Chapter 2: Getting Ready for the Cultural Festival

Chapter 2: Getting Ready for the Cultural Festival

Chapter 2:

Getting Ready for the Cultural Festival

I T WAS MONDAY , November 1 st , the start of chilly fall weather. The days and months had gone by quickly, and in just two more months, we’d be on winter vacation. I supposed that meant that I wouldn’t have this seat or this view from it for too much longer. The fact that I felt a sense of reluctance to part with it was proof to me that the change in seating was a good system. I didn’t technically know at that moment if there would be another change in seats next year like this, but whatever happened, the view would likely be very different from what I had before.

Seconds after the bell rang, Chabashira-sensei appeared in the classroom.

“Good morning. Everyone here?” she asked.

The students’ chitchatting ceased. They immediately went quiet and faced forward, their eyes and ears focused on the teacher, just like always. This school’s unique systems, where even students’ behavior and attitude outside of class factored into the evaluation of the entire class, resulted in serious and disciplined attitudes among the student body.

Not that anything had changed that much compared to last week, of course. But even so, I could sense that they’d improved even further since then. Seeing her students, who continued to grow and mature day by day, Chabashira-sensei nodded deeply.

“I’m sure that your preparations for the Cultural Festival are already well underway,” she told us, “but I have some additional notes to explain. First, I will once again show you an overview of the Cultural Festival as a refresher for anyone who needs to check it over.”

Cultural Festival Overview

Each second-year class will be given 5,000 Private Points per student to be used solely for festival preparations. Students will be allowed to spend those available points freely. First-year students will be provided with 5,500 points each for start-up costs, and third-year students will be provided with 4,500 points.

Additional funding may be provided for community service activities, such as student council activities, contributions via club activities, and so on. Further details will be announced to each class after the rules have been finalized.

Start-up funds and additional funds will not be reflected in final sales totals. Any funds that are not used must be returned in the end.

100 Class Points will be awarded to classes in first through fourth place. 50 Class Points will be awarded to classes in fifth through eighth place. No Class Points will be awarded to classes in ninth through twelfth place.

“This is what you have seen before. You should have no problems remembering these guidelines,” said Chabashira-sensei.

Since there weren’t any questions from the students, she went on with the explanation. “The details about additional funding have been finalized, so I’d like to announce those now.”

Additional funding. According to the overview, additional funding could be earned for community service activities and the like. That meant student council activities, club activities, and so on. Apparently, the time had come for us to hear more about that. If your budget wasn’t finalized, it’d be impossible to determine how many activities you could run during the festival, as well as the exact nature and scope of those activities. Despite this inconvenience, it wasn’t much of a problem as long as all classes in all grade levels were faced with the same conditions.

“First, I’ll show you the total additional funding to be given to this class, along with an itemized breakdown of your totals,” announced Chabashira-sensei.

She fiddled with her tablet and pulled up a spreadsheet with lists of data. The file showed that a total of twelve people were eligible to receive additional funding.

Horikita Suzune: Student Council Service Bonus – 10,000 Points

Sudou Ken: Club Activity Bonus – 10,000 Points

Onodera Kayano: Club Activity Bonus – 10,000 Points

…

I had guessed that 10,000 points was likely the maximum as only three students had been able to gain that degree of additional funding. The nine other students received other sums, ranging from several hundred to several thousand points in recognition of their contributions. For example, Yousuke was going to receive 3,000 points as his club activity bonus, while Akito would receive 1,000. The list mainly showed students in the class who were active in clubs.

In total, this class was going to receive 39,400 points in additional funding.

If we were to contextualize the value of those three big bonuses another way, they would be worth more than six people’s shares of start-up points. This funding was going to be essential in putting together our plans for the Cultural Festival.

“I cannot give you an itemized breakdown of what the other classes are receiving, but Sakayanagi’s Class A received 18,800 points, Ryuuen’s Class C received 17,000 points, and Ichinose’s Class D received 26,600 points in additional funding,” Chabashira-sensei said. “In other words, you have the most additional funding out of all the second-year classes.”

That also meant that, in terms of funding, Ichinose’s class was in second, and Sakayanagi’s class just barely beat out Ryuuen’s class for third place. That puts him last, huh. These were unexpected results, to be sure, but I supposed that the student council service bonus might’ve been a contributing factor. It was, simply put, a big deal that both Horikita and Ichinose received 10,000 points each. Other students like Sudou and Onodera were considered to be outstanding contributors to their respective clubs—head and shoulders above the rest of the school, even.

Since we couldn’t use our own personal Private Points for the Cultural Festival, Horikita’s class needed to stay within a total budget of 229,400 points if we added up the value of all students’ start-up plus the additional funding. Every single point counted.

However, Horikita’s class couldn’t be too proud just from looking at this. Those additional funds would be an advantage in the preparatory stage before the start of the Cultural Festival, but if those funds weren’t reflected in the final sales totals, they’d end up being a waste if they weren’t utilized well. What Chabashira-sensei was showing us was apparently the explanation for additional funding, but that shouldn’t have been all there was to know. Several pieces of information we needed about the Cultural Festival still hadn’t been disclosed to us.

“Now then… Next, I’ll share details about guests with you all, which is going to be important as that’s how you’ll be making your sales.”

How many guests would be coming to the Cultural Festival? What kind of people were they? How much money would those guests have on hand? We didn’t have that kind of information yet.

“The guests we’ve invited include people who have some connections to the operation of this school, as well as their family members,” explained Chabashira-sensei. “Naturally, this means guests will represent a wide range of age groups—from the elderly, to toddlers, to elementary school students, and so on. It’s also been decided that people who regularly work at Keyaki Mall, the convenience stores, and so on will be invited to attend as guests as well.”

Our tablet screens now showed us a graph indicating the number of guests by age. People in their thirties and forties accounted for the greatest percentage of attendees, followed by those under twenty, and then those in their fifties.

“Each adult guest will be provided with 10,000 points. Minors will be provided with 5,000 points. There will be 283 adults and 202 minors. There are 485 attendees in all, meaning that the total amount they will have to spend comes out to 3,840,000 points,” explained Chabashira-sensei.

This meant that the ranking of classes across all grade levels would depend on how much they could take in sales from that total.

“I should also mention that the number of participants includes us as well, meaning your teachers,” Chabashira-sensei added. “Homeroom teachers are restricted from using their points on anything run by classes in the grade level they teach in, but apart from that, they’re treated no differently than any other guest.”

I figured it was essential that teachers were prevented from spending their points within the grade level they taught in. After all, as homeroom teachers, they’d inevitably want to spend their money on their own class if they were able to.

“Is it possible for any of the guests to use more than the 10,000 points of spending money?” asked Ike.

Chabashira immediately shook her head. It was a rash question from Ike, like usual, but she didn’t really admonish him in any way when she answered. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the fact that Ike hadn’t changed. “No,” she said. “Guests can only spend the amount they’ve been given. That limit is set in stone.”

Guests weren’t provided with unlimited funds, so it wouldn’t be possible to try to hook individual big spenders. Instead, it would be a contest over who could snatch up the most guests. There would inevitably be a battle over customers.

“Now, to bring up something important: the payment method,” Chabashira said. “The school will be using a system where payments are handled via a dedicated phone app that allows the school to track sales in real time. Please keep in mind that the app will be disabled the moment that the Cultural Festival ends at 4:00 p.m. You’re free to choose when exactly you’ll have customers check out, but we recommend that you have them pay in advance before you provide any goods or services.”

If you decided, for example, to have customers pay after eating their meal, then it was possible that 4:00 p.m. could come before they paid. In cases like that, you’d risk not being able to collect those points.

“Now that I’ve explained all of that, please raise your hands if you have any questions,” said Chabashira-sensei.

Horikita’s hand shot up straight away. “How will the rankings be determined in the event that multiple classes make the same amount in sales? I understand that this is an extreme example, but what would happen if every class got the same amount in sales—320,000 points—and there was a tie?”

Since the total amount of available points was neatly divisible, you couldn’t be sure that Horikita’s example wouldn’t happen. If everything proceeded normally, the probability that every class would get the same amount in sales was astronomically small, but it wasn’t impossible that classes would engage in collusive price-fixing. If everyone tied for first was treated equally and granted the same privileges, then everyone could raise their Class Points equally.

I would have assumed that the school would have considered some kind of countermeasure for that, but…

“In the event that multiple classes earn the same amount in sales, they will be treated as being tied for the same ranking,” Chabashira-sensei replied. “So, if all twelve classes achieved equal sales numbers like you suggested, Horikita, then all twelve classes would be treated as though they’ve won first place and would all receive 100 Class Points.”

Was the school being lax here because classes wouldn’t lose Class Points even if they lost? No, perhaps they determined in the very beginning that it was unlikely that a large number of classes would be tied.

“However, total sales will only be confirmed after this ‘exam’ has concluded. Sales manipulation by any third parties are also not allowed,” added Chabashira-sensei. “It is impossible for classes to come together, discuss, and make plans to engage in price-fixing and share sales prior to the festival. Also, it’ll be impossible for classes to arrange to divide their sales up equally after the Cultural Festival concludes. You understand what this means, I trust?”

If sales numbers couldn’t be manipulated after the fact, it was even more unlikely that all the classes would tie for first place. More importantly, though, it was hard to imagine that all classes would come together in a friendly manner at all, giving up a precious opportunity to compete with each other.

“But we probably won’t get the same amount in sales, right?” Maezono voiced her doubts, clearly not having understood the reason Horikita had asked that question. “Like, thinking normally? I don’t think we need to worry about it.”

“Well, if we were fighting normally, then no, we wouldn’t need to worry about that, Maezono-san,” Horikita replied. “But it’s not impractical to find out the rule for such a situation.”

Horikita’s statement was also valid. It wasn’t a bad idea to find out, just in case. As for whether or not there would be any sort of price-fixing agreements, that was unclear at the moment. It was possible that certain grades or classes might collude to create a situation where they would get an equal number of sales. There were several possible ways it could be done, but if the classes worked it out in advance so that their final sales numbers of all goods and services added up in such a way that the classes evened out, it wouldn’t be that difficult to create a scenario in which all products being sold equaled the same.

However, we also needed to be prepared for acts of betrayal, unforeseen circumstances, and unforeseen trouble. It would be no laughing matter if, even after you prioritized selling out your product, your sales results put you at the bottom of the rankings. The hurdles that you had to overcome in order to intentionally create a tie were much, much higher than one might have imagined.

“Does anyone else have questions?” asked Chabashira-sensei. No one else raised their hands to ask anything further about the Cultural Festival. “Well then, that’s all there is to say about the Cultural Festival. Next, I’ll announce the results of the second semester midterm exams. This time, there was a student whose results surprised even me.”

She moved on to announcing the results of the written exam. There were quite a few terrified yelps from the students in class who weren’t good at handling those kinds of exams. Depending on how you interpreted it, the word surprised could be negative, but since Chabashira-sensei’s expression wasn’t dark or stern, it seemed that wasn’t the case.

All at once, the names of all thirty-eight students in class were displayed in order, starting with the student with the highest overall score.

Keisei had taken first place. Keisei had gotten incredible marks, scoring well in all subjects. Slightly behind him, in second, was Horikita. She was almost on par with Keisei, and there was only a three-point difference in their scores. From there, there was the usual lineup of honors students, but without a doubt, it was the person in eleventh place that had surprised Chabashira-sensei.

11 th Place – Sudou Ken

Modern Literature = 73 Points; Chemistry = 76 Points; Social Studies = 70 Points; Mathematics = 78 Points; English = 70 Points

He had a score of 367 points overall with a good balance in all subjects. All the people ranked above him were honors students like Yousuke, Kushida, Matsushita, and Wang, and that was exactly why Sudou’s ranking was such a surprise to everyone. It was a well-known fact that Sudou was studying fervently, but he was out late every day because he was busy with his club activities. It was completely unexpected for him to come in at the top of the rankings.

“Whoa, for real?!” exclaimed Ike. “Ken got eleventh…? That’s crazy…”

There was honest admiration in Ike’s voice. Well, it was more like dumbstruck amazement. Ike had started at almost the same level as Sudou—rather, he had actually been above Sudou’s level at the start. This was a major upset; the huge leap Sudou had made was beyond imagining. This test had been moderately challenging. There was only a difference of about fifteen points in overall score between Sudou’s score and the bottom twenty, but even so, his results astonished many.

I expected the man in question to be jumping for joy at this, but he simply did a small fist pump. He wasn’t bragging or poking fun of others for scoring less than him.

I checked out the latest updates to OAA on my phone.

Sudou Ken. Academic Ability: C+, Physical Ability: A+, Adaptability: C–, Societal Contribution: D–.

Though he was maintaining close to an average score on the whole, his Physical Ability score was a cut above the rest. If he kept his test scores up, then we could see Sudou being on the cusp of an Academic Ability score of B in the near future. Furthermore, if he continued brushing up on his studies, he might eventually achieve an A or above in both Academic Ability and Physical Ability. From the looks of things, Sudou’s efforts over the past year had borne fruit in a truly unexpected way.

There had also been fewer instances of problematic behaviors in his personal life, and even his Societal Contribution score had risen to a D–. Even his growth potential in OAA was a cut above the rest.

Incidentally, I came in fourteenth place in the test rankings, placing lower than Sudou. I got a perfect score in mathematics, but I deliberately held back in the other subjects. It would be fair to say that I had cut some corners, but in truth, I actually had another goal in mind. If I showed everyone a perfect score in all subjects on the second-semester midterm test, it would’ve only caused unnecessary confusion.

It was many times more important for me to make the students feel like they needed to grow up themselves and help the class like Sudou had done, rather than reassuring them that there was a classmate in their midst who they could rely on to get high scores. In truth, Sudou’s eleventh place finish generated a wide range of emotions among his classmates. Almost all of those could be used in a positive way.

While there were some students whose names appeared at the top of the rankings, there were others who inevitably sank to the bottom. Those students who scored near the bottom were, for lack of a better word, regulars there, but when compared to the average scores of other classes, it was clear that they were changing, little by little. The number of students who were trying to improve, while still low, was increasing. And it seemed that, slowly but surely, they were starting to show results.

Of course, not everyone was going to do as well as Sudou. Even when it came to things like studying, people had differences in the amount of talent they had for absorbing information. There were also significant differences in perseverance and stamina. But more importantly, in Sudou’s case, we couldn’t forget that his motivation stemmed from his love for Horikita, who was also tutoring him.

At any rate, a fire had been lit under the other students now that Airi had been expelled, and the competition to stay out of the bottom of the rankings had begun.

2.1

W HEN MOST of the students had cleared out after class that day, several important players remained in the classroom. They were the four students who jointly proposed the maid café idea: Satou, Matsushita, Mii-chan, and Maezono. Horikita and I were also there, bringing the total to six.

After the girls gave us their initial presentation, discussion related to the maid café had been mostly conducted over the phone in order to prevent information leakage. Now that we had reached a stage where we could finally proceed in earnest to determine things such as our layout and stall location, however, it was necessary to have a detailed discussion. We had decided to hold it in the special building, the same place that we had actually planned on renting space in.

Considering the concept for the maid café and the scale of it, the first idea we eliminated was having it outside. In other words, the interior space of the classroom had been a given since the beginning, but we weren’t sure about the actual location for our café business, even today. Students from other classes and grade levels were going around every day to investigate and scout around, looking for suitable locations for their stalls. We had to be creative while we scouted for space ourselves so that the others wouldn’t be able to narrow down which place we were planning to use.

We could’ve dealt with onlookers more effectively if we were able to include some of the boys in this endeavor, like Yousuke, but unfortunately he and the others were busy with club activities around this time. Having too large a group would create its own set of problems, anyway.

As soon as the six of us got together and started moving, Matsushita turned to Horikita and me.

“So, what are you going to do…about Hasebe-san and Miyake-kun?” she asked.

“What do you mean, what am I going to do?” asked Horikita.

“All they do is show up at school every day. They don’t try to talk to anyone. It’s like they still consider us, the whole class, as their enemies.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Horikita said. “Well, they’re mostly directing their hostility at me though.”

Haruka had put up a big wall after she had been forced to expel her best friend, Airi. Even though she was coming back to class, the wall remained.

“I think that Hasebe-san might try to get revenge on the class, somewhere down the line,” said Matsushita.

Matsushita probably hadn’t been approached directly by Haruka, and it was doubtful she had heard anything about what she was planning. But if someone like Matsushita took a look at Haruka and the way she was acting right now, it would be easy to surmise that something was up.

“That might happen, yes,” Horikita admitted. “But it’s also true that I haven’t seen any instances of problematic behavior from her so far. She’s even been participating in meetings for the Cultural Festival.”

Haruka knew about the maid café anyway, since we had approached her about it from an early stage, after it was initially proposed. There wasn’t any reason not to include her.

“Does that mean you’re condoning her revenge?” Matsushita asked Horikita.

“Of course not. I understand why she’s upset, but that doesn’t mean I’ll simply sit back and tolerate her making trouble for the class.”

Any interference with the class, besides extenuating circumstances like an unavoidable event in a special exam, would be treated as an absolute act of evil. As for Horikita, I was sure she strongly hoped that Haruka wouldn’t do anything reckless.

“Okay, but this isn’t a situation where that sort of logic applies,” Matsushita argued. “It shouldn’t be taking this long to resolve it.”

Matsushita kept shooting me looks, pointedly moving her eyes my way without moving her head. She seemed to be trying to get me to say something while still making sure to treat Horikita as the leader. However, I wasn’t about to offer my perspective at this time. It was obvious that Haruka was plotting revenge, but right now, she was going to school, taking tests normally, and wasn’t doing anything to cause trouble for the class. Even if we didn’t know what was going to happen in the future, we couldn’t question her at this point in time.

“There are a few steps that we can take in advance,” Matsushita went on. “If you outright tell someone to stop thinking about revenge, then you’ll only end up getting on their nerves. It’s just…”

“Just…?” asked Horikita.

“If she’s really looking for an opportunity to take revenge, she definitely won’t be putting it off for months.”

I agreed with Matsushita’s opinion. It was hard to believe that Haruka would just quietly go about her business in school like this for the next six months or a year.

In other words, the most critical time for us to be on the lookout for anything would be…

“I can’t deny the possibility that she’ll do something at the Cultural Festival,” Horikita agreed.

Matsushita nodded quietly. That was probably the exact thing she wanted Horikita to acknowledge.

“According to Ayanokouji-kun, Hasebe-san said she has no intention of working as a maid,” Horikita went on. “We gave her and Miyake-kun general staff roles, still letting them know what’s going on. If we were to carelessly try to hide information or exclude her from the group, it would be as good as telling her that we’re suspicious of her.”

If Horikita or one of the rest of us did something to slight Haruka and her allies, even if they previously had no intention of doing something, it was possible that the once-extinguished spark could be ignited once again.

“So, you’re saying that we keep the line open to be friendly, but we avoid giving them important roles,” said Matsushita.

“Yes,” said Horikita. “Just in case.”

Of course, Horikita probably didn’t have particularly strong concerns that things would go off the rails during the Cultural Festival. But, as a leader, it was important to act ahead of time. Many guests would be coming to the Cultural Festival, after all; if Horikita’s class was received poorly by them, it wouldn’t be surprising if they were penalized in some way.

“I know you’re worried about Haruka and Miyake, but we’re just about there,” I remarked.

Matsushita was so engrossed in her conversation with Horikita that she hadn’t realized we were getting close to our destination. Many classes were still agonizing over where to set up their stalls, so there was no telling where any careless comments might be overheard.

The special classroom building had three floors, and there were eight classrooms that could be used as potential stall locations. We were on the third floor right now, and the closer you were to the stairs by the entrance, the higher the cost would be.

Our current location had the advantage of being the furthest point away from the main entrance, making it the most cost-effective of the indoor options. Rooms on the third floor could be rented from anywhere between 10,000 and 13,000 points, while rooms on the first floor had a flat rate of 50,000 points. With a difference in cost of nearly 40,000 points, that would mean we had much more to spare for food expenses and so on.

The amount of points given to each class was finite. It was inevitable that classes would worry about things like how much they should spend on their stall location and how to allocate their funds overall.

“It’s a lot further back than I thought it’d be.” Mii-chan’s first comment was about the distance from the entrance. I figured everyone else felt the same way she did. “What do you think, Satou-san?” she then asked, turning to Satou.

Satou hadn’t said anything yet today, but even after Mii-chan asked that question, she didn’t respond immediately.

“Satou-san?”

After Mii-chan called her once again, this time from much closer, Satou answered in a fluster. “Oh, um. Yeah, I think that it might be…a little far.”

“I don’t think everyone would go this out of the way unless we had something really special to offer,” commented Mii-chan.

Opinions amongst the group were generally aligned, which was probably why we didn’t stay on the third floor for too long. It was lower on our list of preferences. Instead, we all went down a level to look at the second floor.

“I really think the second floor is better than the third after all. The first would be ideal though…” muttered Maezono, looking out the window.

“That’s true. But…won’t the first floor be really rough, in terms of cost?” said Mii-chan. She stared down at her phone with a glum expression on her face.

“Even so, we need to make a decision soon,” said Matsushita. She glanced over at Mii-chan’s phone. “The rooms are already pretty booked up.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Mii-chan. “Two of the five places that we picked out as possible locations have already been taken… But we do still have choices left on all three floors, which I guess is actually a bit of a headache.”

Should we pay more points for convenience? Or should we abandon that and keep our costs low?

“I still think we should pick the first floor,” Maezono stated. “If the other stalls get people’s attention and we can’t get them to come up to the second floor, then we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

“I don’t think it really matters all that much if we’re on the second or third floor though, as long as people want to come,” said Matsushita.

Maezono, Mii-chan, and Matsushita debated what to do. I realized that Satou, who was always in high spirits and often spoke up even when she wasn’t asked, had been quiet for a while now. Her friends occasionally glanced at her, seemingly worried. It looked like while Satou was here in body, she wasn’t in spirit.

Once Matsushita noticed that I was worried about her too, she came over and whispered in my ear.

“She’s been like that all the time lately, it seems like. Satou-san, I mean.”

“Come to think of it, she has looked especially down the last few days,” I replied.

“I thought you might know something about it, Ayanokouji-kun, but I guess not.”

Was Matsushita under the mistaken idea that I was a telepath or something? Or perhaps she thought I could have picked something up via Kei, since she was close friends with Satou… Either way, I didn’t have any more information.

“I don’t get the sense that she’s feeling unwell or anything,” Matsushita went on. “I asked her if there was anything on her mind, but she didn’t give me a clear answer either.”

“Sometimes people just want to be left alone. Maybe that’s it?” I asked.

“You’re right about that. But for some reason, I get the feeling that it’s not like that.”

“Meaning what?”

She must have had some idea about what was up with Satou, because after I pressed her for more, she replied, “I feel like it’s something she wants to talk about but can’t. Something like that. After all, she’s the type of person who keeps things that bother her bottled up deep down inside.”

It was amazing how much you could understand after being friends with someone for a year and a half.

“If she’s keeping it to herself, then that’s all there is to it, right?” I said.

“Well, sure, but…she usually comes to me for advice,” said Matsushita.

“In that case, I guess we’ll just wait and see for a while longer. If your read of the situation is right, she’ll probably come to you for help sometime soon, Matsushita. Right?”

“…Probably, yeah.”

Although Matsushita found that a bit difficult to accept, she quietly withdrew for now, since we both knew that this was not a conversation we could carry on for a long time with Satou so close by. The fact that Satou was a bit absent right now was somewhat concerning, but at the moment, deciding on our stall’s location took priority. It was time to finalize that decision and move onto the next phase of planning.

Just as we finished inspecting the second floor and were about to move on to the last leg of our tour on the first floor, we happened to come across another small group of people.

“’Sup, Ayanokouji. You looking for stall locations for the Cultural Festival too?”

The person who called out to me was none other than Hashimoto from Class 2-A. Shortly after that, Kamuro and the leader of their class, Sakayanagi, showed up as well. If all three of them were here at the same time, they likely weren’t simply going for a stroll.

“Who can say?” I replied. “Maybe we’ve already decided. Or maybe we haven’t even decided whether we’re going to be inside or outside yet.”

“You haven’t decided yet?” said Hashimoto. “Nah dude, that’s clearly a lie. Are you trying to tell me that you’re taking Horikita and these other girls for a walk around the special building for no reason? Come on, tell me what kinda thing you’re gonna do at the festival.”

Sakayanagi didn’t join the conversation, instead just watching with a faint smile on her lips. Horikita though, unable to just stand there and listen quietly, intervened to stop the conversation right there.

“There’s no point in asking him. He’s not in a position where he would understand everything about the class.”

“So what, you’re just enjoying your harem then?” asked Hashimoto, pointing out that I was the only guy in our group of six, before turning to Kamuro for agreement.

“Well, I’m sure it’s the same for you then, Hashimoto-kun,” Horikita calmly fired back. “You’re with Sakayanagi-san and Kamuro-san. The only thing that’s different is the number of girls, but you’re the only boy in your group too. I wonder if you were aware of that when you made such a strange remark about us.”

Horikita certainly got him there, dropping to his same level, but I didn’t think it would really work on Hashimoto. Instead, he simply changed the subject, as though their previous exchange hadn’t even happened.

“So… Satou, Matsushita, Wang, and Maezono, huh,” he said, turning to the four who had proposed the maid café. “You guys have been chatting a lot at school lately, haven’t you?”

While three of the girls put up their guard, Matsushita took a step forward with the same demeanor she usually had.

“It’s no use trying to get anything out of us,” she snapped.

“I would hope that you understand now,” added Horikita.

The two of them glared at Hashimoto.

“Hey, come on, I didn’t mean it like that, ’kay? Seriously. I just—” He suddenly stopped. The others in my group started to feel a sense of unease over the way he had hinted at something. “Oops, guess I probably shouldn’t say any more than that, huh?” he said with a grin, shooting a sideways glance at Sakayanagi for the first time during this conversation.

That look seemed to be asking her, “You don’t mind if I talk, do you?”

“It seems like you have something to say, Hashimoto-kun,” said Matsushita, sounding somewhat irritated.

Matsushita stood between Hashimoto and the three other girls, protecting them. Hashimoto must have been waiting for someone to say that though, because his smooth-talking mouth immediately went into action.

“Hey, I’m just worried for you guys, like how things will go for you in the Cultural Festival. I mean, it seems like you worked well with Ryuuen during the Sports Festival, but do you really think you can trust that guy forever?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Matsushita.

“What it sounds like. He’ll pretend to be your ally, but he won’t be afraid to stab you in the back later.”

“The Sports Festival was the Sports Festival. This is the Cultural Festival,” Matsushita replied. “You and Sakayanagi-san’s class are obviously enemies we need to beat, but Ryuuen-kun’s class is an enemy too. Of course, there’s no way we’d trust him.”

“Well, that’s good. I was just thinking that you’d be teaming up with Ryuuen again for sure,” said Hashimoto.

Hashimoto said it with an air of concern for our welfare, as though he were telling us to watch out, in case we were going to team up. I was sure that Matsushita was sharp enough to pick up on the implications behind what he was saying, however. I figured Matsushita was tempted to ask Hashimoto if he knew something, but she held herself back.

“We’re in a hurry, and I don’t really think we can stand here and play word games forever. Right, everyone?” said Matsushita, turning to the girls and me for agreement.

“You’re right,” said Horikita. “I think it’s about time we left. Talking with him is just a waste of time.”

“Wow, they really hate you, huh?” Kamuro teased Hashimoto over the awkward atmosphere, prompting the latter to let out a forced, unnatural-sounding sigh.

“Maybe they do,” he said. “I just figured I’d try telling them, I guess, but… Well, I’m sure they’ll do their best.”

In the end, Sakayanagi hadn’t uttered a single word during that entire conversation, and she went into the classroom that we had been looking at earlier.

“That was a little scary…” Mii-chan placed her hand to her chest, murmuring to Satou, who was standing to her left.

“…Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. It was, a little, wasn’t it?” If Satou even heard what she said, her behavior was unnatural.

“Anyway, let’s get moving,” said Horikita.

If we stood here and continued talking, we’d run into those Class A students again soon. Everyone wanted to avoid that, so we decided to look at another potential stall location.

“Um, so about what Hashimoto-kun was talking about earlier… Is that bothering anyone else?” Maezono mumbled.

While we were making preparations for the maid café, there was one thing that Horikita and I had shared only with the people present. I figured that Maezono was shaken up because of what Hashimoto said and was feeling anxious.

“We confirmed that we’re going to cooperate with Ryuuen’s class for the upcoming Cultural Festival too…right?” Maezono went on.

“Yes. I received permission from Ryuuen-kun’s side while we were working together during the Sports Festival,” said Horikita.

Horikita and Ryuuen had worked things out so our services wouldn’t overlap with each other. And if we ended up offering something similar, or if we had competing ideas, we would avoid having similar stall locations. We would engage in an efficient exchange of personnel, we would temporarily loan and borrow amongst each other, and we could support each other as necessary. Even though these were only minor arrangements, Horikita and Ryuuen came to an agreement to prepare for unforeseen circumstances.

“I wasn’t that bothered before since things went so well in the Sports Festival, but after everything Hashimoto said, I can’t help but feel anxious, I guess… Are we really sure that we can trust Ryuuen-kun?” said Maezono.

“It’s most certainly doubtful that we can trust Ryuuen-kun, in my opinion,” said Horikita. “Which is exactly why I brought Katsuragi-kun into the discussion. I think that it’ll be okay.”

“I want to believe that too,” Maezono replied. “But didn’t it seem like Hashimoto-kun knew something?”

“Yes, I got that feeling too,” said Mii-chan. “Even if their class isn’t going to betray us, isn’t it possible that the fact we’re working together has gotten out?”

“The only ones who know that are me, Ayanokouji-kun, and you four who came up with the idea for the maid café,” Horikita said. “Then, there’s also Katsuragi-kun in Ryuuen-kun’s class, of course. Some of his classmates who are important in running their stall might have heard, but there wouldn’t be any benefit in leaking that information.”

“I agree with Horikita’s opinion,” I added casually. “I’m sure no one expected Horikita and Ryuuen to work together during the Sports Festival and that Class A would lose. They’re just wary that the next time won’t be so different. I expect Class A might try to make contact again and probe for information in similar fashion, but it’s best we don’t worry about it too much.”

“Y-yeah, that makes sense. I understand,” replied Maezono.

She and Mii-chan nodded while Matsushita and Satou both focused their minds once again. After that, we returned to the classroom and gathered to make a final decision.

“I think we should decide where to have our stall by way of a majority vote with the people present here,” Horikita said. “Is that okay?”

“What if opinions are evenly split?” asked Maezono.

“We’ll figure that out if the time comes. First, let’s try coming to a decision and see where we land. Throw rock for the first floor, scissors for the second, and paper for the third. All right?”

Mii-chan recited those instructions in a quiet voice, perhaps so she wouldn’t get confused. She then looked at her palm.

“Here goes. One, two, three!”

The six of us, me included, simultaneously expressed which floor we preferred using our hands. The decision was obvious at a glance. Four people had thrown rock, while two had thrown scissors. No one had thrown paper. I figured that the third floor had been excluded because of the hassle involved in getting up there. I had thrown scissors myself because of the lower initial cost, but going with the first floor wasn’t a bad choice because of how convenient it was. Matsushita was the other person who had thrown scissors.

At any rate, now that we decided we’d be applying for space on the first floor, we had officially taken a step forward.

“I’ll put in our application right away,” Horikita said. “There are still many classes that are waiting to see how things go, and it’d be a hassle if the rooms on the first floor got snatched up.”

Using her phone, Horikita immediately began applying for a spot on the first floor.

“All right. So, are we done for the day now?” asked Maezono.

“No,” I replied. “Actually, there’s one thing I have to talk to you about before we split.”

I had been gathering information on maid cafés on my own up until recently, and I figured that I should share what I had found.

“Men are the target audience for a maid café,” I said. “Although there will be many families among the guests coming to the Cultural Festival, basically, male visitors will be our main target.”

“Well, I wouldn’t assume we won’t see any female customers at all, but I suppose that there will be a considerable difference in the ratio of men to women,” said Horikita.

Everyone seemed to agree on that point; you didn’t need to do any research on the topic to come to that conclusion.

“I’ve heard that there’s the opposite of the maid café out there in the world too—the butler café. Rather than a girl dressed in a maid outfit serving customers, it’s a guy, dressed up as a butler,” I explained.

Perhaps Matsushita and the others hadn’t heard that before because they seemed impressed and surprised.

“Yes, both maid café and butler café are both types of concept cafés,” said Horikita.

“…You’re apparently quite knowledgeable too, Horikita,” I replied.

“I at least gathered some information about it,” she said. “I can only decide if something is useful or not after I’ve learned it, after all.”

I expected as much from her.

“All right then, we can move on,” I said. “The most important thing is a sense of cleanliness. That is paramount. I think we need to take that aspect into account, and not just focus on what floor we’ll be on in the special building.”

For example, each of the classrooms had seen significantly different degrees of usage for classes and such.

“The floors, walls, ceilings, and even other things like chairs, will probably have no small variation in scuffs and damage due to age degradation. We’ll want to make sure people don’t miss checking for those things as well,” I added.

“That’s important, for sure,” agreed Horikita. “Even if we clean ourselves up to a certain extent, there are some things we just won’t be able to cover up. The cleaner everything looks, the better it’ll be for our café.”

Everyone agreed, and so they began to look here and there around the classroom. Up until now, everyone had only been taking things like convenience and the view outside the room into account. Now, they’d start focusing on different things.

“And, regarding the uniforms, we can’t push the eroticism too blatantly,” I remarked.

“Huh?” Horikita sputtered. “Wh-what did you just say…?”

“Eroticism,” I repeated. “Eros and erotic elements have been considered important aspects in art since ancient times. While it would be out of the question for the maids to do something like outright show their underwear, it’s also important that we don’t dispel the hope that the customers might catch a glimpse.”

Even Horikita looked taken aback by that. Perhaps she hadn’t wrapped her mind around that point, after all. “U-um, Ayanokouji-kun… What’s with the, uh, excessive level of detail?” asked Horikita.

“I obviously can’t cut any corners since you’ve asked me to help run the maid café. I simply studied so I could be as much help as I possibly could,” I replied.

It was also deeply reassuring that there were several students who were quite familiar with this topic. I had avoided stating that Horikita’s class was going to be running a maid café, of course, when I approached those students with the context of me personally being interested in such things. I felt a little sorry about it—some students mistakenly came to the conclusion that I had an otaku awakening, and they treated me with an unusual degree of hospitality as they taught me what they knew. They even told me they didn’t need anything in return, because it meant they were gaining a comrade.

“May I continue?” I asked.

“Y-yes, please… Go ahead…” said Horikita.

It didn’t seem like anyone was going to stop me from talking, so I decided to spend some time telling them what it would be like to be a maid. It was important for those who were actually wearing the costumes to understand that. It was possible that they’d be more self-conscious when they were interacting with customers.

“In that case, next, think about a sales strategy,” I said. “In addition to providing food and drinks, we will allow customers to pay for pictures. We’ll provide special instant cameras for this and charge 800 points for a picture with one maid. If a customer wants a picture with two maids, the price will be 1,200 points. I suggested taking pictures with our phones and then using a printer to print them to reduce costs, but the Professor, the one who told me all of this stuff, rejected that idea. He told me that if we neglected quality in favor of profit, no one would give us a second look.”

I figured that if we made good use of this system, sales of the photos could be just as good as sales from the food menu.

“But then we’d have to worry about inventory, won’t we?” asked Horikita.

“No, we’ll be careful with the film’s use,” I explained. “We’ll just have to consider that the pictures could sell out. Oh, and this will be done on the condition that photos are not public, of course. Then, under Horikita’s leadership, we’ll set up a food stall led by the boys, but the food offered there should be linked to the maid café too.”

After I finished speaking, Horikita was silent for a while. Eventually, she cleared her throat and began to speak.

“The competition will inevitably be fiercer for food service stalls because there are signs that there will be many of them across the other classes and grades. So, we’ll specialize in lighter fare at the food stall and keep our prices low.”

“But we won’t earn a lot of money that way, will we?” asked Maezono.

“That’s true,” said Horikita. “Which is why it’s just a way to get people over to our main event, the maid café. People who purchase items at the food stall will receive a ticket for half-off one drink, which can be used at the café.”

After all, we needed to make people aware of the maid café, and then we needed to get them to come all the way over to the special building. To do that, we needed to advertise outside and to establish a conduit that would lead people to the café.

2.2

A FTER WE WERE DONE with our maid café discussion, I walked over to Keyaki Mall. Today, I was going to do some research on food prices. Some ingredients were sold at the mall, and others we could purchase online. It was important that we were able to prepare quality food at the lowest possible price. I knew that if I invited Kei to come along, this trip would’ve turned into a date rather than an investigation, so I decided to go it alone today.

While I was on my way over to the supermarket, I saw someone staring at the mall map. I was a little worried about the rather grim look he had on his face, so I decided to go over and talk to him.

“You sure were the center of attention today, Sudou,” I remarked.

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed I was there until I got a little closer because he turned around with a bit of a start.

“Huh?! Oh, it’s you, Ayanokouji. Whaddya mean, center of attention?”

“The midterm,” I clarified.

“Oh, that,” he said. “I’m happy, but… I mean, I think I pretty much did as well as I thought I did, with how much effort I put into it and all. It’s just… I dunno, I guess the best way to put it is that it felt the same as when you just grade your own test.”

It sounded like Sudou checked over his answers on tests in detail, even after midterms.

“I bet if the old you, from before you came to this school, saw the new you, he’d be pretty surprised,” I said.

“Ha ha ha. Yeah, definitely, dude.” Sudou chuckled, imagining his past self. “I bet he’d be yellin’ at me all angry, like ‘What’re you studyin’ and learnin’ words and formulas for?! Don’t waste your time on that stuff! Go and practice basketball more!’ or something.”

There was one question I wanted to ask Sudou, so I decided to come out with it. “If your old self did tell you something like ‘Don’t waste your time!’ how would the new you respond?”

“Huh? Hmm…” After stopping to think for a moment, Sudou put his answer into words. “I’d probably say… ‘If you can’t remember words and formulas, what are you gonna even amount to?’ or something, I guess?”

It was an uncharacteristically brilliant comeback on Sudou’s part, but it was also true that it probably wouldn’t work on the old Sudou.

“I bet he’d answer, ‘It doesn’t matter, ’cause I’m gonna be a pro basketball player,’ right?” I replied.

“Oh! Yeah, you’ve got a point…! Yeah, the old me would say that… In that case, what would be the right thing to say back? Would it be a better answer to say something like…it’s better to be a pro with brains and brawn? Man, it’s really a hassle when logic doesn’t work on somebody…”

There was a wry smile on his face as he racked his brain over the answer.

“To be honest, I feel like things are getting tougher to understand, and I’m just feeling impatient,” he admitted. “Up until now, I felt like once I got the knack for something, everything would go pretty smoothly, but it’s…”

He trailed off. I could see anxiety and impatience in him; he was pulling back from how he used to be, when he used to just race ahead as fast as he could. It was like restarting from a junior high level. Or, rather, in Sudou’s case, like starting over from an elementary school level. Was he feeling like he was hitting a plateau now that he had caught up to the level of a second-year high school student?

Although he could most definitely be proud of his eleventh-place finish this time, having tested better than half of the class, he was afraid that his momentum had come to a stop. From this point on, it wouldn’t just be a matter of simply devoting more time to studying. Multiple factors would be required beyond just effort, like comprehension, efficiency, and talent.

“Anyway, you need somethin’ from me?” he asked.

“No, I was just a little curious. Don’t you have club today?”

While the look on his face earlier had been strange, the simple fact that Sudou was here at Keyaki Mall at this time of day was even more odd. Even though the Cultural Festival was approaching, club activities were still going on.

“I took a little time off for today,” said Sudou.

“That’s unusual.”

He didn’t appear to be sick or anything to me.

“Well, I got…another little problem,” he admitted.

“Another problem?” I asked.

“My eyesight’s been gettin’ worse lately, to the point where I can really tell it’s happenin’,” he said, staring off into the distance. “I’ve had twenty/ten vision since I was a little kid, but lately, I dunno, it’s been weird.”

Did this mean that adverse effects from Sudou devoting himself to his studies were starting to manifest in the form of physical changes in his body? Eyesight was important for a sportsman. If his eyesight were to continue to deteriorate in the future, it would probably affect his game. Of course, glasses and contact lenses could compensate for this, but even so, having naturally good eyesight was preferable.

“Anyway, I’m lookin’ for an optometrist to check my eyesight and stuff. I’ve never gone to one before, so I was wonderin’ where I could find it.”

So that was why he was staring so intently at the mall map. If Sudou had a strong feeling that there was some change in his eyes, then there was a good chance that his vision could actually be deteriorating.

“I’m still gonna keep studying even if my eyes get worse in the future though,” he said. “I mean, yeah, I love basketball to death, and it’s super important to me and all, so I ain’t plannin’ on stopping… But while I’m still dreamin’ of goin’ pro, I’m startin’ to think it might be good to have other options.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well… Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“I was thinkin’ that I could go onto college, like everyone else, and continue my studies. I mean, even if I could basically force my way into goin’ pro with the special privileges from Class A, there ain’t no way people out in the sports world would actually pick me if I wasn’t good enough on my own. So I thought I could get into the university I want and do my best from there.”

Though Sudou was reluctant to start studying at first, it brought about significant changes in his way of thinking.

“I mean, I can go to college, graduate, and then go pro, right?” he said.

“You’re right,” I answered.

It wasn’t as if you had to head right toward your career right out of high school. Until now, Sudou only thought his path after high school graduation was to be a professional athlete. Now, the option of going to college had entered his mind. He was probably going to subdivide the path he was considering even further now.

“Oh,” said Sudou, noticing something out of the corner of his eye. I turned to look at what he’d seen, and found it was Akito and Haruka.

“They’re prolly not…on a date, are they?” asked Sudou.

“Probably not, no.”

If you just saw the two of them from a distance, then you might only see a guy and a girl, walking together as a couple. However, their classmates understood quite well what Haruka and Akito’s situation was.

“Is it really a good idea to just keep leavin’ ’em be?”

“It’s not like this is a problem that can be fixed if I just go and talk to them now,” I said.

“Yeah, you might be right about that, I guess.” Sudou, frustrated, clenched his fist tightly. “Y’know, I wasn’t really close with Sakura or anythin’, but I’ve gone through somethin’ like that too.”

Sudou used to mess around with Yamauchi and Ike so much that, a long time ago, the three of them were called the Three Idiots. That was exactly why Yamauchi’s expulsion must have been a painful memory for him.

“But I guess what happened with me back then was a whole different thing. If it’d been me, I don’t think I could’ve told people to expel me instead.”

To Haruka, it seemed like having Airi around was just as valuable to her as being at this school herself. Actually, no, having Airi around was seemingly even more valuable to her.

“If you’re ever in trouble, give me a shout, okay? Any time,” Sudou said. “Though I’m sure you don’t need help from someone like me.”

“That’s not true,” I replied. “If I ever want to come to you, I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

“Sure. Anyway, guess I better be goin’. See ya later, Ayanokouji.”

After saying goodbye, I headed to the supermarket.

2.3

T HE NEXT MORNING , I had planned to meet up with Kei, so I waited for her on the first floor of the dormitory.

“Sorry, Kiyotaka, were you waiting a long time?” she asked.

“Not really. Let’s go.”

Standing beside me, Kei took my hand without hesitation, and we started walking. Going around hand-in-hand like this wasn’t an unusual occurrence for us anymore.

“About yesterday… Thanks for staying up so late with me last night.” Kei blushed slightly. She briefly squeezed my hand. “I was really, really happy.”

“It would be a bit of a problem if we got found out, though,” I replied.

Kei had stayed in my room past curfew last night. Fortunately for us, there weren’t any witnesses around when she had left, so we weren’t going to be penalized.

“Ah ha ha, yeah, you’re right about that,” said Kei.

I looked at her from the side, and she looked somewhat hopeful. I wondered if someone could change like that in just half a day.

“Did it hurt?” I asked.

“…You’re really asking me that?”

“Is it bad to ask?”

“No, it’s not bad, it’s just… Well, I guess, I thought I was used to it,” said Kei. Even though her face was red, her eyes squinted happily. “In a sense, it was my first time, so maybe I was a little out of sorts. Like, mentally, I guess. But that’s why it was really reassuring for me to know that you were holding me so close the whole time, Kiyotaka. That you weren’t caring about stuff like curfew.”

That was true—there was no telling what could have happened if I hadn’t been there.

“I see,” I said.

What happened yesterday might have been yet another single step on the path to adulthood for Kei. Though she was still being supported by someone, Kei had succeeded in standing up now, on her own two feet. It had been a long period of rehabilitation for her, starting from a time when she thought she wouldn’t be able to stand tall ever again. Learning how to get back up after taking a fall was what was most important for her. Like with other students, hers was a special case that wasn’t going to be fixed overnight. But her goal, too, was finally within view.

It seemed like Satou had gotten to the classroom before us, and as soon as we arrived there, she got up from her seat and ran over to Kei.

“G-good morning, Kei-chan!” she squeaked.

“Oh—Uh, morning, Maya-chan!”

Kei first looked at me like she was asking for my permission, and after I responded in kind with my eyes, she stood close to Satou and started talking to her without hesitation. While there appeared to be some sense of awkwardness, they soon started chatting in the same manner they always did. Actually, perhaps they seemed to be even closer than usual. That circle of happiness that started with Kei and Satou began to spread and include more girls, and even grew to include the likes of Shinohara, who they’d had a falling out with briefly, as well as students they didn’t usually interact with, like Mii-chan.

Horikita had been starting to demonstrate her skill as a leader more and more and was discovering her skills at bringing a large group together. But this gathering was something different—the ability to create a small group, and then to pull in and include others. Without a doubt, Kei was someone with the qualities and disposition needed to bring people together. That kind of thing was essential in keeping the class stable, and with things in that area seemingly going well, everything looked like smooth sailing for the Cultural Festival.

However, we were about to get sudden news that could trigger a major incident.

“Dude, is it really true that our class is doing a maid café?!” Ike shouted the second he burst into the classroom.

Maezono shot up, shocked—that was something that was still secret to all but a select few. Satou, Matsushita, and Mii-chan, the other proponents of the maid café all exchanged glances. A few more girls in the class, those who we had confirmed would be serving as staff for the maid café and those we had approached about it, were the ones who knew about it. Then, of course, there was Horikita, who was organizing our efforts overall.

Horikita calmly listened to what Ike had to say without any hint of impatience. If she overreacted, the whole class would know that we really were putting on a maid café. And the same went for the other classes as well. However, since Maezono and the other girls already reacted strongly to the outburst, that no longer mattered. And besides, considering the fact that Ike had specifically said a maid café, it was unlikely that it was just some random guess.

“Where did you hear that, Ike-kun?” asked Maezono.

“Wh-where? Um…” Ike flinched and stumbled over his words when he saw the tense and angry look on Maezono’s face. “Just a bit ago, in the lobby. From Ishizaki and Suzuki, and…um, Nomura, I think. The three of ’em were talking about it super loud, like, as loudly as they could.”

Matsushita went over to Horikita, clearly recalling what happened when Hashimoto came up to talk to us yesterday. “Hey, Horikita-san, what’s going on here?” she said. “Wasn’t this still supposed to be a secret?”

“Yes, it was. I hoped that something like this happening was out of the question, but apparently, I was naïve.”

Now that Ishizaki and those other students were making a scene about it, the answer was obvious.

“Does this mean that Ryuuen-kun betrayed us after all?” Maezono angrily stormed up to Horikita. “You said it would be okay though, Horikita-san!”

Just then, the classroom door was flung wide open, and in came a flustered-looking Sudou.

“H-hey, Ryuuen and his guys are comin’ this way!” he shouted.

“…I suppose I’ll just have to go greet them,” said Horikita. “You all stay here in the classroom and settle down.”

She must have decided that the conversation could get complicated if bystanders got involved, so she got up from her seat, visibly frustrated, and went to meet Ryuuen in the hallway.

“Yo,” said Ryuuen. “You came all the way out here to meet me, eh, Suzune?”

He was out in front, with Ishizaki, Albert, and Kaneda behind him.

“I’m just wondering why you’ve come here with such noisy students in tow,” replied Horikita.

“We have somethin’ to tell you guys today. Ain’t that right, Ishizaki?”

“Y-yeah.”

Ishizaki appeared somewhat nervous as he looked us over. Even the students in our class who had been told to stay put were watching, perhaps because they were curious and couldn’t hold themselves back. Maezono in particular couldn’t hide her frustration and was glaring at Ishizaki and the others.

“Guess they got wind of that little fuss you made this mornin’, eh Ishizaki?” said Ryuuen with a laugh, sensing the tense mood in the air.

“To be honest, I’m shocked. You really have no qualms about doing the unpredictable, after all, do you?” said Horikita.

“ Ku ku . Bein’ predictable is boring, isn’t it?”

Ike and some of the other members of our class couldn’t seem to understand what was going on, so Ryuuen started explaining it to them, politely.

“See, it was Suzune’s idea for our two classes to partner up and work together for the Sports Festival,” he said. “We had planned on doin’ the same kind of thing for the Cultural Festival, from early on.”

To be more precise, I was the one who initiated the request for cooperation in the Cultural Festival, but that was a trivial technicality. Horikita and Katsuragi were the ones who discussed it further and came to an agreement to work together for the Cultural Festival.

“The arrangement was we’d make sure our businesses didn’t overlap,” Ryuuen went on. “We’d discuss where we’d set up, and we’d lend and borrow people as needed so we could support each other. That about right?”

“Precisely correct,” said Kaneda, smirking. “However, the mutual student support idea was planned to come somewhat later. We had discovered what kind of business you’d be running early on, and we found out about your stall location yesterday.”

“You were planning on betraying us from the very beginning, then,” Horikita said. “The reason you were hiding that until today was because you wanted to find out what our stall location was first. Isn’t that right?”

“Exactly right,” Ryuuen replied. “Sorry, but I’m afraid we’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board on our little cooperation contract.”

“Back to the drawing board?” said Horikita. “That’s rather unfair. I can’t believe that not only did you find out our location, but you went as far as disclosing our business plan.”

“Disclose? Ishizaki and the others were just makin’ conversation, that’s all. It just so happened that people from your class and other classes overheard us. The people that overheard aren’t really that important to you anyway, right?”

Little by little, Horikita’s classmates began to understand what was going on.

“Is what he said just now true, Horikita-san?” asked Yousuke.

Horikita still hadn’t even told Yousuke about her ongoing partnership with Ryuuen’s class yet, from the sounds of it.

“I was going to tell you once everything was settled, but…” she began.

They had been in the final stages of preparations, but Ryuuen had suddenly flipped the table on her. Horikita’s classmates, Yousuke included, understood this thanks to what they were hearing now.

“May I ask the reason why? What benefit is there in betraying us? Did you team up with Sakayanagi-san instead? Or maybe Ichinose-san and her class?” asked Horikita.

“We gave you a hand in the Sports Festival so we could crush Class A. But you know, you guys have been doing your fair share of winnin’ lately, and you’ve been savorin’ that sweet taste pretty well, yeah?” said Ryuuen.

Though our classes had helped each other pick up wins at the Sports Festival, in the end, we had a hundred Class Points on them.

“We moved forward under an equal contract. The proposal for the Cultural Festival was the same thing,” said Horikita.

“But at the end of the day, if we crush Class A together and you guys in Class B rise up and take their place, then that’s pointless to us,” Ryuuen said. “We’re not gonna get a lot of Class Points for it, but we’re gonna take the win in the Cultural Festival. And we’re gonna do the same thing you are.”

“You mean you’re putting on a maid café?” asked Maezono, immediately reacting to Ryuuen’s words.

“Well, we’re gonna change up the concept a little,” he said. “But it’ll be somethin’ similar to yours.”

That wouldn’t have been so significant if what our class was offering hadn’t been leaked. However, the fact that Ryuuen was deliberately going to have his class’s business overlap with ours could be a fatal blow to Horikita’s class. The original proponents of the idea in our class, like Maezono, as well as the other classmates, likely understood this as well. Ryuuen was declaring that they were going to be fighting for one of the top four spots, the places that would net you 100 Class Points.

“So, you’re telling me that you are intentionally offering something in the same genre as us? I can’t imagine how that will benefit you,” said Horikita.

“Well, it’s true that when it comes to competing for customers, going with this idea might be riskier. But so what? We’ve figured out a way to outsell you and snag a spot at the top.”

I didn’t get the feeling that Ryuuen came all this way just to tell us these things.

“So, how ’bout we make this showdown even more intense, Suzune?” he then said.

“…Showdown?” asked Horikita.

The commotion gradually began to grow more and more, and now even students from other classes like Kanzaki and others who weren’t involved at all, were starting to overhear Ryuuen’s declaration of war against us. Hashimoto was watching the situation with some degree of amusement, probably because he had learned of this before anyone in Horikita’s class did.

“How about whoever earns more in sales gets five million points from the loser?” Ryuuen suggested. “Wouldn’t that make for an interesting competition?”

“Are you being serious right now?” snapped Horikita. “There’s no way I could see that as a sane wager.”

“Well, if you ask me, five million makes sense,” said Ryuuen.

People couldn’t transfer Class Points whenever they felt like it. However, Private Points, being owned by individuals, could be moved about freely. Ryuuen was proposing a wager that took advantage of that fact. He was suggesting a one-on-one showdown, separate from the contest between all twelve classes. Even if they didn’t get into the top spots in the Cultural Festival, if they won in this direct competition and got five million Private Points for it, then you could certainly say it was a more intense battle.

“To be honest, I would’ve preferred a different opponent and more money on the line, but that Nagumo dude from the student council said he wasn’t gonna get involved in this Cultural Festival thing. He basically ran away. And none of the other third-years had the nerve either—they weren’t interested. I mean, it wasn’t like they were runnin’ exactly, but since I couldn’t find the right person to challenge, I figured I had to look elsewhere. So…I had to challenge someone in our grade.”

“Don’t just carry on with this idea like it’s been decided already. I have no intention of accepting such an absurd proposal,” said Horikita.

“So, you’re runnin’ too, huh?”

“You went ahead on your own, breaching our contract and leaking our plans. And then, on top of that, you tell us you’re copying our idea, and that you want to have a showdown? That’s absolutely ridiculous. I can finally see the true meaning of why Katsuragi-kun avoided agreeing to a penalty clause in our contract.”

“Who cares about all that?” Ryuuen scoffed. “You’re not confident you can win in a fight with me?”

“I didn’t say that,” replied Horikita.

“Oh?”

“You’ve just been blathering about whatever you want, and I, for one, cannot remain silent. I will seriously consider this wager of yours.”

“ Ku ku , happy to hear it. I’ll be waitin’ for the good word, Suzune.”

Perhaps Ryuuen’s business here was finished after that, because he pulled back, seemingly satisfied. He walked off triumphantly, with Hashimoto and the other spectators clearing the way for him to pass. As Ryuuen and his followers left, students from other classes who had been watching started to disperse too.

In the midst of all of this, Hashimoto’s eyes met mine. He had a thin smile on his lips and he shrugged his shoulders at me. It was almost as though he were telling me, “So, now do you understand what teaming up with Ryuuen is like?”

That was something that all of the second-year students, and likely students in all the other grade levels, understood well by now. Since Ryuuen had made a loud proclamation that he was putting on a maid café too, the maid café business was likely going to be faced with difficulties. If other classes were considering doing the same thing too, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if they decided to change course. But in our case, we had already laid down a lot of the groundwork.

“What are we going to do, Horikita-san?” said Maezono. “We’ve already done a lot of the preparations, right…?”

“Is Ryuuen-kun’s class really going to put on a maid café too?” asked Mii-chan.

Maezono and the others sounded anxious, and some frustration was also apparent in their voices, although they tried to hide it.

“Chances of that are high, I’d say,” Horikita replied. “I can’t imagine it was an idle threat.”

“Then how about we change our idea? Pivot and do something different?” Yousuke suggested we could turn things around, but…

“We can’t do that,” said Horikita. “Part of our budget has already been spent.”

We had already taken care of as many things as we possibly could, such as ordering maid outfits. We couldn’t just eat the cost of everything we spent so far. If we quit, we’d be throwing precious funding out the window. Instead, we needed to reevaluate how to handle things in the days to come. The clock was still ticking, and we truly were suffering from sunk-cost bias.

“For now, we just have to take advantage of this situation,” Horikita went on. “Even if he weren’t offering five million points, let’s accept his wager and take this opportunity to collect as many points as possible.”

That depended, of course, on whether or not her classmates agreed to the potential wager: it would be necessary for the entire class to work together if we were going to prepare such a large sum.

2.4

T HOUGH THERE WERE SOME cases like Horikita’s class where plans were exposed thanks to an act of betrayal, it was still relatively unknown what kind of stalls the different classes would be running and where they would be located, and they would, at least ostensibly, remain a mystery until the day of the show. However, the larger the scale of the thing a class was doing, the more work they would need to do before the festival. In truth, at every location on campus that was available to set up a stall, there was a class already working there steadily.

And, in the midst of all of this, some surprising information came to light regarding Nagumo’s class, Class 3-A. Perhaps they had no intention of hiding it from the very beginning, but rumors were circulating that Class 3-A was going to rent out a large space—the gym—and put on a combination “haunted house” and “maze.” I figured I should see this as the actions of a king who didn’t need to worry about competing over Class Points.

Perhaps it wasn’t Nagumo who spearheaded the idea. It could have been the consensus of the class, and he let them do what they wanted. The way they were going about it made me think that winning was a secondary concern to them. Just by looking at the props and such that were being brought in from a distance, you could tell that they were investing a fair amount into this production. And, as if to demonstrate that fact, as of yesterday, Class 3-A had finally announced their own independent pre-opening. You couldn’t help but sense the strong resolve they had to try to put on a high-quality show for the guests on the day of the festival.

As someone who didn’t know the first thing about cultural festivals, I wanted to experience firsthand what kinds of things the other classes were offering, no matter what they were. So, after class, I headed over to the gymnasium to participate in the pre-opening.

Even though it was the first day, there weren’t very many first-year or second-year students around. Perhaps it was because the pre-opening was going to be held over several days. The vibe in the gym was different from usual thanks to the lights being turned down low. Instead, it had a somewhat frightening feeling.

I hadn’t been standing at the end of the line for long when I heard a familiar voice nearby.

“The Student Council President really is amazing, isn’t he? Showing off this exhibit so proudly and confidently like this, I mean,” said Ichinose.

“It wouldn’t be easy to keep something like this hidden since it takes this much preparation,” said Kanzaki. “It was wise of him to decide to reveal it now, early on, if they’re going to use this as a trial run.”

I casually turned around to see the two of them walking my way. Apparently, they came here to check things out, just as I did.

“Oh…”

They obviously noticed that I was standing there once they moved to get in line. Ichinose was the first to react, clearly nervous. She bowed only slightly to me and then averted her eyes. Kanzaki silently glanced at Ichinose, then at me, before getting in line. There was an awkward silence in the air, and the line wasn’t moving as fast as I expected. Perhaps it was because it was the first day, but the third-year students seemed like they were having trouble getting things moving smoothly.

“O-oh, um…that reminds me,” mumbled Ichinose. “I actually remembered that there’s, um, some urgent business I have to attend to. I’m sorry Kanzaki-kun, but can you handle things from here…?”

It was clearly an excuse to leave, but Kanzaki didn’t question it. He nodded in agreement.

“S-see you later,” said Ichinose.

Ichinose was upright and conscientious, the sort of person who didn’t have it in her to be coldhearted, no matter the circumstances. She still gave me a polite word as well before she left the line. Only Kanzaki and I remained there, and there was a depressing feeling hanging around us. It was the kind of situation where even someone who didn’t know anything about what was going on was likely to start to put it together. And in Kanzaki’s case, it was probably as clear as day.

“How are things?” I asked.

Kanzaki’s face immediately turned grim. “Do you think we’re fine?” he said curtly.

There was no way that Ichinose’s class, which had been slowly but surely losing Class Points, could be in good shape. What I had just said probably sounded more like a provocation.

I went ahead and filled in my name and received an explanation of the rules. Well, even though I called it an explanation, it was more like a breakdown of the bare minimum etiquette expected.

“ Cell phone use is forbidden while inside the attraction. Be sure to put your phone on silent.”

“No loud chitchatting.”

“No loitering inside.”

“Do not touch any part of the attraction.”

By the time I finished reviewing the rules, Kanzaki had left the line and his back was turned to me. He was probably waiting for Ichinose to come back. He must’ve been assuming Ichinose would come back around the time I left the gym.

After I walked away from Kanzaki and signed the form indicating that I agreed to the rules, I stepped inside the attraction.

It was naturally quite cramped inside the walled haunted house, and visibility was poor. I assumed the lights were purchased at some kind of discount shop. They were covered with tape, presumably to reduce the illumination even further. I guessed they didn’t really serve much purpose as a light source. I had been doing a lot of research online on cultural festivals, but I was surprised that this class was able to pull off such a high-quality production. I was honestly surprised at the impressive level of technique that the third-years—no, that Class 3-A specifically—had on display here.

I ignored the ghosts and began observing things even more closely. I supposed that it wasn’t that surprising, but essentially, they had adorned the production with decorations to create the atmosphere inside. It looked like most of the more frightening elements, the essential parts of the experience, were crafted by human hands. The long neck of a rokurokubi yokai was timed to come out when students entered, with more students lurking behind them. And of course, someone else had to pull out the sword when the fallen soldier jumped out as well.

There were several elements in this exhibit that still seemed to be under construction, but once the day of the Cultural Festival arrived, they would be completed and probably even be better in quality. Although this exhibit might not be so well received by adults, it could be very popular among families, especially ones with children. If the price was set too high, adults might stay away, but if their children wanted to see it, those adults would probably loosen their purse strings. That was going to be an important factor down the road in further solidifying our policies with the maid café, as well.

I figured I was about halfway through the attraction now, and I saw a sign telling me to take a left. I did as instructed and went to move that way, but just then, I saw a shadow move out of the corner of my vision. It seemed like a new trick meant to scare me.

“Wah! Aaaah?!”

I was supposed to be the one screaming in fear, but after the ghost jumped out, the figure tripped on the steps right in front of me, taking a huge spill. It was none other than Asahina Nazuna from Class 3-A. I thought that maybe it was all part of the show, so I didn’t move to help. But when I saw her wincing in agony, I realized that it was an accident.

It wasn’t surprising that someone might lose their footing in this pitch darkness, but…

“Ow! That really hurts!!” she wailed.

“…Are you all right?” I asked.

I suppose that it was a scary image, in a sense, to reach out to a ghost—something that shouldn’t be alive anymore.

“Th-thanks… Owwww.”

She apparently had difficulty standing on her own, so she plopped back down on the spot. Since I couldn’t just leave her there, I decided to offer her my shoulder.

“Where’s the exit?” I asked.

“Huh? Th-the exit…? It’s probably this way… I think…?”

“If you’re worried about it, we can turn back and go the way I came from.”

Since I remembered the way back to the entrance, I figured we could get back there quickly, even with me helping her move.

“It’s all right, trust your senp—ow…!”

She yelped in pain again. It was because she had tried, in vain, to put up a tough front and strike a pose. Her instructions sounded rather untrustworthy, but I figured it would be best just to quietly go along with them. It would be faster than me scrambling for the exit myself, anyway.

After a few pauses, and after a few screams of terror from my classmates who were spooked to see Asahina with me, we arrived at the exit. I had planned on leaving immediately and letting someone else help her, but it didn’t look like there were any students available since it was just a pre-opening.

“Don’t worry about me,” Asahina insisted. “Thanks, Ayanokouji-kun. I think I’ll be fine if I just rest a bit.”

I squatted down to take a look at her ankle.

“H-hey, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Please let me see.”

“S-sure…”

It was beginning to swell up already. It was happening too quickly for her to have only slightly twisted it. If she didn’t receive proper treatment, there could be consequences later on.

“I think you should go to the nurse’s office,” I told her. “Won’t it be difficult for your class if you can’t participate in the Cultural Festival?”

“Yeah, you’re right… Okay, I’ll go.”

She stood up and tried to walk on her own, only to realize that she couldn’t due to the pain. She instead decided to put her weight only on her left leg, the one that was in good shape, and hop forward on one leg. However, with every small jump, the vibrations in her right leg caused her to wince in pain.

“Come on, I’ll give you a hand,” I told her.

“Uh… But…” she protested.

I was sure that there were some feelings of embarrassment there, but from the looks of things, there was apparently another reason why she was hesitant to accept my help.

“You’re worried about President Nagumo, right?” I asked.

“…You figured it out, huh?”

“More or less.”

“If he saw you involved with a student from Class A, he probably wouldn’t take too kindly to it, Ayanokouji-kun. I can’t have you getting in trouble on my account, can I?”

She seemed more worried for me than her own injuries.

“There’s no need for concern,” I assured her. “I’m pretty sure that President Nagumo isn’t going to be coming after me anymore.”

“Really?”

“I think he realized that he was overestimating me.”

I decided to lend Asahina a hand and escort her all the way to the nurse’s office.

“Thank you,” she said.

I figured that her somewhat conspicuous outfit must’ve been a bit embarrassing for her, but there was nothing that could be done about that. I offered her my shoulder and helped her all the way to the nurse’s office, with several people giving us curious glances along the way. The doctor immediately had her sit down in the bed to start treatment. She was instructed to wait a little while so the doctor could get things ready.

When I turned my back to leave, figuring that it was time for me to go, Asahina called out to me.

“That reminds me,” she said. “You had a bit of a disaster in your class, didn’t you, Ayanokouji-kun.”

Now that I had missed my chance to leave the nurse’s office, I stayed put to talk with her.

“Are you talking about how our plans were leaked, by any chance?” I asked. “About the maid café?”

“Yeah.”

In fact, Ryuuen had enacted his scheme just that very morning. The whole school knew about the maid café now, even though we had been preparing for it in secret. Obviously, there were a lot of disadvantages in people knowing what we were offering at such an early stage.

“And Class C… I mean, Ryuuen’s class also came forward and said they’ll have their own maid café to compete with you, right?” added Asahina.

The simple fact that we had competing services would mean that we were going to be fighting over the same customers.

“We can only hope that now that two classes are offering similar things, we won’t be seeing any more,” I said.

“Yeah, if three or four classes were doing the same thing, it would make the fight for customers that much worse,” Asahina agreed.

Another class doing what we were doing would only increase their own risks. It wouldn’t be impossible for other classes to devote some of their free time to setting up something similar, but it wouldn’t be so easy for them to beat us when we were dedicating a significant amount of resources to our offerings.

Before too long, the doctor came back with bandages and other tools. In the end, I decided to stick around and watch the process. The doctor finished treating Asahina’s injury in short order and told her that she should be able to walk without issue after a few days of rest.

When Asahina realized that it wasn’t going to negatively impact the Cultural Festival, she let out a sigh of relief. Even so, I could tell she was still struggling to endure the pain she was in. “Whew, thank goodness. I guess this means I’m not going to cause problems for the class.”

“It’s not like the rankings are going to change in your case though,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to worry that much, do you?”

Even if her class got last place in the Cultural Festival, they wouldn’t lose any Class Points.

“It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “There’s no such thing as too many Class Points, y’know? Besides, there are actually quite a few kids who are against what Miyabi’s doing this time, backing off and giving us free reign like this.”

Asahina’s eyes were downcast as she spoke.

“The students who aren’t going to win are still going to need as many Class Points as they can get, right? If they get first place in the Cultural Festival, that’s more Private Points they can get their hands on before graduation.”

Taking into consideration the rules for the third-years under Nagumo’s control, it was only natural that he would want as many students to graduate from Class A as possible. Even for the students already in that class, there was no way they could bring themselves to just abandon the students in Class B and below.

“Just FYI,” Asahina began, “apparently, Nagumo’s official stance is that he’s going to let non-A kids compete too. He said that he’ll bring one person from the class that gets first place into Class A.”

That meant the complaints coming from the three lower classes wouldn’t be so loud. Even so, the opposition couldn’t be completely suppressed without a willingness to get as many Class Points as possible. And it was likely the pressure on Class 3-A would keep increasing more and more in the days to come, even after they gave up on winning.

“Hey, about what you said earlier… You told me that Miyabi recognized that he was overestimating you, right, Ayanokouji-kun?” asked Asahina.

“Yes.”

“At first, I thought, ‘Okay, sure.’ But now, I don’t think that’s it, actually.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Well, there was never a clear winner and loser between you and Miyabi, right?”

“That’s true.” After all, Nagumo and I had never gone head-to-head to settle the contest between us.

“In that case, I don’t think it’s really over, then,” said Asahina.

“I don’t have any intention of engaging with him though,” I replied. “And I don’t think I ever will, no matter what he does.”

Trying to engage with me would only be a waste of Nagumo’s time.

“I don’t think that really matters,” Asahina said. “If anything…I think things might even get worse than they are now. He might try to do something. Not to you, Ayanokouji-kun, but maybe to someone close to you.”

There were some things that only Asahina could see, as someone who had been watching Nagumo from right beside him for the past three years.

“Student Council President Nagumo sure likes competitions, doesn’t he?” I mused. “Just like the former student council president, Horikita?”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t have any doubt about that.”

“Has he ever been clearly beaten by anyone, ever? Or has he even suffered a small setback, at least?”

It wasn’t difficult for me to guess the answer to those questions, looking at Nagumo’s behavior up until this point.

“Miyabi has… I don’t think he’s ever stumbled,” Asahina replied. “Not even once. At least, not as far as I know.”

Nagumo’s classmates had a great deal of confidence in his ability to win.

“It’s definitely a fact that Student Council President Nagumo is an outstanding person,” I said. “Even if he were faking the kind of abilities he has, it would be impossible for him to misrepresent his scores in OAA or to become the student council president.”

There were more than a few things that couldn’t be managed through political maneuvers alone.

“He likes being number one,” Asahina said. “That’s why he’s been fighting to be on top, even here at this school. He became student council president in the end, so I guess that makes him a man of his word.”

“But, if you were to ask me if Nagumo was number one, then I’d immediately say no, he’s not,” I said.

“How could you say that…? He hasn’t really lost to anyone in particular this whole time.”

“I think it’s because he’s been very fortunate with who he’s been up against.” Nagumo wasn’t weak, not at all. But I didn’t have any doubt that his opponents had been. “I think that perhaps his greatest misfortune was that he didn’t have anyone in his grade level who was his equal or better who was also willing to compete with him.”

“A worthy opponent… You mean he didn’t have a rival?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

Unfortunately, by only going up against lesser opponents, Nagumo had been able to take and hold onto the number-one spot without much effort. Of course, it was possible he might’ve started at number two or three right from the start, but he soon overtook his opponents and then was far and away in the lead. So, when he turned back to see where his opponents were after finishing the race, he saw that there was no one on his tail. Everyone had given up and either started walking the rest of the way or just stopped completely because they knew they couldn’t beat Nagumo.

There might have been times where people with talent, like Kiryuuin, were lurking nearby, but if those people didn’t try to catch up to and overtake Nagumo, then to him, they wouldn’t be any different from weeds and pebbles on the side of the road. The fact that Nagumo hadn’t experienced the harshness and difficulty of competition or the frustration of losing while he was still young could be the reason his thinking had become so warped. Even in planning and executing this bizarre revenge plot against me, there wasn’t anything like a sense of defeat in it, or an inferiority complex. He was simply fixated on dragging me out into the open. When he told me that he wished to have a one-on-one showdown with me during the Sports Festival, he never even considered that he could lose.

Of course, there was no arguing with the fact that he didn’t know everything about me, so it was a given he’d think that way. But hypothetically, even if he had seen my full ability in action, he still probably wouldn’t think he could lose. He was a man who had never truly known defeat. That was the downside of continuously experiencing winning streak after winning streak.

“I wish we could just stop the fighting in this school already,” said Asahina.

“I have to wonder about that,” I replied.

“At least, I hope that nothing happens now…”

I didn’t think that was likely. Nagumo’s way of thinking had been made clear to everyone, albeit indirectly, via the Cultural Festival. It had blatantly changed. To the casual observer, it would appear that Nagumo’s belligerent side, and his curiosity, had simply died down. However, that wasn’t really the case—this was the calm before the storm. After this, Nagumo was going to come after me… No, not just me. He was going to do something to people aside from me, too, to hold them accountable. Getting one or two people expelled might not be enough for him.

I supposed that this was the bill that had come due—the cost of the disrespect that I had shown Nagumo so far. If I let this bomb go unchecked after it had swelled this much, then those worries would come to pass.

I recalled what Manabu had said. “Nagumo’s way of doing things would make a great number of people unhappy.”

What he said then was half-true. I wasn’t going to deny that I had played a part in what was happening, but Nagumo’s choice had already been made, and he was smoldering in his feelings and thought processes. But what Manabu said was half wrong too. That was because, through Nagumo’s methods, some of the students who originally wouldn’t have been able to graduate from Class A were indeed getting the chance to do just that.

It wasn’t just the third-year students either. The first-years and second-years were getting the chance too, albeit on a limited basis, with the Class Transfer Tickets. Though there were restrictions in their usage, they didn’t exist during Manabu’s time. If I had been the old me, the version of me that existed through last year, I probably would’ve just stood by and watched what Nagumo was doing.

“I’m starting to get a little interested in Student Council President Nagumo,” I remarked.

“You heard what I said before, right?” asked Asahina.

“I did.” I felt a curiosity welling up from deep inside me, which I hadn’t felt before.

“I knew you were strange,” Asahina teased, smiling. Lowering her gaze to her bandaged leg, she let out a small chuckle. “I’m sure that your meeting was a coincidence, but maybe that’s why Miyabi wants to fight you.”

Thinking back, that “coincidence,” or rather, the result of it, had been a major factor in my meeting Asahina. Coincidence, huh. Just now, in this very conversation, I had come to one logical realization. The coincidence that we had just talked about was something that wasn’t controlled. However, that didn’t necessarily mean that coincidences couldn’t be controlled. They could change form greatly depending on your point of view, your perspective.

Asahina Nazuna and her charm, the existence of coincidence, and Nagumo Miyabi. This wasn’t bad as a single test case. Just like an experiment was a series of failures followed by success.

2.5

A FTER LEAVING ASAHINA in the nurse’s office, I returned to the gymnasium. I wanted to check in on Kanzaki since I had been wondering about him—and Ichinose too, who I had expected to have returned. If I drew attention to myself, though, it would probably just be a repeat of what happened before, so I stayed further away from the entrance when I went back there. The fact that I couldn’t see Kanzaki in line made me wonder if he was somewhere inside the attraction, or if he had already left.

However, considering how he had been acting earlier, he would definitely have waited. I couldn’t imagine that Kanzaki, who had been waiting for Ichinose to come back and waiting for me to leave, would have missed what happened earlier. There had been a bit of a commotion when I escorted the injured Asahina out, after all. I had then taken her to the nurse’s office and come back here, so I had been gone for roughly fifteen minutes.

Unless Ichinose had returned immediately after I had left, I expected she’d be inside the gym somewhere, if she were still in the nearby area. As I was making general observations on the situation, I decided to take a closer look at the faces of the students as they were coming out. A few minutes passed, and then Kanzaki slowly emerged from the exit.

So, he was in the gym after all, I thought to myself.

But it was what I noticed afterward that surprised me.

I thought for sure that Ichinose would’ve been beside him, but he was alone. It didn’t seem like he had followed her out just now, nor did he seem concerned about whether anyone was following him. I expected him to continue walking, but then he looked around and spotted me. He eyed me suspiciously for a few seconds and then approached.

“So, you came back after all,” he said. “I guess her injuries weren’t too serious.”

I supposed he was right. If her injuries had been serious, it’d be difficult to imagine that I’d just be standing here casually like this.

“I’m guessing you find it strange that Ichinose isn’t here with me?” he continued.

“To be honest, a little, yeah.”

“I didn’t call her over because I was concerned about the possibility we’d bump into you as you came back from the nurse’s office,” he explained. “Besides, there are still a few days left for the pre-opening, anyway.”

Did that mean that Ichinose would have time to inspect the pre-opening, even if she didn’t rush now? It seemed like what Ichinose’s class would be doing for the festival had been decided then, at least to some extent. If they were still looking for ideas as to what to do, then they would have needed to go ahead and experience the pre-opening as soon as possible, without bothering with anything like engaging with me.

“I’d like to continue our conversation from earlier,” said Kanzaki. “It seems like your class is doing very well.”

It was clear that he was referring to the series of events around the same times as the Uninhabited Island Special Exam and the Unanimous Special Exam—and if we were going back even a little further still, what happened at the start of our second year too.

“It’s not like we’ve emerged from it all entirely unscathed or anything,” I replied. “Unlike your class, Kanzaki, we’ve lost people. There are negatives that aren’t reflected in Class Points alone.”

“Your class isn’t the only one facing unseen risks. And taking into account the things that can be seen as a positive, I’d say that there’s a sizable difference between you and us.”

I didn’t take what he said as envy. Rather, it sounded like Kanzaki’s honest, candid opinion.

“A class like yours will eventually contend with Sakayanagi’s class,” he added.

One thing that caught my attention was Kanzaki’s somewhat farsighted view of his own class. It was like he had taken a step back and observed the big picture.

“Have you already given up, then? On trying to make it to Class A?” I asked.

“…Maybe so.”

His response was more like an admission than saying no. It wasn’t difficult to guess what was going through his mind. It wasn’t like Ichinose’s class was performing disastrously; they hardly ever lost Class Points from things like tardiness, absence, or behavioral problems because their class was so serious. They also weren’t at much risk of losing a great number of points anywhere because they rarely made big mistakes in the special exams. However, on the other hand, they weren’t blessed with opportunities to make big jumps forward in special exams either.

“No one has noticed, but our class is a slowly sinking ship,” he said. “It would be cute if they were simply pretending not to see it, but everyone actually thinks that we aren’t, sincerely.”

“You alone seem different in that regard, Kanzaki,” I observed.

“Only until a little while ago. There’s no point in trying to raise the banner of rebellion alone.”

“Meaning that you’ve given up?”

“My class can’t make it to A,” he said, clearly and definitively. “If the possibility of us getting to Class A has been reduced to zero, then the only thing left to do is find another way. If we’re going to sink, we should give as many people as possible a chance to escape.”

“Saving up twenty million points and transferring classes?” I guessed.

“Yes, because Student Council President Nagumo has actually pulled it off and it’s been proven effective. Ichinose has been storing Private Points for some time now. If we increase the percentage saved to the limit, we could transfer at least two or three students over to Class A. In addition, we first learned of the existence of Class Transfer Tickets at the Sports Festival. It won’t be easy for us to get them, of course, but it’s a genuinely heartening factor to have more options to plan for.”

“Why bother telling me the state of affairs in your class?” I asked. “I can’t imagine that you’re trying to stir up confusion.”

“Why indeed… I don’t really understand what I’m doing myself.”

That was an uncharacteristic response for him. Even though he gave me that answer, he paused for a moment and began searching for the reason why he told me those things. Perhaps he felt like his previous answer didn’t seem quite right.

“I just didn’t have anyone to vent to,” he concluded. “That might be why.”

If you had worries about your daily life, then you would share them with those close to you, regardless of whether they were in your class or not. By doing that, you could work toward a resolution. However, when it came to worries about your class, you inevitably had to seek solutions from outside. If you said something like “We have no other choice but to give up on Class A and transfer classes” to your classmates, it would obviously cause unavoidable discord. It would be impossible to reach a consensus on that point in Ichinose’s class.

“You were the only person who came to mind who could understand what I had to say, and who wouldn’t carelessly let anything slip,” he said.

It looked like he thought I’d be a good outlet to vent to. That probably wasn’t the only reason, of course. It seemed like he also bore some resentment toward me since I had a strong influence on Ichinose.

“I don’t care about what’s happened between you and Ichinose, nor do I care what kind of relationship you two have,” he said. “Even the fact that you’re such a bad influence on her that we can’t even conduct satisfactory information gathering here is trivial.”

“That’s a scathing way of putting it,” I remarked.

“You’ll have to forgive me for that much. I’ve had my fair share of frustration.”

He then gave me a gentle wave, signaling that he was leaving. The class strategist who had given up on winning… As I looked at his back as he left, I noticed he looked one size smaller than usual.

It might’ve been a little uncouth for me to call over to him and stop him right now, but I couldn’t let Kanzaki walk away as he was right now.

“Could I get a minute of your time sometime soon?” I asked him. “I want to talk to you a little more. About the future.”

“Can we just talk now? You can take as much time as you need if you want to discuss the future.”

“Sorry, but I want to do some research on what the third-years are doing for the festival at the moment.”

Besides, even if we did start our discussion now, I wouldn’t be able to move things forward in any way. In order to discuss what lay ahead, I would need another piece of the puzzle, with which I could get them to take that step toward the future.

“In that case, that’s fine, I suppose,” Kanzaki said. “Contact me anytime.”

2.6

O N FRIDAY of the following week, I went to a place I didn’t normally go to in order to meet with a certain student.

The door to the student council office opened at my knock, and I saw Nagumo there. He looked momentarily surprised. There weren’t any other students in sight, or any teachers either. He seemed to be alone today, as Asahina had told me.

My arrival was probably unexpected, even for Nagumo. He must have been watching me up until just moments ago since he was clutching his phone in his left hand. I thought I’d be an unwelcome visitor, but he didn’t turn me away. Instead, he encouraged me to step inside.

“Please pardon the intrusion,” I remarked as I came inside.

With a ka-chak sound, the door to the office closed shut, and there was a moment of still silence between the two of us.

“When Nazuna told me to set aside some time today, I didn’t expect it to be you who’d be paying me a visit,” Nagumo said. “You have some business with the student council?”

“No, I don’t have any student council business,” I replied. “I came to speak to you personally, President Nagumo.”

Nagumo reclined further back in his chair and placed the phone in his hand down on the desk. “In that case, I have to commend you for showing your face to me like this right now. Don’t you think so, Ayanokouji?”

“I assume you’re talking about what happened with the Sports Festival. But isn’t physical illness a legitimately accepted reason for absence?” I asked.

“Don’t make me laugh,” scoffed Nagumo. “There are witnesses who saw you at Keyaki Mall the day after the Sports Festival. They said you looked fine.”

“I recovered quickly,” I answered.

“A clear lie.”

“It could be true.”

I was engaging in word games a little bit, but Nagumo seemed to realize that pressing the matter any further was pointless.

“Fact or fiction, it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Anyway, let’s hear the reason you’re here.”

I got the impression his irritable attitude, like he was tired of dealing with me, was sincere. He wasn’t even trying to hide it—it was like he wanted to end this discussion quickly and leave. However, that transparent behavior was actually evidence that he was hiding his true feelings even deeper down.

“May I sit?” I asked. “I think this might take a while.”

“You said that this isn’t a matter that concerns me as student council president. That means you won’t mind if I refuse to engage in this conversation, will you?”

As the head of the student council, Nagumo was prepared to listen to people, even to those he didn’t care for. But apparently, if this wasn’t a student council matter, he didn’t want to hear any more of what I had to say.

Well, I supposed that made sense. “If you won’t listen to what I have to say, I’ll be going,” I said.

If Nagumo couldn’t be bothered to have a conversation with me as an individual, I couldn’t blame him. However, that probably wasn’t what was happening here. If his interest in me had genuinely disappeared completely, then sure, that would be a different story…but I could still see that the spark was there somewhere.

In other words, he was absolutely not going to refuse me. It was precisely because he had taken some precious time out of his day to meet me here that I could state that so definitively. After a few more moments of silence, Nagumo instructed me to sit. I shifted my chair so we could face each other directly sitting down.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything to drink,” said Nagumo.

“I don’t mind.”

I could tell from the way he was staring at me that he knew I wasn’t here to apologize. And looking at him, he was probably wondering why I came now , after all this time.

“Anyway, I never would have expected Class 3-A to hold a pre-opening,” I said. “It’s usually considered a disadvantage to reveal what kind of show you’re putting on, after all.”

“You know, on that note, I also heard that some idiotic class had their festival plans exposed,” he shot back.

“Ouch. That really hits home. That reminds me… President Nagumo, I heard that Ryuuen came to see you.”

“He was hounding me to wager tens of millions of points against him, like we were betting on horse races or something,” said Nagumo dismissively.

“And apparently you refused.”

“Just like my competition with you, my days here at this school are practically over. It’s a throwaway match at this point—I’ve already won. I couldn’t care less about the Cultural Festival; I don’t even need to bother giving people instructions on what to do. I’m just letting them do whatever they want so they can make some memories here now until graduation.”

So he changed his stance. It sounded like he decided to be completely open about whatever his class was doing, letting everyone enjoy the Cultural Festival like they would at any other school. Whether they took first place or twelfth place, it wouldn’t change Class 3-A’s rock-solid lead. It likely didn’t matter at all to Nagumo if the students in classes 3-B and below were grumbling about it either.

“But really, tens of millions of points?” I said. “Even if we gathered up points from all of our classes, it probably wouldn’t be enough to come to that.”

Ryuuen’s class was bringing in income, but they were extravagant spenders too. There was no way that their financial standing was all that good.

“He told me that he’d give me the right to expel any student I wanted,” Nagumo said. “Himself included.”

Ryuuen was going to use the students themselves as collateral for the funds that he couldn’t provide.

“If he asked me last year, I might’ve taken him up on his offer. It’s not my grade, sure, but it would’ve been interesting to play for people’s expulsion.” Nagumo was telling me that he had already lost his enthusiasm and interest in school. “If your class and his class want to compete with each other, go ahead and do it, it’s fine. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I understand your personal feelings on the matter,” I said. “But aren’t there a lot of students out there who don’t agree with what you’re doing?”

“No one can come complain to me,” Nagumo shrugged. “If they did something like that, then their spot in Class A would no longer be guaranteed. When the day of the Cultural Festival gets closer, I—or officially speaking, the student council president—will come forward and make a proposal. It’ll be one that’s not so bad for them. A little help for the classes that are struggling desperately to win.”

“I see. You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“Well, I am the student council president, after all.” After that textbook answer, Nagumo let out a deep sigh and urged me to speak. “Anyway, let’s hear what you have to say.”

“All I want is to talk to you, Student Council President Nagumo,” I told him. “That’s all.”

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

“Does that sound too unbelievable? Actually, I’m a little surprised by what I’m doing too. Up until now, President Nagumo, I’ve been trying to keep my distance from you.”

Nagumo himself knew that very well. However, he likely didn’t understand the underlying reason.

“Do you know why?” I asked.

“No idea. I’m sure it’s not because you’re afraid of my abilities or anything, though,” he said.

“Well, President Nagumo, unlike Student Council President Horikita Manabu before you, you attract people’s attention. So, part of the reason I avoided you was because you were too dazzling for a shady person like me to deal with.”

“I see… But that’s just the official reason, right? Surface level?”

Nagumo casually dismissed the pretense of respect in my answer and encouraged me to admit the true feelings lurking beneath my words.

“I just wasn’t interested,” I replied, bluntly.

If he was asking me to simply say what I really felt, I figured I’d come right out with it. While I did acknowledge his abilities to a certain extent, I really wasn’t interested. That was why I didn’t think it was necessary for me to get involved in whatever Nagumo was doing.

“You know, if someone else said what you just said to me now, I might’ve gotten a little offended,” said Nagumo.

“I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I—”

“No need to apologize. You’re free to feel that way. I was the one who made you speak your mind. But you know,” he added quickly, “if that had come from someone other than you, I’m sure I would’ve made that person change their mind. Immediately.”

Nagumo probably wouldn’t have hesitated to trap anyone else who said what I did, even if they didn’t like it, until they became interested in dealing with him. With his influence and power, that wouldn’t have been difficult for him.

“Your term as student council president will be coming to an end soon, and you’ll remain in Class A and graduate from there,” I said. “I thought that was fine, President Nagumo, at least up until just a few days ago.”

“And now you feel differently?” he asked.

“I had a change of heart, and I thought that I’d like to face you directly. That’s why I’m here.”

There was no need for flattery only meant as a diversionary tactic, or for false joy or anger either. For what was to come in the future, it’d be better simply to say what I was thinking. Nagumo was waiting to hear me tell him the main reason why I had come here today, and I decided to indulge him.

“I have a proposal for you, President Nagumo,” I declared. “I was wondering if you’d allow me to propose a contest this time—a challenge from me to you.”

It most likely hadn’t ever crossed Nagumo’s mind that I might make an offer like that.

“I don’t like this. It’s not like you,” he replied. Just saying that I changed my mind probably wasn’t enough to convince him. “I don’t know exactly when this whole change-of-heart business happened, but it’s too late. You ran away from the last chance I gave you at the Sports Festival. I believe that was, if I’m borrowing your own words from earlier, because you ‘weren’t interested.’ Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, I did say that. I’m sure this comes off sounding all rather convenient,” I replied.

“You’re right about that. There’s no way that I can just come out and agree to your proposal for a contest now after you threw out three previous opportunities, simply because you had a change of heart.”

Nagumo didn’t adjust his posture, still sitting in his seat as he had been. He continued speaking, seemingly without holding anything back.

“Then, there’s what happened in the Sports Festival. You said that you were sick the whole time, but I’ve determined that was an obvious lie. And don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten about what happened on the island, have you?”

“In that case, would you like to reenact that, but with the positions reversed this time?” I asked.

If Nagumo could punch me in the stomach right here and now, he could take that as an apology for what happened before, more or less. However, I was sure that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“You think that you can make up for everything with just one punch?” Nagumo scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. You’re not worth the dirt on the bottom of my shoe.”

Obviously, there was no room for discussion on this, not even a suggestion. It was clear that there was at least that significant of a difference between Ayanokouji Kiyotaka and Nagumo Miyabi. One was an ordinary student from Class 2-B, and the other was the leader of Class 3-A and the student council president. The difference in “ability” between these two people was so vast that such a comparison was unacceptable.

“I’m going to shelve this discussion because there’s no point to it, not even if I tried drilling it into you right now,” he said. “Listen here: I’m allowed to go to you for a contest. You are not allowed to approach me with one. Understand?”

“I do, but that’s exactly what you’re shelving here,” I said. “A contest. I’m here in front of you today, telling you that I’m willing to fight you. Doesn’t that satisfy you, President Nagumo?”

I was deliberately cutting my own finger, letting it drip blood in front of a hungry wolf. However, the wolf before me wasn’t rushing over to bite so readily. Nagumo wasn’t being defensively provocative, as he had been in the past. Instead, he was being extremely wary. If he hadn’t thought of me as an enemy before, then his fangs would already be closing in on my fingertips. Nagumo might not have realized this himself, but what he was doing now was proof that he saw me as an enemy.

“You really are strange,” he said. “You’re not intimidated by me at all. Actually, come to think of it…it’s not just me. You weren’t intimidated by Horikita-senpai either.”

Nagumo then looked out the window, as though he were recalling the days when Horikita Manabu was here. His original desire had been to fight Manabu, not me. That goal was unattainable now, but there was no one else who could act as Manabu’s substitute either.

“Suppose…I was to have a showdown with you,” he conceded at last. “What would we even do? The second semester’s almost gone, and the third semester is coming up fast. As you probably know, I already gave my classmates carte blanche to do what they wanted, even in competitions in sales at the Cultural Festival. I can’t just tell them to give that back now. And even if you wanted to wait for the next special exam, there’s no guarantee it’ll be a competition between all grades.”

We could just leave the matter to Lady Luck and wait, hoping that there would still be an opportunity for all three grades to face off again. It wasn’t like we couldn’t do that, but one could hardly say it was a realistic approach.

“More importantly,” I said, “you know very well from what happened with the former student council president that it’s difficult to have an actual, no-holds-barred competition with someone from a different grade, right?”

Last year, Nagumo had persistently tried to compete against Horikita Manabu in events like the Sports Festival, the Training Camp, and so on. It didn’t matter to him what kind of event it was, or how large or small it was. He had a strong desire to settle the score and make sure there was a clear winner. However, Manabu had skillfully evaded Nagumo’s provocations, and had avoided being sucked into a competition with him that would’ve gotten everyone else involved too.

“More than anyone else, yeah. How hard did you work at adjusting things, anyway? And not just this year. It was your fault I didn’t get to compete with Horikita-senpai last year.”

In that sense too, I had constantly been a source of annoyance to Nagumo.

“Please listen to what I’m about to say, and then consider whether or not we can make a showdown happen,” I replied.

At that, Nagumo leaned further back in his chair, correcting his posture a bit. Since there were many unknowns when it came to special exams the school would be giving us, I laid out several possibilities. After all, since Nagumo would welcome a challenge no matter what form it took, there was still a way to make our potential confrontation a reality.

After I finished telling him everything I had to say, Nagumo remained silent, seemingly deep in thought.

“I don’t know whether or not we’ll be able to make a 100 percent perfect competition a reality, but I do think I’ve gotten close to making it happen,” I concluded.

“It certainly sounds like it,” Nagumo admitted. “But do you really think you can pull this off?”

“I’m sure that you can already see the situation, President Nagumo. You’ve been observing her on a daily basis, haven’t you? If that’s the case, surely you must understand.”

“I see… I only did that to rile you up, but instead of getting upset, you’re trying to use that.”

“So, will you accept my proposal?” I asked. “Or will you not?”

We had been talking for a long time now, especially for someone like me. However, putting in the effort to have this sort of drawn-out conversation with Nagumo was necessary to negotiate with him.

“I’d be happy to take you up on your offer, but…”

Although his answer was positive, it seemed he had something else to say.

“…What is your real objective here?” he asked.

“I just want to have a competition with you, President Nagumo. You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t, no.” Nagumo answered me without even a second’s delay; he really didn’t believe me at all. While I was a little pleased, I decided to wait for what Nagumo said next.

“Cut to the chase already,” he said. “I’ll think about whether or not I accept your proposal after you tell me more.”

If he was ready to hear it, I figured I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d get down to business and broach the next subject.

“I have a request for you, President Nagumo,” I told him.

I then explained the nature of my request, taking into account the specific developments that would unfold as well. After he heard everything, Nagumo reclined further in the student council president’s chair, the very seat he had continued to occupy for a year now.

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” he said. “But this isn’t a proposal based on your desire to compete with me, is it? You’ve brought up the idea of a competition with me because it’s the only way to make what you want to happen, happen. Right?”

“That’s half correct, but half incorrect,” I replied. “The truth is also that I wanted to compete against you precisely because I’ve changed my opinion of you, President Nagumo. However, half of me does still feel like this is a bothersome affair.”

“You’re certainly an honest guy.”

“That’s exactly why I want you to accept my proposal. Factoring in what I’ve discussed with you, of course.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nagumo said. “You’re acting so shameless despite the fact you’re coming to me to ask for a showdown.”

“I won’t deny that.”

“And knowing that, do you honestly think that I’m going to play along with you?”

“If you refuse, then that’ll be the end of it,” I said. “I won’t fight you, President Nagumo. Not ever. Even if you were to use one of my classmates or someone from my grade, or if you tried something like taking a hostage, I would completely ignore you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. If it were just any random person, sure, you might leave them for dead. But…what if it were Karuizawa Kei?”

Nagumo shook things up by mentioning Kei’s name.

“It wouldn’t matter,” I answered, without hesitation.

Nagumo’s smile disappeared.

“It certainly doesn’t sound like you’re just…trying to make me think something like that wouldn’t work, by saying that so definitively,” he said.

“I’m not an all-knowing, almighty god,” I said. “Whether we’re talking about Kei or another classmate, I can’t protect everyone 24/7, 365 days a year. Besides, you’re the student council president, the most powerful person in the school who’s capable of controlling many students. If you wanted to, you could get a person expelled, even in ways and places where I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on them.”

Of course, there were risks involved in expelling someone. It would have a hefty price and require a great deal of effort. But I didn’t care about that.

“No matter who you made disappear, I wouldn’t engage with you ever again,” I added.

I wasn’t bargaining here. It was precisely because what I was saying was purely sincere that even someone like Nagumo had stopped smiling.

“So, if I want to go up against you…I have no choice but to accept your current proposal. Is that right?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit if you disregarded it and graduated with pride instead, of course.”

“But you’re going to be in trouble if I don’t lend you a hand.”

“I’ve already been coming up with another plan,” I replied.

That was true—there wasn’t any real need for me to talk to Nagumo about this proposal. But half of the reason I was doing this had already been stated: I came here to have this discussion with Nagumo today because I wanted to fight him.

Whatever Nagumo said next would decide everything. We were at the moment of final judgment: a moment that would determine whether or not a competition between Nagumo and I would take place.

“All right,” he agreed. “You’re trying to coax me into this, but sure, Ayanokouji, I’ll do it. My graduation from Class A is assured anyway. It wouldn’t be too bad to finish things off by playing a game with you.”

He didn’t have even the slightest inkling that he could lose. He couldn’t even imagine it. This was the overwhelming confidence of a man who prided himself on repeated victories.

“Thank you very much,” I said.

“But are you sure you’re okay with this? If we do as you’ve suggested, then… No matter how things turn out, people around you are going to get hurt.”

“Of course. After all, you would’ve been involved either way, President Nagumo.”

He reacted strongly to my words. After my parting shot, President Nagumo stood up and walked closer to me.

“You…” he began. “You knew?”

“I’ve been observing you, President Nagumo, even though we were a distance apart,” I told him. “I’ve had some idea of what you were planning to do in the future.”

Even though I had already told him that I didn’t want to fight before, he constantly kept me in his sights. I expected him to make a move before it was too late.

“So…it’s not just Karuizawa who’s an exception, but even Honami?” he asked.

“As I told you before, it’s all the same, no matter who we’re talking about. Whether you try to expel Kei, or toy with Ichinose, or Horikita, or anyone else for that matter. Even so, I think it would be unwise for you to think that you can rile me up.”

Nagumo snickered at that, but then immediately switched to a serious expression.

“I take back what I said earlier, about it being a game,” he said. “You’re the only person that Horikita-senpai acknowledged. I’m sure of that now.”

“I’m glad. Well then, if you’ll please excuse me,” I said, preparing to leave.

“Hey,” said Nagumo.

“Is there something else?” I asked.

“I admit that you’ve got a hell of a poker face. I also understand that you negotiated pretty hard to draw me out. So, for once, let me hear what you really think. If Karuizawa really were to be expelled, would you truly just stand by and watch?”

“I wouldn’t want Kei, or, well, any of my classmates to go away, no matter who we’re talking about. I would resist that happening as much as possible.”

“That’s not an answer. What you said just now was about if people left the class. I didn’t sense any worry at all from you when you told me what you’d do if Karuizawa, someone special to you, disappeared.”

I turned to look at him. Normally, the answer here would be obvious. I would make a statement like “I was just bluffing to keep you from realizing my true feelings,” or something along those lines. But that wouldn’t be the best answer for dealing with Nagumo right now.

“If she disappears, she disappears. That’d be the end of her,” I said. “Nothing more, nothing less. In fact, it would make sorting things out easier, so it would be a great help to me.”

“…You have seriously got a screw loose,” muttered Nagumo, and I saw for the first time that he was shaken—or rather, that he couldn’t understand me.

“I’ll contact you again in due time,” I said. I then exited the student council office, quietly closed the door behind me, and walked off.

Nagumo described me as having a screw loose, but that wasn’t true. From my point of view, a person who made the wrong decision based on temporary feelings was one who didn’t have their head screwed on tight instead. It was the same whether that person was a stranger, a lover, or a family member. If the time came when that person failed and dropped out, that was the end of it.

Your utmost priority was to protect yourself. That was the undeniable solution.