Chapter 3: The Signal Fire of Rebellion

Chapter 3: The Signal Fire of Rebellion

Chapter 3:

The Signal Fire of Rebellion

W E WERE SURPRISED by Ryuuen’s announcement that his class would step into the ring with a concept café on Monday, November 8 th . As a result, we had to respond to a variety of issues, but my classmates were determined to fight, and what they had to do remained unchanged.

In response to Ryuuen’s proposed bet, Horikita made a presentation for the class and asked for their agreement to fight head-to-head against his class for a million Private Points. The arrangement was that the class with greater sales in the Cultural Festival would receive that million points from the other class. Many of our classmates had a positive attitude, which was a big plus. They weren’t letting themselves get flustered, and instead were determined to fight seriously and win.

When Chabashira-sensei left the room after class ended, I took out my cell phone. I noticed I’d received a response to my earlier message in chat, so I went ahead and read it.

“ I have time. I’m headed to the designated location.”

Apparently, he was open to my request. I suppose that meant that the preface to this conversation that I had brought up to him the other day, about the future, had proven successful.

“Hey, Kiyotaka,” said Kei. “Let’s walk back to the dorms together.”

“Sorry, but I have plans today,” I replied.

“Huh? Really? Okay, then…” Kei quickly changed gears and turned to Satou, who was still in the classroom. “Hey, Maya-chan, let’s go, you and me!”

“I come after Ayanokouji-kun?!” she laughed.

“Hey, hey, don’t say it like that. Okay?”

Her joking aside, Satou didn’t appear displeased by Kei’s request at all, and she actually accepted Kei’s offer to walk together with a big smile. Kei invited another group of girls to join them, and they all left the classroom happily. Among them was Shinohara, who, up until just a little while ago, had been on poor terms with the others. It looked like Kei had matured even more since she’d gotten closer with Satou.

At any rate, I was grateful that the other girls could keep Kei company. I decided to exit the classroom and head over to the special building to meet with Kanzaki, the person who I’d asked to come out. We wouldn’t be able to simply discuss this matter over the phone, via chat, or out in public.

On my way over, I spotted Mashima-sensei, the homeroom instructor for Class 2-A, standing in the hallway and chatting with some teachers from other grade levels. Although the unusual sight caught my attention, I didn’t stop. As I passed them by though, a part of the teachers’ conversation reached my ears.

“Chabashira-sensei sure has changed lately, don’t you think?”

“It’s like she’s softened up,” another said. “Or rather, she seems to smile more.”

“Mashima-sensei, you were in the same grade as Chabashira-sensei when you were in school, right? I wanted to ask you a few things…”

Apparently, they were talking about Chabashira-sensei. I figured that the teachers could’ve just hung out in the faculty lounge if they wanted to talk, but I supposed that if the topic of conversation was a specific teacher—and one of the opposite sex, no less—it might make more sense for them to have their conversation here. It went without saying that the change they were talking about had been triggered by the Unanimous Special Exam. Chabashira-sensei had come out of her shell, not only as a homeroom instructor, but as a teacher in general. There was no doubt that they perceived that difference.

Noticing my presence, Mashima-sensei brought the conversation to a stop. He must have decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to unintentionally let a student overhear what they were saying.

“Ayanokouji, what is your business here in the special building?” he asked.

It was a fair question, since few students passed through these hallways after class for no reason.

“I have a short meeting with someone,” I replied. “We have some things to talk about that we don’t want to be overheard.”

Hearing that answer, the teachers, with the exception of Mashima-sensei, looked somewhat embarrassed. Perhaps they decided to disperse, because they then started walking away. I could’ve left immediately too, but I had a little time to spare before my meeting.

“Actually, this is perfect timing, Mashima-sensei. If you wouldn’t mind, I have a few questions that I’d like to ask you.”

I figured it must’ve meant something that Mashima-sensei stuck around even after all the others walked away.

“Questions for me? What did you want to ask?” he replied.

“It’s about the Cultural Festival,” I said. “Regarding the rules that aren’t explicitly stated.”

He had a slightly dubious look on his face, but Mashima-sensei immediately responded appropriately and honestly to my request, as a teacher. This school was built on special rules that were very different from ones at a normal high school. School officials were well aware that each individual student had their own unique perspective on things and would focus on different aspects. However, there would inevitably be things that would catch people’s attention.

“I’m not sure what it is you want to ask me,” he began, “but I must ask you—are you sure you shouldn’t be checking with your own homeroom instructor, Chabashira-sensei, first?”

He didn’t hesitate to make sure that I wasn’t mistaken in approaching him with my questions. Indeed, normally, it would’ve made more sense to go to your own homeroom instructor if you were looking for an explanation of the rules.

“There are instances when, depending on the time and circumstances, it’s more expedient to ask someone other than Chabashira-sensei,” I replied.

“Teachers are supposed to be fair to the students,” said Mashima-sensei. “But even so, it’s not like no problems ever arise when teachers deal with students from other classes in the same grade level. I’m sure that you’re aware of that.”

He was warning me that sometimes it’s too late to be asking things.

“I’ve determined that you’re not the sort of person who would betray my expectations, Mashima-sensei,” I told him.

“If that’s what you’ve decided, then let’s not do anything uncouth,” he said. He was basically telling me that, rather than worrying about whether he’d reciprocate my trust, if I was going to trust him, then I should just go ahead and say what I wanted.

“So then, what was it you wanted to ask, exactly, about the unstated rules?” he pressed.

Now that I had Mashima-sensei’s permission, I went ahead and asked him for advice on a special case. He didn’t seem at all surprised by my words, but I supposed that was to be expected. Even the school officials had a set of unstated, behind-the-scenes rules so that they could satisfy students’ various wishes. That was exactly why Mashima-sensei didn’t find it strange that there were students who thought like me.

“Your line of thinking is exactly correct,” Mashima-sensei said. “It’s not impossible to do, if it’s necessary.”

“I knew it,” I replied.

It wasn’t a crazy idea. There could be cases where it was called for, like if a class was placed in an unfortunate situation, or in the event of a major inconvenience.

“However, if you were to ask me whether it’s efficient…I have my doubts,” Mashima-sensei said. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, no problems would arise if it happened between students. Or, well, to be more precise, you would discuss it amongst yourselves to avoid any problems. You understand what I mean when I say that, yes?”

“Yes. I was wondering if it was something that didn’t need to be explicitly stated in the rules and could just be done independently.”

“That’s right. Of course, the risks would be different for each, but why take that option into consideration?”

“I thought it was only natural to be prepared for any contingencies.”

He nodded, thinking it over. “Putting aside whether you exercise it or not, then… Hm. Yes, I suppose that getting an understanding of it beforehand certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing,” he reasoned.

Although Mashima-sensei hadn’t mentioned it, he might have had a general idea about our sales strategy based on what I’d said.

“I’m glad to get confirmation on this,” I said. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re quite welcome,” said Mashima-sensei.

That made one less thing that I needed to check on for the Cultural Festival—an unexpected boon.

I gave Mashima-sensei a slight bow as thanks and was about to leave, but then he called out to me once more.

“Ayanokouji, I believe you had heard a little bit of our conversation earlier, about Chabashira-sensei, but… What happened in the Unanimous Special Exam?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard anything about it from Chabashira-sensei?” I asked.

Even Mashima-sensei knew the results, obviously, but when it came to Chabashira-sensei’s change of heart, there were some things he apparently still didn’t understand.

“It seems like, regardless of the fact that someone was expelled, she’s now able to look forward and smile,” he said. “Something significant must have happened during the course of the special exam to cause her change of heart. Am I right?”

If I remembered correctly, Mashima-sensei and Chabashira-sensei had been in the same grade level when they attended the Advanced Nurturing High School. As he knew things about her past, it wasn’t shocking that her sudden change would come as a surprise to him.

“Forget what I said just now,” Mashima-sensei said quickly. “This isn’t the sort of thing I should be asking a student.”

“I understand. If you’ll please excuse me.”

I gave Mashima-sensei another courteous bow and then headed over to where I would be meeting Kanzaki in the special building.

3.1

T HE CULTURAL FESTIVAL was gradually approaching, but there were some other issues that also needed to be addressed in tandem with those preparations.

One was to bring about a change in Ichinose’s class. The countdown clock to their collapse was ticking down even faster than I’d anticipated. I needed to take steps in order to avoid that, and this time, I wouldn’t be dealing with its leader, Ichinose.

What I needed to do now was make changes in the people under her—her classmates. However, that was a measure that needed to be handled with care, and who else could be capable enough to fulfill that role except for him ?

“Sorry for calling you out here,” I began.

When I arrived at our designated meeting place after class, I saw that Kanzaki was already waiting for me with a grim look on his face. He certainly didn’t appear to be in the mood for a pleasant chit-chat.

“What business do you have with me?” he asked.

I met Kanzaki shortly after I enrolled here at this school, but he was in another class, and we weren’t particularly close acquaintances. Lately, I felt like he distrusted me; if anything, I’d say he probably disliked me too. I didn’t necessarily expect him not to respond to my call because of that, though. It wouldn’t be any wonder to me if that very wariness of me was why he wanted to talk. And if it was the sort of rendezvous where he wouldn’t want to be seen, then it was all the more likely he’d go through it.

“The time has come to talk about the future,” I replied.

“The future?” he repeated. “What in the world are you… Never mind. First, there’s something I want you to hear.”

Kanzaki adjusted his posture and stood up straight, wanting to speak before I could get to business. I was a little surprised by his unexpected first move, but I decided to listen to what he had to say.

“I’ve been troubled all the time lately. I haven’t had anyone to talk to, so I’ve just been mulling things over by myself.” After that, he paused and corrected himself. “No, it would be an exaggeration to say that I was troubled , I suppose. Every day, I was thinking about my future path.”

His words were filled with emotion, which was unusual for the calm and collected Kanzaki. I decided to stand quietly and listen until he specifically asked me to answer back.

“I thought about things like… What I should be looking for during the rest of my time at this school?” he said.

I figured he wasn’t agonizing over things like stumbles in friendships or problems with the opposite sex. There was only one issue that would be preoccupying students at this school: being promoted to Class A.

“I’m sure that I probably don’t even need to tell you this, but our class cannot win,” said Kanzaki.

What exactly would they be unable to win? The Cultural Festival? The year-end final exam that was a little further down the road?

No, he wasn’t talking about such minor things. The reality was that Ichinose’s class couldn’t make it to Class A. And that fact was what Kanzaki was lamenting.

“It’s not as though we’re lagging behind the other classes in terms of academic ability, physical ability, or leadership skills—not whatsoever. Actually, I feel we’ve been rather blessed in those regards. But I’ve learned that those things don’t necessarily lead to victory,” said Kanzaki.

He had begun to think for himself, understand things by himself, worry over things by himself. Just as I had imagined, Kanzaki was the beginning.

“I know what you’re trying to say,” I said. “So? What do you want from me, Kanzaki?”

If he just needed someone to listen and show that they understood things well, that was something anyone could do.

“I want…your advice, regarding Ichinose,” said Kanzaki.

But why did it have to be me? The names of a few other people with whom common ground might’ve been shared came to mind immediately.

“No, actually, that’s not all,” he corrected himself. “I’d like to hear your opinion on what our class should do in the future.”

“That’s a ridiculously huge ask,” I told him. “And you’re looking for that from me, someone who isn’t your classmate, to boot?”

“…Yes, you’re right about that.”

It was easy to read Kanzaki’s state of mind from the pained expression on his face. He was not the type of person who could casually go to others for help. It was precisely because he had been driven to this point that he had no choice but to resort to such measures. Actually, at first, he couldn’t have even considered asking for help like this. He must have been suffering all alone for long enough that he had figured that the only future that awaited him was even more suffering.

“She doesn’t really listen to my opinions,” he said. “Actually, no, not just me. It’s the same for anyone else.”

“I’ve always seen Ichinose as the kind of student who would listen to anyone,” I countered.

“That’s only when you’re facing in the same direction as her. I’m sure I don’t need to explain that to you now.”

I said that deliberately to test him, but it seemed that hadn’t been necessary. To put this in simpler terms, if you asked Ichinose to help save someone, she wouldn’t give a second thought to the risks. She wouldn’t betray you and would stay with you until the end to give a helping hand. However, on the flipside, if you were to ask Ichinose to help you put someone in harm’s way for no reason, she would never, ever help.

You could describe her as someone who righted wrongs, someone who stood for justice, and those descriptions would be appropriate. Ichinose would remain steadfast and refuse to go against her nature, even if you were to offer her some kind of incentive, like money.

“I won’t say that she’s facing the wrong direction,” Kanzaki said. “But idealism is just that.”

“There are more than a few situations where that idealism is necessary, though,” I countered.

“I suppose so. And I’m prepared to go through hardships together, when things are going well.” In fact, Kanzaki and his fellow classmates had shared many joys and sorrows together with Ichinose up through this point. “But what about right now? We’ve lost Class Points by continuing to follow Ichinose’s policies. We’re at the bottom of the rankings, and we can’t find a way to break out of it.”

“You’re being very frank and open. Are you sure it’s okay to tell me about what’s going on in your class like this?”

“It’s a stupid plan,” he muttered self-deprecatingly, as though he were laughing at himself. “But even if it is stupid, it’s still a plan. And right now, I have no other choice but to rely on you.”

He averted his somewhat resigned gaze from me and stared at the empty hallway floor.

“During the Unanimous Special Exam, I asserted that we should have expelled one of our classmates so that we could get Class Points,” he said, continuing. “I cast my vote in favor of doing so and struggled against the others, but even so, my attempts ended in failure.”

While I didn’t know anything about the state of affairs in their class, it was easy to imagine that situation. Kanzaki agreed with the idea of having someone expelled in order to elevate their class’s rank and make everyone better understand reality. He continued to vote in favor and tried to change the opinions of his classmates, but none of them, Ichinose included, agreed with him. However, his classmates didn’t mercilessly attack Kanzaki after he staged this revolt; they simply stated that they should all work hard, together.

I didn’t reply to that, and Kanzaki eventually broke the silence.

“…It’s funny, isn’t it?” he muttered Kanzaki. “What would even come from me telling someone this kind of thing, whether they’re friend or foe?”

He realized all on his own that there was no way he would be able to get any advice. What he was doing was truly nonsensical, something he had lost his mind over. Right now, he probably wanted to kick himself over it.

“Ichinose holds you in great esteem. She’s devoted to you,” he said. “Only a unique person such as yourself would be able to bring about a change in her policies. She could see things clearly, if it came from you.”

“I see,” I replied.

In order to save the class, there had to be a change in the leader’s thoughts and values—meaning Ichinose’s. The capabilities of the students in their class were certainly nothing to scoff at, and by doing so, they would definitely be able to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“It sounds like you genuinely want to break the current trend and escape this deadlock,” I remarked.

Since there was no need to keep up appearances any longer, Kanzaki nodded deeply. However, in being so flustered, there was something he wasn’t seeing. You had to think carefully about whether such a change would truly be for the benefit of the class. The idea that changing Ichinose would save their class was, in essence, nothing but make-believe. A fantasy. Besides, even if Ichinose were to change with just a few hypothetical words from me, could that really be called growth? If she became the sort of person who could sometimes make ruthless, coldhearted decisions, could she then pursue the other classes? Once things were steered in that direction, there was no guarantee that they could go back.

“I agree with you that you need to change the status quo,” I said. “But I don’t think I can agree with you as to how.”

“We don’t have any other options. You’re the only one who can get Ichinose to move, Ayanokouji.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I can’t help but think there is someone else out there more qualified for the job.”

“I can’t think of anyone,” he replied.

From Kanzaki’s point of view, since there was no one else who came to mind, what I was saying right now must have been puzzling.

“To tell you the truth, after I approached you, Kanzaki, I asked another student to come meet us here,” I told him.

“Who?”

“One of your classmates. Someone you know well.”

“Don’t tell me you called Ichinose… Did you?”

I figured that in some sense, she was probably the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Unfortunately, no, it’s not her. It’s a student with the potential to change the course of things.”

“I’m sorry to put a damper on whatever this is, but there is no one in our class other than me who can argue against Ichinose,” Kanzaki insisted. “I’ve experienced this firsthand, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Isn’t that exactly the kind of narrow vision that you’re fighting against, Kanzaki?” I countered.

“Huh?” he blinked.

“Ichinose’s class might seem monolithic at a glance, but it really isn’t, not in the true sense,” I explained. “Since it feels like everyone is joined together, there are more than a few students who just can’t help but feel like they have to go along with everyone else. They’ve been swept up by those around them.”

It still didn’t seem like I was setting off any light bulbs over Kanzaki’s head. Well, I supposed that was understandable—after all, he would never casually present himself to his classmates in such a way that would make them feel anxious.

“Why has Ichinose’s class dropped down in the rankings? And why is it now facing a major crisis?” I asked.

If you followed the chain of errors, what answer would you eventually arrive at? That was what I needed to make Kanzaki and his classmates understand.

“Huh? Why is Kanzaki-kun here too?” asked Himeno as she approached.

She looked somewhat confused—she must have thought that I’d be the only one meeting her here. She arrived a little earlier than we had agreed, but in reality her timing was perfect.

“Himeno? Do you have some connection with Ayanokouji?” asked Kanzaki.

“A little, I guess,” she replied.

It wasn’t just Kanzaki; most of the students at this school probably had the impression that she was someone I never interacted with.

“I honestly cannot believe that Himeno is the person you’re referring to when you say there’s someone qualified for the job,” said Kanzaki.

I could roughly imagine what kind of impression Kanzaki must have of Himeno, considering the kind of life that she led at this school. To him, she probably was just another one of the girls in his class, no different from any other.

“I’m going to prove it to you now,” I told him.

“Wait a second,” Himeno said. “I feel like this conversation is about me for some reason. What gives?”

It was perfectly reasonable for her to be perplexed by this, having been summoned here.

Just as I was about to explain, Kanzaki spoke up, having realized a contradiction. “That’s… No, wait, hold on,” he said. “What is the meaning of this, Ayanokouji?”

“What?” I replied.

“You called me here, but what on earth were you planning on talking to me about? It sounds like you also called Himeno in advance. It seems as though, from the very beginning, you’ve—”

Kanzaki then closed his mouth and alternated looking at Himeno and me.

“Huh? What’s going on?” asked Himeno.

“You anticipated that I was going to talk to you about my class today, about what was going on… Were you thinking that you yourself should bring about a revolution in our class? No, I can’t understand why you’d think such a thing, and I can’t understand what there’d even be in it for you to do that…” mused Kanzaki.

I called Kanzaki to meet me here, and then he proceeded to tell me about what was going on in his class before I could start talking. For Himeno to show up right now, and to also be somehow connected to the topic at hand, must have seemed extremely unnatural to him.

“How far ahead can you see…?” he asked, stunned.

Kanzaki, being the one to start this conversation, had come to understand my calculations in a surprising way. No wonder he was startled.

“Let’s get down to business now, shall we?” I said. “I’ll tell you why I called you here today, Kanzaki. There is no need to change Ichinose through me. What instead needs to change is the mindset of the class. By changing the class’s mindset, you can bring about a change in Ichinose.”

“That’s…futile,” Kanzaki argued. “I’ve experienced that firsthand.”

“If we’re talking about one person alone, sure. But what about two? Or three?” I asked. “If everyone in your class besides Ichinose had a different mindset, the results of the Unanimous Special Exam would’ve been different.”

“Everyone changing their mindset is a pipe dream. Besides, even if they did change, how would the special exam have gone differently? Ichinose would have never accepted the idea of expelling someone,” said Kanzaki.

“It certainly is hard to imagine that Ichinose, someone who cares about her class, would agree to having someone expelled. However, if the issue at hand was if that would end in your class failing the exam and getting penalized, it’d a different story.”

“Hold on a second.” Himeno had been listening on the sidelines until now, but now she interjected in our conversation. “Ichinose-san would protect her classmates, even if there was a heavy penalty.”

“I really have to wonder if she could still stick to her guns, though, with thirty-nine people opposing her,” I replied.

“She would,” said Himeno. “Knowing Ichinose-san, she would. Right, Kanzaki-kun?”

“I think so too,” he said. “But…it’s also true there would be an inconsistency then, in that situation.”

Ichinose stood at the front, fighting for her classmates. But what would happen if all of her classmates opposed her? Could she stick to her guns until the end, even after being made aware that she was wrong? That was another matter. But even if she did carry on, self-loathing would await her afterward. All that would remain would be the fact that her class lost Class Points because of her.

“If Ichinose was seized with feelings of self-condemnation, would she be able to carry out her duties as leader? That’s another issue,” I said.

“If that happened, the results would’ve been even worse than where we are now, wouldn’t they?” said Himeno.

“Yes. Ichinose wouldn’t want that kind of development. What do you think would’ve actually happened, Kanzaki?” I asked, turning to him.

“You mean if all my classmates shared my opinion, to accept the idea of expelling someone?” he asked.

While he understood that this wasn’t a realistic discussion, he imagined what could have happened in that hypothetical situation.

“If thirty-nine people in our class continued to cast their vote in favor of it, even prepared to let time run out, Ichinose would eventually back down and vote For . And, she would have likely tried to guide the class toward expelling herself… Or so I think,” Kanzaki said.

They wouldn’t have gotten stuck and would’ve eventually come to an answer. And that answer would’ve been to have Ichinose expelled so their class would successfully gain Class Points. Furthermore, they would’ve been able to free themselves from the bondage of goodness that was Ichinose.

“It’s unthinkable,” Kanzaki said. “In the unlikely event that something like that did happen, the disadvantages would be far too great.”

Ichinose being removed from that class—it was a development that Kanzaki had never considered, and in his eyes, it was absurd.

“I’m not trying to tell you to expel Ichinose, of course,” I said. “But, if her classmates change, your class as a whole will change. I think that you shouldn’t focus on changing Ichinose; you should change the mindset of the class. And the first ones to do it must be you two—Kanzaki, Himeno.”

“M-me?” Himeno stammered.

“You don’t agree with everything Ichinose is doing. Unlike your classmates, those with blind faith in her, you can question Ichinose just like Kanzaki can. Right?” I asked.

“W-well, I—”

“What did you think, back when Kanzaki was challenging the class during the Unanimous Special Exam?” I asked, interrupting her.

Himeno was silent and hung her head, looking toward the ground.

“I’d like to hear that too,” said Kanzaki. “I want to know what you were thinking then.”

“I thought it was impossible,” Himeno answered. “Our class isn’t going to change so easily. They’re always just spouting off stupid lip service, like how they’d rather see themselves get hurt than someone else.”

Gradually, Himeno told us how she felt.

“I felt like your resistance was simply a waste of time, Kanzaki-kun. I just wanted that excruciating moment to be over as soon as possible. And I told you… I just wanted you to knock it off already.”

Perhaps Kanzaki remembered what happened then as he closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“So, after you heard what Himeno said, you took that to mean that she was the same as the rest of your classmates, didn’t you?” I said. “You must have interpreted what she said as, ‘Don’t rebel against Ichinose, there’s no way you could choose to abandon our friends,’ or something along those lines.”

Kanzaki didn’t deny it. Instead, he nodded deeply.

“But the truth is that she didn’t mean that. Himeno has her own doubts about the way things are in your class.”

“In that case, why didn’t you just say so?” Kanzaki turned to Himeno. “You could have spoken up at any time, as much as you wanted. Even if it wasn’t during the Unanimous Special Exam.”

I didn’t really know what was truly going on in their class, so I didn’t interrupt their conversation now that it had started. Besides, this normally wouldn’t be the place to have this kind of conversation either. I was an outsider, and they wouldn’t have anything to gain from sharing this information with me. However, the situation was reversed now. It was precisely because I was here at this moment that we were able to draw out an agreement from Himeno.

In other words, if they missed this chance, they’d just go back to the normal, everyday routine of Ichinose’s class, and nothing would ever change again.

“Ugh… Don’t make it sound like it’s so easy.” Letting out a deep sigh, Himeno averted her gaze, like she was running away. Her eyes didn’t show the color of a diverse range of emotions, the same way that Kanzaki’s didn’t.

“You don’t need me to tell you the answer to that. There’s a huge amount of peer pressure in our class,” she said, continuing. “Even if I know something’s white, if a bunch of people say it’s black, it’s black. Whether you’re right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in the minority speaking up in a class like ours. It’s complete agony to be surrounded by people who deliberately go out of their way to suppress their own opinions until they’re eventually persuaded to say it’s white. That’s why I’ve never spoken up, and I never plan to.”

“But if you don’t say anything, then what’s white will stay black forever,” said Kanzaki.

“That’s fine,” said Himeno. “Others have selfishly concluded it’s black. I can accept their claims. But even so, in my mind, deep down, I can keep believing the color is white.”

There wasn’t any emotion behind what she was saying. From the way Himeno was acting, she was truly describing the way the class was right now.

“Besides, even you must have felt heartbroken when you pointlessly tried to argue that day, Kanzaki-kun. Right? That was because what you believed to be white had been forcibly dyed black. It was overwritten. I’m sure that must’ve been tough to put up with.”

Unnecessary hardship. Himeno had chosen to be swept away in order to avoid that. But in reality, it wasn’t just Himeno who chose that way. It was something that seemed to be shared among other students in Ichinose’s class too.

“I wish you’d stop thinking that I’m one of your allies,” Himeno said. “Sorry Kanzaki-kun, but I can’t be passionate like you.”

She took a step back, as though she were trying to make space between her and Kanzaki. He moved closer to her, like he was trying to press her.

“Are you okay with leaving the class like it is now?” he asked her.

At first, Kanzaki assumed that Himeno was no different from his other classmates. But suddenly, he started trying desperately hard to force a dialogue with her, without me having to mediate.

“Before even getting to whether it’s good or bad, it’s more important to me that I protect myself , ” she replied. “I can’t be best friends with anyone, and I can’t be nasty with anyone either. Sometimes people invite me out, sometimes they don’t. I don’t want to destroy that level of distance, that kind of vibe.”

There was nothing wrong with Himeno’s assertion that the best thing to do was just stay quiet and avoid rocking the boat. But if she stuck to that forever, the class would never move forward.

“Listen. If what you’re pushing for gains momentum and you get a majority of the class onto your side, Kanzaki-kun, then I’ll join your side too. That okay?” asked Himeno.

She was stating definitively that she didn’t intend to stand out as a minority under any circumstances.

Kanzaki grumbled at that.

Himeno’s words conveyed both her true intentions and her reluctance. If she and Kanzaki did raise the banner of revolt, what awaited Himeno was an attack from the majority in the form of gentle persuasion and placation, repeated endlessly until she abandoned her own ideas.

“Can I go now?” she said. “I won’t tell anyone about this. It’d only cause trouble for me if I did, anyway.”

What was Kanzaki going to do now that Himeno was trying to leave? If he just watched her go, there wouldn’t be any change in their class in the end.

“…Wait,” said Kanzaki.

“I don’t want to wait,” she shot back.

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about this, but I’m about to make a pretty big decision,” he said.

“What’re you talking about?” asked Himeno.

“I’m not going to sink with Ichinose and the rest of the class forever,” Kanzaki declared. He had probably never put these thoughts into words before, but now he was letting Himeno hear it.

“Wait, does that… Does that mean you’re going to betray the class?” she asked.

“I won’t deny it. There’s no point in staying in a class that can’t win,” said Kanzaki.

If he were to leave their class, there certainly wouldn’t be any signals to entice a rebellion. In Ichinose’s class’s current climate, Kanzaki was probably the only student who could lead the charge of change.

“I’m not trying to make threats,” he added. “But I just thought I’d tell you at least that much.”

If Kanzaki were to leave his class by some means, it wouldn’t have any effect on Himeno personally. However, she had to at least understand that her class would lose its chance to rise to the top of the rankings.

Himeno was shaken. She was reacting clearly differently now than she had been even just a few moments ago, when she was trying to act like nothing bothered her.

“Are you all right with that, Himeno?” asked Kanzaki.

“That’s not fair,” she said. “That is a threat…”

“You could interpret it that way, I suppose.”

It was possible that Ichinose and the others could sniff out signs of betrayal from Himeno. Ichinose aside, it was conceivable that their classmates could block Kanzaki’s movements too, so as not to allow him the right to transfer classes.

Kanzaki disclosing his plan to Himeno was a risk, and that was what Kanzaki was gambling on. Whether he was serious about it or if it was just a bluff was irrelevant.

“Are you really planning to change the class?” asked Himeno.

“It might not be a pleasant thing to say, but what Ayanokouji said was correct. I want to believe that by changing Ichinose, with our own hands, it will lead to a way to save the class.”

“But I…” she began.

Himeno bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut. If she sided with Kanzaki, fighting alone and unassisted, it was inevitable she’d be given the cold shoulder by her other classmates. Kanzaki knew full well that was not something she wanted. Even so, someone had to do something.

“I… If we can win…I want to,” said Himeno.

Kanzaki revealed to Himeno the possibility that he would give up on leading and remove himself from the class. By doing so, he unlocked what she was feeling deep inside. Himeno hadn’t given up on the possibility of the class changing and coming out on top, and in no small measure. However, all that she did was unlock the door. It wasn’t open yet.

“In that case, we have to act now,” Kanzaki said. “Am I wrong?”

If Himeno didn’t make a move soon, there really wouldn’t be anything else Kanzaki could do. And supposing if Kanzaki didn’t want to make a choice here, he would have no other path but to change course and try to win himself by transferring to another class. And then Himeno, who couldn’t say that something black was black without the majority agreeing to it, would be completely defeated.

“I understand what you’re trying to say… But still—”

Kanzaki cut her off there. “I hope you’re not going to say that there’s still a chance we can win under Ichinose’s policies.”

That struck a chord with Himeno, resonating with her deeply. Her lips closed shut tightly and she stopped speaking partway through her sentence.

“Himeno, don’t you want to graduate from Class A?” asked Kanzaki.

His words pierced Himeno’s heart like a spear, making it bleed.

“If I could graduate from Class A, then yes. Of course I want to!!!” she screamed, the words bursting forth.

Himeno’s loud voice echoed down the hall. Kanzaki was so taken aback by the sheer impact of it that he was rendered speechless; it must have been several times louder than he was expecting.

“But the way things are now, no matter how hard I rack my brain, I can’t think of any way we could do it! It can’t be done!” she shouted, her emotions exploding. “Even you understand that, Kanzaki-kun, don’t you?!”

“Of course I know that! It’s because I understand that we have to do something now! I don’t want to lose to the other classes!!!” he shouted back.

Although his voice didn’t come out as loud as hers, she was just as taken aback by his impassioned shouting. When I saw Himeno flinch and realized how she looked amused and bewildered, I became even more convinced that Himeno had shown her true self for the first time. I was also convinced that Kanzaki had a childlike side. On top of that, I was convinced that there were probably more than a few other students in Ichinose’s class who only went along with things to go with the flow. Underneath the surface, things had to be different.

A year and a half into being at this school, many people in Horikita’s class had exposed their weaknesses. There were those who presented themselves as honors students who didn’t care at all if others were expelled. There were those who couldn’t study or hold discussions well and immediately resorted to violence. There were also those who were parasites, clinging to powerful people in order to get to the top of the caste system. There were those who made plans to expel their fellow classmates in order to erase their own past. Those weak-minded students had fallen as far as they could, and then they were starting to climb back up. And, among them, some were now showing unbelievable growth.

“…I didn’t know you felt like that, Kanzaki-kun,” Himeno said at last. “You’re always so calm and quiet. I’m really surprised.”

“…Me too,” said Kanzaki. “I had no idea that you had those kinds of thoughts, Himeno.”

Ichinose’s class likely hadn’t faced the obvious hardships Horikita’s class had. When students saw that someone had fallen behind, they would be cared for, kindly and warmly. Students were supported and protected from all sides so they wouldn’t tumble again. Help would repeatedly be given to a student who had hurt their hand. Eventually, the students would understand that they had to be careful, because others worried about them. Why did they fall? Why did they hurt their hand? The truth was that there would be more pain ahead, but they held onto it silently so as not to cause worry. And the result of all of that was that Ichinose’s class consisted only of superficial relationships.

I had been silent for a long time, but I spoke up again at last. “Now is the time to become friends, in the true sense.”

“But what should we do?” said Kanzaki. “How can we move forward? Even if Himeno is the one who can change people’s thinking, it’s meaningless if it doesn’t lead to the next step.”

“There’s no need to rush for an answer,” I replied. “Starting now, you both should try searching.”

“Searching…? For what?” asked Himeno.

“For students like you, those who keep their true feelings hidden deep down,” I replied.

Even if they couldn’t find other people on their own, as long as they discussed it with each other, I was sure they could broaden their view many times over. The addition of another person’s point of view would bring about a number of new discoveries.

“And if…supposing we find one person…?” said Himeno.

“That’s easy,” I replied. “Then the three of you search. Then three become four, and you repeat the process.”

Eventually, this small spark would turn into a huge flame. And at that point, Ichinose would come to understand that her class was about to change.

“It’s not too late. Get stronger. And try to defeat Horikita’s class in the year-end exam,” I added.

If they did that, they would have a slight hope of making it to Class A when we entered our third year.

“What are you going to do, Kanzaki-kun?” asked Himeno.

“We have to be prepared to work,” he said. “More grueling work than we could imagine. But…it’s not impossible.”

Now that he saw what Himeno was like, Kanzaki wouldn’t ever be able to say that there weren’t any likeminded people in his class. As for Himeno, she probably gained an understanding of Kanzaki’s strong will from seeing it up close.

“We both want to graduate from Class A,” Himeno said. “Until now, I hadn’t been able to admit that to anyone…”

Regardless of the circumstances it had taken to get here, Himeno had conveyed her feelings to Kanzaki.

“Yes, you’re right about that,” he agreed. “Our goal hasn’t changed one bit since the beginning.”

Starting now, these two were preparing to move forward, like little children taking their first steps.

“You know…after hearing what Ayanokouji-kun said, there’s one kid in our class that I’m kind of curious about,” Himeno said. “If you want, after this, would you want to come with me to talk to them?”

Kanzaki nodded vigorously. From this point on, there was no point in me sticking around. I would just be a third wheel.

“Ayanokouji, I’ll repay my debt to you in the year-end exam,” said Kanzaki.

I figured that repayment meant winning and earning the right to challenge the other classes for Class A.

“Horikita’s class is formidable, Kanzaki,” I cautioned him.

“Yes, I know…” he said. “Sorry, but I have to be going now. I don’t want to waste a single minute. No, not a single second.”

Himeno nodded, took out her phone, and together with Kanzaki, she turned her back to me and walked away.

There was a side of me that was worried about just how much change those two would be able to bring about, but from the sounds of things, they could be even more successful than I had imagined. Maybe they really would win the year-end special exam, or maybe they really could beat Horikita’s class.

However things turned out, it wouldn’t interfere with my plans, but it was one more thing for me to look forward to.