Chapter 2: Chaos

Chapter 2: Chaos

Chapter 2:

Chaos

A FTER THE OPENING CEREMONY of the school term had concluded in the gymnasium, the brand-new third-year students returned to their classrooms. Then, a few minutes later, around the time that the chime announcing the beginning of second period would soon ring…

“This is unusual…” remarked Horikita.

Horikita cocked her head to the side in bewilderment as she looked down the hallway over and over again.

Sudou, who was seated diagonally behind her, called out to Horikita. “What’s up? Somethin’ on your mind?” he asked, sounding somewhat worried.

“I haven’t seen Ayanokouji-kun since the opening ceremony. And it’s almost time for second period to begin,” said Horikita.

Everyone was, as one would expect, present in the classroom, save for Ayanokouji. Even though there were no classes later in the day, now was the time when students needed to be present. If someone were late for no reason, school officials would most definitely scrutinize them over it. Horikita knew from past experience that no Class Points would be deducted for a single absence, but this was their first day in Class 3-A, the class they’d focused their energies on getting into. Unlike Sudou, Ike, and others who had a habit of being late in the past, Ayanokouji was someone who didn’t like to do anything that would make him stand out, so Horikita found his absence troubling.

“Huh, yeah, now that you mention it… He seemed pretty normal when we were leavin’ the gym though…” mumbled Sudou, looking diagonally upward, digging up memories that weren’t even thirty minutes old at this point.

“He did, didn’t he…” replied Horikita.

Like Horikita, Ayanokouji also came to the school building early that morning, and they’d had a short conversation with each other about how they were sitting beside each other. Horikita hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at the time—everything seemed the same as usual.

“Maybe his stomach started hurtin’ and he’s holed up in the bathroom or somethin’?” asked Sudou.

“Well, it’s not like that’s inconceivable, I suppose,” said Horikita.

Although Horikita had some aversion to Sudou’s tactless statement, it was perfectly reasonable as a possibility. Even so, Sudou, seemingly still thinking that something wasn’t quite right about that idea, crossed his arms and nodded deeply once.

“Or he could be fakin’ sick,” speculated Sudou, a wry smile appearing on his face. There was some sort of pseudo-logic behind that unexpected statement.

“Faking sick? What makes you think that?” asked Horikita.

When Horikita asked him for his reasoning behind something so inconceivable, Sudou lowered the volume of his voice by about two notches, going down to a whisper.

“He and Karuizawa broke up recently, right? It’s probably pretty awkward for them to see each other,” said Sudou.

“But faking sick because of that…? Besides, he was fine this morning,” argued Horikita.

“Yeah, sure, but maybe he felt like he’d try comin’ to school, and then he unexpectedly got hit, like ‘Whoa,’ with a total body blow, y’know? ’Sides, uh, I too have, um, felt the pain of a broken heart,” said Sudou.

Sudou gazed into Horikita’s eyes, and then, looking somewhat embarrassed, averted his stare. Sudou had told Horikita how he felt about her last year during the school trip, so he was speculating based on his own experience. Horikita also pondered as to how Sudou must have felt back then. She remembered that he looked like he had felt somewhat awkward.

“So…that’s how it is, then?” said Horikita.

Sudou didn’t consider himself to be an expert in romance by any stretch. But even so, the reality that people could be divided into those who were rejected and those who did the rejecting was something you couldn’t refute. For Horikita, who still lacked knowledge and experience in love, this was an area she didn’t have confidence in commenting on. When a conflicted look appeared on Horikita’s face in response to this conversation, including the point Sudou just made, he scratched his head, flustered.

“W-well, anyway, I’m fine now. I’m jus’ sayin’ that maybe, y’know, Ayanokouji might unexpectedly have a sensitive side. I mean, when people from the same class go out with each other, it can be pretty hard after they split up. And, well, it looked like Karuizawa was actively avoiding Ayanokouji this morning too,” said Sudou.

Horikita also remembered that before spring vacation began, just before the end of the third term, the two of them were close in a way that only intimate lovers were allowed to be, a kind of intimacy that makes it difficult for third parties to approach. In the classroom this morning, however, the two of them had kept a distance between them every single step. Not only physically, but emotionally as well. Horikita adjusted her thoughts on the matter, noting that the fabric of human relationships may indeed become a little more complicated when romance was involved.

“I understand what you’re trying to say here, but they were both prepared for as much when they were dating, weren’t they?” argued Horikita.

Horikita had no intention whatsoever in sticking her nose in the business of relationships between guys and girls, but the fact of the matter was that it wasn’t like everyone could have an amicable breakup.

“They should have at least been aware of the risks,” muttered Horikita, quietly.

“Nah, that ain’t true. I mean, nobody starts datin’ someone plannin’ to break up someday. I heard from one of my kouhai buddies about how they went out with somebody and then broke up. After that, they couldn’t, like, figure out just how close they should be, and were havin’ a hell of a time with it,” argued Sudou.

Horikita stole a glance at Karuizawa, who was sitting at a desk near the back by the window, being careful not to draw attention to herself. Horikita noticed that Karuizawa seemed somewhat down as she gazed out the window.

“I would’ve liked them to have at least considered the risks, though…” said Horikita.

Horikita supposed that even if all of what Sudou said were true, it was a separate issue. Therefore, it wasn’t acceptable for Ayanokouji to be absent or late due to awkwardness.

“But…I suppose it’s not very likely, either way,” added Horikita.

Horikita concluded once again that Ayanokouji seemed normal, regardless of whether he had a stomachache or was in shock after being dumped. While she figured that Ayanokouji could have simply had his poker face on and was hiding it all very well, the idea that Ayanokouji would be shook by that kind of thing was practically impossible for her to believe.

“I mean, all I’m sayin’ is that it’s possible! Anyway, even if he does come by a little late, just cut him some slack, ’kay?” Sudou pleaded.

“If it’s just this one time, then sure. But if it happens multiple times, then, as a class, it’s not as though we can just leave things be. Very well, though. Whatever’s going on, we’ll know when the time comes,” said Horikita.

Whatever the truth might have been, in Horikita’s mind it wasn’t okay for Ayanokouji to just not show up at school without notice or permission.

2.1

T HE SOUND OF THE CHIME eventually came. The first thing that Horikita saw was the off-putting visage of her homeroom teacher, Chabashira, looking flustered. The oddness of Chabashira’s demeanor caused those around her to become concerned. Her eyes were clearly darting around, and her face immediately went pale after she scanned the entire classroom. For a few seconds, she didn’t utter a word but simply stood in front of the podium and looked around the entire classroom.

No, actually, while she seemed to be looking around, she didn’t seem to really be searching for anything. There was no vitality in her eyes; they were somewhat vacant. Even if one of the students in this class were unusually slow on the uptake, they would have likely gotten the same impression. Horikita had intended to ask her about Ayanokouji, who hadn’t yet returned, right away. Though she wanted that to be the first thing that would come out of her mouth, she decided that this wasn’t the time to suddenly interject with something. No matter what was going through in her own mind, her first priority should be to check on Chabashira’s condition.

“Sensei, are you all right?”

However, before Horikita could speak up, it was none other than Hirata who spoke up to check on Chabashira. But Chabashira didn’t respond; Hirata’s voice didn’t seem to reach her. The students, who had been watching their teacher relatively quietly, began to panic a little because of this abnormality.

“Um…Sensei?”

Kikuchi, who was seated in the front row in a spot very close to Chabashira, called out to her, somewhat fearfully. Chabashira didn’t respond to Kikuchi either; she didn’t even move a muscle. After some delay, Chabashira looked at Kikuchi, as though she had finally noticed she was being called. However, her gaze was immediately diverted, this time in Horikita’s direction. While Horikita felt Chabashira’s eyes on her, as if there was a deeper meaning behind the gaze, their eyes didn’t actually meet.

Chabashira only stared absentmindedly in Horikita’s direction. From the looks of it, Horikita judged that Hirata and the other students’ voices must not have reached her after all. If that’s the case, is she not feeling well? she wondered. Horikita hadn’t picked up on anything unusual before, from what she saw up until heading to the opening ceremony, but she figured that she couldn’t leave things be any longer. There was also the possibility that Chabashira had suddenly come down with some illness that required urgent attention. Horikita was about to pull out her chair, get up, and go over to the podium, when her teacher finally responded.

“I’m…fine,” Chabashira muttered in response, albeit lacking in vigor. Had the students’ voices reached Chabashira at some point earlier? Or had they only just sunk in now?

While Hirata was relieved to have gotten a reply, he spoke up once more to confirm, saying, “You say so, but you clearly look like you are not feeling well.”

“Well, I… No. Really, I feel fine. It’s just that…” stammered Chabashira.

Chabashira placed her hands on the podium as she tried to continue. She looked in Horikita’s direction once more, but her gaze wasn’t fixed directly on her. Rather, her eyes were focused on the only empty seat in the room: Ayanokouji’s, the one next to Horikita.

“Did something happen to Ayanokouji-kun?” asked Horikita.

If it turned out to be that Ayanokouji suffered a severe injury or came down with some kind of illness while on his way back from the gymnasium, that would explain this change in Chabashira’s behavior as well. Did something happen? It would mean that such speculation was at least somewhat correct. Horikita’s question must have surely gotten through to her teacher. Even so, the fact that Horikita was met with silence from Chabashira allowed her to surmise the seriousness of the situation.

“Is he injured? Or sick?” asked Horikita.

When Horikita impatiently pressed for details, Chabashira shook her head slightly from side to side. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. If he wasn’t injured or sick, then that meant this wasn’t an emergency for the time being, anyway. However, if he was fine, then Horikita wondered why Chabashira’s face was so grim.

“Hey, come on, what happened? What’s up with Ayanokouji? Please, tell us!” exclaimed Ike.

While Ike had been able to read the room, he butted in to ask Chabashira to hurry up and come out with it already, as he was growing tired of waiting for a clear explanation. Chabashira looked at Ike briefly before turning her gaze to the class as a whole. As expected, they had tense expressions, showing not a hint of relief.

“Honestly…” she began.

Chabashira kept her mouth slightly ajar. Right when the students thought that she must finally be able to speak, she then closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut once more. However, she couldn’t keep silent forever, and she looked up before continuing.

“There is something that I need to tell all of you. This morning—or rather, just a few moments ago, a student used Private Points to exercise a certain privilege…apparently,” said Chabashira.

Though she was not making herself quite clear, she was telling them the truth.

“Okay? I don’t really understand what that’s supposed to mean. What did this person do with their Private Points?” replied Ike.

A student.

Used Private Points to exercise a “certain privilege.”

Even though Chabashira gave them an explanation, the students were baffled by the lack of clarity on those points. Was this a troubling situation caused by another class and something that she couldn’t provide students with details about? Speculation continued to spread in the minds of the students.

“It’s about Ayanokouji, who isn’t here in this classroom right now… He is the one who exercised that certain privilege,” said Chabashira.

Though Chabashira spoke in a serious tone, as if it were of grave importance, the students cocked their heads in confusion because she was leaving out the most important part: Exactly what privilege did Ayanokouji exercise?

Just as the students were about to press her for answers, Chabashira managed to mutter that last, vital detail.

“That privilege was…a class…transfer.”

Ayanokouji had transferred classes.

Chabashira had certainly said that he transferred classes, but the students couldn’t believe that was possible. After all, if Ayanokouji transferred from Class A, that would inevitably mean he’d transferred into a lower class. And besides, there were barriers to even get to that point.

“Um, excuse me, Chabashira-sensei? That’s not a very funny joke. Could you please put yourself in our shoes, as the ones who are listening to you seriously?” asked Horikita.

If anyone could simply transfer classes as they pleased, no one would be struggling. In order for a student to transfer to another class, they must prepare twenty million Private Points. That was a well-known fact. And it was unrealistic. Which was precisely why some students interpreted what Chabashira said to have been a joke.

“I agree with Horikita-san. More importantly, are you really all right, Sensei?” asked Hirata.

Not only was there no possibility of truth in her words, but Chabashira also continued to make statements that seemed close to contradictory. It really seemed to the students that she must not be feeling well after all, or perhaps…

“Like, is this the start of some kind of special exam or something?” asked Sudou.

At about the exact same time as Horikita, Sudou crossed his arms and calmly offered his thoughts. Yes, that’s right, an exam to decipher something from Chabashira’s behavior and statements has begun. Something bizarre like that was more realistic to the students than the information presented.

“I understand full well that what I’m telling you is incomprehensible. However…it’s true,” said Chabashira.

“Okay, but even if you say it’s true, that’s—” began Horikita.

“If you want proof, you can take out your phones and look up the class OAA,” replied Chabashira, cutting her off.

Chabashira, remaining steadfast in her words, gave those instructions with her eyes downcast.

“Okay,” muttered Horikita. “I still think this is some kind of practical joke, but…”

However, a flash of doubt crossed Horikita’s mind. Just then, she began to feel a faint sense of foreboding. While many of her classmates also didn’t seem to believe what Chabashira was saying either, they opened their phones as instructed and called up the list for Class 3-A. Of course, the OAA values for all thirty-seven students in the class should have been listed there. No, actually, if they weren’t there, it would just be another lie.

However…

Horikita, thinking that she must have missed something, scrolled her screen up and down several times. And yet, no matter where she looked, Ayanokouji’s name was nowhere to be found. It had been deleted from the list, as though he had never been in this class to begin with. That was the update she found in OAA. She recalled seeing something like this several times before, like when Katsuragi Kouhei transferred classes or when students got expelled.

“Ayanokouji’s data, which was updated just a few moments ago…indicates that he has transferred,” said Chabashira.

“Wh-what are you… What are you talking about, Sensei? There’s no way…no way that could be true, could it?” stammered Horikita, her voice unwillingly trembling.

“It has been decided that, as of today, Ayanokouji…will be transferred from this class to Class C,” explained Chabashira, revealing the most significant piece of information, which had been left vague until now. The reason that Ayanokouji hadn’t been in the classroom since after the opening ceremony was because he had left the class.

“Huh?”

Although Horikita certainly understood the meaning of Chabashira’s words in her mind, immediately after hearing it, her body trembled in disbelief.

“What are you saying…? Why would Ayanokouji transfer to Class C…?” she sputtered.

“Okay, what’s going on here? This isn’t a funny prank, Sensei. It’s not April Fool’s today, y’know,” added Sudou.

Many students still weren’t even partially convinced that it was true. They still assumed that this was all a lie.

“I agree… I don’t like these kinds of jokes,” said Horikita.

Thump, thump, thump.

“I think that something is wrong with Chabashira-sensei today after all.”

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Please stop, Horikita silently begged.

Why is my heart beating so fast and throbbing so loudly?

I understand what she’s saying, but I don’t want to.

Chabashira’s awful joke is agitating my heart.

“I share your feelings of incredulity here. But this is the undeniable truth,” Chabashira stated.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

“It can’t be. There must be some mistake,” argued Horikita as she navigated her way to the OAA list for Class 3-C. If it was true that he transferred, then it would be strange if Ayanokouji’s name didn’t appear on that list.

There’s no way it’s true, though . With that thought in her mind, Horikita loaded Class 3-C’s OAA list. The name Ayanokouji Kiyotaka was right there, added to the list. As soon as she saw that, her train of thought immediately stopped, her befuddlement overtaking her.

“I-it’s a lie, right, Sensei? I mean, the idea that Ayanokouji-kun transferred to Class C, i-it’s…” stammered Matsushita.

Some students in the room couldn’t hide their surprise over Matsushita’s clearly panicked, shrill, and out-of-character response.

“It’s…the truth. There is no mistake. No mistake at all,” Chabashira plainly stated.

Chabashira repeatedly directed her gaze down at her tablet. If this were true, then it wouldn’t have been surprising if she had received a notification from the school on it. Everyone wanted to resist the reality of the situation.

Horikita’s mind hadn’t wrapped itself around the fact that Ayanokouji had transferred classes. Such a development as this was incomprehensible to her, no matter how many times she mulled it over. Something like this just wasn’t possible.

Horikita and her fellow classmates had finally, after great pains, scraped and clawed their way out of Class D. It had taken them a great deal time to climb up the rankings, but finally, they’d made it to Class A. Over the next year, all of them would be working together to defend their position. And yet, despite all that, Ayanokouji had chosen to transfer to Class C. There was no benefit for him in doing such a thing.

“B-but what about the Private Points? Twenty million is a lot, so, no matter how much he had, he—” began Matsushita.

“I don’t know the details as of now. But it is a certainty that he’s managed to prepare the necessary amount, as the school has officially approved it,” said Chabashira.