Chapter 6: Mixture

Chapter 6: Mixture

Chapter 6:

Mixture

I T HAD BEEN A WEEK since the curtain had risen on our third year. Before the morning homeroom began, I sat alone and listened to the voices around me. With one person missing, the view was certainly different. But this sad change was beginning to be forgotten, like nothing ever happened in the first place. His name was quickly mentioned less and less with each passing day by the students who had had little relationship with him.

Such was the passage of time. I supposed this was a good example of how time eroded the sting of difficult emotions, whether it was sadness or anger. I was forced to understand this fact, albeit reluctantly. Time was trying to fix things, as if the two years that Ayanokouji-kun had been here never happened in the first place. The same was true for Yamauchi-kun, Sakura-san, and Maezono-san as well.

No one was going to reminisce about a student who disappeared from the class. But that wasn’t necessarily the case for the students who were close to him, myself included. Rather, it was the opposite—we were painfully aware of the cruelty and heartlessness of time. The fact that he was gone was sinking in more deeply for us every day. Matsushita-san was smiling less often and speaking less, and Sudou-kun was becoming irritable more often at the slightest things, just like he used to a long time ago.

As for me… What kind of effect did this have on me? I wondered. I couldn’t even look at myself objectively anymore. I was desperate to keep up appearances as a student of Class A by acting calm and collected, though I didn’t know how effectively I was doing that. While fighting the kind of anxiety that made me feel as if I might lose track of the boundary between reality and unreality, I was once again resuming my days of hunkering down at my desk and engaging in my studies.

I felt incredibly heavy, and it was hard to breathe. My spirit was strained, as if I had lost a precious part of my body. I just couldn’t shake off this sensation. Why did things turn out this way? Why couldn’t he stay in this class? Was this an uncomfortable place for him ? I didn’t know. No matter how many times I thought about it, I couldn’t find the answers.

It was certainly true that I was still inexperienced compared to the other class leaders. Which was exactly why, even if he felt like it was a nuisance, I wanted him to be kind and stay with me, always watching things play out by my side. Was it that he simply grew tired of playing that role, acting like he was a babysitter? If I had my act together more, would he have stayed?

My words, which hadn’t reached him: “I’m not saying that I want you to help me with everything. I just want you to stand by me the whole time and watch…”

Thinking back on it now, it might have been a good thing that he didn’t hear the thought I expressed at the victory party, as it was a wish that was never going to come true. Or… I wonder if he would’ve given up on the transfer if my hopes had reached him.

I managed to somehow just barely hold back the sigh that was about to spontaneously come out of my mouth, so no one ended up hearing it. This was a reality that was difficult to accept. I haven’t had my feet on the ground in a long time now. Time simply passed by indifferently, without stopping, my equilibrium lost. Finally, the chime rang, signifying the beginning of morning homeroom.

Chabashira-sensei, appearing in the classroom, had returned to being a normal teacher, which I couldn’t have ever imagined happening since the day of the opening ceremony. Perhaps she had gone back to normal because she had already put the matter of the transfer behind her, or perhaps she was simply trying not to think about it. In the not-too-distant future, even Sudou-kun and the others in class would start moving forward in much the same way.

Then what about me?

Would a day come where I would get used to it too?

I couldn’t imagine that very well.

What am I… What am I doing here, in this place?

What should I do from now on?

Earlier, when I couldn’t even fathom the idea of Ayanokouji-kun leaving the class, I believed that I could face any fight head-on. But being here, in this place, without Ayanokouji-kun, for the next year…

I…

“Were you listening, Horikita?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

I noticed that Chabashira-sensei was looking at me as she spoke. Some of the surrounding students were also looking in my direction.

“I’m going to announce a special exam now, so don’t space out. Listen carefully,” said Chabashira-sensei.

“I’m sorry. Go ahead, I’m paying attention,” I replied.

That was a lie. I hadn’t heard a single thing she said. I wasn’t even aware that Chabashira-sensei was speaking in the first place. I needed to concentrate on the teacher’s words… No matter how much you suffer, no matter how long you stand still, the world around you will not wait for you. What the teacher said just now was…that there’s a special exam just around the corner. While I still couldn’t get my thoughts in order, the time had come for our first special exam of our third year. I briefly shook my head from side to side and then stared at the monitor.

Special Exam Overview

Whole Class & Small Group Comprehensive Academic Ability Test

Summary

A written exam featuring random questions from twenty-one subjects across seven disciplines (one hundred questions total; a perfect score is one hundred points)

Class vs. class competition in two categories: Whole Class and Small Group

Whole Class Competition

A written exam in which everyone in the class participates.

The class with the highest total score will be deemed the winner; counts as two victories.

In the event classes are equal in overall points, both classes will each be awarded one victory and the match will be treated as a tie.

If there is a difference in the number of students between classes, the class with fewer students will be given additional points equal to that of the lowest-scoring student in the class.

The school’s response for students who are absent on that day or who leave class partway through the exam due to excusable reasons, such as illness, will be handled in the same manner.

Small Group Competition

Five students will participate as representatives of their respective classes.

Student positions will be decided from first to fifth; students in the respective allocated positions will compete with one another for points.

One victory will be awarded to the class for every student who wins by getting the highest score.

In the event both students have the same score, it will result in a tie and no win will be awarded to either class.

Small Group Competition-Specific Rules

It is possible for classes to penalize a designated student; all students from the opposing class are targetable.

Each class has one hundred penalties that can be inflicted in the initial stage.

Students who receive a penalty will have one point deducted from their test results per penalty.

There is no limit to the number of students who can be penalized and there is no limit on the number of penalties that can be inflicted on a student (up to a maximum of one hundred penalties on a single student).

(Additional penalties may be purchased individually up until the day before the exam; the cost is fifty thousand Private Points per penalty.)

Penalties can be inflicted up until the day before the exam and must be communicated to the homeroom teacher of each class.

Who penalties have been inflicted upon and how many penalties have been inflicted will be disclosed only to the students who participate in the Small Group Competition

* Note: The effects of these penalties will be nullified in the OAA evaluation which will later reflect this competition score in addition to the Whole Class Competition score.

Wins and Losses

Classes will compete over the two victories from the Whole Class Competition and the five victories from the Small Group Competition; the class with the highest number of victories will win.

In the event both classes come out with three victories, three losses, and one tie, the rewards will be divided between the classes equally.

Rewards

The winning class will be awarded one hundred Class Points (fifty Class Points will be awarded to both classes in the event of a tie).

An additional fifty Class Points will be awarded to a class that achieves a perfect seven victories.

A negative fifty Class-Point penalty will be inflicted on a class that suffers seven total losses.

As far as I could understand from what I had read, it was a tried-and-true written exam. Basically, what was required of us was pure academic ability. However, there was a possibility that the unique rules added to the exam could make an enormous difference between who won and who lost.

“It’s been decided that the class you’ll be competing against this time is Class 3-D. Also, the exam will be held in two weeks. That isn’t that much time to prepare, but everyone is equal in that regard, so I ask that you refrain from complaining,” Chabashira-sensei announced.

Class 3-D. In other words, Ichinose-san’s class. As I thought about it, I felt like that wasn’t a good thing by any means. Even though I knew that, I was still relieved over not having to fight Ayanokouji-kun. Normally, I would have been lamenting the fact that we weren’t able to compete against Ryuuen-kun and his classmates, as they were a class that didn’t do well when it came to competitions of academic ability.

As for the question of Ayanokouji-kun being our opponent or not, there were only two ways to look at it: either good or bad. But I was sure that wasn’t just limited to me. At the very least, Matsushita-san and Sudou-kun appeared to be relieved. Though I felt an intense self-loathing, I looked at the rules on the monitor again, without changing my expression.

Ichinose-san’s class had a lot of excellent students with well-rounded academic ability. Moreover, they were a class of forty, without a single student missing, which was troublesome for us. The more of a difference there was in the number of students between your class and the opposing class, the more of an advantage or disadvantage there would be before the exam even began. Although replicating a score was guaranteed to make up for the shortage of students, the fact remained that it was the lowest-scoring student’s grade being replicated, meaning that it was still a pretty significant handicap.

And with him gone…our class was at thirty-six people. In other words, it was like fighting while having five students forced into the lowest rank.

“This is only a rough approximation, but the expected scores according to your OAA evaluations would be as follows. You can use this as a basis for determining what kind of score our class may receive,” said Chabashira-sensei.

At the teacher’s explanation, the information on the monitor changed.

OAA Academic Ability

A Rank: 76 pts to 85 pts

B Rank: 66 pts to 75 pts

C Rank: 56 pts to 65 pts

D Rank: 51 pts to 55 pts

E Rank: 45 pts to 50 pts

The difficulty level of this written exam was high, and it was close to impossible to get a perfect score. That was my impression.

“This seems like it’s gonna be a tough fight…” muttered Sudou.

Sudou-kun, sitting nearby, mumbled those words to himself with a grim look on his face. Yes, this battle would most definitely be a difficult one for us, without a doubt. If we were to clash head-to-head, the odds of us winning would be slightly less than half. Although we’d been doing reasonably well in terms of raising our academic ability levels, when I looked back at the results of written exams held thus far, there have been times when we won against Ichinose-san’s class in academic ability-focused exams by only a narrow margin. However, considering the handicap due to the difference in numbers, we were at a slight disadvantage in the Whole Class Competition. Their class would also be studying hard over the two weeks before the exam, and there was no guarantee whatsoever that we would be able to close the gap with them efficiently.

But…there was another opportunity to win, precisely because this wasn’t a normal exam. If this had been a simple contest of academic ability where we competed based on total points, we would have had no other choice but to compete with lower odds. However, this time, there was a special event: the Small Group Competition. The fact that we could still turn things around with four wins in the Small Group Competition even if we lost the Whole Class Competition was significant.

Hypothetically, if the top five students from each class were pitted against each other, we would be able to compete on equal footing since both of our classes had approximately the same number of students who were close to an A rank. Of course, the disadvantageous situation itself wouldn’t be reversed. If the other class won the Whole Class Competition, they could win the entire exam after getting two victories in the Small Group Competition, while we would need to get four. If the Whole Class Competition ended in a tie, then three victories would be enough, but the chances of our overall scores being tied in the Whole Class Competition were so low that it seemed like it was probably better to discount that as a possibility.

“Four victories…huh,” I muttered aloud.

Putting the question of whether it was realistic or not aside, even if all five of the participants from Ichinose-san’s class competing in the Small Group Competition were ranked at an A in Academic Ability and scored around the eighty-five-point mark, we would still have an adequately good chance of winning if we inflicted penalties on the students competing. The reason being that just by distributing twenty penalties to each of those five students, we could bring their scores down to sixty-five points. However, the same was inevitably true for our opponent as well.

If you could inflict a large number of penalties on a capable student for a low price, then there would be no way they could recover from the significant drop in score. On the other hand, if you sent out students with a B or C rank in OAA, they wouldn’t get high scores to begin with, and you may not win. All four classes would run down the path of that basic scenario after hearing the rules. And the destination that would be reached at the end of that path was…the purchase of additional penalties.

An easy-to-understand strategy of buying up as many penalties as you could get your hands on in order to increase your chances of winning. That was simple, and it was the only way for us to definitively close the gap between us and our opponent. But the problem was the price…

The bottleneck was that it required fifty thousand Private Points to snatch away just one single point from an opponent. I understood that, but nevertheless, it was still one point.

But…it should be noted that you weren’t necessarily going to reap any benefits with absolute certainty just by spending more money. If you were anticipating that a specific student would be appearing in the exam and you inflicted a lot of penalties upon them, but they ended up not participating in the Small Group Competition, then that would be a terrible turn of events. More importantly, I didn’t even want to think about the damage that would be done if we pumped hundreds of thousands or millions of Private Points into this and we lost the exam.

“Tch…”

I placed my hands on top of one another and closed my eyes. Studying hard was a matter of course for this special exam, obviously, but the outcome also depended on who was chosen to participate in the Small Group Competition and whether you could effectively inflict penalties on the opposing students chosen by the other class. No matter how I looked at it, no alternative strategies could be executed. But I couldn’t imagine that we could take the win by going into it without actually coming up with any kind of plan and taking the cheap route.

I don’t know how to proceed…

If you were here, then…

If you were here, then you definitely would’ve come up with a surefire way to win.

I closed my eyes. The image of his back crossed my mind, making it difficult for me to breathe once again.

“Suzune.”

Should I go ahead and clash against Ichinose-san’s class head-on?

Could I win if I do that…?

Since our Academic Ability levels are close to even, should I just do it?

Is it possible to spy on our opponent to see whether they buy penalties?

Or should I do whatever it takes, no matter if it means using cowardly, unfair means, like Ryuuen-kun would?

Who is…our opponent going to choose…?

Maybe Ichinose-san won’t appear in the Small Group Competition after all, though?

Or maybe she’ll do the opposite of what I think and proudly join the battle?

Along with those questions, the image of Ayanokouji-kun floating in the corner of my mind just wouldn’t go away.

How would he fight if he were in my position?

How would he view this special exam?

I wasn’t even allowed to ask him for guidance anymore.

“Suzune.”

Should I buy some penalties to lower the risks and assign them to all the top-level students on their students who we ought to mark? As the saying goes, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs, which means we’ll need to bear some degree of pain if—

“Suzune!”

“Wh…?!”

I felt something touch my shoulder and I turned to look in the direction of whatever it was in surprise. It was Sudou-kun’s large hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m…fine. I was just giving a little thought to how we’ll fight in this exam,” I replied.

“Well, yeah, I’m sure you are, but…you’re still thinking about Ayanokouji too, right?” said Sudou-kun.

“I—” I began.

“Look, I know it’s impossible to tell you to stop caring about his transfer. But just don’t keep it all to yourself. Share the load,” said Sudou-kun.

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll try to do that,” I replied.

I can’t let Sudou-kun see me looking pathetic anymore , I told myself. Given the situation we were in, I at least needed to be tough in the present moment. I thought that’s what I had been doing, but apparently, it looked like it wasn’t enough.

“How we choose to use our penalties is going to be important…though I’m afraid of what’ll happen if we focus on students who are likely to get high scores and it ends up being in vain,” said Hirata-kun.

Before I knew it, Hirata-kun had taken initiative and started a discussion with our classmates. I had no clue whatsoever about what they had been talking about before now or for how long.

“The discussion only just started,” said Sudou-kun.

“Thank you…” I replied.

Sudou-kun understood very well that I had been lost in my thoughts. I needed to get my act together so I didn’t cause him any more worry.

Yukimura-kun, still seated, raised his hand in response to Hirata-kun’s statement.

“I think that it’s better not to look at the Small Group Competition simply through the lens of OAA,” he said. “The reason being that OAA simply represents an average score across all subjects, nothing more. Even if a student does extremely poorly in one subject but excels in the rest, that student would have a high score in OAA. Also, there are many things we don’t know about our own class, with respect to who excels at what and how much, right? It’s not like detailed results from all of our previous exams were revealed to us, after all.”

He suggested that we should take full advantage of the kind of detailed information that only members of this class would be able to know. The exam was two weeks away. Would I be able to come up with a way to clinch the win…?

6.1

E VEN ON THE DAY the details of the special exam were announced, I was met with the same-as-always after-school routine. While the other students were trying to make a quick exit, Hashimoto got up from his seat as soon as Mashima-sensei ended homeroom and left the classroom.

“All righty. So, this special exam’s entirely in Ayanokouji’s hands, right?” said Hashimoto.

From how he was speaking, it sounded like there was an assumption of acceptance, rather than asking for permission, as he directed that question to the entire class. The classroom fell silent for a moment, with neither a “yes” or “no” being said back to him. Shortly after, though, Shimazaki glared at Hashimoto, not hiding his displeasure at all.

“Why would that be?” he asked.

“Whaddya mean, why?” Hashimoto replied. “It should be obvious. ’Cause this exam’s a good opportunity for the new transfer Ayanokouji, to show us what he’s got. If we don’t let him handle it now, when are we gonna let him handle anything? Then we’ll never know what we even recruited him for.”

Hashimoto strongly argued against the objection, thinking that even if the idea wasn’t welcome, it was still a given that’s what would be done.

“And what if we lose because of that?” asked Shimazaki.

“What if we lose? Come on, don’t say stupid stuff. There’s no way we’re gonna lose. Right, Ayanokouji?” said Hashimoto.

Come on, tell ’im! was written all over Hashimoto’s face, the pressure loud and clear.

“I cannot guarantee victory or defeat, but if you entrust me with this, I intend to give it my all,” I replied.

Pulling a complete one-eighty from my greeting I gave during the first homeroom, which was brimming with confidence, I deliberately made a point of giving myself some insurance in case we lost. This was met with cold stares from all of my classmates—a natural reaction when you heard someone say something like this when you didn’t know how a match would turn out, but you’d start to doubt your own ears.

“S-see, Hashimoto?” replied Shimazaki.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Sakayanagi definitively stated that she would “win” early on at times like these. I’m sure there were probably some people who were bewildered or discouraged by the gap between her and me.

“Hey, come on dude, say it with more confidence!” said Hashimoto. “You’re gonna make the rest of us worry. Hell, I’m starting to get worried myself.” Hashimoto briefly looked off into the distance while scratching his head and let out a sigh. “Anyway, Shimazaki, what do you plan to do then if we don’t leave it to Ayanokouji, huh?” he asked.

“That should go without saying. We just fight like normal and win like normal, that’s all,” argued Shimazaki.

“‘Normal’? Okay, then who’s gonna think of a strategy?” asked Hashimoto.

“We can discuss it together, all of us . I’m not gonna object to Ayanokouji joining in, of course.”

“Are you tryin’ to say that we don’t need a leader then?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Shimazaki said. “Of course we need a leader; we’ll need one to steer us when we get into trouble. But I’m just not willing to entrust him alone with this special exam, is all. To be frank, based on everything we’ve heard, I think that this special exam is in the bag for us. It’s clear we’re gonna win, since we’ve always scored at the top in written exams over the past two years, whereas our opponents always score at the bottom. Am I wrong?”

Hashimoto let out a small groan and quickly made his objections known, saying, “If this were just a simple written test, then sure. But this is a special exam! Do you really think we can win this without giving it any thought?”

“I didn’t say that we wouldn’t give it any thought. I’m saying that, if necessary, we should discuss things with the whole class,” argued Shimazaki.

“The more people there are, the easier it’ll be for information to get leaked,” retorted Hashimoto.

“Nobody would be stupid enough to leak anything. Well, nobody except you , that is.”

“Oh, you really went there, huh?”

While Hashimoto and Shimazaki were arguing, Sanada, who had been watching their back-and-forth and waiting for the right time to chime in, stood up.

“May I ask you a question, Ayanokouji-kun?” he asked.

“Sure, of course,” I replied.

“As far as I can tell, I think that the important part of this special exam is who the penalties are assigned to,” he said. “I’m wondering if it’s safe to assume that, should we leave this to you, that you would bring us results by accurately predicting who our opponent will choose to be in the Small Group Competition and telling us who we should select from our side to avoid being targeted. If you were to say you could do that, then I think I would be willing to entrust this matter to you, Ayanokouji-kun.”

Sanada, while helping Hashimoto, also offered reassurance to his classmates who were doubting me by laying out the initiative. Sanada then looked at Shimazaki with a calm, gentle demeanor.

“I see…” Shimazaki said. “So you’re saying that you’re not looking at Ayanokouji’s worth through winning or losing, but by measuring his abilities in the process that gets us there?”

“Yes,” Sanda replied. “Because I also feel that we have a good chance of winning this special exam. However, if there were a way for someone to flip things on their head in this match-up, it would most definitely be because of the penalty assignments in the Small Group Competition. There’s no guarantee that we could find an optimal solution by having everyone discuss it here. I don’t doubt that there is risk in entrusting this matter to Ayanokouji-kun alone, but as Hashimoto-kun said, the time has come when we need to entrust him with something to prove himself. If that’s the case, then I think we can consider this special exam to be our chance to be able to quickly make a definitive decision about his worth.”

It was something one might call a compromise, incorporating the opinions of both sides.

“That’s…certainly not a bad idea. Are you sure you’re fine with us passing this off to you, Ayanokouji?” asked Shimazaki.

“If you leave this to me, I intend to do all I can, to the best of my ability,” I replied.

Though I had replied as such, Shimazaki’s voice immediately jumped up a notch in intensity.

“All right. Then you’ll let us focus on whether or not you were the right choice here, with winning proving your worth, yeah?” he replied.

“Okay, my dudes. In that case, let’s go with that,” said Hashimoto.

Hashimoto, interpreting what Shimazaki said as a commitment, nodded in apparent satisfaction and clapped his hands, resulting in a loud cracking sound. He probably thought that as long as I was given this opportunity, nothing else mattered.

“It’s settled then. ’Kay, then we’ll discuss details later. Y’all just kick back and rest easy,” added Hashimoto.

“I’m not so sure we can do that, man. For the time being, we should rack our brains as best we can to figure out who to put penalties on,” said Shimazaki.

Hashimoto then urged that we all disperse, considering that a prolonged discussion may, by some chance, lead to the unexpected retraction of the previous agreement.

“I mean, Ayanokouji’s going to need plenty o’ time,” said Hashimoto.

Despite saying that, Hashimoto wasn’t planning to let me leave right away after class ended.

“Hashimoto Masayoshi appears to be extraordinarily bothered by the fact that he was not included in the prior discussions on your transfer,” Morishita stated.

He certainly was acting like he didn’t want to let the discussion continue without him.

“Are you sure about this? You’re going to let someone who may possibly betray you be on the inside of your strategy discussion?” added Morishita in a whisper directly behind me.

“Your faith in Hashimoto has been stretched thin, huh?” I replied.

“Well, it’s only natural that it would be when he’s so thick,” she answered.

Since Morishita was seated directly behind me, it was easy for us to talk when we needed to discuss minute details like this. Morishita, sensing that Hashimoto was approaching, suspended our conversation right then and there.

“Let’s go, Ayanokouji. What are you gonna do, Morishita?” asked Hashimoto.

“I suppose I shall accompany you for the time being. I very much wish to see ‘what he’s got,’ so to speak,” said Morishita.

“We can be in the dorm, at karaoke, or even behind the school building,” said Hashimoto.

Normally, standard practice would dictate choosing a location where you wouldn’t be seen when discussing strategy. However, I deliberately proposed a meeting at the usual café.

6.2

W E ARRIVED AT THE CAFÉ, not stopping anywhere else on the way.

“Please wait a moment. I am going to spend an hour thinking very, very carefully about what I would like to drink,” said Morishita.

“Come on, don’t take a whole hour,” groaned Hashimoto.

Morishita smirked in response to Hashimoto snapping back at her.

“That was a joke. Well, at any rate, please do wait a little while, because I am going to ask my stomach if there is anything she’s craving,” said Morishita.

Was the stomach the right organ to be asking? I felt like it would’ve been more correct to say that you would ask your brain if anything, but…whatever. Some first-year students, both male and female, were starting to come into the café, and were just about to start lining up. However, perhaps upon noticing Morishita’s hesitation, they refrained from doing that and instead started looking at the menu while standing a short distance away from us.

“Hurry up and decide before you hold up the line,” Hashimoto urged.

“I hear you. I believe I will have a matcha latte today,” said Morishita.

“All right, I’ll go ahead and order all of our drinks. You guys go and grab us an empty spot somewhere in the back,” said Hashimoto.

Since we came to the café immediately after class had ended, over 90 percent of the seats were still available. Since I had my pick of seats, I figured that I’d choose the same place as last time. While Hashimoto waited at the counter to get drinks for the three of us, Morishita and I went ahead and claimed our seats.

“Should we call Yamamura Miki? She was self-deprecating, saying that she is so insignificant that she is practically lighter than air, lighter than carbon dioxide. She said that it was the end for her, for the world to just go ahead and suck her up and spit her out all it wants,” rambled Morishita.

“I’m pretty sure Yamamura wouldn’t engage in such edgy self-deprecation,” I replied.

No matter how you thought about that, that statement was only something that the weirdo in front of me, Morishita, would say.

“Well, it is certainly true that it was a product of my own unique originality, but that’s not the focus of my statement,” said Morishita.

“I’ve already sent word to Yamamura. I told her that she should keep her distance from me for a while,” I replied.

It was inevitable that I, the whispered-about transfer student, would draw attention, with countless students calling out to me or trying to catch glimpses of me day after day after day. Everything I did, from groundless rumors to actual truth, was bound to spread like wildfire.

“No matter how little presence Yamamura Miki has, being seen together would certainly be a problem. So, it was an executive decision on your part to keep your distance, so as to not go out of your way to diminish the value of her usefulness, then,” said Morishita.

“‘The value of her usefulness,’ huh? Well, I suppose it’s not like that aspect doesn’t play into it at all, but it was actually out of consideration as a friend,” I replied.

“Oh? So you say,” replied Morishita.

If I called upon Yamamura, she would most likely do her best to live up to any expectations placed on her. But if I placed excessive stress on her by making her stand out, it would only hurt her emotionally.

“So, if Yamamura Miki says that she wishes to stand out, you will not mind if she does?” asked Morishita.

“Of course I wouldn’t. She’s free to show off if that’s what she wants,” I replied.

“Kindness…or, no, is that what they call ‘leeway’?” asked Morishita.

If I forcefully tried to use Yamamura as a tool so soon after she closed the distance between herself and Sakayanagi and just as she was beginning to change her way of thinking, there was a possibility that she’d rapidly shut down. If that happened, she would no longer be able to function properly as my eyes and ears. It would be a stupid idea to destroy her by overworking her.

Also, unlike Sakayanagi, who had made use of the calm and stable Yamamura from the beginning while maintaining a proper distance from her, I wanted to start by nurturing her mind and developing her into becoming someone that I could use more conveniently over the next year. Since it was unclear how Morishita viewed Yamamura at this time, it was safer for me not to discuss those plans.

“What about you, though? Do you not get along with Yamamura?” I asked.

Since transferring to Class C, I had not even once seen Morishita and Yamamura spending time together. In no small part, it seemed like that was because Yamamura didn’t want to come into contact with Morishita, as I noticed that she would occasionally cast glances or fidget when Morishita was close.

“It is best that she does not get too deeply involved with me, as she would end up getting sucked into wicked, sinful causality. An insubstantial, meager existence such as hers would most likely be fated to end up crumbling to dust…” said Morishita.

“Okay, I don’t understand what you’re saying at all. Wait, do you mean that it’s all right for me to get involved with you, then?”

“Indeed it is, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. You seem like a glutton for punishment.”

She probably wasn’t wrong in her perception there, but my threshold for punishment was something that was trained into me, regardless of my intentions.

“I hope you two didn’t go ahead and start the discussion before I got here,” interjected Hashimoto.

Hashimoto, walking a little quickly, came back while holding three cups directly in front of him.

“Please rest easy. We have already finished the discussion,” said Morishita.

“Uh, okay, that’s good. Then let’s start over from the beginning. First, let’s go over the outline of the exam again,” said Hashimoto.

It sounded like Hashimoto understood that was a joke on Morishita’s part, as expected. He took his seat and quickly got ready to begin the discussion. He took out his phone and displayed the rules and such for the special exam.

“I will remain quiet and listen, so please go ahead and begin,” said Morishita.

Morishita, declaring that she would play the part of listener, inserted a straw into her matcha latte cup.

“Okay, well, I’ll start off by sayin’ what I think,” said Hashimoto. “Frankly, I was surprised to see that our first special exam this year uses a one-one-one style setup. We literally just went through something like this at the end of last year.”

Hashimoto spoke candidly about his impressions of the freshly announced exam. As I was spending my days in a new class that I wasn’t accustomed to yet, this kind of a start wasn’t a terrible thing.

“And another thing! On top of that, the upper and lower ranks are cleanly divided up, too. Feels like you could consider that to be a decision that the school made after taking our grade’s situation into account,” added Hashimoto.

This was a terrific opportunity to close the gap between the top and bottom, but, conversely, that naturally meant it also carried the risk of opening it even wider.

“I gotta say though, man, I’m sure glad that you didn’t start things off with putting this uncertain alliance thing into operation as your first move. Backlash would’ve been a foregone conclusion, and what’s more, if it had been implemented, we would’ve had to prepare ourselves for a sudden loss. It’s scary just imagining it,” said Hashimoto.

It wasn’t as though I didn’t understand how he felt, but even if we left the matter alone, the time when this class would be going up against Ichinose’s would come eventually. Personally, I had the opposite opinion. I would’ve preferred that we clashed against each other right away. We were ahead in terms of overall Academic Ability, and I had just transferred in. I felt like I had slightly lost out, only because I could have made a spectacle of an abnormal loss like that and left a huge impact on Horikita and Ryuuen. A safe yet effective defeat could have been achieved.

Shortly after we started talking, the café began to see an increase in customers. The first-year male and female students from earlier must have just finished ordering, because they chose to sit down in the seats next to ours, iced coffees in hand.

“I could not possibly care any less about the exam overview or whatever,” said Morishita.

Perhaps Morishita couldn’t remain silent any longer because she uttered her complaints while biting down on her straw. She gnawed on it so much that the tip of her straw had been crushed.

“Hey now, then why’d you even come here with us?!” snapped Hashimoto.

“Because I was wondering if Ayanokouji Kiyotaka might have been bothered by the dramatic comments you made moments earlier, Hashimoto ‘Chicken-With-His-Head-Cut Off’ Masayoshi,” Morishita replied. “You selfishly made a show of speaking sharply in front of the class, but are you really sure that was the right thing to do? Making sure penalties are inflicted on your enemies while avoiding having penalties inflicted on your allies is an ideal tactic, but there will be no mercy, as I’m sure you’re aware. Our opponents will be thinking about the same thing, and they will be racking their brains to find the best way forward.”

Students with an elevated level of Academic Ability could get a good score, but they were more likely to be the target of penalties. On the other hand, students with a low level of Academic Ability were less likely to be the target of penalties, but you couldn’t expect them to get a high score.

“Don’t worry, Morishita, we’ll make it work, somehow,” Hashimoto said. “Besides, Shimazaki said as much too: At the very least, we have a huge advantage thanks to our high level of Academic Ability. Meaning we’ll definitely be in a superior position even if we get hit with a lot of penalties. In fact, it’s inevitable that our reading of the other class’s moves will be a little off. If we win the exam, then it’ll result in Ayanokouji being handed the reins for the next one too, more or less.”

It was practically impossible to achieve a 100 percent success rate with targeting and avoidance. There were no absolute answers to the question of whether to search from the front or the back. No matter how far you investigated, you would always end up with 99 percent certainty and 1 percent doubt. Of course, an unexpected byproduct, such as a leak from within the class, would change that. However, while such a naive development may have been possible when these students just started school here, it was unlikely something like that would happen now that they were in their third year.

“It is certainly true that if we do not miss anything, victory will bring great possibilities. I can think of no reason to deny that off the top of my head, so it would be possible that he would be entrusted with the next opportunity. However, even so, it would be setting a bad example to others if you didn’t correctly predict which students from the opposing class will be participating in the Small Group Competition. Yes, ideally, you would need to predict three,” said Morishita.

If I didn’t identify even a single one, then Shimazaki and the other students who had their doubts about me wouldn’t be convinced that my transfer had been the right choice.

“Well, that would be absolute proof that I had read our opponent’s thinking accurately, so I suppose I can’t ignore that,” I replied.

Only five students will participate in the Small Group Competition. Since we were initially given one hundred penalties to inflict, the number of people who could be assigned a substantial twenty-point deduction was five. The probability of randomly guessing three of the students that our opponent would select out of the forty students in their class correctly was less than 1 percent. That was precisely why the prediction part was so valued and important.

“I dunno, I think three seems tough, though. I think that even two would be enough,” said Hashimoto.

Hashimoto hypothesized that even if I had fewer successful hits, the response would be different. Hashimoto had said “even two” in an easygoing way, but if I were assigning penalties to five people, the probability of getting two correct was still less than 10 percent. You couldn’t say that those were exceedingly high chances by any stretch.

“That is easy for you to say, because all you are doing is leaving it to him. What I want to hear are Ayanokouji Kiyotaka’s thoughts. In a situation where you have no clues, how will you predict which students our opponent will select?” asked Morishita.

“I’m not at a stage where I can talk about that yet. I don’t want people to take me at my word if I make careless remarks here,” I replied.

“Oh my, you have gone on the defensive rather quickly. That makes me concerned about what the future holds,” said Morishita.

“I’m sure it does. So, if you have any thoughts on the current situation, I’m all ears,” I replied.

I posed that offer to Hashimoto, who nodded cheerfully and automatically started facilitating the conversation for me. He was probably hoping that by talking, I would be able to come up with some promising ideas.

“Okay, so, in that case, I’m gonna go ahead with the premise that we’re going for two correct hits for the time being,” he said. “So personally, I think that it’s better to target on a wide scale, and to assign ten points worth of penalties to each of ten people, ’cause it’d be painful if we narrowed our list to just the five people that we think are participating in the Small Group Competition and missed. Besides, with a ten-point advantage, our class stands a good chance of winning. We can count the number of strong candidates from the opposing class on one hand.”

Unfortunately for the exceptional students in the opposing class who had a B+ or better in Academic Ability, such as Kaneda, Hiyori, and Katsuragi, there weren’t even six of them, just as Hashimoto had said.

“If you are not confident in who will be chosen, then that is what you ought to do, at minimum,” added Morishita.

“Looks like Morishita agrees with me,” remarked Hashimoto.

“Well, it’s just the basics of the basics,” replied Morishita.

“Also, we have to not only think about offense, but defense, too. I’m talking about who we choose from our class. Do you have a good grasp on our class’s Academic Ability ranking?” asked Hashimoto.

“I think I have a pretty good idea based on OAA and what I’ve seen over the past two years,” I replied.

“Okay. But I’ll give you my own two years’ worth of subjective opinion later just in case, if you want that for reference,” said Hashimoto.

“That would be genuinely helpful, since I don’t know in detail where people’s strengths lie,” I replied.

It was unclear if his words would be useful in this particular special exam, but they would likely save me at a later time.

“As for the question of who to select from our class, I think that we should mainly pit students with a high level of Academic Ability against our opponent, while also incorporating a few anomalies,” said Morishita.

“Oh? So, you mean you’re prepared to accept penalties to a certain degree then, eh, Morishita?” asked Hashimoto.

“That is because if we play it safe and choose students with low Academic Ability or choose students near the middle range, but our opponent sees through us and anticipates our move, the damage we will suffer will be great. Conversely, it would be beneficial for us if our opponent assumes that we will likely not send in students with an elevated level of Academic Ability and removes them from their list of targets,” she explained.

Though Hashimoto, resting on his elbow, agreed with that in theory, he seemed to want to take a different approach.

“I think that we should give more spots to the lower-ranked students though,” he said. “The folks with high Academic Ability are definitely gonna get marked. If it were me, I’d assign penalties to those students while being prepared for any misses. Actually, no, I think that I might consider taking a gamble and assigning a large number of penalties only to the top-ranked people if I had to.”

It seemed both sides had contrasting ways of thinking about the Small Group Competition in the special exam. Each of their viewpoints had objectively correct aspects; however, from the start, there were only three rough combinations that could ultimately be made. Either you had students with high Academic Ability, students with low Academic Ability, or you struck a balance between the two.

“In that case, another thing that you ought to be concerned about is if they buy additional penalties,” Morishita pointed out. “It would be bad news for us if they expended material resources as part of their strategy, broadening their range of targets to twenty or thirty people.”

“Yeah, money is ammunition. That’s risky, but I suppose knowing Ryuuen, he might be prepared to do somethin’ like that,” said Hashimoto.

If, hypothetically, Ryuuen were to hit all of the students participating in the Small Group Competition, his handicap would be greatly reduced. The ability to purchase additional penalties was probably the most interesting variable of this particular special exam. Under normal circumstances, the difference in Academic Ability wouldn’t have been easy to make up, and Ryuuen’s class would have had virtually no chance of winning.

However, there were two victories to be won from the Whole Class Competition and five victories from the Small Group Competition, and the Small Group Competition had the penalty-allocation rule. If Ryuuen could correctly anticipate who would be representing the classes, he could even out the odds, and it was even possible for him to control the chances of making a come-from-behind win to some extent thanks to being able to purchase additional penalties. This was an exam where you could say that our class winning was a foregone conclusion, but surprisingly, there was an opening for our opponent to exploit as well.

“If they inflict twenty-point penalties on all of our top people, then…damn, that would be bad, wouldn’t it?” said Hashimoto.

“Our chances of victory would drop dramatically, yes. However, he would need to spend Private Points like they were growing on trees in order to execute such a reckless endeavor,” said Morishita.

If you were going to reduce someone’s score by twenty points, purchasing those additional penalties would cost one million Private Points. Since there were twelve students with a B+ or better in Class C, the overhead cost would be as much as seven million, even if you’re accounting for the one hundred points’ worth of penalties you would have initially.

“Yeah, losing after spending nearly ten million points certainly wouldn’t be a laughing matter,” remarked Hashimoto.

That’s right. They could keep face if they won through financial means, but they needed to consider the risks if they lost. The more you increased your odds of winning in an exam, the more financial difficulties you would face and the more it would impact your chances of winning later down the road.

“So what do you think Ryuuen’s gonna do about that? Can you read what he’s gonna do?” asked Hashimoto.

Full of expectations, Hashimoto repeatedly asked me for my thoughts. I figured he was looking for an excessive number of answers because my efforts here would also go to cementing my own position within the class, as well.

“Ryuuen’s strategy is…” I pretended to give it some thought before speaking again. “Something I don’t know anything about.”

“You seriously don’t know anything about that either?!” wailed Hashimoto.

“That is too bad. It would appear Ayanokouji Kiyotaka has not yet had a flash of inspiration,” said Morishita.

“There’s a grace period until the exam. All I need to do is come up with a winning strategy by then,” I replied.

“Slow and steady wins the race, as they say, yeah? Well, it’s true that not even you are a god or anything, Ayanokouji,” said Hashimoto.

He was being resolute, but without a doubt, I was sure that inwardly he was feeling anxious.

“Also, I have no intention of personally participating in the Small Group Competition of this special exam,” I replied.

“Well, yeah, you’re free to do whatever, but are you sure that’s the right move?” Hashimoto asked. “You’re the one who said that in order to be recognized by the class, you’ll need to demonstrate your value to everyone in an easy-to-comprehend way, right, Ayanokouji? And it’s not like you don’t have confidence in that field, right? Mr. I-Have-Academic-Ability-A.”

“You think that Ryuuen won’t be worried about me?” I asked.

“I mean, sure, I think it’s obvious you’ll be marked by Ryuuen, but…” he protested.

“Thinking it through normally, our opponent would assume that Ayanokouji Kiyotaka would be appearing, and standard practice would be to inflict penalties upon him,” Morishita said. “So, if we nonchalantly paraded him out, he would be targeted and hit. If it were one or two penalties, that would be one thing, but if our opponent were to inflict as many as thirty or forty penalties on Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, then he would be fundamentally unable to win. Though let us put aside the question of whether our opponent would go that far out of a desire for one victory.”

Even if I got a perfect score in that scenario, if I were hit with forty penalties, I would be forcefully reduced to a score of sixty points. The student from the opposing class would likely have a good chance of winning against me even if they weren’t Kaneda, Hiyori, or Katsuragi.

“In all likelihood, Ryuuen will inflict multiple penalties on me. There’s no need for me to appear,” I added.

“I see. So you think that Ryuuen’s gonna penalize you,” said Hashimoto.

“Yeah. Regardless of whatever he says, Ryuuen will definitely do that first, without a doubt,” I answered.

“In that case, yeah, you shouldn’t overdo it. I’ll be grateful for as many swings and misses as we can get out of him,” said Hashimoto.

“It might be interesting to try asking him what he’s planning when he comes over here,” I replied.

“Huh? By ‘asking him ,’ you can’t mean…?” asked Hashimoto.

“Ryuuen,” I replied.

When I answered, Hashimoto scanned our surroundings in a panic.

“He’s…not here though?” he answered.

“Not yet. But there’s some activity at the café, so it’s only a matter of time,” I answered.

When I directed my gaze toward a corner of the café, Hashimoto and Morishita also turned to look in the same direction. Komiya and Yamawaki, who were intently looking over at me, hurriedly averted their eyes and pretended that it was just a coincidence, but they were too late.

“So they were spying on us, huh?” said Hashimoto. “I didn’t even notice because of the distance.”

Hashimoto was probably only wary of eavesdropping in some form. But in that sense, you could say that that was also too late. The two first-year students who had been sitting in the seats next to us, a boy and a girl, got up from their seats after finishing their break in the café. As I watched the two of them leave, Morishita titled her head to the side, puzzled.

“Is something the matter with those first-year students?” she asked.

“Those two new students were also sent here by Ryuuen,” I replied.

“Huh…? Are you serious?” asked Hashimoto.

“Yes. Although they tried to look as natural as possible, they put a phone close to the edge of the table so that they could pick up our voices. They placed it as close to us as they could, pointed the mic at us, and what’s more, placed face down. That’s because if they got a call while they were recording us, either with audio or video, the screen would’ve lit up and they would’ve risked being seen. Normally, whether it’s a guy or girl, they keep their cell phone close by so they could be checked regularly. But Takikura, the girl, didn’t touch her phone once from start to finish, even when there was silence,” I replied.

“Shit, he’s already using first-years as pawns in such a short span of time…” huffed Hashimoto.

“It’s been less than a week since school started. Which means that even during that short timeframe, Ryuuen was contacting first-year students to widen his surveillance net,” I answered.

Hashimoto himself was an incredibly alert person, but as one would expect, first-year students would not have been on his radar.

“Knowing their names though, very well done, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka,” said Morishita.

“Though they’re reference records from junior high school, their faces and names on OAA are available for viewing. I looked through them on the day that information was released publicly,” I answered.

“If you were to ask me, I’d say it’s certainly true that those two may be suspicious. However, is that enough to say with certainty that they were spies sent by Ryuuen Kakeru?” asked Morishita. “They could have just so happened to not have touched their phone and they could have simply placed the phone in that position without thinking anything of it. I don’t think we can dismiss those possibilities.”

“Maybe so. But nothin’ wrong with being careful. It’s important to act on the assumption that stuff like that is happening,” said Hashimoto.

In truth, there was a foundation for my reasoning, but I figured it would be better to touch on that after the special exam. After letting out a whistle, Hashimoto nodded with a smile, proudly.

“If it smacks of spy activity, then that’s enough reason for me to doubt them, Morishita. But, man, Ayanokouji, I should expect no less from you,” said Hashimoto.

“It will not do you any good to just go on praising him all the time. If what he says is actually true, then that means Ayanokouji Kiyotaka just handed them some information,” said Morishita.

“Even if I did, I only gave them information that’s fine to leak. Don’t worry,” I replied.

“So that’s what you meant when you said you ‘didn’t know’ to a bunch of stuff. Yeah, that’s exactly what makes me think so highly of you, dude. You can’t just carelessly say what your true intentions are when the enemy is nearby, after all,” Hashimoto gushed.

Information was most certainly a weapon when you were limited in what you could do in an exam. It was vital to make attempts to get even the slightest hint or clue so that you could win. However, at the same time, you needed to understand that that didn’t necessarily lead to a definite increase in your chances of winning. The idea of using first-year students, who were less likely to raise the alarm, wasn’t a bad one, but in the end, accurate information was more important than the amount gathered.

Extracting only the truth from a mountain of information that was a mixture of fact and fiction was arduous work. Actually, no, it was safe to say that extracting relevant facts was so difficult that it wasn’t feasible.

Morishita took her lips off the straw of her now half-empty matcha latte to speak.

“It would appear that he really has come after all,” she said.

“Looks like it, yeah. Let’s quit chatting for the time being, since this time, we’re dealing with way, way more troublesome customers than Horikita and her friend,” Hashimoto said, followed by an almost bitter smile tinged with nervousness spread over his lips.

Three people, Ryuuen, Ishizaki, and Albert, approached. A week had passed since the opening ceremony was held. Though students from other classes and other grade levels had been inquisitively prying about the matter of my transfer, none of the students from Ryuuen’s class had mentioned anything about it to me directly thus far, even though we had exchanged looks in passing. Actually, if anything, they seemed to have been deliberately avoiding me. Did that mean that Ryuuen had given instructions to his classmates, I wondered.

“I don’t think anything bad is gonna happen in a place like this, but…it is a little disconcerting, not havin’ Kitou here,” said Hashimoto.

Hashimoto looked at Morishita, visibly seeming a little uneasy. He was probably imagining what would happen in the unlikely chances of something going down, but it would’ve been more realistic to not to even consider the possibility.

“You do not need to tremble like a newborn fawn. If such a time comes, I shall beat them to a pulp. Despite appearances, I am a licensed master of the Ai-chan style of kobujutsu ,” said Morishita.

“How…reassuring,” said Hashimoto.

Hashimoto, though grateful to Morishita for her unadulterated lie, stood up in front of both me and Morishita. Immediately afterward, a loud, audacious voice echoed not just through the café, but throughout the entire Keyaki Mall.

“Ayanokoujiiii!”

It was the voice of Ishizaki who, unable to restrain himself upon seeing me, was making his way over to me.

“Hey! Why’d you transfer into Sakay—err, into Class C, I mean?!” he shouted.

He must have wanted to ask about it before now but couldn’t. He suddenly blurted that out, like his feelings were exploding out of him.

“Quiet down, Ishizaki. You’re buggin’ the other students, so chill,” said Hashimoto, stepping in between us to prevent Ishizaki from laying his hands on me.

“How the hell could I calm down?! All this time, I, I—!” he sputtered.

“Outta the way.”

Ryuuen caught up to Ishizaki and shoulder-checked him, forcing Ishizaki to make way. Students sitting in the vicinity began to get up from their seats in a panic, as if literal sparks might start flying.

“You spoiled the fun café vibes, Ryuuen. At least have a modicum of manners, won’t ya?” asked Hashimoto.

“Yer as desperate as ever, I see. As soon as Sakayanagi disappears, you don’t waste no time sucking up to Ayanokouji, huh? Ya think you’ll just up and die if you don’t stick to strong people?” asked Ryuuen.

“Nothin’ wrong with workin’ for the sake of the class, is there?” replied Hashimoto.

“Hah! Well, whatever, do whatcha want. More importantly…” After first briefly rotating his neck, Ryuuen then pierced me with a sharp gaze. “What the hell are you playin’ at, transferrin’ to Class C?” he asked.

“It’s something that just happened. After Sakayanagi left, they stepped up and helped me out,” I replied.

When I looked over at Hashimoto, he nodded his head vigorously and in exaggerated fashion, as if to say, “Yes, that’s right.”

“Naw, dude, I wanna know why’d you go and transfer to a low class?!” wailed Ishizaki.

“Shut up for a second,” snapped Ryuuen, snatching Ishizaki by the collar, which prompted him to apologize with great haste.

“Y-yes sir! Sorry ’bout that!” shouted Ishizaki.

“Is there something wrong with me transferring to Class C?” I asked.

“Heh heh. No, not really,” Ryuuen said. “Personally, I see nothin’ wrong with it. It’s a welcome development for me. If you of all people are gonna lead that class, then there’s no better stage for me to beat you.”

For Ryuuen, the idea of me fighting while using Horikita as my puppet and my shield was incomprehensible. So, in a sense, Ryuuen was welcoming this change with open arms.

“I gotta say though, Ryuuen, you’re pretty late in sayin’ hello to our brand-new leader, aren’t you?” said Hashimoto.

“Leader? Well, aren’t you hasty. It looked to me like he still wasn’t officially recognized as such,” said Ryuuen.

I figured that Ryuuen had been covertly investigating the state of Class C over the past week. He knew that I wasn’t welcomed by students like Shimazaki, and that I wasn’t allowed to act as the leader yet.

“They’re hoping to see results in the next special exam. Please go easy on me,” I replied.

“’Fraid that’s an impossible ask, seein’ as this is a good opportunity for me to fight ya, and I’ll make whatever moves I can, without hesitation,” Ryuuen declared.

With that, Ryuuen turned his back to me and started walking away. It meant that there wasn’t any need for unnecessary chitchat.

“Ayanokouji…” Ishizaki said, not quite done with me yet. “Why? If you were gonna go to Class C, then why…? Shit, dude! Well, I guess what’s done is done, ain’t nothin’ I can do. But…anyway dude, let’s talk sometime.”

Ishizaki’s reaction told me that, while he was frustrated with the current situation, he had no choice but to accept it.

“Oh, and you should meet up with Shiina ’fore long, dude. Even if she ain’t as down in the dumps as me, she’s still pretty depressed,” he added.

“I plan to,” I replied.

I hadn’t seen her because I had been intentionally avoiding the library until Ryuuen contacted me. I was planning to make an appearance there again once the special exam was over. Albert also casually raised his hand and gave me a wave before silently following behind Ryuuen.

“Hmm. It would appear that he was all bark and no bite,” said Morishita.

Morishita sucked up the matcha that had sunk to the bottom of her cup, speaking as if she had done the task of driving them away herself.

“Jeez, how can you say that when you didn’t even say a single word the whole conversation?” Hashimoto said. “Anyway, there’s no doubt that Ryuuen is just going for the win, so you really, really can’t lose now, Ayanokouji. Take your time and think carefully about your strategy. I’ll report in whenever I get new information myself.”

Hashimoto, feeling like he had work to do, didn’t sit down and left the café, cup in hand.

“Hashimoto Masayoshi certainly likes to move. Perhaps that is because he is in the track and field club,” said Morishita.

That non-sequitur probably didn’t have any relevance… Probably…

Wait, hold on. Hashimoto wasn’t even in the track and field club.

6.3

A T THE TIME Ayanokouji and Ryuuen were engaged in conversation at the café in the bustling Keyaki Mall, Kushida had just left it shortly after getting a café au lait to go. Since Ayanokouji had exposed her true nature during the Unanimous Special Exam, her classmates had naturally stopped being friendly with her. Many of the boys didn’t seem to care all that much, but more than a few of the girls made a point of distancing themselves from her, so the amount of time she spent alone had increased dramatically. Now, Kushida had been pragmatic about it, because one, it was something she couldn’t do anything about, and two, she didn’t really mind.

She never liked big groups to begin with. All she had wanted was to stand out from the crowd and be superior. Of course, she still sometimes got involved with students from other classes and grade levels who knew nothing of her true nature, just like she had before, but she had reduced the frequency of her interactions with them to a certain extent. The reason was that the exhaustion she felt—as she continued to put on an act, even as the number of people who knew her true nature had grown—was almost unbearable.

Oh, Kushida’s pretending to be a good person again. She couldn’t help but feel increasingly irritated at her classmates who looked at her with eyes full of such thoughts. Compared to her junior high school days, she felt that she and the people around her had grown more mature. Even so, she had been unable to vent her frustration lately. If she continued on like this day after day without being able to vent, then that meant she wouldn’t even feel inclined to fake a smile.

“Ugh. Not this annoying bitch.”

On her way back from the mall, with no one else within earshot, Kushida saw a certain someone in her field of vision and unabashedly hurled abuse at them. That certain someone was none other than Horikita, who was sitting down on a bench, her eyes downcast, with a dispirited look on her face. It would have been easy for Kushida to simply pass her by, but when Kushida stopped in front of Horikita, Horikita slowly looked up at her.

“Kushida-san…?” she asked.

“Why’re you saying that like it’s a question?” Kushida asked. “Oh, and I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing in a place like this. You’re waiting to see if you have a chance to meet Ayanokouji, and you’ll pretend it’s a big coincidence if you do, right?”

“Wrong.”

“No, it’s so obvious that I called it. Anyway, there is no element of coincidence at play here today at all, and to be honest, you just look like a super depressed girl, you know?”

Horikita, after being easily seen through and her intentions discovered, averted her gaze.

“Could you…please just leave me alone?” said Horikita.

“I’d love to, but I can’t overlook this when you have such a grim look on your face. If a class leader has that kind of expression, no matter how you look at it, it’s bad for morale, wouldn’t you say?” replied Kushida.

Though she hated her, the reason why Kushida turned a blind eye to whatever Horikita did and stayed in her class even after her own true nature had been exposed was because Kushida needed Horikita to help her graduate from Class A. If Horikita, who carried a significant role in making that happen, was weak, then that would lower her own chances of success. There was no way that Kushida could allow that to happen.