his hair. His repeated provocative comments had set Sudou off.

“Listen here, you little—”

“Calm down, you two. We need to talk this over calmly. Right?” said Hirata, cutting in.

How many times had Hirata intervened and played the part of mediator like this? It was a sight we’d already gotten used to seeing. However, Sudou wasn’t showing any signs of cooling off.

“Whaddya mean, calm down, Hirata? I mean, you’re gonna be fine, right? You’ll never come in last,” said Ike.

“Well—”

What Ike said had pierced right through Hirata. It was certainly true that Hirata had contributed to the class significantly over the past year. The words of the person who was probably in the safest position of all in this exam probably weren’t going to resonate deeply with the other students.

“Well, I, I don’t know what will happen to me,” said Hirata, denying what Ike said. His words didn’t reach Sudou.

“Hear that, Kanji? Hirata says he doesn’t know what’s gonna happen to him.”

“No way, dude, Hirata-sama is the only safe one here.”

Yamauchi and Ike shared wry grins that seemed to be filled more with exasperation rather than irritation. What they were saying was understandable, though. There was probably no one here who thought Hirata might be expelled. Even if he might get some criticism votes, he’d definitely get enough praise votes to be safe.

“But…”

Hirata tried to speak up several times, but the words just didn’t seem to come. Besides, the special exam had only just been announced. With the class still racked with confusion, no one was ready to calmly accept what he had to say.

“Let’s continue our conversation, Kouenji,” said Sudou.

“I have nothing more to say to you, though,” replied Kouenji.

“Yeah, well I have a boatload of things to say to you,” replied Sudou, pressing Kouenji once again. He wasn’t backing down. The only person who would be able to stop him now was…

“That’s enough, Sudou-kun.”

“Ugh…”

Horikita had spoken up, serving as the voice of authority.

“Don’t get carried away just because your grades have—somewhat— improved.”

“No, it’s not like that, it’s…”

“Quiet.”

“…Okay.”

She had taken complete control over Sudou with just a few words. Horikita then instructed Sudou to return to his seat and take his distance from Kouenji.

“Thank you for the help, Horikita-san.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. Compared to the exam, anyway,” she replied.

After saying her piece, Horikita walked away from Kouenji and returned to her own seat.

“Good work on handling that,” I said.

“It was an unnecessary hassle,” she sighed, sitting down. “But… this really is a troubling situation. Even though things have been uneasy so far, we’ve come together, and we’ve worked together. And despite that, they’re forcing us to kick someone out. It’s just… It’s just a raw deal.”

“A raw deal, huh?” Of course, I understood why she felt like she needed to complain.

“You don’t think so?” she asked.

“Well, there were never any guarantees from the beginning. Not since we started here.”

“…Yes, I suppose you’re right. This exam was just a knee-jerk reaction on the school’s part. I still think it’s absurd, though,” she replied.

“Yeah, it does seem like retaliation for the fact that no one has gotten expelled yet,” I answered.

It was reasonable to feel dissatisfied by this, as Horikita did. Anyway, I couldn’t stay entirely on the sidelines for this exam. Everyone in the class faced a certain risk of expulsion. In fact, as someone who was low in the class’s caste system, there was a real concern that I’d get a number of criticism votes. If I wanted to avoid that, it was best to move all the pieces into place at an early stage.

“I honestly can’t come to terms with this exam, but…” mumbled Horikita.

Despite the fact she was mumbling, I could sense a kind of fierce determination in her expression.

The disquieting mood continued to linger in the classroom as we carried on with our morning classes.

3.1

 

DURING OUR LUNCH BREAK, the Ayanokouji Group held a discussion at the café while we ate.

“Ah, jeez, this is, like, the worst thing ever, isn’t it? I can’t believe they’re gonna make use kick someone out of school. I have no idea what the school is thinking,” said Haruka, letting out a big sigh while poking her straw into her drink.

Keisei was the first to respond. “I would have to agree. But for me, the most unforgivable thing of all is the fact that classmates have to fight one another. It’s the complete opposite of the tests we’ve had so far, which have required cooperation on our part. It’s mind-numbingly baffling.”

“Yeah, man. No matter what kind of exams we’ve had so far, we’ve always been up against the other classes,” said Akito, nodding along with what Keisei said.

“All because no one’s been expelled yet… It’s almost like they’re just doing this out of spite or something.”

Everyone had seemed anxious during our morning classes, unable to calm down as the day went on. Many students were understandably unhappy about the supplementary exam, which they felt was entirely outrageous on the school’s part. Other groups of students were probably saying the same things that we were right now.

“I wonder if there really is some kinda secret trick or something to this. Yukimuu, you’re a smart guy. Can’t you come up with an idea or two?”

“Uh… no? I mean, Horikita’s initial suggestion, about fixing the vote, is pretty much it. I think that the strategy of evenly distributing votes is the only option open to us. But, based on what Chabashira-sensei told us, that seems impossible. Though you could certainly say this supplementary exam is selfish, we can’t simply ignore the rules,” said Keisei.

It wasn’t surprising that Keisei couldn’t come up with a solution, even after giving it some serious thought. No matter how you approached this problem, it looked like our escape routes had all been cut off this time.

“I thought that the school didn’t want anyone to get expelled, either. That’s what I thought, anyway. But now that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“…So that means the school really does want…to kick people out, huh?” said Haruka. There seemed to be a glimmer of hope in her eye, but then her expression turned grim.

“It’s a good idea to not to be too optimistic this time around. We’re probably going to be hit with pretty severe consequences.”

Severe consequences, meaning that someone would be expelled from our class. That was the inescapable future that awaited us.

“…So that means even someone from our group might be gone this weekend,” said Airi, who had been quiet for a while now. She sounded anxious, lightly shaking her head from side to side as she spoke, as if saying she really didn’t want to imagine such a future.

“Keisei, there’s gotta be something we can do apart from just quietly waiting for the test, right?” asked Akito, expecting to hear something that would help quell his anxiety.

Keisei, in response, nodded and looked around at each member of the group.

“You’re right, Akito. There is something we can do to avoid getting expelled. So, here a suggestion. Why don’t we vote as a team, and vote for each other?” said Keisei.

“By vote for each other, you mean write in each other’s names for our praise votes?”

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t imagine any of us are going to be leading the polls in terms of praise votes. But I think it’s a good idea for us to work together, so we can avoid the unlikely scenario of being in last place.”

Even with just the five of us working together, we could each get three praise votes. The important thing was that by doing so, we could negate three criticism votes.

“B-But is that really okay? Aren’t we supposed to pick the people who contributed to the class…? And sensei said that it was pointless for us to try and control the vote…” said the honest Airi, sounding somewhat nervous.

“Well, a certain degree of block voting is kind of unavoidable. I’m sure that Chabashira-sensei and the other students are aware of this. Besides, even if we didn’t do it, other groups certainly can and will. By voting as a group, you can coordinate your criticism votes and hit one person. In fact, we could concentrate as many as five criticism votes on a single person, with our group alone,” said Keisei.

“Five votes… That’s really a big deal, for this test. And if you’re in a big group, it wouldn’t be hard to coordinate ten or twenty votes, would it?”

“Exactly. That means that the better your standing in class, the easier this battle will be for you.”

That’s right. That was one of the key points of this exam. Students who ranked higher in the class caste system would have an easier time attracting votes. Highly outspoken and influential students could also gain a considerable advantage simply by organizing a group attack on a particular student.

“I agree with the idea of us covering for one another, in our group. I don’t want any of us to go,” I said, vouching for Keisei’s idea.

“M-Me too,” said Airi, speaking up shortly after in agreement.

“It’s settled then,” said Keisei, nodding, after recognizing that the decision was unanimous.

“Wait, hold up a second. There’s something I wanna ask,” said Akito. Though he had agreed with Keisei’s strategy, there was apparently something bothering him. “Won’t there be people out there forming groups larger than ours?”

“Of course there will. If anything, the chances of that are high,” replied Keisei with a nod, naturally well aware of the danger. If he’d said we should form a large group ourselves, then I would have had to put a stop to the idea. That wouldn’t be a good move, under the circumstances.

“Then, shouldn’t we make our move early, too? Reach out to other kids?”

“No… Actually, I think it’s best if we don’t do anything to rock the boat until the exam is over. We shouldn’t do anything to start trouble with anyone in class, no matter who they might be. Let’s not form a larger group,” said Keisei.

“So, basically… You’re saying that we shouldn’t do anything to make ourselves stand out, so we don’t get targeted.”

If you were to carelessly draw attention to yourself, you could quite easily become a target, like Sudou or Kouenji.

“Besides, it’s obvious that our group isn’t really equipped to pull off a strategy like that.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Keisei had determined that we should avoid making a large group ourselves. Thankfully, everyone in the group, Haruka included, was convinced by his reasoning. That eliminated the possibility of one of them getting caught up in my strategy and losing as a result, which made me glad.

“But personally, I think that if you do get an invitation to join another group, it’s all right to accept. That’s a pretty important strategy, I think, so you can avoid criticism votes being focused on you.”

Even though we’d all said we’d be focusing our praise votes within the Ayanokouji Group, that was still three votes per person. If you could avoid criticism votes by getting in with another group, even better.

“But won’t that be kind of tough? I mean, we’re a group of people who can’t really do that sort of thing.”

Haruka seemed to be saying that it was precisely because none of us belonged in other groups that we’d created this one. Well, Keisei had probably understood that when he suggested it.

If any of us was extended such an invitation, accepting it would be smart. But while accepting such an invite might be the correct answer, it was also true that there was some danger involved. If you joined up with groups left and right, you might wind up being seen as a faker—someone trying too hard to be everyone’s friend—and suffer for it. Of course, you probably weren’t going to find any groups that would let you in that easily.

“With just three votes, we’d definitely… Well, no, actually, we wouldn’t, right…? I, um, I’m not useful to the rest of the class at all, so… so maybe everyone will use their criticism votes on me…” said Airi, concerned that she might become a target.

If everyone in class were to concentrate their criticism votes on a single person in this test, there’d be little that person that could do to defend themselves. Hirata or Kushida might be able to get enough praise votes to override the number of criticism votes, but…

No, even that wasn’t certain. The essence of this exam was how many groups you could form and how many votes you could consolidate. It was best to assume that there would be very few students receiving votes based on legitimate evaluation.

“You shouldn’t worry too much, Airi. You’ll never make it through this if you worry too much right now.”

“Y-Yeah…” Airi’s expression grew darker, a sign that she still couldn’t help but feel anxious. There were certainly a lot of drawbacks to having a timid personality like hers in a test like this.

“Ugh, this suuuuucks… We’ve gotta antagonize our own classmates and be on our guard around everyone.”

“Yeah. But that’s just the way this test is. Nothing we can do about it.”

“You’re just going to accept it? Just like that, Kiyopon?”

“I mean, it’s not like I want to just sit back and accept it. I just think we have no choice but to,” I replied.

Haruka nodded, seeming a little impressed, and quietly said, “He’s really mature” to herself.

“Oh, hey, by the way. I just noticed this myself a second ago, but get a load of that,” she added, pointing behind Keisei and me.

When we turned around, we saw one of the guys from Class D. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his surroundings, which made him all the more visible. That was probably how Haruka had noticed him.

“There’s somethin’ kinda weird about this whole situation. And there’s somethin’ weird going on with Ryuuen-kun too,” she added.

“He was a pompous, self-appointed king, and now he’s been brought low for all to see. That’s all that’s happened,” sneered Keisei. His tone was so harsh that it made me wonder if he had a particular hatred for people like Ryuuen.

None of this was really surprising, though, considering Ryuuen’s tactics and the way he’d had acted towards the other classes until now. Of course, I was also certain Ryuuen felt no regret about his current situation, and wasn’t really suffering, either.

“But, I mean, this exam’s gonna be really tough for Ryuuen-kun, won’t it? Right?” asked Haruka doubtfully.

Keisei nodded in response.

“I don’t think ‘tough’ is the word I’d use. More like hopeless, don’t you think? He’s been doing whatever he wants all this time. His selfishness makes it inevitable he’ll get criticism votes.”

Akito nodded, sharing Keisei’s opinion.

“He must feel like it’s all been kind of pointless, huh? I mean, since he’s gonna get thrown out of the very class he’d been controlling.”

“Even so, don’t you think he looks kind of calm? He’s just sitting there all alone, reading a book… If I were in his shoes, I’d probably be crying my eyes out…” Airi looked at Haruka, sounding confused

“But don’t you think he’d be that kind of guy?” said Haruka. “Y’know, the kind who’s too stubborn to give up? Besides, in this exam, there’s really no point in fighting if you’re all alone and someone everyone hates. He probably plans to tough it out, standing tall to the bitter end. Don’t you think?”

Her assessment didn’t seem wrong. But the truth was that if Ryuuen didn’t do anything, chances were high that he’d get expelled.

“Miyacchi, go over there and talk to Ryuuen-kun. Ask him how he’s feeling now.”

“It’s not like I can just waltz up and ask him…”

Despite his calm demeanor, there was no changing the fact that Ryuuen still concealed sharp fangs. You had to wonder what the repercussions of carelessly bantering with him might be.

“Stop starin’ at him so much,” said Akito.

“Okaaay,” replied Haruka, responding to Akito’s warning by tossing her hands up in the air.

“Anyway, back to talking about Class C. How do you think we should take what Kouenji said?” said Akito, directing his question at Keisei.

Keisei must have been thinking about that too, because he replied almost immediately.

“You mean the stuff about people being skilled enough to stick around? He has a point, I suppose. But even so, I think that Kouenji, in particular, is an unnecessary student. He’d always getting the class all riled up. To be honest, he’s terrifying.”

Keisei disliked taking risks. If you looked at things from his perspective, I supposed Kouenji was precisely the kind of person you couldn’t plan for.

“Besides… Well, this might come off as a little cruel, but my heart doesn’t exactly ache for Kouenji. He’s probably going to be one of the easiest people to write in a criticism vote for. What about you guys?” he asked.

“I suppose you might be right. If we do have to pick a name, then I guess it’s better to have someone in mind that we won’t hesitate to vote for when the time comes.”

“Um… But even though Kouenji-kun is a rather strange person, he always gets amazing test scores, doesn’t he? I think he contributes to the class far more than I do,” said Airi, speaking up in defense of Kouenji while clearly still feeling anxious herself. “Whenever the test results get announced, I always think, ‘Wow, Keisei-kun and Kouenji-kun are really amazing…’”

“Come on, that’s not good, Airi. If you don’t come to a decision at a time like this, you’re only going to make yourself suffer later, y’know?”

“I know that, but…” Even so, Airi seemed to feel a strong resistance to the idea of just voting someone out.

“Well, at any rate, I think that Kouenji-kun is our pick. Can we all agree on that?” said Haruka.

“I have no objections,” replied Akito.

Haruka looked over towards Keisei, asking him, “Is this a good plan?” with her eyes.

“For the time being, yeah. Since we have to pick three people anyway, we can just change our votes depending on the situation,” said Keisei.

So, the members of the Ayanokouji Group had, at least tentatively, had decided to use their criticism votes on Kouenji. Our opinions on the matter varied—some thought we needed Kouenji, and some disagreed. In my opinion, Kouenji was risky. His capricious whims could have a major negative impact on the class.

But… there was no doubt that he was talented enough to overcome that issue. If Kouenji ever tackled a test or assignment in full seriousness, he could achieve almost anything. Even though I hadn’t seen the full extent of his abilities yet, I was certain he had the skills to do so.

“Well, I don’t hate him or anything but… Well, for better or worse, Kouenji is an unknown quantity.”

That seemed to be partly why Akito was convinced he should use his criticism vote on Kouenji. Kouenji just stuck out, compared to everyone else. Or rather, he was someone you just couldn’t get the measure of, even with all the talk surrounding him.

“Other than that… there’s Ike-kun, Yamauchi-kun, and Sudou-kun. Those three seem like the main targets for criticism votes, don’t they?”

“Yeah. I’d say that those three and Kouenji are very likely candidates for expulsion right now. But I can’t imagine they’ll sit around quietly and wait for exam day. I’m sure they’ll probably try to form a large group to collect praise votes and avoid as many criticism votes as possible.”

“It’s not like we’re in the clear ourselves by any means.”

That was right. The test had already begun. This was a battle to make allies while simultaneously establishing a common enemy.

“Wow. With the discussion we’re having right now…it’s hard to imagine everyone in class was all buddy-buddy just until this morning.” Akito let out a frustrated sigh as he thought about what laid ahead. “I’m just sick of it.”

Haruka must have thought of something, because she looked over at Ryuuen once again. “There are still several candidates for expulsion left. Maybe it would be best if everyone had a chance to avoid getting expelled.”

It was precisely because Haruka understood Class C’s current state that she knew how difficult of a situation that Ryuuen, in Class D, was in. It didn’t matter what kind of person you were. If everyone was out to get you, there was nothing you could do.

“Hey, Miyacchi, Yukimuu. If you were in Ryuuen-kun’s position, what would you do?” she asked.

“It probably wouldn’t matter. I mean, if the entire class is against you, there’s no point in even struggling. If it were me, I’d just give up,” said Akito, expressing that he’d just throw in the towel right away.

Keisei gave Haruka’s question some serious thought, but after a while, he simply shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh? What if he, like, threatened everyone in class or something?”

“That’d just have the opposite effect.”

If anything, there were probably several students who were expecting Ryuuen to do just that. Anyone Ryuuen threatened would probably have no reservations about using their criticism votes on him.

“Well, in that case, what about getting praise votes by yielding to the other classes?” asked Haruka.

“If Ryuuen asked you, would you use your praise votes on him?” asked Keisei.

“Huh? No, I doubt it.”

“There you have it,” answered Keisei with a nod. “I’m sure most people would come to the same conclusion, since they know what Ryuuen’s like. There can’t be a lot of oddballs out there who’d want to help a guy like that.”

“Okay, what if he like, bribed his classmates to buy votes or something?” asked Haruka.

“Even if Ryuuen’s saved up quite a few points, I can’t imagine he’ll have enough to buy a lot of votes. He hasn’t just made a lot of enemies—he’s earned the reputation of being a really troublesome opponent. I don’t see his classmates selling him their votes for cheap,” said Keisei.

“But doesn’t he have a chance to get praise votes from the other classes then?”

“I don’t think so. As someone from another class, don’t you feel like it’d be easier to fight Class D with Ryuuen gone?” asked Keisei.

“Ah… Yeah, you might be right about that. It was scary, not knowing what he’d do next.”

That was exactly why Ryuuen was in this predicament. He’d become nothing but a burden, dragging down the rest of Class D. He might have dared to try collect praise votes and prevent his expulsion, but since even the other classes saw him as a hostile and troublesome foe, many people wanted him gone. There was little benefit to anyone, whether in or outside his class, in deliberately keeping someone who might present a future threat around.

Some students might be wondering what the future would hold. Some might even believe Ryuuen would become their class’s savior. But it was safe to say, based on what we could see, that such students were few and far between.

Even if he did get multiple students to make deals with him to use their praise votes on each other, it would be very difficult to verify if they’d actually held up their end of the bargain. As long as the votes were anonymous, and at least one praise vote actually went through, anyone could lie and say they’d kept their word. In the unlikely event that Ryuuen wanted to dispute the matter, claiming he’d been wrong, it would be too late—he’d already have been expelled. Of course, before you could even get that far, the question still remained of who would even actually want to form a contract with Ryuuen by choice.

“So, he’s totally screwed then, huh?”

“My guess is that he’s doing his best to stay calm. I don’t think he wants to get expelled, but getting all flustered and desperate would just look lame.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true… I guess that would be disgraceful for someone who used to be a king.”

It was a shame, but Ryuuen’s expulsion was a certainty. Of course, if he intended to fight for his life, then the story might turn out differently. But…

Well, no matter how much we argued, we probably weren’t going to come up with any answers. Ryuuen’s thoughts on this situation were something only he knew.

“In that case, why don’t we see for ourselves?” said a voice close to my ear.

It was Horikita. She had a plastic bag in hand, from which peeked the sandwich she was having for lunch.

“See? See what?” asked Akito, confused by her choice of words, or perhaps sensing something was off.

“What Ryuuen-kun is thinking about right now. What’s going through his head. The only way to know for sure is to talk to him,” said Horikita.

“I wouldn’t. It’d be like kicking a hornet’s nest.”

Nobody wanted to approach Ryuuen.

“Well, all right then. Never mind,” said Horikita.

“There’s no point in getting involved with Ryuuen now. He’s got nothing to do with us in this exam.”

“I suppose so. It’s true that he has nothing to do with us. But he might be useful to me,” said Horikita. She paused for a brief moment, then, perhaps because I wasn’t getting up to join her, walked off by herself.

“What did she mean? Might be useful to her…?”

Keisei and Akito shook their heads, unable to understand.

“Hey, uh, isn’t this kinda bad? Don’t you think Horikita-san might be in danger?” asked Haruka.

“I think so too… Kiyotaka-kun,” said Airi.

“…Yeah. I’ll check it out.”

I didn’t think anything would happen, but it would probably be best if she had someone with her, just in case. For better or for worse, Horikita was the sort of person not to mince words. Akito got up to join me, but I stopped him from coming along, then followed after Horikita.

“What are you going to talk with Ryuuen about?” I asked.

“I thought he might be able to give me a useful hint.”

A useful hint? I couldn’t see what Horikita was expecting to get from Ryuuen. But seeing her take action like this, I guessed she had something in mind.

“Did Sakura-san and the others ask you to watch out for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew it.”

Horikita’s pace didn’t slow as we had that brief exchange. Soon after, we arrived at where Ryuuen sat. He had to have noticed us, but his eyes stayed focused on the book in his hands. Based on what I could see from the pages it was opened to, it was some kind of literary novel.

“You’re awfully relaxed, Ryuuen-kun,” said Horikita.

“Oh, look who it is. Suzune, eh? And you got your little tagalong with you, it looks like.”

He suddenly closed the book with a klop. I could tell by the sticker that it was from the library. It went without saying of course, that when he said ‘little tagalong’, he meant me.

Ryuuen briefly glanced at me, but then turned away. He focused his gaze in Horikita’s direction.

“And what do you want with me?” he asked.

I wondered why Horikita was willing to take the risk of making contact with Ryuuen at all.

“I’ll cut to the chase. What do you intend to do in this special exam?” she asked.

“There’s nothing I really can do, so I’m not going to do anything,” he replied.

“So, you’re saying that…you’re prepared to accept expulsion?”

If he left things as they were right now, Ryuuen’s expulsion was, needless to say, inevitable.

“I’m a good target for my class. In an exam where you gotta kick someone out, no one wants to deal with the resentment of the person getting kicked to the curb. But I’m a special case,” said Ryuuen.

He reopened his book and looked back down, perhaps because he felt that this conversation wasn’t worth it. Apparently, he was serious about leaving school. About accepting being kicked out.

“I’m sure people will be casting criticism votes for you. I’m sure many students may feel guilty for doing so, but comparatively speaking, voting for you will be far less of an emotional burden on them than voting for other students. If you do intend to accept your expulsion, then I won’t say anything…and I suppose it won’t just be me. I’m sure there are many people in Class B and Class A who wish to see you gone. For better or for worse, you’ve gone too far, and there’s no one who will offer their hand to you,” said Horikita, hitting Ryuuen with the truth.

The truth hits harder when you’re already aware of it. But the truth wouldn’t hurt Ryuuen at all. He understood and accepted it wholeheartedly.

“You’re probably right. Class D doesn’t stand a chance of winning after I’m gone. As my enemy, the best and most reasonable decision would be for you to crush me right here and now,” said Ryuuen.

Rather than taking it in a negative way though, he seemed to react positively.

“You have quite a high opinion of yourself. That is very like you, Ryuuen-kun. But even so, you got demoted to Class D because you lacked skill as a leader. Isn’t that right?” said Horikita.

“Heh heh. Certainly.”

Class D had been a dictatorship ruled by Ryuuen’s iron fist. Now that the system had collapsed and they’d been demoted to into last place, they were losing their chance to bounce back. However, Ryuuen’s plans had never been bound by class rankings in the first place. Whether you were in Class D or in Class A, if you had enough private points, you could turn things around and win.

Which was exactly why he wasn’t upset by being criticized for Class D’s demotion. Being in Class A might have its advantages, but they weren’t worth much. Ryuuen’s strategy went beyond that. It was an interesting battle tactic, but it also had a few flaws. He was keeping his classmates in check with force, rather than seeking their understanding. He’d been looking so far ahead that he lost sight of his own two feet. That was what led to his defeat and current situation.

“It seems like you and I will never understand one another, no matter how much we talk,” said Horikita.

“Seems that way. Happy?” said Ryuuen.

Despite listening to the whole conversation, I still couldn’t see what Horikita wanted to learn.

“Well, today might be the last time I’ll get to speak with you, so may I ask you just one more question?” asked Horikita.

Apparently, she was getting to the point now. What was she hoping to hear that could serve as a useful hint?

“You’re in a more hopeless situation than anyone than now. If you were to try and tackle this exam seriously…would you be able to make it through without getting expelled?”

Horikita gave him a sharp look as she asked him that question. It was like she was telling him to look her in the eye and give her an answer. So that was why she’d wanted to talk to Ryuuen, despite having no need to get involved with him. She wanted to ask him how he could survive this almost totally inescapable situation, where there was a ninety-nine percent chance he’d get expelled.

“That’s a stupid question. Obviously, I could,” replied Ryuuen, without a moment’s delay. He seemed to be confident in his belief that he could survive if he wanted to. As he stared back at Horikita, I saw no hesitation in his eyes at all.

“Even if you’re bluffing, that’s still impressive. I can sense nothing but confidence coming from you,” said Horikita.

“Satisfied now? Or perhaps you want me to teach you my secret plan to survive?”

“No need. You and I are in different positions.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Thank you. I feel that my resolve has been strengthened a little, thanks to you.”

“Your resolve?” asked Ryuuen.

Horikita nodded.

“Someone will most certainly be expelled in this supplementary exam. That is a fate that we cannot escape. In that case, we need to make the right decision about whom to expel. Do you understand the weight of the words I’m saying to you right now?” she said.

Ryuuen smiled, not responding with a yes or no. “Your efforts might make the rest of your class push you away,” he said.

“If that happens, I suppose it just means that I’m not that qualified after all.”

“Wow, that’s weak. All I’m hearin’ is bluffing.”

“Tch…”

Even though Horikita had remained calm, Ryuuen saw through her composed façade. No—rather than seeing through it, I should say he’d reached out and broken it.

“You’re trying to gain some self-confidence by talking to me… But your confidence, your resolve, it’s all still just for show.”

Horikita was getting a bit agitated at his words, beginning to heat up.

“It’s the cutting someone out that’s the only hard part of this, you know,” Ryuuen added.

“…I can do it. I’ve shown no mercy to any student who has held the class back, ever since I enrolled here,” replied Horikita.

“Nah, you can’t.”

“What do you… What do you even know about me?” snapped Horikita.

“I’ve had plenty of time to observe you over the past year. I know practically everything about you. Besides, I can see the weakness hiding behind the words coming out of your mouth,” said Ryuuen.

Horikita didn’t stand a chance of winning this game of words. The way she’d so carelessly, sloppily said, “I feel that my resolve has been strengthened a little, thanks to you.” The brief silence before she opened her mouth to say, “I can do it.” Ryuuen was quick to notice the things that others would pay no attention to. Horikita had shown him her weakness without even realizing it. Ryuuen was the one controlling the flow of the conversation.

“You’re already trapped in dull, uneventful complacency. It’s your class. There’s absolutely no way you could be cold enough to make a hard choice now. The people who can are the people like me, who have no lingering affection for their class, or like Sakayanagi, who see their classmates as nothing more than pawns,” said Ryuuen.

The kinds of relationships you now had with your classmates, after making friends in class, were entirely unlike the ones you’d had before you made any friends. Certainly, Horikita wouldn’t have hesitated to do something of the sort when she first started at this school. She’d even been okay with expelling Sudou, who’d failed a test. But could she kick Sudou out now? If you asked that question in earnest, the answer was that she absolutely could not. Relationships were always changing.

“You talk a big game, but you really don’t have a plan to get out of this after all, don’t you?” said Horikita.

“Why do you think that?” asked Ryuuen.

“Did you really lose against your classmates? Or did you get beaten by someone outside your class…?” said Horikita, briefly glancing at me for just a minute before immediately looking back at Ryuuen. “At any rate, you’re just going to silently accept that you’ve lost and let yourself get expelled, huh?”

She was trying to provoke him. But Ryuuen just quietly listened.

“It’s like a reward for Ishizaki, the guy who beat me. That’s why I’m just gonna quietly accept it. It’s an opportunity that the rest of Class D shouldn’t miss out on. And of course, that includes you, too. You shouldn’t let this chance go,” he said with a smile, before looking back down at his book once again.

“…I suppose so. Well then, I’ll have to keep an eye on my friends in Class C to make sure that they don’t waste their praise votes on you, even if it’s just by mistake. Of course, even if I didn’t do anything, it’s not like they’d vote for you anyway,” said Horikita.

She left and I followed after her. Ryuuen’s gaze remained directed at his book, not bothering to look back at us.

Horikita seemed both calm and angry as she walked away.

“He is just absolutely, completely full of hot air. A total liar. There’s nothing he can do at all, but even so, he’s just trying to make himself look good, like a show-off. No matter how much he struggles, it’s not going to stop him from getting expelled,” said Horikita.

“I dunno about that. Maybe he really does have some way to get out of it,” I replied.

“It’s impossible. No matter how you look at the situation, there’s no way Ryuuen-kun can avoid expulsion. Even if he apologized right now and tried acting like an actual, decent human being, it wouldn’t change the number of criticism votes he’ll undoubtedly be getting. And it won’t give him more praise votes, either.”

“Yeah, I guess a straightforward strategy like that wouldn’t work.”

“But it would be pointless if he tried bribing others or resorting to threats, either. You were saying the same thing earlier, weren’t you?” answered Horikita.

Yeah, that’s true. I guess she’d heard us.

“Or perhaps you can see what Ryuuen-kun’s thinking? About how he can get out of being expelled?”

“Nope, I can’t at all,” I answered.

I tried crunching the numbers and running the variables in my head, but still couldn’t see any reliable method for Ryuuen to survive in his current situation. There was a necessary part of the puzzle that he was lacking, which he’d need if he was going to survive.

“Then there you have it,” said Horikita.

She left the café, still looking like she was in a sour mood. I turned around and looked over at Ryuuen for a brief moment. What would have happened if Ryuuen and I had crossed paths earlier…?

“No, that’s just pointless speculation. Especially at this point in time.”

There wasn’t any point in giving any further thought to a student who was going to be leaving. I decided to stop thinking about it and return to my group.

3.2

 

THAT NIGHT, I got a phone call from Kei. It was mostly about the special exam.

“Hey, so, for this exam, what should I be doing, anyway?” asked Kei.

“You’ve already started to form a group, right? With the people around you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few people. There’s seven girls in my group.”

Kei gave the names of the six other girls in her group. They were the girls that she was usually hanging around with.

“Everyone’s pretty scared of getting expelled, after all. And well… to be completely honest with you, I have no idea how many people hate me,” said Kei.

“I guess it wouldn’t be strange if you got some criticism votes,” I replied.

“Hey, uh, shouldn’t you not be saying something like that? Even if it’s just a lie?” snapped Kei. She sounded angry.

“It’s best to keep a low profile for now, so you don’t draw any negative attention to yourself. If you stand out too much in a bad way, it could make you a candidate for expulsion,” I reasoned.

“Got it. I’ll make sure I don’t do anything to make people mad,” replied Kei.

“That’s good. Actually, the fact that you’ve broken up with Hirata might actually work in your favor, Kei.”

“Huh?”

“Hirata is really popular with the girls. If you were still going out with him, then some of the students in class might have been planning…to force you out of the picture and break you up themselves, by getting you expelled,” I reasoned.

“Whoa, that’s a scary thought. But it makes sense…”

It was precisely because the vote was anonymous that some people could make some pretty bold moves.

“…You should be good though, right? I mean, you don’t really stand out. And your grades are pretty average, too,” said Kei.

In the eyes of many of my classmates, there wasn’t really anything praiseworthy about me. Nor was there anything to criticize, either.

“Sometimes not standing out is a good thing,” I told her.

“But don’t you think that you might get a vote from Sudou-kun? I mean in the sense that he’d be eliminating a rival, as someone vying for Horikita-san. Though that might just be a selfish assumption on Sudou-kun’s part, I guess,” said Kei.

“You might be right.”

As long as we each had to write down the names of three people, everyone was probably going to get a criticism vote or two. It wasn’t really worth worrying about now.

“But those three idiots and Kouenji-kun are probably the ones in the most trouble in our class right now, right?” asked Kei. Apparently, her group had had a similar discussion to ours.

“They are definitely the most likely picks, but even so, we don’t really know what’s going to happen. Still, Kouenji isn’t really in a good place.”

“He isn’t the kind of person who would try to form a group to control votes, I suppose,” she reasoned.

“Yeah.”

Ike, Yamauchi, and Sudou were clearly going to form a group to try and support one another. Kouenji, on the other hand, was completely isolated and helpless. He also made enemies quite easily, thanks to his bullish attitude. And he’d had an explosive argument with Sudou right in front of everyone on the day the exam was announced. That had to have hurt his chances.

“So, what are you going to do? Who are you going to use your criticism votes on?” asked Kei.

“Still haven’t really thought about it. But basically, I plan on picking the people that won’t be useful to the class in the future.”

“That’s a level-headed approach. That’s very you, Kiyotaka.”

Considering someone would be getting expelled, it was the only way I could make a decision.

“Oh, but… you’re not thinking about people like me, are you?” said Kei.

“You are an important part of the class. There’s no way I would,” I replied.

“I-I see. Well, that’s obvious.” She sounded a little bit embarrassed and surprised.

“If you do happen to notice anything—students being ostracized, or anyone starting to sound like a solid candidate for expulsion—contact me. It’s hard for me to get that kind of information,” I told her.

“Okay.”

I ended the call with Kei.

I’d said that I’d be picking people that weren’t useful to the class moving forward, but that was, at best, just my personal opinion. As long as I wasn’t actively involved in the class, I had no plans to get deeply invested in manipulating the vote. In the end, a lot of groups were going to be clashing with one another in this test, and I intended to calmly accept whatever the results of that might be. Of course, it’d be a different story if I was the one under fire.

Still, as Kei had said earlier, the likelihood of Ike, Yamauchi, or Sudou being expelled was high. Then there was Kouenji. And if you turned your attention to the girls, you could probably say that the people with poor grades, like Inogashira, Satou, and Airi, weren’t in the clear.

However, the fact that groups were still continuing to form meant that votes were probably going to be thrown around for reasons other than grades. Loners like Kouenji and timid people with few friends like Airi would probably be easy targets.

“I wonder what will happen?” I asked myself aloud.

I decided to keep an eye on how the votes were being allocated and prepare for unforeseen circumstances, while continuing to gather what information I could.