Chapter 2: Graduation Ceremony

Chapter 2: Graduation Ceremony

Chapter 2:

Graduation Ceremony

M ARCH 24. The Graduation Ceremony.

Today was a big event. It marked the end of the third-year students’ studies, and was also the day they could finally bid this school farewell and enter the next phase of their lives. To the other students, this was just another ceremony they had to attend. But I, personally, was interested in watching it.

The first thing I was interested to see was the result of the showdown between Horikita and Nagumo. I still had no idea how their battle—which they had fought, ceaselessly, to the very last moment—would end. Would Horikita’s brother be able to graduate from Class A? Or would he be defeated by Nagumo’s meddling?

I supposed I could have found out the outcome yesterday in my free time, but I’d stayed in my room because I had things to do. At any rate, all would be revealed today. Besides, I was simply interested in what the graduation ceremony would be like. It was only natural to be excited about things that you were experiencing for the very first time, whether that was a graduation ceremony or a closing one.

Since class time was approaching, I locked my door and headed toward the school building.

“Good morning,” said Keisei, greeting me as I got into the elevator with him. I responded in kind. Since there were several students from the other classes with us, we didn’t really engage in any chit-chat. We just kept quiet, and once the elevator reached the lobby, we left the dorms together.

“We finally managed to work our way up to Class C, only to get knocked back down by the end of the year. Still, I suppose we didn’t take as much damage as I thought we would,” muttered Keisei, his words trailing off like they were being sucked up into the clear, cloudless sky.

Class C being defeated in the final special exam at the end of our first year meant that we would be demoted, once again putting us in Class D. It was a considerable shock to the students in our class. Fortunately, our opponent having been Class A softened the blow a bit, as did the fact that I, as the one with a Protection Point, had helped mitigate some of the tension by playing the role of commander. I suppose you might even say that we’d simply put up a good fight, and that was admirable in and of itself.

Even though we’d been demoted to Class D again, the actual change in Class Points wasn’t too bad. The tentative Class Points as of late March were:

Sakayanagi’s Class A: 1131 Points

Ichinose’s Class B: 550 Points

Horikita’s Class C: 347 Points

Ryuuen’s Class D: 508 Points

These figures would only take effect next month, though. Class Points were determined on the first day of every month, and it was at that point that the classes would change. So right now, we were still in Class C, not Class D. Also, Ryuuen and his followers hadn’t just re-emerged as Class C, but were now neck-and-neck with Class B in terms of Class Points.

If the point totals stayed as they were until the first of April rolled around next month, it would shake the classes up in a big way. But we had to remember there were a lot of variables at this school that could cause Class Points to fluctuate each month. Ichinose’s class had lots of diligent students, but you couldn’t exactly say the same of Ryuuen’s classmates, even if you were trying to be flattering.

It was also likely that the way students went about their daily lives would make a difference in Class Points. I was sure the students of Class B were scared to death right now, but even so, the fact that Ichinose had been able to defend their position to the bitter end all through this year must be a relief. That being said, the difference between her class and Ryuuen’s was a mere forty-two points at present. There was a significant possibility that Ryuuen could seize Class B’s position, such as through the next special exam.

If you looked at just these facts alone, it might seem like we were the only ones losing ground, since we were back to being Class D. But what we needed to remember was how the Class Points were as of April and May last year. Last April, all four classes had started on an even playing field, with one thousand points each. At that point, Class A’s superiority and Class D’s inferiority didn’t exist.

In hindsight, that had probably been our best chance to really establish our position…but, well, we Class D students had lost all our Class Points in less than a month. As a result, the Class Points as of May 1 last year were:

Sakayanagi’s Class A: 940 Points

Ichinose’s Class B: 650 Points

Ryuuen’s Class C: 490 Points

Horikita’s Class D: 0 Points

All classes had lost points between May of last year and now. In fact, you could say last May was the month the competition really began. But keeping that in mind, our class had gone on to gain three hundred and forty-seven Class Points in a year. We might lose some more due to factors like attitude, tardiness, absences, etc., but when all was said and done, we would still most likely have gained between three hundred and thirty and three hundred forty points.

Examining that information led to one conclusion. Which was that our class had seen the greatest increase in Class Points throughout the year. Our gains were far greater than Class A, who had the second highest increase, with one-hundred-and-ninety-one points gained. Considering the fact that we had plummeted all the way to rock-bottom early last spring and been immediately reduced to zero points, you could say we’d done quite  well.

And now that we were entering our second year, my classmates were expected to do even better. Taking into account factors like the growth of leadership skills in people such as Horikita and Hirata, and the overall improvement in our class’s abilities, it was well within the realm of possibility for us to compete with the classes far above us.

Once we were alone, Keisei opened his mouth, as if he wanted to tell me something…

“It’s okay. Most of our other classmates didn’t really blame you for anything,” he said.

He probably thought I was troubled by our defeat, since I was the commander. I didn’t care at all, of course, but I did pick up on his particular wording.

“Most?” I asked.

I was sure he’d intended to say something comforting, but instead, had said something conspicuous. That basically meant that there were some students, albeit a few, who were unhappy with me.

“Well, it’s…I suppose it’s not a perfect situation by any means. It’s just that…while it’s not like people are saying you’re at fault, Kiyotaka, I’ve been hearing some people say there should have been someone more capable in the role of commander,” said Keisei.

Which was, in a sense, synonymous with blaming me. People could be irrational. It wasn’t surprising if some were voicing objections after the fact, even if they’d agreed to something before. Nor was it surprising if some of them felt dissatisfied, thinking the reason we’d lost to Class A was the difference in our commanders.

“Well, even if they run their mouths at you, you’ve gotta stay confident, right? I mean, it wasn’t like anyone else could have been the commander, since no one else had a Protection Point,” he added, after considering that there might be students who’d come to me with their complaints.

“Well, I’m sure most people think so. But then there’s the example of Ryuuen, too.”

When I said that, a wry smile appeared on Keisei’s face. He gently shook his head from side to side.

“That guy is an exception. I think that his recklessness is all just part of his act. In fact, it was Ryuuen—the one person who didn’t have a Protection Point—coming out to compete that caught Class B entirely by surprise and led them to suffer a crushing defeat.”

But that wasn’t true. It was part of a calculated strategy concocted by Ryuuen to achieve victory. His defenseless act and surprise entrance were nothing more than components of his strategy.

“…Hey, Kiyotaka, there’s something I want to ask you.” Keisei spoke up again once we’d exhausted that topic and reached a spot in the conversation where we could transition to another. “When I talked about going ahead and trying to win over Katsuragi on our own without consulting anyone else, why didn’t you report me to Horikita?”

In order to win against Class A in the final exam of the year, Keisei had proposed an idea to Horikita. His strategy was to bring Katsuragi, who had confronted and been defeated by Sakayanagi, over to our side as an ally. But Horikita didn’t approve of his idea, and so Keisei went on to try to win over Katsuragi entirely on his own.

He’d failed, though. Well, in truth, his failure hadn’t had a significant impact, either. Although Katsuragi didn’t agree to cooperate with us, any harm we suffered as a result was entirely negligible.

“Hey, no harm, no foul, right?” I told him.

That wasn’t really the important part to Keisei, of course. Even knowing that, I deliberately offered him words of comfort.

“That’s just because Katsuragi isn’t the kind to use dirty tricks. If we’d been dealing with someone like Sakayanagi or Ryuuen, we’d have suffered a much more devastating blow,” he replied.

Keisei felt an intense sense of responsibility because he had forcefully tried to win Katsuragi over to our side. And he was worried about a future that had never come to be. Judging from the way he spoke, he’d told Horikita about his attempt to try to win over Katsuragi.

“…Oh, yeah, that reminds me. I told Horikita about it. I figured that I should take responsibility,” he added.

He’d openly admitted what he had done, prepared for any reprimand that came.

“Kiyotaka, were you certain Katsuragi would never betray Class A?” he asked, laying his concerns directly before me.

“No, not really certain. To be honest, there was a definite possibility that Katsuragi could have changed sides. Don’t you think so?” I replied.

“Well… I suppose, but…”

I put aside, for now, the question of whether there was a fifty percent or one percent chance of that happening.

“I didn’t report it to Horikita because it slipped my mind is all. I was anxious about whether I could fulfill the duties that came with being commander, and my mind was occupied with those thoughts. In that sense, I had a big responsibility. If things had worked out and you did succeed in winning Katsuragi over to our side, I probably wouldn’t have been able to do my own duties well. We’re both to blame,” I told him.

Now that we’d both come out and said our piece, that put an end to the whole Katsuragi discussion.

“We’re both to blame, huh?” Keisei said. “Even so, I’m painfully aware of my lack of foresight now. Considering the risks, I shouldn’t even have considered trying to win Katsuragi over in the first place.”

While we couldn’t undo what had already happened, we could reflect on it.

“If we’re talking about a lack of foresight, then I’m equally guilty. I was there too, and I didn’t say anything,” I told him.

“Hearing you say that makes me feel a little better.”

While many students remained passive during the exam, Keisei had been desperately trying anything he could to help our class win.

“Besides, I think you figured it out now, right? You understand that you can’t easily succeed with a strategy like that,” I told him.

You could learn a lot from your mistakes. Whether or not you made the most of those mistakes depended on you, though.

“…Yeah, you’re right. I wanted to win so badly that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. Man, it sounds pathetic now that I’ve calmed down enough to think about it,” he muttered quietly, as if reflecting on what happened.

Although his idea to try to win over Katsuragi had certainly been naïve, the fact that he’d taken on the challenge was praiseworthy.

“So, what did Horikita say to you?” I asked.

“She didn’t blame me, even though our entire class would probably have suffered if I’d handled things poorly. On the contrary, she actually said that she wanted me to let her know the next time I thought of an idea. Of course, she did warn me not to be overeager, too,” said Keisei.

It sounded as though Horikita had come to the same conclusion about Keisei as I had. People grew through repeated failures. You can’t be a leader if you care only about results, and smack people down for it…though people who did nothing but fail endlessly had to be eventually cut loose, of course.

“To be honest, I never really got behind the idea of Horikita leading us. Sure, her mind is sharp and she’s athletic. But there’s something about the way she acts—the way she condescends to people—that makes her hard to accept.”

I couldn’t deny that point. At least, not at this current point in time. Horikita wasn’t the kind of person who led by virtue, like Hirata or Ichinose. While she’d been able to make a certain number of allies, she was inevitably going to make enemies, too.

“But…I’m a lot like that, too. I thought that sports were entirely unnecessary, and I looked down on everyone who wasn’t smart. Horikita and I are basically birds of a feather,” said Keisei.

When Keisei had first started school here, he tended to openly scorn students who weren’t academically inclined. He’d thought being a student came solely down to how well you did in your studies.

“But you’re completely different from how you were a year ago, Keisei. You’ve changed a lot,” I told him.

“I suppose so. Honestly, even I find it kind of strange that I feel this way now. I mean, studying is the most important thing, of course. But athletics, communication skills, and even friendship are all important, too. I understand that I need all of those things now, and I suppose it’s the same for Horikita. She is changing, little by little. She’s becoming more dependable and trustworthy than before.”

Keisei didn’t really trust anyone outside of the Ayanokouji Group. The fact that he praised Horikita so openly despite that, complimenting her on the things that she deserved recognition for, made me believe he was being honest about his feelings.

“You might be right,” I agreed.

It had taken a year, and direct contact with her, but the student known as Horikita was finally beginning to be recognized. Horikita’s classmates had gradually begun to accept her ever since the in-class voting exam, but the main reason for this was something other than the pointedness of her strategies and the excellence of her leadership. It was because the wall Horikita put up around her heart was slowly coming down. When that wall was up, she assumed every other student was nothing more than a liability to her, even concluding it inevitable that the weak would be disposed of. It was the same tendency Keisei used to have.

“Of course, I don’t think doing everything Horikita says is the correct answer. If I think she’s made a poor decision, I will not hesitate to call her out on it. Am I wrong in thinking that?” Keisei asked, having gathered his thoughts.

He was saying he would trust what should be trusted, and doubt what he needed to doubt.

“No, I think you’re right. That’s how Class A should be, under normal circumstances.”

No matter how dependable she’d become, Horikita was still a high school student. She might make mistakes—serious ones, even. The more students who were willing to point out such mistakes when the time came, the better. We could stand shoulder to shoulder and talk things out, working to find a solution together. That wasn’t a possibility for the classes led by Sakayanagi and Ryuuen, which were run like dictatorships. If anything, our class might be becoming more akin to Ichinose’s now.

Besides, it wasn’t just important for us to close the gap. We had to do it in a way that worked for our class.

2.1

T HE ENTIRE STUDENT BODY was gathered in the gymnasium. So were all the teachers, as well as some adults that we normally didn’t see around. Everyone present, regardless of status, was fondly watching the graduation ceremony unfold.

This was the moment when the third-year students took their next big step toward a new chapter of their lives. Some would go on to higher education, some would get jobs, and some would remain at a standstill, unable to decide where to go next. They would no longer be categorized as children, but would be venturing out to become independent members of society.

How will I look standing up there myself, two years from now? I wondered. And what will I be thinking about?

I wanted to believe you could still envision a great many possibilities if you’d already decided what path to take. I wanted to believe that what I’d learned here would help me in life, like a source of mental nourishment.

“Now then, we’d like to ask the representative of the class that fought valiantly for three whole years to graduate from Class A to come give a formal address,” the adult hosting the event said into the microphone.

The gymnasium grew even quieter than before.

“Class A’s representative—”

If the student whose name was called wasn’t Horikita Manabu or one of his classmates, then… Well, that would mean there had been a shift in the class rankings as a result of the final exam. Many of the current students were probably paying very close attention to this moment. That was because graduating from Class A was the greatest goal—the only goal, really—for every student at this school.

“…Horikita Manabu, if you please.”

I was sure Horikita Suzune was deeply relieved to hear that name. It was unclear just how much Nagumo had hindered him, but apparently, Horikita’s brother had managed to safely graduate from Class A. He proudly walked up to the stage and then looked out at all the currently enrolled students and other people attending the event.

“Greetings to you all. We’re gathered here on this fine day, when the fresh spring air carries with it the scent of plum blossoms, to witness the graduation ceremony—”

Horikita Manabu began his speech. It sounded like he was expressing gratitude for this magnificent graduation ceremony. Then, he went on to talk about when he first started at this school three years ago.

“I vividly remember beginning my academic career here at the Advanced Nurturing High School and feeling an atmosphere that was altogether different from other schools. I also remember vowing to make my three years here rewarding, while at the same time shouldering a great responsibility for the future.”

There was a feeling of peace in the air as he spoke slowly and calmly. There was something different about the person who now stood in the same place he’d stood at the start of the year, addressing the entrance ceremony of the student council president. As Horikita continued solemnly giving his speech, I sensed a change.

And it wasn’t just in Horikita Manabu. I felt the currently enrolled students had also grown significantly over these past few months.

“Now, this is just a personal note, but as a representative of the student council, I had a few words for freshmen students at the beginning of the year.” Somehow, Horikita Manabu seemed to be in tune with my thoughts. “Compared to when I last saw you, standing up here at the beginning of the year, you have clearly grown.”

At the beginning of the year, Horikita had managed to get the restless first-years in line with his silence. That was something many students didn’t see at the time. Now, there wasn’t a single student speaking out of turn, having their own private conversation. And Horikita Manabu, who was now venturing out to establish himself as an individual in society, was looking warmly at the students who remained.

“Also, I sincerely hope that the second-year students, who will go on to become third-years and be in a position to lead the other students, will demonstrate their abilities to the fullest extent while observing the rules and regulations at this institution.”

A few minutes later, he finally started to bring his speech to a close.

“I promise you that what you are learning at this school will be more valuable and more useful than anything else in your lives ahead,” he added, looking out over the gathered students once more. “When the time comes for someone to stand up here and give a speech next year, and another someone the year after that, I am sure they will understand as well.”

The person who’d give a speech next year… In other words, the leader of the graduating Class A. I supposed that Nagumo, who had just read the farewell address earlier, was probably the most likely candidate among the second-years. The first-years were still in the midst of a chaotic free-for-all, though. Would it be Horikita? Ichinose? Ryuuen? Sakayanagi?

Or would it be someone else entirely, replacing one of those students as the leader of their class? A third of our lives here at this school had passed by in a flash, but that was still only a third. The classes would continue to change, and the number of students would continue to decrease. Even so, only the leader of the winning class would be permitted to take the stage as a representative of that class.

Horikita continued to read off the remainder of his speech, speaking slowly yet eloquently.

“Thank you very much for these past three years.”

Soon, Horikita’s time here would be done. Having addressed the students, he next addressed the teachers, and then the school in general. As his brilliant speech came to a close, the graduation ceremony moved onto the next stage.

2.2

W HEN THE GRADUATION CEREMONY had ended, the current students were the first to leave the gymnasium, returning to our classrooms. The graduates, all the teachers, and the graduates’ parents or legal guardians, meanwhile, would be off to attend a party. Apparently, it was some kind of get-together meant for the graduating students and their guardians to show the teachers their appreciation.

The remaining students were permitted to return to their dorms. However, it seemed that those who were close to third-years, whether because they were friends or because they’d been in clubs together, planned to wait for the graduates to emerge after the party. Maybe they planned to give a third-year flowers, or confess a crush to them, or tell them something entirely different. Some students were excited, while others were quiet and nervous.

“Well, even though we can talk about this during the closing ceremony tomorrow, let’s briefly recap this past semester,” said Chabashira shortly after everyone was seated, turning to look at us. “First of all, I must give credit where it’s due, and say that you fought admirably against Class A during your final exam of the semester. The teachers were surprised at how much you’ve matured.”

Even though we’d lost, the normally sharp-tongued Chabashira was offering us genuine praise.

“You’ve changed significantly since last year, when you first started attending this school; I hardly recognize you now. You’ve really grown so much.”

“Hold up, sensei. We’re back to being Class D again though, right? Isn’t that, y’know, super uncool?” said Ike, his voice filled with frustration.

“Yes, it certainly seems like we’ve been sent back to square one. But you’ve definitely all grown this past year. More than simply closing the gap in class points, you could very well say that you’ve gotten closer to the other classes in terms of ability,” said Chabashira.

“Okay, the fact that you’re complimentin’ us this much actually kinda freaks me out. There’s gotta be somethin’ to this, right, sensei ?” said Sudou.

It was completely understandable why he’d react that way to our instructor praising us. Honestly, we wouldn’t be surprised if she then went on to say we had another exam or something.

“No, there isn’t. This is simply what I think, is all. I’ve been a teacher for four years now, and I’ve been in charge of two classes. Compared to the previous Class Ds I’ve taught, you really are a cut above. However, the same could be said of the other classes. Whether or not you can climb the ranks will depend on your ability to keep putting in a certain level of effort from here, without getting sloppy.”

Tak! Chabashira lightly knocked against the blackboard.

“Tomorrow is the closing ceremony. Even though there are no classes tomorrow, please don’t forget that it is still a school day.”

Having said her piece, she dismissed us. I had no idea how many students would be heading out to wait for the third-years, but I was wondering what my desk neighbor was going to do—the little sister of the guy who’d served as student council president and delivered a speech as Class A’s representative, earlier.

Horikita stared intently at the blackboard, looking frozen in place. I was sure there were a lot of thoughts running through her head. Even though bothering her right now felt like kicking the hornet’s nest, I figured I’d try her anyway.

“You heading out?” I asked.

“To do what?” she replied.

“Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”

“Are you asking if I’m going to go see my brother? If so, then no, I don’t plan on it,” said Horikita, averting her eyes from me as she spoke.

So, she wasn’t planning to go… Hm.

“Wait, were you able to talk to him earlier or something?” I asked.

“It’s not like this is really any of your business, is it? We all have our own problems to deal with,” said Horikita.

I have a feeling you’re the only one with a problem to deal with right now, though.

“If you let this chance pass you by, it’ll be a while before you get another.”

“Well, that’s…”

Even though the ice around her heart was starting to melt, she was still apprehensive and noncommittal when it really counted. I supposed that just proved how strained their relationship had been these past few years.

“I’m gonna go see him.”

“Huh? You’re planning on meeting my brother?” It was precisely because I normally didn’t get too involved with other people that Horikita looked so shocked.

“We’re not that close, but today might be my last chance to see him,” I told her. It wasn’t a bad idea to at least say hello.

“I see…” said Horikita.

“Is there some kind of problem?”

“Not really, no. You’re free to go meet with him.”

“Why you, of all people?” was clearly written on her face, but I couldn’t exactly tell her. I stood from my desk. The teachers were all rushing to the thank-you party right now, which meant Tsukishiro, as the acting director, was sure to be there too. There was no way he wouldn’t attend.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to kill some time, since I have nothing to do while the thank-you party is going on. If you decide you want to see your brother too, let me know and we can meet up later?”

“…I’ll think about it. I wonder how long the thank-you party is going to be,” said Horikita.

She’d said before that she had no plans to see him, but it sounded like she was withdrawing that statement.

“No idea. Maybe an hour or two, I guess,” I told her.

Actually, the thank-you party was scheduled to go for ninety minutes, so we had quite a bit of time before it ended. I figured I’d take care of some business that needed attending to during that time.

2.3

A ND NOW , we’re going back in time a little bit. To yesterday, the twenty-third. On the night that the Event Selection Exam ended, I called a certain someone.

“Hello. This is Sakayanagi,” a calm, mature voice answered.

The person I called wasn’t Sakayanagi Arisu, a fellow student in my grade level, but her father, Director Sakayanagi. The man who had been forced into house arrest due to a trap laid by Tsukishiro. I supposed it wasn’t like he’d have my phone number memorized.

“I apologize for bothering you so late at night, as well as for neglecting to call. This is Ayanokouji,” I replied, identifying myself so that he would first understand who was calling.

“Huh? Ayanokouji…? Ayanokouji-kun?”

I could tell Director Sakayanagi was surprised to hear the surname Ayanokouji, and my voice. I had to give him that information right away, though, to prove this wasn’t a pointless prank call.

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this,” I responded.

“Oh, no, no, it’s just a surprise, is all. How do you know my phone number?”

“I got it from your daughter. She said this is the number I should use when I want to contact a school official.”

While Sakayanagi and I were walking back to the dorms after the final exam of the school year, I’d asked her about it, and she immediately gave it to me.

“I suppose you only gave your phone number to your daughter,” I told him.

It probably wasn’t favoritism, but just that he doted on his beloved daughter. Or so I’d thought, anyway. Director Sakayanagi’s reaction was rather unexpected.

“Arisu did…? But, well… I didn’t give my daughter my phone number, though,” he denied, sounding surprised. He gave a wry, strained chuckle. “How and when in the world did she find it?”

I didn’t get the impression he was lying.

“Is the director’s phone number supposed to be kept secret, normally?” I asked.

“Well, all the teachers know it, of course, and I think it’s included in the materials that we hand out to related staff…”

If so, it wouldn’t be that difficult to get his number. It wouldn’t surprise me if Sakayanagi had just seen it somewhere and committed it to memory.

But there was something that worried me. Director Sakayanagi was the sort of man who valued fairness, even when it came to his precious daughter. I couldn’t imagine him helping her if she came crying to him for something. Why, then, would she bother purposefully memorizing his number? I assumed it wasn’t so she could report to him on recent happenings or to have a chat.

I remembered how happily Sakayanagi had answered when I asked her for the number. Maybe she’d anticipated that I might be in trouble someday, and that I’d ask her for the director’s phone number?

“So, then… How should I respond to you calling me like this?”

Apparently, the director considered that question more important than how I’d obtained his number. Well, I was certain he didn’t exactly welcome things like direct communication from a student with open arms.

“Is there a rule that states that I cannot call the director?” I asked, figuring I’d confirm that first. If he told me calling him was out of the question, this would end here.

“Oh, no, certainly not. It’s not like I’d refuse any calls out of hand,” he replied. “Personally, however, I think we ought to end this call as soon as possible. Now then, what business do you have with me?”

Though he sounded somewhat perplexed, it didn’t seem he intended to take me to task over anything. I supposed that was because there was no rule stipulating that you’d be punished if you called the director.

“Director Sakayanagi. I hear you’ve been placed under house arrest for alleged misconduct. Is it true?” I asked.

“Well, that’s a question I really wouldn’t expect of a student. And such a direct question, too. It’s quite inappropriate for a student of our school to ask the director such a thing.”

He remained soft-spoken and gentle in his response, even as he avoided answering the question. But it was directly related to the main thing I wanted to discuss, so I persisted.

“I would really like an answer, if at all possible,” I told him.

“…Ayanokouji-kun. I don’t know what it is you’re after, but I cannot answer your question. I don’t need to tell you the reason why, yes?”

“Because it’s not something a student should hear, I assume?”

“That’s right. This has nothing to do with you.”

Considering Director Sakayanagi’s position, the situation he was in, and the fact that the students at this school had nothing to do with it, I supposed it was perfectly natural for him to reject me outright in this way.

“I am fully aware of that. However, I have my reasons for asking.”

First of all, I needed to get Director Sakayanagi to understand my situation.

“I don’t know what kind of reasons you have, but you are still a student at this institution. Even if your last name is Ayanokouji or Sakayanagi, that fact remains unchanged. You haven’t misunderstood that, have you?” he asked.

Director Sakayanagi gave me a thorough, proper explanation, rather than dismiss me offhandedly or treat me like a child. I could tell from how he responded to me that he was a capable man.

“Of course I haven’t. The relationship I have with you is no deeper than the relationship you have with any other student here, Director Sakayanagi. I don’t even think it should be any deeper.”

I really didn’t want to be put in a special category. Probably more so than anyone else.

“In that case, we should end this call here. I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear any of this, and—”

“Wait. If you end the call, you’re not going to remove the impurity .”

With those few words, I signaled to Director Sakayanagi that what I was saying was important, so that he could really understand what was going on.

“You’re saying there is an impurity at our school?” he asked.

“Yes. And that impurity is Acting Director Tsukishiro.” I cut straight to the heart of the matter, since there was nothing to gain by drawing this out.

“…What’s the matter with Tsukishiro-kun?” he replied, the tone of his voice changing, though only slightly.

I was sure the idea of “Tsukishiro = impurity” had stuck immediately in his mind precisely because he already had theories about the same.

“During an important exam, where students were competing with one another to test their abilities, Acting Director Tsukishiro enacted a scheme to sabotage that exam. Were you not aware of this, Director Sakayanagi?” I asked.

“Hold on, I’m not getting the whole picture here. Tsukishiro-kun interfered in an exam? What in the world…?”

Director Sakayanagi pretended not to know anything. I supposed that was a natural reaction, since he couldn’t see what my true intentions were.

“The allegations of fraud leveled against you are Acting Director Tsukishiro’s handiwork as well. I’m sure he felt that you and your love of fairness were standing in his way, Director Sakayanagi,” I told him.

Director Sakayanagi seemed lost in thought on the other end of the line. Even though we had something of a connection through the White Room, I was still a mere student. I probably wasn’t qualified to speak with him about the affairs of adults. If the situation at hand was about me , though, then that was a different story.

Well, I was sure Director Sakayanagi already knew that. However, as long as there was no actual harm done, his hands were tied.

“Why would Tsukishiro-kun do something like that? He’s already quite powerful. There’s no need for him to deliberately take down someone like me. Coming to this school and sabotaging an exam? I don’t see why he needs to do such a thing.”

That was the final bit of confirmation I was looking for. Confirmation about whether or not he would share information with me as equals.

“Tsukishiro’s goal is to have me secretly expelled. That’s the only reason he came to this school.” I told him what I knew, stating it as an established fact.

“If you have no basis for saying so, that’s quite a problematic assertion.”

“Yes, I agree. But there’s no time to be casual about this. There’s nothing he won’t resort to in order to achieve success.”

This all came down to how well the director knew my father. If their relationship was tenuous at best, then it was going to be difficult to make him understand what was really going on here. However, based on the responses he’d given me so far, I could make a rough guess. Namely, that Director Sakayanagi knew my father’s affairs— and how his mind worked—quite well.

“You’re saying that sensei… that your father would really go that far, just to bring you back?” he asked.

What he’d just said proved there was a basis for my claims. I hadn’t said a word about my father being the one pulling Tsukishiro’s strings. The fact that he’d made the connection himself, without needing me to say it first, was proof.

“You said that the final exam of the year was sabotaged. Was there any real harm done?” Naturally, Director Sakayanagi had no way of knowing what went on behind the scenes during the last special exam. If he’d known, he would have responded in some way by now.

“I’ll explain.”

During the year-end exam, Tsukishiro had taken control of the system and altered my answers. He needed to steal a victory out from under me in order to remove my Protection Point. Although it was only one win, his actions were illegitimate, and significantly impacted an entire grade level. If our class had come out on top in that exam, we could have been suddenly boosted into the ranks of the upper classes.

As I continued to explain what had happened, his responses gradually grew quieter and quieter. It was clear they were willing to do whatever it took to get one student expelled. And things weren’t going to end here. This was just the beginning. They were going to keep at this until the student named Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was expelled.

“So, there you have it. Do you believe me?” I asked.

It wouldn’t have been surprising if he’d dismissed my words as the nonsensical drivel of a student. But Director Sakayanagi knew my father. He knew about my past. And so he would, entirely of his own accord, naturally come to a conclusion about whether or not what I said was true.

“I have no choice but to believe you,” he said. “That he came to this school to get you expelled. I heard that they were introducing a new system, but I never imagined…”

On paper, the changes were meant to serve the school and its students. In reality, they were nothing more than a way to have me expelled.

“This means he’s willing to do whatever it takes, appearances be damned, in order to bring you back. Is that right, Ayanokouji-kun? I think I understand why you’ve contacted me. There’s nothing that a student could do in this situation.”

I’d figured Director Sakayanagi would say something like that once he understood the situation.

“And I suppose this means you wish to ask for my help,” he added.

“Something like that.”

I admitted it openly. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The only way to fight the school was to directly engage with the school officials. Not to mention that, currently being the acting director, Tsukishiro was the kind of opponent I’d normally have no chance to come in contact with.

“But first, let me ask you… No, I’d like to confirm something.”

“What is it?” I readied myself, preparing to tell him what he wanted to know, whether or not the question was one I could answer.

“Dealing with Tsukishiro-kun—an opponent who can even interfere with the results of exams—will be an extremely arduous endeavor for you. The fact that you’ve come to seek my help, having decided it would be difficult for you to persevere as you are, speaks to the predicament you’re in. And yet, you’re so calm.”

He paused and then continued speaking.

“If perhaps you misunderstand something here, please allow me to address it, and correct any misapprehensions you may have. I am not confident I can live up to your expectations, nor am I in a position to do so.”

I understood what he meant. Director Sakayanagi didn’t have the authority to overrule Tsukishiro, and he was trying to say that if I’d called him with that expectation in mind, I was sorely mistaken.

“I am currently under house arrest due to allegations of fraud. I cannot even extricate myself from my own predicament. For you to expect too much of me would be troublesome,” he added.

I supposed that was why he was emphasizing that part to me, since I didn’t seem to be panicking at all.

“If this were simply a call for help, that might have been the case,” I replied.

“…Meaning?” he asked.

“Until now, I’ve lived my life at this school by the principle of trying as much as possible to avoid attention. I came to this school because I wanted to spend three years as a normal student,” I told him.

That was my goal when I started here. How I felt. My true feelings, which brought me here.

“For the first time in my entire life, I’m setting goals for myself, and then trying to follow through on them,” I added.

“…Yes. I understand that quite well. That is exactly why I accepted you.”

Although I didn’t know the story there, in the end, I was very grateful for that kindness.

“However, if the Acting Director is allowed to interfere again, that goal I’ve set for myself will be in jeopardy. The Protection Point saved me, thankfully, but if he’s allowed to do something similar next time, my expulsion is inevitable,” I told him.

Of course, Tsukishiro would take advantage of his position to move in ways I didn’t expect. If I tried to deal with him at anything less than my best, I wouldn’t be able to fight back against the school’s injustice. Which meant I couldn’t keep doing things the way I had been so far.

“So, you’ve come to me to ask for help? Or am I wrong?” he asked.

“The purpose of my call today isn’t to ask you to stop Tsukishiro, Director Sakayanagi. If my opponent employs a strategy that breaks the rules, then I will respond in kind. As a result, the school may get caught in the crossfire.”

“I see. Which means you called me because…”

“Yes. It is absolutely vital to have someone to back you up in the event of unforeseen circumstances.”

I wasn’t asking for him to get rid of Tsukishiro for me. Rather, I was asking for help with any negative consequences that came from me getting rid of Tsukishiro myself. If you stabbed someone that came at you with a knife, you needed someone to recognize that what you did was legitimate self-defense.

I would most definitely need the school’s aid at such a time. And Director Sakayanagi would be the ace up my sleeve. Once Tsukishiro was eliminated and the allegations against Director Sakayanagi cleared, it was obvious he would be reinstated.

I was sure Director Sakayanagi would welcome the idea of me acting to help clear the allegations against him. I was also sure part of him was uncertain about whether it was a good idea to place such expectations on a child. It was important for me to remove those doubts.

“But can you really stop Tsukishiro-kun? One solitary student simply couldn’t…”

“It’s certainly true that Tsukishiro is trouble. He has the authority that comes with being a director, and unlike a student, he can’t be kicked out of school by means of an exam. That’s a big difference.”

And since I rarely came into contact with him, I couldn’t really launch an attack against him. He was cheating; I could only move freely when he was in the process of attacking me.

“In the meantime, since I can’t go on the offensive myself, I’ll wait and see what Tsukishiro does,” I added.

“But will you be able to withstand his attacks?”

“There are several steps I need to take. First, I need to expand my defenses to meet the bare minimum requirements.”

If Tsukishiro was receiving orders from that man, he wouldn’t be putting things off for later. It did him no good to draw things out and have me expelled after a year or two. If he were to take action, it would be in April, right after spring break. That was probably when he would put his plans into action.

If I could survive that, it would drive Tsukishiro into a corner even without me launching any kind of attack on him. And if he were driven into a corner, he would have no choice but to make a desperate move.

“His time limit is his sole and greatest weakness.”

When that time came, I would be fully prepared to take him on.

“I really don’t think that’s something a student should be saying to a school official,” Director Sakayanagi replied. “If an ordinary person heard you, they’d undoubtedly be furious…but since I know you are sensei’s son, I suppose I can accept it, oddly enough.”

“I will act appropriately toward those who are deserving of respect. However, I have no intention of tolerating adults who would forcefully insert themselves into a competition between students,” I told him.

Director Sakayanagi didn’t respond to that. But the fact that he was hearing me out suggested he accepted what I was saying.

“Even though you say you won’t tolerate it, how are you going to prevent Tsukishiro-kun from interfering?” he asked.

He was asking how I would expand my defenses. I already knew what had to be done. I had no choice but to use school officials to stop this injustice.

“First of all, having someone within the school who can resist Tsukishiro is of the utmost importance. Simply having a heightened level of scrutiny placed upon him will help limit his movements. That way, he won’t be able to take action as easily as he did this last time,” I replied.

Not making things easy for your opponent was an essential component of strategy, no matter what kind of competition you were talking about. I didn’t need someone with power. I needed someone who had the courage to stand up and face him.

“Yes, I agree. I don’t think we can start without that.”

Apparently, Director Sakayanagi understood what I was asking of him. I didn’t know anything about the school administration. Who could be trusted and who couldn’t? Was there anyone who could dish out justice against even someone as great and terrible as Tsukishiro in this organization? Additionally, it was possible some teachers might even support Tsukishiro. We couldn’t possibly recruit any of them.

On the other end of the line, Director Sakayanagi was lost in thought. The people you chose made the difference between life or death. No one understood that fact better than Director Sakayanagi.

“You do already know about your homeroom teacher, Chabashira-sensei, don’t you? She’s the one who I had asked to watch over you.”

“Yes. She seems to know a bit about my circumstances.”

“Yes. She understands your rather unrealistic situation very well, actually.”

Whether I could use her or not was an entirely different issue, though.

“Well, I don’t think I can afford to ignore someone who knows about my situation,” I said. “I think it would be best if we started with her, to bring teachers we can trust to our side.”

No one would believe me if I told them that my father was doing things like forcing Director Sakayanagi out of his position and manipulating the school. If Chabashira were the one to explain the situation, however, it would be a different story.

“In that case…” Director Sakayanagi paused, thought for a few minutes, then spoke once more. “I think that Mashima-sensei from first-year Class A would be the most appropriate pick. He’s in charge of the exams for the first-years, and he cares about students more than anyone else. He’s a wonderful instructor who puts children first.”

“And you think he’ll be able to tell how real this unrealistic story really is?” I asked.

“I’m not so sure… I can’t imagine he’ll accept it immediately. However, once he understands that it is the truth, he will most definitely stand by the students. I can assure you of that. He’s a teacher who doesn’t give in to authority and who stands up for what he believes in.”

If he was the most appropriate person for the task at hand, I had no complaints. If anything, it was a good start to have a teacher like that already so close to me.

“We can also expect the fact that he and Chabashira-sensei were former classmates to work to our advantage. It shouldn’t be difficult at all to get them to connect,” he added.

“I understand. Mashima-sensei, hm. Well, I’ll talk to Chabashira-sensei first, then try to bring them together for a discussion.”

“But it’s not going to be easy. There are eyes all over the school and an abundance of surveillance cameras, too. I’d advise you to think very carefully about where and when to have a meeting.”

It wasn’t like Tsukishiro was monitoring me all twenty-four hours of the day. That being said, it wouldn’t be surprising if he had some kind of warning system in place. If Mashima-sensei and I tried to speak in private, it would incur suspicion. I didn’t know where Tsukishiro usually spent his time, but he was free to move about the campus, to a certain extent. It wouldn’t be a laughing matter if we bumped unexpectedly into one another.

“I think it would be easier for me to make a move if you gave me some suggestions.” I sought advice from Director Sakayanagi, who understood the professional duties of administrative faculty better than anyone else here at the Advanced Nurturing High School.

“If you were to move quickly, then… Yes, after the graduation ceremony, the third-year students and their teachers will gather for a thank-you party. It is customary for the director to attend this event every year. In other words, Tsukishiro-san will most definitely be present. Whether he’s actually interested in it or not, he will fulfill his obligations.”

“So if he neglected his duties as director, the school would judge him harshly for it, hm?”

“Yes. Most certainly.”

In order to be able to do as he pleased, Tsukishiro had to play the part of a man who could do more than Director Sakayanagi. His watchful eyes would inevitably be a lot less watchful during that event.

“Will the first-year homeroom teachers be in attendance, too?” I asked.

“Ostensibly, the thank-you party is an hour long, but it typically extends a bit beyond that. It tends to last about ninety minutes. It shouldn’t cause too many problems if two teachers were to disappear for twenty to thirty minutes. It’s normal for teachers to be up and out of their seats, and essentially, the only teachers that are required to be there are the third-year homeroom instructors.”

This meant that the most appropriate time to hold a secret meeting would be after the graduation ceremony and during the thank-you party.

“As for the place… I think the reception room should be fine. There are no surveillance cameras in that room. It might be best to take advantage of that,” said Sakayanagi.

That meant there would be no clear record of our meeting. Besides, it wasn’t like I could have teachers come to the student dormitories.

“I have no objections to this proposal.” I agreed with his ideas for setting up the forum for our discussion.

“Okay, then here’s the first step,” Director Sakayanagi said. “I’ll go ahead and briefly touch base with Chabashira-sensei ahead of time. But it’ll be up to you to decide how much you wish to divulge from that point on. If you cannot persuade them, you may have no choice but to give up on this plan.”

“That is more than adequate.”

If word originally came from Director Sakayanagi, then Chabashira—and by extension Mashima-sensei, who we would arrange to speak with later—couldn’t ignore this matter. I could say without a doubt that the phone call had yielded the greatest amount of support it possibly could have.

“Once again, I’m terribly sorry for suddenly calling you so late at night,” I reiterated.

“It’s all right… Oh, one last thing. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something a little superfluous.”

“Superfluous?”

“I am honestly quite happy that you came to this school with dreams of a normal life. But have you thought about what comes after graduation? What do you want to do and where do you want to go, for instance?”

“I don’t know how much you already know, but my fate has been decided,” I replied.

“…That would mean…”

That reaction alone was enough.

“After graduation, I will return to the White Room and act as a mentor there. That’s the only reason that man has raised me all these years.”

Once I left this school, the protective barrier around me would be gone. He could easily attack me in the night and haul me back to the White Room if I were living in a cheap apartment or something.

“So, you’ve accepted your fate… And now you’re here, after having done so.”

“That is precisely why I intend to protect these three years to the bitter end,” I replied.

Put simply, it was a rebellious phase. I was rejecting my father’s orders and doing what I wanted to do.

“I hope this school will become a good memory for you. One that you will never forget for as long as you live.”

“Thank you very much. That’s what I’m hoping for, too.”

After I ended the call with Director Sakayanagi, I let out a sigh of relief. Although there was a part of me that wondered how much I could really trust him, at the very least, I knew for certain that he wasn’t on Tsukishiro’s side. The fact that his daughter was a student and in my grade would be an advantage, as well.

2.4

S UCH WAS THE DISCUSSION I had yesterday with Director Sakayanagi. And now, I was headed to the reception room, which had been designated for the meeting ahead. I made no plans to meet anyone else beforehand, but headed straight there.

Was someone else already here? Or was I the first to arrive?

“Please excuse me,” I said aloud.

After knocking on the door, I stepped into the reception room, and was greeted by Chabashira. She shifted her gaze toward me, still standing by the window.

“You’re early, Ayanokouji. You still have ten minutes until the appointed time,” she told me.

“I didn’t want to get here at the very last minute. Besides, you seem to have arrived early yourself,” I replied.

Chabashira looked at me with prying eyes, like she was trying to figure something out, but also seemed to be lost in thought and choosing her next words carefully. I could more or less guess what had gone through her mind when Director Sakayanagi spoke to her. Funnily enough, the sofa was vacant, but neither of us sat down.

“And Mashima-sensei?” I asked.

“I’ve been talking to him. But he wasn’t able to slip away at the same time as me. Still, I have to say, you’ve made quite a bold move, Ayanokouji. I thought you wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life here at this school?”

I supposed I could play along with Chabashira’s word games for a little bit. Just until Mashima-sensei showed up.

“It’s funny that you say that, since you were the one who originally disrupted my peaceful life here,” I replied.

“I really don’t think that’s any way to act toward a teacher, no matter the circumstances. You have no intention of changing your attitude?” she asked.

“That’s convenient, considering how unbecoming your behavior is for a teacher,” I told her.

She’d gone so far as to threaten me, a simple, unassuming student, to try to boost us out of being Class D. I felt a strong sense of distrust…no, a strong feeling of disgust for her because of that. Chabashira awkwardly averted her eyes from me, looking ashamed.

“I certainly cannot deny that,” she replied.

I supposed it just proved how strong her desire to reach Class A was. She couldn’t openly use me, since Director Sakayanagi trusted her and asked her to watch over me. But she really should have handled things better.

Well, actually…no matter what methods she employed, the result would have been the same. Even if she’d tried to persuade me, I wouldn’t have softened my stance. That being said, my circumstances had changed quite a bit over the year since I had first started school here.

“You hate me. So why call on me, Ayanokouji?” she asked.

It seemed like she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d been asked here. Even though she was just a way for me to recruit Mashima-sensei, I could certainly have excluded her from this meeting. It wasn’t surprising that she wanted to know why I hadn’t done that.

“Well, it’s certainly true that at the very least, I don’t exactly like you,” I told her.

“It certainly seems that way.”

No matter my personal feelings, I needed to seize any advantage I could. My likes and dislikes were entirely different from my potential gains and losses. I had determined that having Chabashira here would help persuade Mashima-sensei to come over to my side, even if it only got him to budge one millimeter closer.

“How much have you heard?” I asked.

“He asked me to call Mashima-sensei and to arrange this meeting here. He also said that you had something very important to talk about and that he wanted me to help, but…” she replied, trailing off.

Had she not heard anything about Tsukishiro yet? It seemed like Director Sakayanagi wanted to give me complete control of this situation.

“And? What business do you have with us?” she asked.

“I’ll wait until Mashima-sensei comes. Saying it twice would be a hassle.”

“I don’t know what this is all about, but if you’re going to come to me asking for help, don’t you think you should fix your attitude?” she replied.

Perhaps because she’d been on the defensive with me all this time, Chabashira seemed very resistant.

“As an instructor, I will essentially follow Director Sakayanagi’s instructions. However, that’s not an ironclad rule. Do you understand what I mean by that?” she asked me.

“Does my attitude rub you the wrong way that badly?” I asked in return.

“Yes, it does. You act so superior, but you’re still just a first-year high school student, right? And although the year-end final exam was a showdown between classes, you still fell behind Sakayanagi and were defeated. That means you don’t have the skills necessary to surpass my expectations, after all.”

So she was, quite selfishly, disappointed that I wasn’t as good as she’d expected me to be?

“If you have the skills, then I’m willing to overlook some of what you say and do. But if what you showed earlier is all you’re capable of, then that’s a different story,” she added.

If I couldn’t beat Class A’s Sakayanagi, I wouldn’t be able to achieve Chabashira’s goals. Apparently, she intended to keep asserting her dominance over me, and she didn’t intend to be quiet about it.

Chabashira was a teacher, but her actions certainly deviated from her normal duties as an instructor. Depending on what I said to her, she might refuse to help, and perhaps even go over to Tsukishiro’s side. I could continue trying to assert that I was no longer completely under her control, but that would just be counterproductive.

I let out a sigh, relieved to see that she had at least some wisdom. “I understand. I will change up my attitude, Chabashira-sensei.”

“What?” she replied, shocked by how quickly I had given in to her.

I supposed she didn’t think the level of resistance she was putting up would break me. Although I was only doing this for the sake of the conversation to come, I did want to leave her with the possibility that I could be tamed.

Well, no—that possibility alone wouldn’t be enough for Chabashira to trust me completely. She probably thought I was mocking her, laughing at her deep down. So instead, I hammered home the idea that I was a positive influence for Class D.

“I’ve changed my mind. Starting in April, I’m seriously planning to shoot for Class A,” I told her.

“What kind of joke is this? What in the world are you even thinking, setting up a meeting here?”

“I’m telling the truth. By the end of our second year, I plan for our class to be out of D and C. There’s too big a gap in our class points to guarantee that we’ll be able to move up to Class A, but…I am planning to overtake Class B.”

What Chabashira desired most of all was for Class D to rise up to A. That was something no class at this school had ever managed to pull off before.

“Well, this is an eye-opener… But it’s easy enough to make all the verbal promises you want.”

“That’s certainly true. But you do want to hold onto your ticket to Class A, don’t you?” I asked her.

It didn’t matter whether that ticket was real or fake. It was far better than having nothing at all.

“I told you before. You lost to Class A in the year-end final exam. Although you fought admirably, with three wins and four losses, a loss is still a loss. And though a great deal of luck was involved in that exam, I still won’t hear any excuses,” she answered, once again stressing the fact that my abilities had apparently been exaggerated. “I thought that you could win, no matter the opponent, no matter the test. But those expectations were excessive.”

In truth, it was merely that she had this selfish fantasy about me.

“You’ll see the truth for yourself today after this meeting,” I told her.

“I’ll see the truth…?”

“Listen to the whole story. All the way to the end. If you still can’t believe in my abilities after that, then you can do whatever you want.”

“What do you—” she began.

There was a forceful knock at the reception room door, cutting her off.

“…Please come in,” said Chabashira in response.

Mashima-sensei entered the room. “It seems like you’re both here already,” he said.

And then…

“Good day to you.”

The Class A student, Sakayanagi Arisu, had entered with Mashima-sensei. Quite an unexpected guest. I didn’t remember inviting her, and I had a hard time imagining Mashima-sensei doing so.

“I’m from Class A. So even if someone did see me with Mashima-sensei, it wouldn’t raise suspicions,” said Sakayanagi. It went without saying that she must have tagged along with him.

“Chabashira-sensei reached out to me. But she said that she had some relation to this matter, so I brought her with me, but…”

Director Sakayanagi had probably told his daughter that he had gotten a call from me, just to confirm I had actually had gotten his phone number through her—and if not, that I had betrayed his trust. But did that have anything to do with why Sakayanagi was here now? Had she been charged with playing some kind of role in this? Or was she simply here out of curiosity? If I were a betting man, I’d say it was the latter.

“It’s no problem. This is within the realm of what I expected,” I answered, accepting this visitor as someone who should be welcomed with open arms.

Sakayanagi responded to me with a soft chuckle and a gentle bow. Then, without even sparing a single glance in Chabashira’s direction, she closed the reception room door. Chabashira seemed like she was struggling to keep up with the situation, let alone grasp why Sakayanagi was here. Mashima-sensei was probably having the same problem.

Regardless, all of the necessary people were in place. I needed to use this limited amount of time carefully.

“I hear you have something to say to us, Ayanokouji. Purposefully going through Director Sakayanagi to orchestrate this gathering, and holding a secret meeting right in the middle of the thank-you party… This is quite a lot to take in. What in the world are you playing at?” asked Mashima-sensei.

“I’ll tell you right now,” I replied.

First, I urged the two teachers to have a seat. However, Mashima-sensei instructed Sakayanagi to sit first.

“I will kindly accept your gracious offer,” she said humbly, taking her seat.

Mashima-sensei allowed the physically disabled Sakayanagi to take a spot, opting to remain standing himself, now with his arms crossed. It seemed whether or not he would decide to sit down depended on what I was about to say. Chabashira seemed to be taking his same approach.

The three other people in the room all gazed at me. They could only be away from the thank-you party for twenty to thirty minutes at most. Time was extremely limited. I had planned to get straight to the point, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to make them really understand. This was an extraordinary situation. Too extraordinary to be easily communicated by a brief explanation.

Seeing as how there was no time to spare, I decided to start by talking about Acting Director Tsukishiro.

“I asked you to meet with me during such a busy time because I wished to discuss something important. It’s about Acting Director Tsukishiro.”

“…Something important about Acting Director Tsukishiro?” said Mashima-sensei. “What in the world are you talking about?”

He looked increasingly perplexed by my throwing out such an unexpected statement right off the bat. I supposed it was only natural for him to react this way to a student saying something this absurd. Chabashira seemed to be having trouble keeping up as well, but she just briefly glanced over at Sakayanagi, the only unexpected person here.

Sakayanagi met her gaze directly, with a bold grin. I know much more about this situation than you two do, her face seemed to be saying. As I looked at her, all I could get from her expression was genuine joy. It felt very typical of Sakayanagi, to be honest.

“The situation has become something that cannot be overlooked. Something that will shake the very foundations of this school. I sincerely hope that the two of you can help me bring the situation under control, while being committed to total secrecy,” I told them.

“I heard that this was something important, but… Are you playing some kind of prank on me, Chabashira-sensei?” asked Mashima-sensei, seeking an explanation from her. Apparently, he thought there was no way what I said could be true.

“I assure you, this is no joke. Do you think I’m the sort who plays meaningless games, like Hoshinomiya-sensei?”

“All right, fair enough, but I can’t understand what’s going on here at all. We’re right in the middle of a thank-you party that we should be attending.”

This was supposed to be a valuable opportunity to mingle with the graduates for the last time. Mashima-sensei’s disinterest was clear. He had no time to listen to a child’s delusional fantasy.

“What is Ayanokouji doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Chabashira said. “It’s impossible for me to explain this to you. As I told you yesterday, all I did was prepare the meeting location on Director Sakayanagi’s orders. Nothing more. Like you, I’m still trying to understand what’s going on here.”

Both teachers cast gazes full of suspicion at me. I tried to keep the discussion going.

“What would you think, Mashima-sensei, if I told you that Director Sakayanagi is currently under house arrest due to allegations of fraud? And that Acting Director Tsukishiro came to this school because of me?” I asked.

“What?”

Even cutting right to the heart of the matter wasn’t going to make this conversation go any smoother. If anything, Mashima-sensei’s doubts were only deepening.

“I really don’t understand a word of what you’re trying to say. You’re the reason why he’s here?” he asked.

A natural reaction, of course. The idea that the entire school system itself was being manipulated toward the enrollment and expulsion of a single person could have never crossed his mind. I supposed I should start by discussing what happened during the year-end final exam, after all.

“I’ll explain what happened in detail—”

Just as I began to recount the events of the exam, however, Sakayanagi raised her hand.

“Please forgive me for being presumptuous, but would you mind if I cut in here to explain that entire situation?” It seemed she’d anticipated this would happen.

“You had said earlier that you know something about this situation too, right, Sakayanagi?”

“Yes. At the very least, I am quite confident that I know much more than you two do,” she replied.

She acted fast, perhaps thinking interested people would pick things up much quicker if they heard the story from a well-informed third-party, rather than the affected person. After I gave Sakayanagi a gentle nod, she turned her gaze toward Mashima-sensei.

“Have you heard about this situation from your father?” he asked.

“No. This is something that I know personally. Ayanokouji-kun and I… Well, yes. Putting it in simpler terms, you could say that he and I are like childhood friends,” she explained, sounding quite happy.

I’d wondered how the teachers would react to hearing her phrase things that way, but they seemed surprisingly shocked by it.

“Childhood friends… I never imagined that you’d have that kind of relationship,” said Chabashira.

“Well, please keep in mind that I said we are ‘like’ childhood friends, at best,” Sakayanagi went on to explain. “At any rate, I will summarize what happened now.”

Leaving the topic of being childhood friends behind, she began to explain the events of the test.

“I am quite sure that the memory of Ayanokouji-kun’s and my match during the year-end final exam the other day is still fresh in everyone’s mind. When we did battle as commanders, that is. It was my victory during the final chess game that resulted in my class emerging as the winner.”

As far as the school knew, that was the truth. Mashima-sensei and Chabashira naturally didn’t doubt it.

“And what of it?”

“What if…during the test, someone had interfered with the game? And what if the outcome of the game was changed by that person’s actions, having a significant impact on the results of the exam overall? Wouldn’t that be an extremely serious problem?” she asked.

“Exams are carried out in a fair, impartial manner. There’s no way there could be such a problem.”

“How can you say that it was fair and impartial? Neither of you were present during the exam, no?”

Since the homeroom teachers were supposed to be kept separate from their own classes, Chabashira and Mashima-sensei had been monitoring Ichinose and Ryuuen’s classes for the exam. Meaning, they hadn’t seen our exam.

“By all rights, I had lost that chess game. Ayanokouji-kun should have won,” said Sakayanagi.

The first person to respond to that wasn’t Mashima-sensei, but rather Chabashira. “Wait, Ayanokouji won the chess game? Wait, no, I saw the results. I saw what happened during the game.”

It was understandable why it bothered her. We’d been demoted to Class D again as a result of me losing that chess game.

“You still don’t understand?” asked Sakayanagi, phrasing her response in a way that suggested she was testing both instructors.

“What are you saying? You’re not suggesting that Acting Director Tsukishiro overturned the results of the game, are you? But we held a meeting with Sakagami-sensei and Hoshinomiya-sensei after the exam, and they didn’t mention anything problematic.”

“He didn’t overturn the results of the game. He changed what happened during the game. You cannot see the truth if you’re trapped within the confines of common sense. The instructions sent by the commanders aren’t transmitted directly to the students. They are reviewed by school administrators and then relayed through the intercom system. This system makes sense in that it prevents fraud, but conversely, you could say that it also allows school administrators to alter things freely,” explained Sakayanagi. “Do you understand now?”

Both teachers were slowly beginning to understand what happened. For the first time, doubts about both Acting Director Tsukishiro and the exam ran through Mashima-sensei’s mind.

“I’m sure it must have been highly irregular, even for the teachers, to use such large-scale services for an exam. There is that point to consider. That system must have been hastily prepared by Acting Director Tsukishiro so that he could unfairly interfere with the exam,” said Sakayanagi, exquisitely weaving together a tapestry of lies and bluffs.

How much of what happened had Tsukishiro really planned out? Only Tsukishiro himself really knew that for certain. Rather than confirm the truth, Sakayanagi offered a convenient interpretation based on her own speculation and spoke as if it were fact. She didn’t pause once in her explanation, and I was sure the teachers took what she said as the truth. On top of that, because Sakayanagi had told the story so eloquently and without a moment’s delay, both Mashima-sensei and Chabashira simply couldn’t handle the overabundance of information being presented to them. Their brains would begin processing what they heard as fact.

“The last command that was given to Horikita-san, that she heard over the intercom—or to be more precise, the command that was read aloud to her via the machine—was different from the command that had originally been entered. If the move that Ayanokouji-kun had come up with had been played, I would have lost. Do you understand what this means?” asked Sakayanagi.

She grinned broadly, as if testing their ability to process information. The other question she implied with her smile was, Do you understand what I’m getting at by telling you this much? And by asking them that, she basically narrowed down the possibilities they could imagine to one answer.

“You’re saying that…Acting Director Tsukishiro was behind it?”

“As someone who is scheming to have Ayanokouji-kun expelled, the fact that he had a Protection Point was an obstacle,” replied Sakayanagi.

Both teachers fell silent. However, Mashima-sensei quickly spoke up once more.

“Was what Sakayanagi said the truth, Ayanokouji?” he asked.

“Yes. She’s correct.”

“I will admit that there’s a certain degree of credibility to what both of you are claiming. I’ve been Sakayanagi’s homeroom instructor for a year now, and I’ve come to understand her personality and her line of thinking. If she purposefully wanted to let Ayanokouji win, she could have just simply thrown each event during the exam, including the chess game. She stands to gain nothing from elevating Ayanokouji and risking her own reputation like this.”

There was no benefit to Sakayanagi, the leader of Class A, going so far as to lie about admitting defeat. Just as Mashima-sensei had said, if Sakayanagi had wanted to let me win for some personal reason, there were plenty of ways she could have handed me that victory, such as by going over the time limit. There was no need for her to go to the trouble of setting up this meeting and talking about such questionable things.

“But hold on. We understand the gist of what you’re saying, but there’s no way for a third party to confirm whether this story is true or not. Isn’t that right?” asked Chabashira. Sakayanagi’s tale had been so ridiculous that it would make complete sense for someone to dismiss it out of hand. “This story is rather hard to believe… What do you think, Mashima-sensei?”

Mashima-sensei was listening to what was being said with a stern look on his face. “Never mind what I think about it. What we just heard is something I have a hard time accepting on the basis of what we know right now.”

He seemed poised to take a step back from his conversation, but Chabashira stopped him.

“In my personal opinion, I think there’s some degree of truth to what these two are telling us. Since Acting Director Tsukishiro arrived, this entire school has been operating strangely,” said Chabashira.

“If you think that simply because you don’t like Acting Director Tsukishiro, or if it’s just your personal feelings getting in the way, then that idea isn’t even worth entertaining. The same goes for having blind faith that your own class will win.”

Mashima-sensei responded harshly to Chabashira’s attempt to stand by us students, then immediately posed a question to Sakayanagi and me.

“Can you show me any evidence?” he asked.

“You won’t believe us, Mashima-sensei, even if we were to tell you that we heard about Acting Director Tsukishiro’s wrongdoing directly from the man himself?” asked Sakayanagi.

“…That goes without saying.”

There was no way someone who committed such acts of foul play behind the scenes would openly expose themselves. Even if people privately discussed what had happened, it was obvious it would make no difference as long as they didn’t speak up about it.

“Honestly, I can hardly imagine there could be a student at this school that someone as powerful as Acting Director Tsukishiro would want to get expelled,” said Mashima-sensei.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“It’s not like I want to doubt my students. I don’t think you’re so foolish that you couldn’t tell you have nothing to gain from wasting your time and lying to me. But this argument simply lacks evidence,” he added.

Even though he wanted to believe us, Mashima-sensei probably couldn’t be convinced without a believable source.

“Who exactly are you, Ayanokouji? Please tell me.”

I supposed it had only been a matter of time before Mashima-sensei asked me that question. Director Sakayanagi had been placed under house arrest due to alleged corruption charges, and a man named Tsukishiro was dispatched to our school. And this Tsukishiro person was supposedly here solely to have me expelled, going so far as to rig an important exam in order to accomplish his mission.

It was inevitable that Mashima-sensei would have his doubts about this story. Should I explain things myself, or should I leave it to someone else?

When I didn’t answer, Mashima-sensei turned to Chabashira, who had just earlier said that she thought my story contained a certain degree of truth.

“What do you know about Ayanokouji?” he asked her.

“…To be completely honest, I only know very little myself,” she replied.

Chabashira looked over at me with prying eyes, but I coolly brushed her off. It wouldn’t hurt me if she were to reveal what superficial information she had on me.

“I saw the results of Ayanokouji’s entrance exam. He scored fifty points in every subject, which struck me as strange.”

“Fifty points in every subject… Meaning he did so intentionally?” asked Mashima-sensei.

“If you examine it yourself, you’d understand it was true, Mashima-sensei,” she replied.

“ Fu fu . My, you’ve done some interesting things,” said Sakayanagi.

“But that alone doesn’t necessarily prove anything. If you think about it, while no student would deliberately hold themselves back like that, it wouldn’t be very difficult at all for a student with a certain level of academic ability to get nearly uniform scores across the board. In fact, the scoring system we use for the entrance exam at this school is exceedingly simple,” argued Mashima-sensei.

“But there’s more. When Ayanokouji started here, Director Sakayanagi told me only that he was a special student,” said Chabashira.

“Wait, Director Sakayanagi said that…? Is that the reason why you’re here now, Chabashira-sensei?”

She nodded, then proceeded to recount what had happened back then.

“Director Sakayanagi had asked that I, as Ayanokouji’s homeroom teacher, report to him if there were any difficulties with Ayanokouji. Ayanokouji Kiyotaka’s father is an exceptionally authoritative figure who apparently didn’t want his son enrolled in this school. I heard Director Sakayanagi used somewhat aggressive methods in order to have Ayanokouji’s admission approved,” explained Chabashira.

“He admitted him without getting his legal guardian’s permission? I see Director Sakayanagi is willing to be forceful, too.”

A normal child would only be permitted to go on to high school with their parents’ permission. This world wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s not like a child could just freely do whatever they wanted, even if it was for a righteous calling like education.

“My father and Ayanokouji-kun are acquainted,” explained Sakayanagi. “Which is precisely why he did what he did, acting out of sympathy for the unfortunate situation that Ayanokouji-kun had been placed in. But it’s gotten him in trouble as a result. Acting Director Tsukishiro approached my father, had him placed under house arrest with trumped-up allegations of fraud, and is working to get Ayanokouji-kun expelled,”

That point was probably what bothered Mashima-sensei more than anything else.

“So, Ayanokouji’s father had opposed him being forcefully admitted to this school, and then sent Acting Director Tsukishiro…”

That wasn’t something that a person lacking in authority could pull off.

“But he didn’t need to do that. He could have gone directly to the school and protested,” he added.

“Ayanokouji’s father had already contacted his son and Director Sakayanagi,” replied Chabashira.

“Meaning, Director Sakayanagi had already been notified that Ayanokouji’s legal guardian wished to have him taken out of school?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Just as Chabashira-sensei said, I met with Director Sakayanagi and my father. We had a meeting right here in this reception room. If you roll back the footage from the security camera in the hallway, you can confirm that it’s true.”

“So the fact that Ayanokouji is still here means that the request to have him withdrawn was denied by the school, including by the Director?” asked Mashima-sensei .

“Apparently,” answered Chabashira, giving him an affirmative nod. “Director Sakayanagi respected the wishes of his student. That seemed to settle the matter for the time being… But I never imagined that Acting Director Tsukishiro was sent here solely for the purpose of getting Ayanokouji expelled.”

Upon hearing Chabashira’s assessment of the situation, Sakayanagi spoke up, expressing her agreement.

“Well, it’s not unreasonable for you to be surprised. You didn’t know anything about it, Chabashira-sensei,” she said.

“You seem to be quite well informed, though,” replied Chabashira.

“Yes. I am much more familiar with Ayanokouji-kun than you are, Chabashira-sensei,” said Sakayanagi, making a completely unnecessary show of her superiority here. “Isn’t that entirely obvious from the fact that he didn’t reject me being here, when I showed up uninvited?”

She chuckled haughtily as she said that, as if flaunting the fact in Chabashira’s face.

“I’m beginning to see the whole picture. At the very least, the part about a father wanting to bring his son back home seems to be true,” said Mashima-sensei .

He had a much better understanding of the situation now, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“However… While I don’t know how much authority Ayanokouji’s father wields, I have to wonder why he’d try to get his son expelled this way? It just doesn’t seem realistic,” he added.

“It’s because Ayanokouji-kun possesses incredible skills, which ordinary people do not have,” said Sakayanagi.

“I saw the results of Ayanokouji’s performance in the Event Selection Exam the other day. There’s no doubt that he is quite good when it comes to his chess skills and flash mental arithmetic. But there are many other extraordinary students. I can’t think his skills stand out enough to make him seem particularly exceptional,” he argued.

“Mashima-sensei. I will not deny you in your attempt to convince yourself of the truth of this matter. However, I must ask you, can you please understand what is happening right now? My father has had his eye on this young man since before he was enrolled here. Also, Acting Director Tsukishiro is working to have him expelled, going so far as to resort to underhanded measures. That reality is the only truth here,” argued Sakayanagi.

Mashima-sensei crossed his arms and briefly closed his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ve already reached a conclusion, Mashima-sensei. We just need to find the evidence later.”

After a brief period of silence, he opened his eyes and looked over at me and Sakayanagi, and then to Chabashira.

“Yes… The part about a son going against his father’s wishes, that the father doesn’t like the idea of his son going to this school, and that he’s doing something to get his son withdrawn from said school, I believe. However, it’s not as though I can just cooperate with you outright. Do you understand the reason why?” said Mashima-sensei.

He understood quite well that what we’d said so far only scratched the surface of what was really going on here.

“Are you not planning on telling me everything?” he added.

Apparently, he had straightened out the sequence of events in his head, and figured out that there was something that we weren’t telling him, that we wanted to keep secret. Though I supposed we would have been in trouble if he wasn’t capable of reading what we were saying that well.

“That’s right. Besides, it wouldn’t really matter even if I did tell you everything. In fact, it would be pointless,” I answered.

Even if I told them everything, starting with the White Room, it would probably be too much for the adults to even comprehend. A simple, logical examination of the situation at hand should be enough to make it clear that Tsukishiro’s activities were crazy. Besides, bringing up the White Room right now wouldn’t get me any closer to the truth. I was certain its existence had been completely hidden by means of a thorough cover-up. There was no need to subject myself to such a pointless ordeal.

“Say I refuse to help you. What then?” Mashima-sensei asked.

“Well, I don’t plan to accept my fate and cry myself to sleep. But I’m sure I’ll have a hell of a time racking my brain to figure out how to deal with Acting Director Tsukishiro. Whether it be an exam or something else, it’s easy for a school official to game the system. In fact, the school has already allowed precisely that to happen in the Event Selection Exam,” I replied.

It would be nearly impossible for students to stop him on their own. The only question that remained was whether Mashima-sensei was the kind of person who could turn a blind eye to something like that.

“Are you trying to test me, Ayanokouji? …Very well. We will do our utmost to keep Director Tsukishiro from illegitimately involving himself in any further special exams or written exams.”

Mashima-sensei had finally come out and said that he was going to be on my side.

“Mashima-sensei, you do understand it’s not going to be that simple, don’t you?” cautioned Chabashira, after hearing his declaration. “Even if it is true that he’s doing something fraudulent, we could get fired if we slip-up.”

I could understand why she’d say that. Rebelling against Tsukishiro would essentially mean putting their teaching career in jeopardy. He wasn’t the kind of opponent you could take on out of a half-hearted sense of justice.

“Although I still don’t fully believe everything being said, if what Ayanokouji and Sakayanagi are saying is the truth, then this is a grave matter. A school official should never manipulate an exam or change test results in a fraudulent manner. If we are to do something, we must be thorough,” he argued.

“But Mashima-sensei, wouldn’t it be better for us not to fixate on such troublesome issues right now? You just received a pay cut this morning for violating the rules yourself during the Event Selection Exam,” she replied.

Sakayanagi must have thought that what Chabashira said sounded interesting, because she immediately jumped on that statement. “A pay cut for violating the rules? Whatever did you do?” she asked.

“That is not something I plan to tell you two about,” snapped Mashima-sensei.

“Is it because of the conflict between Class D and Class B during the exam? We’ll be hearing about it sooner or later. Besides, if this incident is related to Acting Director Tsukishiro’s fraudulent activities, then we really must discuss matters that could be cause for concern at this stage. It could become a problem later, wouldn’t you say?” argued Sakayanagi.

“What happened is entirely unrelated to this current discussion,” said Chabashira, speaking up in place of Mashima-sensei. “But I’ll describe it to you. During the Event Selection Exam for Class B and Class D, the final event to be selected was judo, an event that Class D had submitted. And the student they had picked to participate was Yamada Albert. Class B’s Ichinose had completely lost her will to fight at that point, leaving her unable to choose a student to compete against him.”

“Well, if their opponent was Yamada-kun, that’s entirely understandable. I don’t imagine any first-year student could beat him in judo,” said Sakayanagi.

“Of course, Ichinose had originally had a student in mind for the judo event. But what do you think would have happened if her decision paralysis continued long enough to cause a student from her class to be assigned at random? Anyone could tell there might be unforeseen consequences,” said Chabashira.

If Ichinose had run out of time to select a student to compete, a student who hadn’t yet participated in any event would have been selected at random. And that student could just as easily have been a girl as a boy.

“If the student simply lost the match at once, that would have been fine. But consider how tightly-knit Class B is. It was possible that the student who got selected would have tried everything in their power to win for Ichinose-san’s sake,” explained Chabashira.

And it was entirely plausible that Albert would have used all his strength to knock down his opponent so hard that they couldn’t get back up, no matter who that opponent was. If that happened, it could’ve been a serious incident.

“Which was precisely why Mashima-sensei, acting on his own discretion, determined that the fight was unwinnable. I suppose that’s what Acting Director Tsukishiro didn’t like,” she reasoned.

So that was why he got a pay cut, huh? I supposed what he’d done was actually a violation of the rules.

“That incident and this situation are one and the same. If there’s something that we deem to be dangerous for the students, we put a stop to it. If there’s injustice, you correct it. We teach this to our students. What would we be if we didn’t adhere to it ourselves?” he answered.

And for that reason, he would do this without any regret, even if it meant putting his own career at risk.

“It seems I can’t stop you,” said Chabashira.

“As a teacher, I’ve always prepared myself for situations like this,” he replied.

It was easy enough to say something like that and not actually mean it. But Mashima-sensei seemed to be an upstanding man. He was true to his word.

“You… Well, all right. If Mashima-sensei is that resolute in his decision, then there’s nothing more to say,” said Chabashira.

“In that case, I’d say that we’ve reached an agreement for the time being, hm?” said Sakayanagi, turning to look at me as she spoke.

I nodded to her in response. Perhaps Chabashira had decided that trying to persuade Mashima-sensei otherwise would be pointless, because she backed down.

“Well, if Mashima-sensei is agreeing to put his neck out for you, then I will help, too. I trust you’re okay with that, Ayanokouji?” she said.

“The more people I can get on my side, the better. I welcome it,” I replied.

“Then let’s put this discussion on hold for the time being. And no one speaks a word of this to anyone outside this room. That’s not a problem, I trust?” she answered.

“Of course not, no,” I answered.

That was understandable, since it wasn’t like Mashima-sensei nor Chabashira had actually seen Tsukishiro’s wrongdoing with their own eyes. Also, the more teachers that they brought into the fold, the greater the likelihood that information could get out. Tsukishiro would naturally become more cautious if he realized people were working to expose his fraudulence.

“I also intend to ally myself with Ayanokouji-kun for the time being,” said Sakayanagi.

“Sakayanagi. Just because you know about Ayanokouji’s situation doesn’t mean that you should give him special treatment. That would be a problem,” said Mashima-sensei.

“Whatever are you talking about? It’s only natural that I give him special treatment. No, it’s my right,” Sakayanagi rebutted directly.

“…Your right?” he asked.

“That’s right, it is. Even though this school is built on the individual classes competing with one another, there are naturally a variety of circumstances that still come into play. Some students betray their classes because of a friend or lover they have in another class. Others may cooperate with students from other classes for financial gain, or be coerced into helping another class. A single shared emotion can cross the boundaries between classes, resulting in the formation of a cooperative relationship. Hasn’t that always been the case at this school? In fact—hasn’t that always been the case for human society, as a whole? Am I wrong?” argued Sakayanagi.

She was asserting that everyone had someone they afforded special treatment. And no one could deny that.

“Even if I were to abandon all of my classmates in Class A and leave them to die, figuratively speaking, choosing to save only Ayanokouji-kun instead, the instructors would have no ground to criticize me. The only people who could resent me for it would be the students who’d been sacrificed,” she added.

I was sure Mashima-sensei was none too pleased about what Sakayanagi just said, but he didn’t argue.

“That being said… I suppose he may not necessarily welcome special treatment. But the question of whether or not he would is a separate matter,” said Sakayanagi.

“What do you mean?”

“It means I will be watching carefully until the acting director is gone. After that point, things will be different. And if Class D does become an obstacle for Class A, I will crush them, without mercy, whenever and wherever.”

“I see. Very well, then.”

Mashima-sensei had understood and accepted Sakayanagi’s statement, acknowledging the force of her will.

“Just to confirm once more, there is no evidence of Acting Director Tsukishiro’s wrongdoing anywhere?” he asked.

“I’m sure it’s already been erased. Even if we tried to investigate now, it would be pointless,” I replied. There was no way he’d be stupid enough to deliberately leave any evidence behind.

“Then it seems like all we can do now is wait for his next move,” said Mashima-sensei.

The teachers knew much more than we did about the exams that awaited once we entered our second year. I figured I’d let Mashima-sensei and Chabashira figure out how and when Tsukishiro would be making his move at that time.

“It’s been over thirty minutes now. We can’t stay away from the thank-you party forever. First, you students should leave. Then we’ll each head out separately.”

“We understand,” I replied.

Sakayanagi and I left the reception room at the same time and went into the hall, walking side by side.

“It was a drastic decision, but being able to bring Mashima-sensei over to our side as an ally is a big plus. As the person in charge of the first-year grade level as a whole, he can get closer to Acting Director Tsukishiro than anyone else,” said Sakayanagi.

“Yeah. Even if he can’t stop Tsukishiro completely, he’ll be an effective deterrent,” I replied.

“I suppose I am a little concerned that his sense of righteousness might be a bit too strong. That is one of his flaws,” said Sakayanagi.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. He is reliable, but it’s also possible that he might become a liability.”

“And if Mashima-sensei gets in too deep, he’ll likely get fired, which might be a mercy. Well, if he’s the kind of person who’d do this sort of thing anyway, I suppose that’s bound to happen to him sooner or later,” reasoned Sakayanagi.

When I looked at Sakayanagi’s side profile as she spoke, she seemed quite happy.

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” I told her.

“I am having quite a lot of fun. Aren’t you, Ayanokouji-kun?”

“I dunno about that. From my point of view, this is all just a big headache. And you’re here because—”

“Yes, because it looked like so much fun. Was I a bother?” she asked, immediately admitting the reason why she came.

“No. You coming here helped in persuading Mashima-sensei. I’m grateful.”

“I’m glad.”

Sakayanagi turned toward me and smiled.

“Besides, we absolutely must not let the school interfere in our battles again and again through such fraudulent means,” she said, expressing her intense indignance at Tsukishiro’s injustice.

Our goal was to completely and totally take down Tsukishiro. The battle ahead of us would be intense.

“Our enemy is unprepared. We ought to settle things as soon as possible,” she added.

From Tsukishiro’s point of view, we were just mere high school students. He was underestimating what we could do. That was the weakness we could exploit.

“Ayanokouji-kun. For the present, please make every effort to eliminate Acting Director Tsukishiro.”

“In that case, please feel free to let me cut loose,” I replied.

Whether or not she could be trusted wasn’t something that I needed to worry about right now. Based on our interactions thus far, I thought I understood Sakayanagi’s personality quite well.

2.5

A FTER THE TWO STUDENTS left the room, Mashima let Chabashira know what his honest thoughts were.

“There are still some things I can’t quite get a grasp on,” he admitted.

“I feel the same way, Mashima-sensei. But the fact is, what Ayanokouji said was true.”

“Interfering in the way that this school operates just for a single student?” he lamented, finding he still struggled to make sense of this, no matter how much the people around him urged him to believe that it was real. “You’ve had your eye on Ayanokouji for this past year. What kind of person do you think he is?”

“That’s a difficult question, actually.”

Not wanting to linger too long, the two teachers left the reception room about a minute after Ayanokouji and Sakayanagi had departed.

“At first glance, he seems apathetic and indifferent. He’s a normal student, the kind who doesn’t stand out. The kind you might find anywhere.”

The homeroom teachers leading the other classes probably had a similar impression of him. In fact, they probably didn’t have much of an impression of him at all. They’d barely be able to recall his name or his face.

“But I can’t believe those eyes are that of a child. Those eyes remain unfazed by anyone, even adults, and they can see through anything and everything.”

“I’m still skeptical, though.”

“That’s certainly fair. I mean, for a first-year high-school student to be described in that way—it makes sense that you’d have doubts.”

“I’ve been a teacher for several years now, and I’ve seen all kinds of students at this school. In the past few years, I had gotten the impression that Horikita Manabu and Nagumo Miyabi are particularly outstanding students,” said Mashima.

“I certainly can’t argue that,” replied Chabashira.

Both students had excellent academic and physical ability. They were the best in their respective grade levels, and each possessed unparalleled charisma, to boot.

“I was under the impression this year’s crop of freshmen can’t compare to those two. There are some students who come close to matching them in certain areas, of course, but not in every area. What do you think is the extent of Ayanokouji’s abilities, overall?” asked Mashima.

“Will what I tell you impact what you’ll do from here on out?” asked Chabashira.

“No, it won’t. Regardless of what kind of student Ayanokouji is, I have no intention of letting Acting Director Tsukishiro do as he pleases. I’m simply curious is all.”

“Curious… It’s not often that I hear you say something like that, Mashima-sensei. At any rate, I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

Chabashira was also one of the people who couldn’t help wanting to know more about Ayanokouji. The truth of the matter was that even if she wanted to give Mashima an answer, she couldn’t.

“Sounds like we’ve really gotten ourselves into a quagmire here,” said an exasperated Mashima, arms crossed. “Teachers are supposed to maintain an appropriate distance from their students and remain in a position to have jurisdiction over them. It is not wise to establish such a strange relationship.”

“And in order to do that, we need to get rid of Acting Director Tsukishiro as soon as possible,” answered Chabashira.

“Will eliminating him really be enough to put an end to all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no guarantee another assassin won’t be sent in after we expose whatever injustice is going on here. And if that happens, this will grow from a personal problem for Ayanokouji to something that affects his entire grade… In fact, depending on how things go, the entire student body could be affected,” said Mashima, sounding uneasy.

That being said, he would never abandon a student in need.

“I’m afraid this situation is going to become ever more dire,” he added.

“I agree.”

If the situation did escalate, parts of the student body would be denied their chance at a fair assessment. That was something the teachers had to prevent at all costs.

“I hope my prediction doesn’t come true.”

The two teachers, imagining how the situation might unfold, hoped that their concerns were unfounded.

2.6

I KILLED SOME TIME after my discussion with the teachers and Sakayanagi ended, then headed over to the gymnasium. Before long, the thank-you party would be over, and the third-year students would come pouring out. All I needed to do was wait. The first- and second-year students gathered here seemed to be getting more and more nervous as the time drew near.

Some of the third-year students would be leaving school today, immediately after the graduation ceremony ended. Some of the students here might have something that they wanted to say that they hadn’t been able to share before today. How many people were here in total, I wondered? As far as I could tell, there were nearly a hundred.

This included a familiar figure some distance away from the rest of the group.

“So, you’ve come after all, huh,” I said, greeting Horikita as she stood amongst the other students waiting in the area.

She responded with a glare.

“…What? Is it bad that I’m here?” she snapped.

“No, it’s not bad. In fact, I’m honestly a little impressed.”

“Impressed? I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“I was just thinking that if you were still the person you used to be, you probably wouldn’t have come,” I told her.

Horikita seemed somewhat put off by my compliment. “Is that so? I’m just me. Nothing about me has changed.”

She denied that she had grown. Or rather, she rejected self-reflection. Well, I supposed it wasn’t so much that she rejected it as it was that she couldn’t admit to it in front of other people.

The thank-you party in the gym must have ended, because the doors finally opened. It seemed the graduation ceremony was now officially over. This moment in time was officially the last chance for graduates and the current students to interact with one another. After being dismissed, the third-year students came pouring out of the gym. Many of them were aglow, but some of them weren’t smiling, perhaps because of the sadness of leaving school, or because they hadn’t been able to graduate from Class A.

If it were the latter, however, then it was weird that the majority of students didn’t seem to be depressed. After just a brief glance, it looked like the faces of the students not in Class A did contain a hint of joy.

“What do you think?” I asked, seeking Horikita’s opinion on the matter.

“I think that even if you didn’t get a shortcut to making your dreams come true, you can still forge a path for yourself. Generally speaking, if you have the ability to get into higher education or land a job, then you can make those dreams a reality even without special privileges,” said Horikita.

The path of life continued on, never stopping. Horikita was saying that many students, now facing this reality, had decided to forge ahead on the path they’d set out on, hm? If so, it wasn’t surprising that they held their heads high during this big moment in their lives.

Some of the students didn’t engage with anyone in the crowd, but instead returned to the dorms. But the majority of them stopped. I felt like I could see the claw marks—or rather, the impact—they’d made in their three years here.

Horikita Manabu, who had formerly served as the student council president, was one of the students who waited around. No one had rushed up to him yet. It was the perfect chance. If people started to crowd around him, then it would be tougher for Horikita to squeeze her way in. Horikita had been looking forward to this moment, but she couldn’t seem to budge an inch.

“You should go,” I told her.

“I know that,” she replied.

I supposed that what I said went without saying, really. Horikita had been waiting here all this time so that she could talk to her brother. However, now that the time had finally come, she wasn’t moving. Meanwhile, students started to approach Horikita’s brother, one by one, and she still hesitated to take the first step. Deciding nothing was going to happen if I just waited around, I took more drastic measures, and gave her a push.

“H-Hey, what gives?!”

“Claim your rights as his little sister,” I told her.

Although I had urged her ahead, Horikita stubbornly kept her feet planted on the ground, and refused to move forward.

“…It would look really unnatural if I just rushed off toward my brother’s side right now,” she replied.

“There’s nothing especially unnatural about you going over there.”

“Yes, it is, I’d be out of place.”

She spoke of herself in such a way that it sounded like she was belittling herself. It was a lot like the trap she’d sprung on me the other day, when she cooked a meal for me, and it reminded me of how things were shortly after we had started school here. I remembered how she looked at her older brother, Horikita Manabu, as he was giving a speech to the first-year students. She looked at him like he was so far away, unreachable.

Even though Horikita had changed in some small ways, her core was still the same. Though she’d experienced a great many things and matured as a result, some things were still very hard for her. Maybe it was because she had that timid look on her face again that I was thinking about such things…

“Don’t get the wrong idea, though. It’s not like I’m being timid or anything. It’s just that my brother… Well, I came here because I wanted to see what these past three years have come to, for my brother,” she added.

“I see.”

So, she was saying that she didn’t just come here to talk to him. I suppose that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Several more second-year students rushed over, flocking to Horikita’s brother’s side.

“Your brother’s pretty popular,” I added.

He was a guy who’d held onto his place in Class A and acted as student council president. Naturally, he must have been well-liked. I had initially thought he wouldn’t have had much contact with the first-year students, but surprisingly enough, many first-years came running up to him too.

Eventually, the small circle around him started to expand, and began to include other graduates. Horikita’s brother greeted the younger students warmly, with a smile appearing on his face from time to time. At the very last minute, though, I thought I caught a glimpse of something different on his face. I could see something like a burden being lifted from his shoulders, like he had been feeling a heavy, oppressive pressure.

And then…another male student appeared before Horikita’s brother. It was the current student council president, Nagumo Miyabi, from second-year Class A. He was immediately followed by Vice President Kiriyama, Secretaries Mizowaki and Tonokawa, and Asahina.

The air around us didn’t seem to get heavier, exactly. But it did feel like something was off.

“Congratulations on your graduation, Horikita-senpai,” said Nagumo, offering Horikita’s brother words of genuine praise. He drew in closer as he spoke, with a smile on his face.

Horikita’s brother welcomed Nagumo with open arms, showing no sign of disdain.

“Man, I really should have known, huh, Horikita-senpai? I mean, in the end, I wasn’t able to scare you off at all,” said Nagumo.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” replied Horikita Manabu. “To be completely honest, I had no idea how things were going to play out until the very last minute. If I had to give a reason why you were defeated, it’s that you weren’t in my grade level. No matter how much you tried to interfere, you were ultimately nothing more than a bystander.”

No matter how dearly Nagumo wished to do battle with Horikita Manabu, he couldn’t do anything to hurdle the difference in their grade level. Since they couldn’t directly participate in any exam against each other, Nagumo’s options were extremely limited. If he’d really wanted to take Horikita’s brother out, he could have followed Ryuuen’s lead and taken the fight elsewhere…but it seemed Nagumo hadn’t resorted to such measures.

“I suppose so. Aww man, why’d I have to be born a year after you?”

I didn’t sense any frustration in Nagumo’s tone. Rather, I only saw regret that he wasn’t in Horikita’s year.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to ask this, but would you mind shaking my hand, one last time?” asked Nagumo.

“Of course. I have no reason to refuse,” answered Horikita Manabu.

He readily accepted the other, and they shook hands. There was a pleasant silence for a little while. I supposed that, both being student council presidents, they could understand one another on a number of levels without actually exchanging words.

“You have a long year ahead of you. I hope you lead a fulfilling life here,” said Horikita, offering some advice to Nagumo, as his senpai. He didn’t say anything that suggested he had fears about Nagumo running amok, but rather, simply implied he should do as he wished.

“Yes. I will do my utmost in what little time I have left here, after you’re gone. I’m going to turn this school into a true meritocracy. We’ve already finished making the preparations,” said Nagumo.

Horikita’s brother seemed to receive this positively, nodding once. “You regret not being the same age as me. I admit I might share the feeling. I am a little disappointed I won’t get to see the kind of school you’re building. I’m sure there are things I could understand much better if I were to see them up close.”

“I’m not so sure. I think we might just be incompatible, senpai,” said Nagumo.

One of them wanted to uphold the school’s traditions and rules, while the other wanted to smash them. Because their ideologies were completely opposed, confrontation was unavoidable.

“Besides, it’s not that big a deal. Don’t worry ’bout it. You’ll be leaving some juniors behind, right, Horikita-senpai?” said Nagumo.

As Nagumo said that, he shifted his gaze over to someone standing a short distance away, watching them… Not to me, but to Horikita’s little sister, who stood beside me. I could sense her tense up, even if only slightly.

“If your little sister is still around, news will definitely reach you before long,” Nagumo added.

Once they both graduated, the Horikita siblings would reunite, sooner or later. Nagumo was saying that when that time came, Manabu would be able to hear about everything from his sister.

“I suppose you might be right,” answered Horikita, agreeing.

They each slacked their firm grip and released each other’s hands.

“Thank you very much.”

“No, thank you.”

The former student council president, Horikita Manabu, and the current student council president, Nagumo Miyabi. Their final meeting had ended in a surprisingly peaceful, amicable way. Nagumo must have not wanted to be in the way of the other students, because he quickly distanced himself from Horikita’s brother. Two student council presidents meeting like this was quite the attraction, but on the other hand, I supposed that there was something about it that made it difficult for others to approach them.

Nagumo next approached Horikita’s sister, who still continued to watch from a distance. With him was Asahina Nazuna, another student from second-year Class A. It seemed the other members of the student council had gone off to meet with other graduates or something, because they were no longer in sight.

“You heard what we were talking about, right? Make sure to really enjoy what’s coming next year. If I remember right, your name’s—”

“Horiki… I mean, it’s Suzune,” she replied, her voice filled with nervousness.

Horikita wouldn’t usually be this shaken. Perhaps it was the effect of having this conversation right after hearing Nagumo talk to her brother. Nagumo, who seemed to find this amusing, turned back to look in the other direction.

It went without saying who he was looking at. Former student council president Horikita Manabu, an opponent Nagumo had challenged time and time again, heedless of the risks. Manabu was currently surrounded by his juniors, being handed things like bouquets of flowers to celebrate his graduation.

“Suzune, your brother is seriously one hell of a guy. You should be genuinely proud to be his sister.” With those words of praise for her brother, Nagumo once again directed his gaze back to Suzune.

“Yes. I certainly am proud,” she replied, more forcefully, as she felt his gaze on her.

“If there’s something you wanna ask me, feel free. I’m in a good mood today,” said Nagumo.

“…Then I’ll take you up on that offer.” She proceeded to ask Nagumo one question. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Regrets?”

“It’s just that I see no doubts in your eyes, President Nagumo.”

She was probably referring to the handshake the two of them had shared moments ago, as well as their conversation. Nagumo seemed to genuinely, deeply admire the fact that Horikita Manabu had graduated from Class A. But whatever the relationship between the current and former student council presidents might look like from the outside, the fact remained that Nagumo had relentlessly waged war against Horikita Manabu, intending to have him demoted from Class A.

Manabu’s little sister couldn’t be pleased at all with Nagumo. Which was precisely why Nagumo had openly praised him for graduating from Class A, even though he’d done so by successfully warding off Nagumo’s attacks.

“I don’t think I can win against Horikita-senpai that easily. I mean, he’s pretty much an unbeatable opponent, don’t you think?” said Nagumo.

“I… suppose so.”

“You openly admit that you lost to Horikita-senpai then, Miyabi?” said Asahina, interjecting.

Miyabi cast a brief glance in her direction.

“Lost? How exactly did I lose, Nazuna?” he replied.

“Huh? I mean, Horikita-senpai graduated from Class A, right? That means you lost,” she answered definitively, as if the question didn’t even need to be asked.

But Nagumo immediately pointed out what was wrong about her answer.

“It’s certainly true that if you look only at the results, it seems I didn’t stop Horikita-senpai from graduating from Class A. But how does that mean I’ve lost?”

“Well… I would think it means you lost, though? Doesn’t it?” said Asahina, looking to Horikita’s sister for agreement. Horikita Suzune didn’t answer, but listened to Nagumo’s explanation instead.

“It’s certainly true that I challenged him to a contest. But I didn’t care about winning or losing. Even if Horikita-senpai had been demoted to Class B, his underlying worth wouldn’t have changed in any way, would it? The man’s strength and talent cannot be measured by his class,” said Nagumo.

Asahina looked like she remained unconvinced after hearing Nagumo’s argument.

“You don’t get it? All right, in that case, did my value in your eyes go down at all after all this? I’m still the student council president at this school and I’m still in Class A. Is there any area that you can say I’m losing in?” he asked.

“Well, but still.”

“Besides, it’s not like you can really have a proper contest between a second-year student and a third-year student anyway, to begin with.”

I understood what he was trying to say. However, Nagumo had continued to challenge Horikita’s brother despite knowing they could never really have a proper showdown.

“I’ve just been trying to get him to recognize me …Well, no. Rather, it’s like I’ve been attacking senpai all this time to make him recognize me,” said Nagumo.

In that sense, based on what I’d seen today, Horikita’s brother did seem to give Nagumo that recognition. Well, no. I supposed he’d recognized Nagumo’s abilities long ago. It was just that he couldn’t accept his methods at all. Perhaps Nagumo had wanted to make him accept his methods, too.

“You know, you kind of sound like a maiden in love or something,” said Asahina.

“Maybe so. Well, I’ve heard the general gist of what senpai is going to do after graduation, and I’m just going to follow after him,” said Nagumo.

You really couldn’t see a hint of regret in his face, nor did you get the impression he was being a sore loser. Maybe he genuinely had enjoyed his interactions with Horikita’s brother, all the way to the very end.

“After graduation? Seriously? You’re going to keep following Horikita-senpai’s lead even then?” asked Asahina.

“That’s my plan at the moment, anyway.”

“Wow, you really do like him, don’t you? Horikita-senpai, that is,” said Asahina.

“I have no remaining rivals among the second-year students. And none among the first-years either, of course. Which means there’s only one thing left for me to do at this school—overturn the system it’s based on, and make this boring place a lot more interesting,” said Nagumo.

Half of Nagumo Miyabi’s term as student council president had already passed. Until today, he hadn’t really done anything explicitly new. But now that Horikita Manabu had graduated and Nagumo was entering his third year, he was likely about to finally start taking action. As for what he would do… that was something I couldn’t even imagine right now.

“That said, I still don’t really know what to make of you after this year, Ayanokouji,” he added, laying eyes on me for the first time that day.

The way he looked at me was very different from how he looked at the Horikita siblings. The look in his eyes made it seem like he was bored.

“That just means there’s nothing really worth assessing,” I told him.

I was sure the attention I’d been getting of late was nagging at Nagumo. But his feeling that something was off wasn’t enough to make him actually take an interest in me for now, which meant there was absolutely no need for me to do anything to change that.

“Well, once April rolls around, I’ll find out even if you don’t want me to. When this school becomes a true meritocracy, everyone will have to fight, whether they like it or not,” said Nagumo.

Now that Horikita’s brother and the other third-year students had graduated, this school was now under Nagumo’s complete control. I was still skeptical about the extent to which the student council would be able to really influence the school, but Nagumo’s confidence suggested things were definitely going to be different from how they were in my first year.

Horikita’s curiosity must have been piqued after hearing Nagumo say that, because she spoke up. “Does that mean battles won’t just be between classes, then?”

“If we could arrange for that to be the case, it would be ideal. But it’s just not possible. The school won’t allow it,” said Nagumo, with a shrug of his shoulders, letting out an exasperated sigh. “But I’m going to change the system this school operates on to make things depend more on individual ability than ever before. I mean, really, it’s a given that exemplary students should be in the topmost classes, right?”

Horikita neither agreed nor disagreed with him on that point. She only listened silently.

“Also, I’ve been proposing a few interesting ideas that will bring everyone, from first-years to third-years, together more than ever before. If the school agrees to those ideas… Then I might even get to face off against you,” said Nagumo.

Of course, someone like me probably wasn’t worth the time of day to him. At least not the way I appeared right now. But even so, deep down, I felt like he was taking stock of my abilities, trying to analyze and evaluate me.

“Hey Miyabi, don’t you think it’s time we were going? There are some senpai that I wanted to say goodbye to, so I’m going to go,” said Asahina.

“Yeah, you’re right. We can talk with first-years anytime, right?”

And with that, they left, apparently off to talk to some third-year students other than Horikita Manabu.

“ Phew … It’s really exhausting, talking to someone like that,” said Horikita.

“He is the student council president, after all,” I replied.

Although we were only one grade level apart, Nagumo seemed like some kind of untouchable god.

“I’m leaving. I’ve taken care of what I needed to do,” said Horikita. It seemed she’d ultimately given up on talking to her brother here.

“Are you really okay with that? It’s possible that he could be leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s… look, I already know that without you having to tell me, it’s just…”

Horikita, faced with an insurmountable dilemma, seemed to be retreating, already deciding to make her way back to the dorm. I couldn’t exactly force her to stay put, so I decided to just watch her go.

“You’re not heading back?” she asked.

“Nah. I’m going to hang here for a little while,” I replied.

“I see… All right then.”

She seemed a bit curious about what I was going to do, but ended up turning around and heading back to the dorm anyway. As for me, I decided to see how Horikita Manabu and the other third-year students were doing, though there wasn’t anything particularly interesting about their present activities. If anything, it was just that I wanted to capture the scene and burn it into my memory. I tried to imagine myself there in two years’ time, but couldn’t really picture it yet.

The excitement lasted for a little while, but then I saw one person leave, followed by another person. Eventually, the crowd dispersed, and everyone started to go their separate ways. Horikita’s brother must have finished saying his goodbyes. He spotted me and then approached.

“You’re still here?” he asked.

I was sure he understood as well as I did that I kind of stood out here.

“Were you waiting for me?” he added.

“Something like that.”

Even seen from a distance, it was obvious I wasn’t talking with any of the other third-year students.

“I thought this might be the last chance I have to talk with you. When are you leaving the school?” I asked.

Hasty as it was, I decided to come right out and ask him the all-too-important question. If he was going to be leaving right away, I needed to tell his sister about it.

“The afternoon of the thirty-first. I’m planning to ride the twelve-thirty bus,” he replied.

Meaning he’d be leaving a week from now, huh? It wasn’t this very day, it was still soon.

“Looks like Suzune left,” he added.

“She just burned the image of your three years at this school into her memory for now, then headed back.”

We both briefly glanced in the direction of the dormitory building. Naturally, Horikita’s sister was no longer in sight.

“Is that so?” he asked.

I couldn’t really read any emotion in the look on his face: not joy, anger, or grief. At any rate, if things continued this way and they didn’t set something up, the two of them wouldn’t meet again before Horikita Manabu left. At least, that was what I feared…

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like you to pass on a message to Suzune. Tell her that I’ll be waiting by the main entrance at noon on the thirty-first,” said Horikita.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you told her that yourself? If you go after her now, you’ll still reach her in time.”

If he was willing to meet with her right now, this talk could happen fast. Horikita Suzune would probably come running right away.

“It’s possible she won’t be too receptive to that. I want you to be the one to tell her.”

“That might backfire. If I tell her, it’s possible that she won’t come.” She did have a stubborn side, after all.

“If that happens, it just means that Suzune has made her choice,” he answered.

“Are you really okay with that?” I asked to make sure, but he responded without any hesitation.

“Yes. I’m leaving this in your hands.”

If I wasn’t going to be held responsible for her saying no, I had no reason to refuse his request. Besides, I was sure his sister would come running to see him when I relayed the message. The thawing of her heart had already begun.

“I wanted to talk with you a little more, but I have plans,” he added.

It sounded like he’d gotten invitations from several of his kouhai. I supposed that for today at least, he wanted to forget about his sibling and just be his own person, as a student here.

“And I suppose you probably don’t want a long, pointless conversation either.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” I replied.

No matter how much his popularity had declined, I supposed that the former student council president still stood out quite a bit.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to come see me off on the thirty-first, too,” he answered.

“I’m not really good at saying goodbye in front of a big crowd of people.”

“No need to worry. I don’t plan to invite anyone other than you and Suzune to see me off that day,” he replied.

In that case, I figured it would be okay. I gave him a gentle nod, agreeing to his request.

“Sorry for the bother,” said Horikita.

And with that, he left. He was the only person out of the graduates that I had wanted to talk to, so since he was no longer here, my business was finished. I figured I’d head on back too, then.

“Hey, Ayanokouji-kun, if you don’t mind, how about we head back together?”

Just then, Hirata called out to me. Even though he was some distance away, I could tell he’d just finished talking to a large number of third-year students.

“You all set?” I asked.

“Yeah. Even though today’s the graduation ceremony, most of the graduates will be staying here for a few more days. And it sounds like some of the people I’m pretty close with are having their own individual farewell parties anyway,” said Hirata.

Considering who Hirata was, I was sure he had invitations for several of those parties. I supposed some graduates would be staying here at this school as long as they could, which would be April 5. That wasn’t too far off. It was safe to say most of the students were trying to take care of what business they had left before then.

Since I had no reason to turn Hirata down, I decided to head back to the dormitory with him.

2.7

W HEN WE WALKED past the convenience store, Hirata turned to look at me. Then he turned back and faced forward again, as if nothing had happened. He’d done this repeatedly in the past few minutes, over and over again, like he was trying to find the right moment to strike up a conversation with me…

Eventually, Hirata opened his mouth to speak, as if he had finally made up his mind on the matter.

“To tell you the truth… there’s something I kind of want to talk to you about, Ayanokouji-kun,” he said ambiguously.

For a moment, I’d thought he was going to bring up the year-end exam. But it didn’t seem like that was what this was about.

“Something on your mind?” I asked.

“Well… Yeah. I think this is something I want to discuss with you,” replied Hirata, after giving it a little thought.

“I’m not too sure if I’ll be able to help, but you can tell me anything,” I told him.

It didn’t feel bad at all to have Hirata depend on me. But I couldn’t predict what he was going to ask me about at all. I knew he was still depressed about Yamauchi being kicked out of school, but that matter had already been resolved. He might still have some lingering feelings smoldering deep down inside of him, but they weren’t worth discussing. He should have dealt with those issues, at least to the point where he could handle the rest of it well enough on his own.

“Well, this might come as a surprise to you, but…” said Hirata, prefacing his story with that statement. “It’s well, I, well, I don’t really know if… well, if I’m ready for a romantic relationship right now.”

This certainly was unexpected. I never imagined a day would come when Hirata would come to me to talk about romantic relationships.

“You don’t know?” I asked.

For now, I figured I’d listen to the whole story. I urged him to keep going.

“I think it might be because I’ve never really liked a girl that way before, but…” said Hirata, sounding somewhat embarrassed by it.

“You’re saying you’ve never gone out with a girl before?”

“Putting aside the deal that I had with Karuizawa-san, yes, that’s right.”

It might not be really all that surprising…but it was at least a little surprising. I had thought Hirata, who treated people equally regardless of gender, had to have had at least some romantic experience. Though I supposed his relationship with Kei didn’t count, after all. He’d only pretended to be her boyfriend in order to stop her from getting bullied. Still, saying that he’d never liked a girl that way before…

“Are you saying that there’s no one who’s caught your eye, even now?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s right…”

The fact that he could see every girl in an equal light was something of an advantage, but at the same time, it was rather odd.

“Well, what about Mii-chan, then?” I asked.

Mii-chan was very eager to start a relationship with Hirata, and clearly had romantic feelings for him.

“I can’t really see myself being more than friends with her. But I can’t really come out and say that, either,” he replied.

Mii-chan had said she wanted to start out by being friends. Naturally, she wanted things to develop from there until they became lovers. But if Hirata wasn’t willing to go that far, there was nothing that could be done. And if he avoided making that clear to her for no reason, but let this situation drag on instead, that wouldn’t be good for Mii-chan, either.

So that’s what this was about, huh? This was what he wanted to talk about. What was worrying him.

“I know I should come out and clearly tell her how I feel. But it’s hard,” he added.

It was difficult to make her understand without hurting her.

“I’m sure that I’m…definitely not making any sense,” said Hirata.

“I understand,” I replied.

It was precisely because Hirata was a kind-hearted person that he always found himself faced with such distressing dilemmas.

“But this is just how you feel right now, right? You don’t know what it’s going to be like in the future, right?” I asked him.

Romantic feelings weren’t something that you could control. They could come at any moment, completely unexpectedly, like a switch being flicked on.

…Probably.

“Well, sure, I suppose. If we’re talking about the possibility of something happening in the future, I don’t know that it couldn’t. But…”

I supposed this meant Hirata just couldn’t see his relationship with Mii-chan going any further, huh? It didn’t seem like there was anything particularly wrong with her, in terms of looks or personality or anything. Of course, there were many things about love that couldn’t be measured by those aspects alone.

“But I think I can say…with close to absolute certainty that I won’t have those feelings for her.”

Though Hirata didn’t know exactly what the future held, he still seemed to have strong feelings about the matter, in his own way. In that case, there was only one thing I could say to him.

“You should spell it out for Mii-chan loud and clear, because she’d been hoping that for a while now that you would become more than friends,” I told Hirata, looking him in the eyes as I did.

If Hirata kept how he felt to himself, that would mean he’d be making Mii-chan wait, too. Given that, it was best to come out and tell her as soon as possible. If Mii-chan continued to have feelings for Hirata after that point, well, she was free to have them.

But Hirata momentarily averted his eyes from me. “…Even if it hurts her?” he asked.

“It would hurt her more if you put this off, when you already have your answer now. Right?” I told him, once again looking him in the eyes.

Hirata made eye contact with me again, but then quickly averted his gaze once more, looking off in another direction.

“Y-Yeah. You’re right. Of course…” he replied, nodding several times, like he was trying to admonish himself.

Then, he seemed to arrive at a conclusion.

“I’m glad that I talked with you about this, Ayanokouji-kun. This gave me courage. I suppose if you’re not prepared to face the other person being hurt in a situation like this, it means you’re just running away,” said Hirata.

It seemed he’d succeeded in finding his answer, once again.

“So, are you able to tell her now?” I asked.

“I don’t know if it’s the right way or not, but I know which option would hurt her more,” said Hirata, sounding like he had weighed his options.

He fell silent, but I could tell what he was thinking. When Hirata had realized that the latter option would be better for Mii-chan’s sake, his hesitation vanished. In the past, he would probably have continued to agonize over it, and it would have taken him a long time to come up with an answer. His thoughts and his emotions would have been lost in a labyrinth, as he continued to search and search for an option that would allow him to settle things without hurting the other person.

A little while after his problem had been resolved, Hirata looked like he still wanted to say something else.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Oh, um, well… it’s just, I was wondering… Is it okay for me to call you Kiyotaka-kun from now on?”

“Huh?”

I was wondering what he was about to say, but that was completely out of left field.

“And, um, if you like, you can call me by my first name too…” he added.

Was it safe for me to say that this meant our friendship had taken a step forward? I suppose this was just like how my relationship with Keisei, Akito, Haruka, and Airi had deepened in the past, too.

“If you’re okay with it, then sure, of course,” I replied.

When I said that, a huge smile appeared on his face, one so overflowing with happiness that he looked genuinely delighted.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked.

“I mean, we’re just talking about using first names, right? I’m sure it’s not out of the ordinary for you to be on a first-name basis with people, right Hirata? Oh, I mean, Yousuke.”

Although I had the impression that Hirata usually referred to people by their last name, regardless of their gender, he was probably on a first-name basis with some people.

“Well, I suppose it wasn’t that unusual until that whole incident,” he replied.

He was referring to what happened when he was in junior high. When his best friend had been bulled and then had attempted suicide.

“Ever since then…I was afraid of getting close to people. Instead of trying to form real relationships and find someone really special to me, I just treated everyone equally,” said Hirata.

It had been about two years since then. Apparently, he’d only ever referred to people by last name during that time. Come to think of it, he really did treat every student exactly the same, no matter who they were. Even Yamauchi, who had been unanimously kicked out of our class.

It looked like Hirata was breaking out of his shell. And this time, he was doing it on his own. His growth was pretty significant, even compared to how much many of the other students had grown over this past year.

“So, I’m especially grateful to you…Kiyotaka-kun.”

He directed his gaze back toward me, after having averted his eyes for so long. From the look in his eyes, he was trying to tell me something.

“That makes me feel kind of embarrassed,” I said. “You being so grateful to me and all.”

It did make me a little uneasy. But I acknowledged and accepted his feelings, all the same.