The classroom buzzed with a low hum of morning chatter. The sun was bright through the large windows, scattering warm rays across the polished floor. A few birds perched on the branches outside, their faint chirps almost lost beneath the laughter of my classmates.
A week had passed since I'd gathered my little "group." The Miyamoto Group — as I called it, half-jokingly at first — had already begun collecting information from across the school. Haruka and Mei had slipped effortlessly into conversations with girls from other classes, teasing out rumors about point distribution and teacher behavior. Airi and An had scouted camera placements around the cafeteria, stairwells, and dorm entrances, sending me blurry pictures and lists of blind spots. The boys — Yukimura, Akito, Kyosuke, and Ijuin — were combing bulletin boards and student lounges for patterns among the upperclassmen.
The data wasn't much yet. But it was something.
While I reviewed the latest notes on my tablet, a loud voice broke my concentration.
"Yo, Soshi! You hearing this?" Ike leaned over my desk with his trademark grin, his messy hair practically defying gravity.
I blinked. "Hearing what?"
He smirked, lowering his voice like he was about to share some state secret. "The pool's open today, man. Swimming class! You know what that means."
Yamauchi, sitting behind him, was already red-faced from excitement. "We're talking swimsuits! The girls' first swim class of the year!"
I sighed inwardly. Of course.
Ayanokōji sat at his desk, expression unreadable, pretending to scroll through his phone. But his ears were definitely tuned in.
Ike continued, "Sotomura's got a plan. We're ranking the girls. Breast sizes, man. We're even setting up bets."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's… ambitious."
Yamauchi grinned like an idiot. "Come on, don't tell me you're not curious. Even Ayanokōji's joining in, right?"
Ayanokōji looked up lazily. "I'll pass."
I shrugged, pretending to think about it. In truth, I didn't care for their perverted scheme, but there was value in being part of their antics — in observing, blending, and earning trust. "Fine," I said. "I'm in. But I'm not betting anything more than a hundred points."
"Deal!" Ike laughed. "You're one of us now!"
I glanced sideways at Ayanokōji. His expression didn't change, but there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.
By afternoon, the sun hung high and hot, painting the sky a deep blue. The pool area shimmered like glass, the water reflecting a thousand tiny sparkles.
The boys were already lined up on one side, whispering, giggling, waiting. The girls emerged soon after, each one in regulation swimsuits, though even identical uniforms couldn't stop the boys from whispering comparisons under their breath.
"Man, Kushida looks amazing," Yamauchi muttered. "Ten out of ten!"
"Horikita's got that perfect athletic vibe," Ike added. "Bet she's hiding a model's body under that serious face."
I stood off to the side, half-listening, my eyes scanning the class — Horikita stretching quietly near the starting line, Kushida laughing as she tied her hair, and Ayanokōji standing a few feet away, completely disinterested.
The teacher blew her whistle. "All right! Warm-up laps, everyone!"
We dove in, the cold water shocking my body awake. I surfaced, feeling strangely alive. Swimming was one of the few things that felt natural — even in this borrowed body.
When I came up for air, Horikita was waiting near the lane divider. "You're not bad," she said, voice calm but slightly breathless.
"Same to you," I replied.
Her sharp eyes flicked toward me. "You're different from the others. You don't waste energy showing off."
"I prefer to save it for when it matters."
"Hmm. You and Ayanokōji really are similar."
I smiled faintly. "That's not a compliment, is it?"
Before she could answer, the teacher called out, "Next! Girls' 50-meter freestyle, ready!"
Horikita turned toward the pool again, her expression sharpening into focus. I watched as she took her position. The whistle blew — and they were off. Water splashed in glittering arcs as the girls cut through the lanes.
Kushida's strokes were steady, graceful, but not particularly fast. Horikita, however, surged forward like a blade slicing water, her rhythm perfectly controlled. Yet even she couldn't catch the girl in lane three — Onodera Kayano — who reached the wall first.
The boys cheered, clapping, some pretending to judge form. I could almost hear Ike tallying mental rankings.
When Horikita climbed out, I tossed her a towel. "Second place isn't bad."
She accepted it silently, though a faint hint of frustration crossed her eyes.
"Guess there's someone better than you after all," I teased.
She turned, glaring. "You want to test that theory in your race?"
I laughed. "Not particularly. I just plan on surviving mine."
When the boys' heats began, I ended up in the second group — right behind Sudō, who looked like he was preparing for war.
"Yo, Soshi!" he grinned. "Hope you can keep up, man."
"I'll be happy if I don't drown."
"Ha! Don't blink when I smoke everyone."
And he did — almost. Kōenji, with his ridiculous self-confidence and perfect form, won by half a second. Sudō came in second, Hirata third. I finished somewhere around tenth. Not great, but not humiliating either.
As I climbed out, Kushida approached with her ever-sunny smile. "Soshi-kun! You're in really good shape. You work out?"
I shook my head. "Guess it's just genetics."
"Eh? That's not fair!" She giggled, waving her hand playfully before running off to join Horikita.
Ayanokōji walked by, towel around his shoulders, his face as unreadable as ever. "Genetics, huh?" he murmured.
"What?"
He gave a faint smirk. "You and I both seem to be blessed with good genes then."
I couldn't help but laugh.
By the time the chlorine faded from my skin, the week had already begun to slide into routine.Except, that "routine" was anything but productive.
Every morning, the classroom got noisier. Fewer students showed up on time. Some sprawled across their desks, snoring openly while Chabashira-sensei lectured. Others scrolled through their phones or whispered jokes during lessons. At first, I thought she'd eventually explode, that stern teacher's reprimand was inevitable.
But she didn't.
She didn't even look like she cared.
Day after day, she simply continued her lesson with the same neutral tone, as if the chaos around her were invisible. The smarter students like Yukimura were quietly horrified. The lazier ones, like Ike and Yamauchi, took it as a blessing.
The class was unraveling, and the teacher was letting the rope go slack.
From my seat near the window, I observed everything. Every laugh, every whisper, every careless decision. I'd seen enough anime, read enough stories, to know exactly where this was heading.
Class D was being set up to fail.
I'd mentioned it once to Ayanokōji after class, half-curious to see if he'd confirm my suspicion.
His response was simple: "You think too much, Miyamoto."
But there had been a tiny gleam in his eyes — like he already knew the truth.
Three weeks after enrollment, things reached their breaking point.
"Good morning, everyone," Chabashira announced, stepping into the noisy room with her usual indifferent tone. "Today's class will be slightly different."
A few groans rose from the back.
She ignored them and placed a stack of papers on the front desk. "We'll be having a mock exam. It won't affect your report cards, so relax."
"Then what's the point?" Ike muttered.
"To test your abilities," she said. "Now, clear your desks."
The class reluctantly obeyed, though half-heartedly. Yamauchi whispered something about "free points if we get good marks," earning a few laughs.
I took the paper and scanned it. Most of the questions were standard — math equations, vocabulary, comprehension. But here and there, a few odd ones stood out. Advanced concepts, ones I doubted many first-years could handle without preparation.
They're measuring something else, I realized.
Still, I wrote carefully, methodically, keeping my performance modest but not suspiciously low. It was better to remain unnoticed.
When time was called, Chabashira collected the papers and left without another word.
The classroom erupted immediately afterward.
"Man, that was tough!" Ike groaned. "Some of those questions were totally unfair!"
"Right?" Yamauchi agreed, slumping back in his seat. "They said it wouldn't count anyway, so who cares."
I exchanged a glance with Ayanokōji. He seemed thoughtful — not anxious, but calculating.
Something about the atmosphere felt wrong.
Lunch break came. The cafeteria buzzed with energy as usual — lines of students holding trays piled with food, laughter bouncing off the polished tiles. I joined Ayanokōji and the "three idiots" — Sudō, Ike, and Yamauchi — at their usual corner table.
Yamauchi was the first to speak. "So, who's your type, Miyamoto? You gotta have one!"
I took a sip of water. "You're really asking that again?"
"Of course, bro. You've been here three weeks and we still don't know who you're into."
"Not really thinking about that," I replied casually. "I'm still trying to survive this place."
Sudō snorted. "You sound like Horikita. You two are perfect for each other."
The group erupted in laughter. I just smiled, shaking my head.
Ike leaned forward. "Okay, okay. Serious question. How many points you got left this month?"
That question made the table go quiet.
Yamauchi scratched the back of his head. "I'm kinda… broke, man. But no worries! We're getting our next batch soon, right? One hundred thousand again!"
"Yeah," Sudō said, grinning. "We're set."
I didn't say anything. My balance sat safely at 72,000. I'd been frugal — food, books, a few supplies, nothing fancy. But the others were treating the points like endless money.
I stood up, stretching. "I'll grab a drink."
At the vending machine, my eyes caught something odd. Among the bright, colorful labels, one button stood out — "Water: Free."
Free?
That didn't make sense. I pressed it, and a cold bottle dropped down.
Behind me, Yamauchi laughed. "Oh yeah, I noticed that too! The cafeteria's got free meal options too! Some upperclassmen take those all the time."
Ayanokōji had walked up silently beside us. "Strange, isn't it?" he murmured. "Why would a school that gives students 100,000 points a month bother with free meals?"
I nodded. "Almost like they expect students to run out of money."
His eyes flicked to me. "Almost."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The laughter and chatter from nearby tables felt distant. Something was happening behind the scenes, and we were only scratching the surface.
Then, as if sensing the heaviness of the thought, Ike's loud voice broke the silence.
"Yo! You guys coming with us after class? Kushida's got a little hangout planned!"
Yamauchi perked up instantly. "Kushida-chan? Count me in!"
Ayanokōji shrugged. "Sure."
I followed with a simple, "Why not?"
When classes ended, we gathered at the school's main gate. Kushida was already waiting — bright smile, cheerful energy, waving at everyone like a beacon of sunshine.
"Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming!"
She was joined by Hirata and Karuizawa — the golden couple of Class D, walking hand in hand — and two other girls, Mori and Matsushita.
"Let's look around campus together," Kushida said happily. "There's still a few shops I haven't visited yet!"
And just like that, the group began to move.
The air was light, filled with idle chatter. Yamauchi trailed behind Kushida like a puppy, while Ike kept cracking jokes that mostly went ignored. I walked beside Ayanokōji, hands in my pockets, observing.
We stopped at a clothing store first — bright, trendy, expensive. Kushida and Karuizawa admired accessories while the boys pretended not to look bored.
Then came a café. The aroma of coffee filled the air as we took seats around two tables pushed together.
"Man, this place is so fancy," Ike said, looking around. "You think upperclassmen hang here a lot?"
Karuizawa giggled. "Of course! Where else would they go?"
As the conversation drifted toward random topics, Hirata eventually mentioned points. "By the way, everyone's managing their balance okay, right?"
"Barely," Yamauchi admitted. "But we'll get the next deposit soon, right?"
Kushida smiled awkwardly. "I hope so. I may have spent a little too much this month myself."
Her words earned nods all around.
But I noticed Ayanokōji watching the group quietly, his eyes sharp. He wasn't relaxed — he was recording. Analyzing.
I decided to play my own part. "It's weird, though," I said. "The school said points are based on merit. But if our grades and attendance don't seem to matter, what are they judging?"
That made everyone pause.
Hirata looked thoughtful. "You might be right. I haven't seen any announcements or explanations about how the system works."
Karuizawa frowned. "You think they're hiding something?"
"Maybe," I said simply. "Or maybe we're just not supposed to know yet."
Kushida's smile faltered for the briefest moment. Then she laughed it off. "You're scary, Miyamoto-kun! You sound like a detective."
"Just observant," I replied.
That night, I met with my group again — the eight of us gathered in the dorm lounge, speaking quietly over the hum of vending machines.
"Report time," I said.
Haruka went first. "Mei and I found out some weird rumors. Apparently, points aren't just about grades. Some classes get more or less depending on their reputation. Gossip, fights, stuff like that."
Airi pulled out her phone, showing pictures of camera placements. "Almost every hallway's covered. No blind spots near classrooms or common areas, but the east dorm stairwell has a dead zone."
Yukimura's report was next. "We checked the third-year floor. Their bulletin board's covered with club results and honor roll names — all connected to points. The better the reputation, the higher their rewards."
I leaned back, arms crossed. "So, it's not academic merit alone. It's evaluation by overall conduct."
Wataru frowned. "Meaning… our class is screwed?"
"Exactly," I said. "Everyone's been slacking off for weeks. If they're watching behavior, then…"
"We're already in debt," Akito finished.
The room fell silent.
"Then what do we do?" Mei asked quietly.
"We prepare," I said. "We can't stop what's coming.