Chapter 2: The Unusual End-of-Year Special Exam

Chapter 2: The Unusual End-of-Year Special Exam

Chapter 2:

The Unusual End-of-Year Special Exam

T HE SECOND WEEK OF MARCH. Thursday. The second year of our lives here at school has finally reached its climax. This past year has been just as intense and unforgettable, if not more so, than the first year. I would assume that there have been good times and bad times for many, but for those of us at this school, whether or not we safely overcome the next trial would determine how we saw this year. This is because the End-of-Year Special Exam itself is given an important position that distinguishes it from other special exams.

I would like to remind you of the special exam that was administered last year, our first year. It was the Event Selection Exam, which was conducted as a one-on-one class competition. The rules stipulated that, for every event won out of seven rounds, 30 Class Points could be taken from your opponent. Although the results were ultimately a close call, seven consecutive wins would add up to 210 Class Points. In addition, the winning class was rewarded with 100 Class Points. Which meant that a difference of up to 520 points could have been created between the winner and loser. That alone should give you an idea of how significant the special exams at the end of the year are.

“Morning.”

Chabashira-sensei appeared in the classroom, looking calm and collected. Morning greetings were returned here and there, sparsely. For the past few days, the students had been focused on what Chabashira-sensei would say after the morning greeting. After a series of nothings, it would appear that today was the day that it was finally time for things to start happening.

“I’m now going to inform you of the contents of the End-of-Year Special Exam,” she said. “But first, I’d like to speak to you on a personal level for a moment.”

We’d heard lots of things related to special exams thus far from Chabashira-sensei, our homeroom instructor. However, this time her opening was clearly different than usual.

“This year marks my eighth year here as a teacher at the Advanced Nurturing High School. I have been in charge of two classes in the past, six of which as their homeroom teacher, but in those six years, my class had never once moved up out of Class D. However, looking back on my words and actions from when I first came to this school, that isn’t particularly surprising,” said Chabashira-sensei.

It was a little difficult to imagine now, but Chabashira-sensei dealt with things in a cold and indifferent manner when I first came to the school. I knew a little more about her situation than the other students, so it wasn’t much of a story for me to ponder over.

“When I was in charge of my previous two classes, I had only one thing in mind: that I would continue to watch over them from a position of fairness and calmness, without any unnecessary emotions coming into play. I had continued to believe that it was right for me as a teacher to take a step back from my students, in good times and bad. Of course, this perspective is in line with the school’s educational ideology, and it’s not wrong. However, I now feel that it was also a way for me to escape from my inexperience as a teacher,” explained Chabashira-sensei.

The students were silent, hanging on to her words.

“Fairness is important. A teacher must not intervene in a class competition and distort the outcome. However, forgoing opportunities for students to grow is not the way things should be done, as a homeroom teacher, as an adult, and as a member of society. It is only recently that I have finally come to realize that.” She spoke introspectively, reflecting on her past actions. “It was you, the students of this class, who made me realize that. When you first arrived at this school, you may have heard that, in the past, it was natural for students in Class D to go on to the next grade level without ever rising above their rank. Before long, gossip began to spread rampantly and there were more and more cases of students that were assigned to Class D being ridiculed as ‘defective products.’”

She took a short pause, then continued.

“But now, there are no longer any students one could call defective. You could say that, with just this one class, you have completely wiped out the negative image that had been built up in the past,” said Chabashira-sensei, giving a compliment to the students.

Chabashira-sensei fiddled with her tablet and switched on the monitor. It showed the rankings and status of each class as of March 1.

Class 2-A: 1098 points

Class 2-B: 983 points

Class 2-C: 730 points

Class 2-D: 654 points

To supplement what was shown onscreen, Class A was the class led by Sakayanagi, Class B was the class led by Horikita, Class C was the class led by Ryuuen, and Class D was the class led by Ichinose. Class Points fluctuated greatly when special exams were held, but during the ordinary months when nothing of note occurred, the number of points varied only slightly. When we first started here, Class Points were sometimes taken away due to things like tardiness, absences, and negative assessments that we couldn’t see, but we could no longer expect to see any changes in the rankings due to factors like those. Looking at the Class Point rankings chart once more like this, it was easy to see how this class was on the upswing. And it wasn’t only the students who felt this way.

“We have 983 Class Points,” announced Chabashira-sensei. “It’s an incredible number of points, no matter how many times I see the figure. I can’t even imagine that this is a class that once lost all of its Class Points one scant month after starting school here.”

Our teacher was similarly amazed looking at the rankings, but she hesitated for a moment, thinking back to two years ago.

“More importantly though, you’re Class 2-B. Class B . No matter how many times I say that, I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something off about that, about being in that position. Class B is not the goal. Depending on the results of this End-of-Year Special Exam, there is even a possibility that this class could become Class A.”

Currently, there was a gap of about one hundred points between us and Class A. The path to Class A, which Chabashira-sensei had only dreamed of—no, that she was not even allowed to dream of—was now within reach.

“But I don’t want you to get cocky. Now that you’re getting close to a point where the goal is in reach, I want you to keep pushing on ahead toward your goal, without slacking off. This is a request from your inadequate teacher.” With that, Chabashira-sensei briefly bowed to the students. Then, she slowly raised her face back up, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes wide. “Now, I will give you a synopsis of the End-of-Year Special Exam.”

Chabashira-sensei’s words likely gave the students a sense of strength and steadfastness. No one was panicking, and they took her words to heart. As the teacher operated her tablet, the monitor displayed the contents of the special exam.

End-of-Year Special Exam

Exam Venue: Special Building

Class Match-Ups:

Class 2-A vs. Class 2-C

Class 2-B vs. Class 2-D

Preliminary Preparations:

Select three representatives from each class—a vanguard, a center, and a general—before the morning of the exam (at least one male student and one female student must be selected as representatives.)

A number of voluntary substitutes may be designated in the event of a representative’s absence on the day of the exam.

If there are fewer than three designated representatives, including substitutes, present on the day of the exam, the school will randomly select representatives.

Exam Rules

Representative Overview

A tournament-style system will be adopted, using representatives from each class (vanguard 🡪 center 🡪 general).

Vanguards are given five Life Points, centers are given seven Life Points, and generals are given ten Life Points.

The class whose general loses all of their Life Points first loses.

The exam will be conducted as a one-on-one competition with established rules.

There will be no ties, and the exam will be extended as necessary until a conclusion is reached.

The class match-ups (which we had already known about), a section labeled preliminary preparations, and extremely simple rules were displayed on the monitor. However, at this stage, it remained unclear what exactly the competition would entail.

“In preparation for the End-of-Year Special Exam, you have some important decisions to make. I’m sure that you can understand just from the information on the monitor, but I will explain verbally, just in case. Then, you will need to hold a class discussion to select your three representatives. These are extremely vital roles in determining who will win the special exam, so I would like for you to discuss the matter thoroughly and make a decision that none of you will regret,” said Chabashira-sensei.

Did that mean a class would lose once their three representatives were defeated? It was obvious that the test material would be important, regardless of what it was. Basically, it seemed as though we could select whomever we wished, but we needed to keep in mind that, because the only restriction placed on us was gender, it wasn’t possible to form a group of representatives made up of three boys or three girls. Also, apparently, we could set up replacements in the unlikely event that a representative is absent. In that case, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have several candidates, just to be safe.

“The order in which the representatives will fight is also determined by their designation: vanguard, center, and general,” explained Chabashira-sensei. “The representatives will fight each other in a single-elimination tournament-style format. In other words, the vanguards will compete against each other first, but the winning vanguard will continue with their current Life Point value and can continue to fight the opposing class’s center and general until that vanguard loses all of their Life Points. This is an extreme example, but if a single vanguard is able to defeat all three of the other representatives, including the general, then that vanguard’s respective class will win. If you put a student that you think is the most capable as your vanguard, you may see such a scenario as a possibility, but…while it is possible, I do not recommend it.”

Although the scenario that Chabashira-sensei mentioned was like some overly sentimental heroic tale, realistically, it would be difficult to pull off. Considering that the general was given ten Life Points, more than the vanguard or the center, it was obvious to anyone that it was an overwhelmingly better idea to put the more capable students toward the back of the lineup. It was unlikely that putting leaders like Sakayanagi, Ryuuen, or Ichinose in a forward position, like the vanguard, to launch a surprise attack would outweigh the definite advantages of putting them toward the rear. Of course, if this were an exam that favored the vanguard, that wouldn’t be the case, but we couldn’t predict that from what we currently knew about the exam rules. And, judging from Chabashira-sensei’s attitude, it seemed like it was fair to ignore the slim possibility of that being the case.

“There isn’t much time left for you to decide your representatives,” she added. “You have until Sunday at the end of the day. If you exceed this time limit, the school will select three students at random.”

That, of course, was just the school’s standard procedure. Naturally, none of the classes were going to exceed the time limit.

“So, are you saying that…the three representatives alone will be who decides who wins or loses in this special exam?” asked Yousuke.

It wasn’t surprising to think so, given the explanation we’d heard thus far. Yousuke was clearly concerned about that point.

“Yes, I suppose that’s certainly how one would interpret it, based on these preliminary preparations and exam rules,” Chabashira-sensei said. “Of course, students other than the three representatives will also be given a significant role to play. All remaining students other than the representatives will be expected to fulfill their role properly according to their designation.”

“A…significant role?” asked Yousuke.

Chabashira-sensei tapped on her tablet and changed what was displayed on the monitor.

Exam Rules

Participant Overview

Students other than the representatives will be participants and take part in the exam.

If the number of participants falls below thirty-five because of absences due to illness or other reasons, a penalty will be incurred.

* Penalty: Five Class Points will be paid per person.

* For classes with thirty-six or more participants, five Class Points will be gained for each participant over thirty-five.

“All non-representatives are required to fulfill their role as participants in the special exam. Regarding the part of the overview that touches on penalties, there are thirty-eight people in this class. If you subtract the three representatives, that makes thirty-five. In other words, if even one person is absent, for any reason, the class will be penalized. Conversely, a class with extra people can handle unforeseen circumstances or receive some measure of benefit,” explained Chabashira-sensei.

Horikita’s class had thirty-eight students, and Sakayanagi’s class had thirty-seven, which meant they had no extra participants. Ryuuen and Ichinose’s classes had forty people, so they would gain ten points. You couldn’t call that a huge amount of Class Points, even if you were being generous, but if the question was about getting points at all rather than their amount, that made an enormous difference. Being given those points would honestly be a welcome factor, regardless of the competition. We couldn’t lament that point being unfair, given the circumstances.

Ichinose’s class had been fighting for two years so far without losing a single person. Actually, if you looked at this aspect of the test as being a kind of reward for that, it wasn’t enough. Ryuuen’s class had spent a lot of money to bring in Katsuragi after losing Manabe. Looking at it from their perspective, this situation wasn’t simply a gain for them either.

At any rate, the representatives were one thing, but the exact nature of the participant role was even more vague. The only thing that seemed to be clear was that the representatives and participants clearly had different roles. Just when I was thinking that we were going to be shown more details, the screen suddenly went black. Everyone seemed to think that it was equipment trouble or user error but that apparently wasn’t the case.

“And that is all that I can tell you right now,” said Chabashira-sensei.

Horikita, who had been listening silently up until this point, spoke up in response to Chabashira-sensei’s bizarre remark.

“What do you mean? Frankly, we still don’t know a thing about what the special exam will entail,” said Horikita.

“Yes, I understand,” Chabashira-sensei said. “But it’s as I just said. I cannot explain anything more than what I’ve told you thus far. I’m trying to be mean and hide it from you; I simply haven’t been given the details by the school myself. More information will be revealed on the day of the special exam.”

Unsurprisingly, the mood in the class immediately changed in response to that shocking statement. The fact that not even our homeroom teacher had been given the details was clearly out of the ordinary. It was an unprecedented announcement in our two years of being here.

“Your first task is to elect three representatives. There is no advantage in being a representative in and of itself, but at the same time, there is no disadvantage, either. To put it in simpler terms, you will not gain a large number of Private Points by accepting the role; however, you will not shoulder the risk of being expelled from school even if you lose,” said Chabashira-sensei.

It seemed as though the only thing that was fully clear was that it was an important position.

“I understand that you don’t know the rules either, sensei. But currently, we have no metrics upon which to decide our representatives. What should we base our selections on?” asked Yousuke.

“I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately, just like with the rules, I don’t know anything about that either,” said Chabashira-sensei. It sounded as though she hadn’t even been informed of the selection criteria, and she wore a troubled expression as she told us what little she could predict. “While I can’t state anything for absolutely certain, given the fact that it’ll be a situation where students compete against each other regardless if they’re a boy or girl, and that the testing venue will be the special building, it seems unlikely that it’ll be a competition of physical ability.”

She couldn’t make any guarantees, but her guess was probably correct given the location and the roles. In that case, I wondered if we should steer in the opposite direction and go with more studious types to be the representatives. Most likely, the answer to that question was “no.” If, hypothetically, the competition was based solely on academic ability, it was hard to imagine that information would be withheld from us. A one-on-one match, competing in something that was based neither on studies nor physical activity. So then, what in the world was it about?

“…Fighting by way of dialogue… Could something like that be a possibility, then?” Horikita muttered that question aloud, half speaking to herself as she rose from her chair.

“That’s conceivable enough, sure,” said Chabashira-sensei.

She couldn’t say for certain that was so, but she couldn’t deny the potential that the competition would be in the form of a debate or something similar. If smooth communication skills were required, then students like Yousuke and Kushida would probably be the top choices. Even if the exam content had nothing to do with dialogue, if those two were selected, they’d be able to handle the task flexibly thanks to their high levels of overall ability. In short, you could say that this was a situation where students who could compete regardless of the exam content were the ones who should be selected.

“Now, as for the all-important rewards, the winning class will get 200 points,” Chabashira-sensei said, continuing her explanation. “If you lose, you will simply receive no reward at all. However, the results will also reflect choices made in the Unanimous Special Exam, so in your case, if you win, you’ll get 250 Class Points.”

The first thing I understood from what she said was that no one would be losing any Class Points even if they lost. Not having to worry about being robbed was a silver lining, but it made no difference if the gap was wide. Given that the rewards to be gained were so great, the damage to the loser would still be considerable if they were left behind. For Ichinose’s class in particular, it would put their back to the wall, with nowhere to go even apart from the exam. If her class ended up getting further separated from the top in terms of Class Points, then the outlook would become quite bleak for them, as it would be difficult to see just how much her class could turn things around and recover even if they won all of the special exams over the next year.

“That is all for my explanation. As soon as you have decided upon your representatives, come talk to me,” said Chabashira-sensei.

With that, Chabashira-sensei was finished.

2.1

I REMINISCED A BIT about the time that I talked to Hashimoto while I was walking back from school together with Kei. The End-of-Year Special Exam was finally approaching, set for next week. We didn’t know the details of the rules yet, but I could say that the fluctuation in Class Points was clearly significant. The winner would smile while the loser would likely cry. In that regard, the exam would be a win-lose type of situation, so no matter who the victors and losers were, that reaction was to be expected.

But there was one point that was not part of the original plan. Namely, the matter of Sakayanagi and Ryuuen’s wager, that the loser would drop out of school regardless of the special exam content. As stated in the rules, there would be no ties, and thus a clear winner would be determined. That meant that one of them would disappear from this school once the special exam came to an end. I could say that my envisioned goal of entering our third year with all four classes having the potential to be Class A had essentially been destroyed.

Regardless of which class won or lost, I had laid the groundwork to deal with the situation. Regarding those who were difficult to replace, such as Sakayanagi and Ryuuen, I planned to lend a helping hand when they were in danger of being eliminated, and in truth, I have done just that. I supposed that it wasn’t normal to leave the possibility open for all four classes to be in reach of Class A in the first place. Considering the nature of the school’s competitions, the students probably wouldn’t want to have a close, contested rivalry with another class.

That was precisely why students would win when they were capable and always did their absolute best. Both Horikita Manabu and Nagumo Miyabi had constructed a system that utilized a single dominant player who has stuck out beyond the results of those efforts. If not, wouldn’t two of the classes, Class A and Class B, engage in one-on-one combat against each other? The history of this school should have been simply a repetition of that exact scenario.

It was with that in mind that I had decided to create a four-way competition among the classes, in order to overturn that foundation. That certainly was one of the futures that I had envisioned, but…

While it might’ve been possible to have their wager rescinded before being put into action in the upcoming competition, a third party should not cut into something that two people have agreed upon. What should I do if it’s already been decided that one of them will be going away in the near future, then? Both Ryuuen’s class and Sakayanagi’s class had talented, capable people in them, who made for a solid class when grouped together. However, even so, they were not capable enough to replace the current leaders.

The equilibrium would surely crumble. If it became impossible to keep the four in balance, what would the best course of action be? Would I have to make decisions by the time the results of the End-of-Year Special Exam were available, including the decisions that I had put on hold?

“Hey, Kiyotaka…”

Kei spoke quietly as she walked alongside me, muttering at such a low volume, it was like her words were scattered droplets.

“What’s up?” I asked.

When I replied with that brief question, she looked at me with a surprised expression, even though she was the one who had spoken to me.

“Hey, um, so, you know. The movie…I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I replied.

Even though I replied to her, Kei seemed rather aloof.

“You were thinking about something, right?” she asked.

“Sorry. Maybe I was just feeling distracted, I guess?” I answered. “I was thinking about the special exam.”

I wasn’t aware of making any particular facial expressions or gestures, but I figured that Kei might have picked up on something intuitively. Although, it seemed safe to say that it was a sense developed from spending a growing period of time together as lovers, rather than an individual ability on her part.

“I guess it’s not something I should be thinking about when we’re walking back to the dorms together, huh. Are you mad?” I asked.

“No, it’s not like that,” she said. “It’s just…are you going to be helping the class this time, by any chance?”

“Not sure. Right now I’m giving things a lot of thought. But if you’ve got anything you want to talk about Kei, I’m all ears.”

It seemed to me like she was hiding her true intentions, so I switched my attention to Kei’s recent situation. However, Kei seemed to be taking a step back from it.

“No, no, don’t worry about me,” she said. “The final exam is, like, a super important exam, after all. But I’m sure that if you take it seriously, Kiyotaka, our class will definitely win. And if we get 250 Class Points, then we might even end up being Class A, right?”

She flashed a smile, essentially telling me, “ So I don’t want to bother you .”

Of course, it was as plain as day that this admirable consideration on her part was just for show, but I decided to not hesitate to take advantage of it.

“In that case, can we cancel our date this weekend?” I asked. “I’ll make it up to you next week, of course.”

“Well, okay, that’s fine, I guess,” she replied. “But…do we really have to cancel, though? Personally, I’d rather be with you this week and next week.”

“If possible, I’d like to meet and talk with each class leader before the final exam.”

In fact, there were several other people I wanted to contact in addition to the four class leaders, but I decided that it wasn’t necessary to mention that part here.

“Each class leader… Wait, you mean not just Horikita-san, then?” asked Kei.

Normally, one would only focus their efforts on making sure their own class won, so it wasn’t unreasonable for Kei to think that having a discussion just with Horikita would’ve been enough.

“All four of them. Do you not like the idea of me meeting with Ichinose?” I asked.

“Uh…” stammered Kei. I had hit the nail on the head, and she had reflexively reacted with a start, flustered. “No, no, it’s not like… Well, I mean, it’s not not like that, I guess… Of course I don’t like it, obviously… But it’s necessary for you, right, Kiyotaka?”

“It is very important this particular time,” I replied.

When I responded to her, with words of confirmation and a nod, Kei nodded back, albeit reluctantly.

“I guess if you had something you needed to hide, something to feel guilty about, you could contact her and meet her while keeping quiet about it. You could do that as much as you wanted to. But you made sure to ask me for permission, so…” muttered Kei, seeming as though she was trying to convince herself while talking to me. Finally, she asked me for confirmation. “I can believe you, right?”

“I’m meeting with the leaders of each class this time because I want to see what happens in the future. Nothing more, nothing less,” I replied.

Even if I told Kei my true intentions here, there was no way that she’d feel like everything was cleared up anyway. Looking back on how Kei had been acting recently, something had clearly begun to change from how things used to be. Of course, it was obvious that I was the cause of that. A romantic relationship fundamentally requires both trusting your partner and being trusted by your partner.

However, cracks were beginning to appear in the relationship. The impetus for something like that to happen were varied: money, violence, infidelity, even simply being stuck in a rut in the relationship. There were innumerable reasons why a relationship may fail. But even so, you couldn’t just question your partner that easily.

Do you not love me anymore?

Have you fallen in love with someone else?

Have you gotten bored of me?

Even if you had something on your mind, it took courage to say it to your partner. And supposing you did voice your concerns, there’s no guarantee that the problem would be resolved.

“Okay. I won’t say anything more about it, then,” said Kei. “And I don’t need a detailed report about it, either.”

That seemed to be her way of telling me that she didn’t want to question me about what we talked about when I met with them.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I replied.

Now I could deal with the End-of-Year Special Exam freely.

“So, hey, um, could I…stay over today?” asked Kei.

The only thing that I could do for Kei, who had trouble putting those kinds of things into words, was to stay with her for as long as possible. I figured that she wanted to do what she could in the time that we shared and wanted to somehow hold onto me as her partner, to keep me tied down. I didn’t have any particular reason to refuse her at the moment. As long as there wasn’t any heartache, no disadvantage would arise for me. Even so, I decided to turn her down.

“No, let’s not do that this week. I’ll be too busy coming up with a strategy for the end of the school year,” I replied.

I was entering the preparatory stages to sever hopes, rather than giving an expectation that hopes could survive. Because no matter how thin or how brittle the thread, Kei would risk it all and try to reach and grab hold of it.

“…Not even…for a little bit?” she asked.

“Not even for a little bit, no. Because I’d feel bad if I could only do things half-heartedly with you,” I replied.

But Kei continued speaking, not giving up, almost as though she really were trying to hang onto me tightly and not let go.

“Well, I’m fine with that, even if it’s just to serve you, Kiyotaka… I-I’ll work hard to make you like me even more!” she protested.

When I glanced over at Kei in response, as if showing her sympathy, she bit her lip a little and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “You said no, after all, Kiyotaka, and here I’m being like this. I’m sorry for being selfish during such an important time, with the final special exam and all.”

“It’s okay. Let’s go to the movies together after the exam is over,” I offered.

Kei nodded, quietly saying, “Okay.”

2.2

K EI AND I WALKED into the dormitory building and parted ways in front of the elevator. I had one goal to accomplish in the three-day period starting tomorrow, Friday, and ending on Sunday. Namely, to meet with the leaders of each class: Horikita, Ichinose, Ryuuen, and Sakayanagi. If I closely examined the contents of the End-of-Year Special Exam, I would say that it was highly unlikely that it would end peacefully, with no one getting hurt.

How will you deal with this? What are you going to do in the future? I wanted to make a final confirmation, taking into account my future course. Who I met with first didn’t matter to me, but…

While I was giving it some thought while looking at my cell phone, I noticed that I had received a single message. Apparently, there was someone who already wanted to meet with me, without me having to call them. Moreover, since they didn’t specify the date, time, or even location, that meant I wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of extra correspondence. I responded, consenting readily, and decided to re-think the order of my appointments with the leaders.

Although I didn’t intend to be particular about the order, sometimes it was better to be a little careful about those things in order to accomplish certain goals at the same time. Once I had returned to my room, I immediately sent messages to the leaders of each class. I asked three of them—everyone but Horikita—if we could meet somewhere on Saturday or Sunday. As for Horikita, I worded the message a little bit differently and asked if we could meet sometime between Friday and Sunday.

Of course, I wasn’t going to mention at the start that I was planning to meet with everyone or what exactly the conversation would be about, since it wouldn’t be strange if some of the students were wary and wanted to keep their distance. The first one to read the message was Ryuuen. Though, he was also the person who I wouldn’t be least surprised to get a decline from…

“I’ll make some time for you tomorrow after class.”

Around the time that I was setting my bag down on the table, I saw Ryuuen’s reply. I figured that he was proposing Friday because his schedule for Saturday and Sunday was full, but it was somewhat disconcerting that he couldn’t even make a little time for me during the weekend proper. However, it didn’t seem like there was any deep meaning behind it, and that he was simply rejecting my specific designation for Saturday or Sunday. That was also rather like Ryuuen, more or less.

Well, I supposed that if I could arrange to meet with Horikita first, then Friday wouldn’t be a problem. I casually sent a reply, asking about where we should meet. Ultimately, we settled on heading over to a karaoke room at 7 p.m. Afterward, Ichinose responded and suggested that we could meet up somewhere early on Sunday, since she had plans with a friend later that day. I replied that it was no problem.

About an hour later, Horikita had also contacted me. I was sure it was obvious to her what this was about, but I had added a statement saying that I’d be grateful if we could talk about the exam. Horikita said that she didn’t mind any particular time or place, so we decided to meet at a café in Keyaki Mall tomorrow, Friday, after class.

The remaining person, Sakayanagi, asked if I wouldn’t mind talking to her over the phone on Sunday night, as her weekend appeared to be completely booked full of prior engagements. I had thought that I would like to meet and speak in person, if at all possible, but I figured that a phone call wouldn’t be much of an issue, so I replied to Sakayanagi to say that would be fine.

On Friday evening, I would meet with Horikita at a café in Keyaki Mall.

On Friday night, I would visit Ryuuen in a karaoke room.

On Sunday morning, I would meet Ichinose on a bench just outside of the gym, on the path to school.

On Sunday night, I would talk to Sakayanagi on the phone.

There were other things I wanted to do as well, but talking to those four was imperative. Just like that, I had established my schedule.