The days that followed were quiet—too quiet.After the shock of being stripped of our class points, the mood inside 1-D had shifted. The reckless laughter, the chatter, the sound of phones pinging with pointless purchases—it had all been replaced by an awkward, heavy silence. No one dared test the teachers anymore. No one wanted to be the next reason our class fell further behind.
Everyone had started trying, at least a little. Everyone… except Sudō.
He still slouched in his chair every morning, earphones half-hidden beneath his hair, eyes closed like the world had personally offended him. Ike and Yamauchi still joked around, but even their laughter felt hollow now.
Still, there were sparks of progress. Hirata Yōsuke—the golden boy—decided to take responsibility for the class. During homeroom, he stood before everyone, his smile genuine but tired.
"I know we've all been struggling," he said. "But if we want to change, it has to start here. The midterm exams are coming up, and we can't afford to let anyone fail. So… I'll be organizing a study group for anyone who wants to join."
Predictably, a few girls nodded in encouragement. Some boys murmured among themselves. But the moment his gaze turned to the "Three Idiots"—Sudō, Ike, and Yamauchi—they looked away.
"Study group, huh?" Ike said, scratching the back of his head. "That sounds boring as hell."
"Yeah," Yamauchi agreed, yawning. "We'll be fine. Tests are mostly multiple-choice anyway."
Sudō snorted. "Don't lump me with you two. I don't need a babysitter to pass."
Their defiance made a few others chuckle, but I saw Hirata's smile stiffen for the briefest moment. Still, he kept his tone warm. "It's voluntary, of course. But if anyone changes their mind, you're welcome anytime."
I stayed quiet, watching from my seat. Hirata was kind, and maybe too kind for this place. Kindness didn't move mountains here—it only painted targets on your back.
Still, I respected his effort.
After class, Horikita cornered Ayanokōji and me near the vending machines. Her sharp eyes flicked between us.
"You two. Come with me to lunch."
"Lunch?" I repeated, suspicious.
"My treat," she said, holding up a meal ticket. "Free lunch in the cafeteria."
I sighed. "That's a pretty cheap bribe."
She looked at me coldly. "It worked, didn't it?"
It did.
We sat by the window, trays steaming with hot food that didn't cost us a single point. The cafeteria was buzzing—students from other classes eating freely, a reminder that not everyone was struggling like us.
"So," Ayanokōji said after a while, "what's this about?"
Horikita leaned forward, folding her arms. "You saw how those three refused to join Hirata's study group, right?"
"Hard to miss," I said.
"They're hopeless, but they're also a liability. If any one of them fails, it drags us all down. We can't reach Class A if our foundation is full of cracks."
Ayanokōji nodded faintly. "So you want to create your own study group."
"Exactly. I'll handle the teaching. I just need you to bring them in."
"Why me?" he asked.
"Because they might listen to you. You're… friends, aren't you?"
That earned her a dry look from him. "Friends is a strong word."
"Call it what you want. Just get them to come."
Ayanokōji sighed in defeat. "You're not really giving me a choice, are you?"
"Of course not," she said plainly.
I smirked over my miso soup. "And what about me?"
"You already have your little intelligence network," she replied. "Use it. Make sure everyone in your group stays above the red line. I don't care how."
I nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll have Yukimura handle tutoring for them."
Horikita's eyes softened slightly. "Good. Maybe you're not completely useless."
"Careful," I said, smiling faintly. "Flattery doesn't suit you."
That afternoon, Ayanokōji tried to talk sense into the Three Idiots.I listened from a distance as they lounged behind the gym, pretending to take a break.
"Come on," he said patiently. "It's not that bad. You just have to show up for an hour or two. Horikita will help you with the basics."
Ike groaned. "No thanks. I don't need that girl talking down to me like I'm some dumb kid."
"She kind of does that to everyone," Yamauchi muttered.
Sudō cracked his knuckles. "I've got basketball practice. I'm not wasting time listening to lectures."
Iyanokōji didn't push. He just stood there, arms folded, as if calculating something quietly.
He's analyzing them, I thought. Not convincing—understanding.
That night, he must've come up with a plan, because the next day, Kushida Kikyō suddenly joined the equation.
If Horikita was ice, Kushida was sunlight.Her smile could melt any resistance, and it didn't take long for her to do what Ayanokōji couldn't.
By the end of the day, the Three Idiots were somehow convinced to attend the study session.
"They agreed?" Horikita said, genuinely surprised when Ayanokōji told her.
He nodded. "Kushida helped."
Horikita frowned. "I didn't authorize that."
"Would you rather they not show up?"
Her silence was answer enough.
The next day, we gathered in the library. Horikita and Ayanokōji had already arranged the desks neatly. I was nearby, reading quietly, partly as backup, partly as an observer.
Kushida arrived first, all smiles and enthusiasm. "I brought snacks! Studying's more fun when we have something sweet, right?"
Ike and Yamauchi grinned immediately. "Now this is what I'm talking about!"
Sudō just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Let's just get this over with."
Horikita opened her notebook. "Then let's begin. I'll start with math."
The first five minutes were promising—until they weren't.
Within ten, Horikita's tone grew sharper. "No, that's wrong. Didn't you pay attention? I just explained this formula."
"I am paying attention!" Ike protested. "You're just explaining it too fast!"
Yamauchi groaned. "This sucks. I'm not built for numbers."
Sudō scowled. "I told you I don't need this crap."
Kushida tried to smooth things over. "Come on, everyone! Let's just take it one step at a time—"
But the atmosphere had already soured.
By the hour's end, the Idiot Trio had lost all motivation. They mumbled half-hearted excuses and left, promising vaguely to "try harder next time."
When the door closed behind them, silence filled the room.
Kushida looked crestfallen. "I really thought we were making progress."
Horikita sighed, rubbing her temples. "They're hopeless. I don't have the patience to teach people who won't even try."
"They just need encouragement," Kushida said softly.
"They need discipline," Horikita countered coldly.
Their eyes met, tension crackling between them. For a moment, I thought one of them would snap—but Horikita just gathered her notes and stood.
"I've wasted enough time. If they fail, it's on them."
Then she walked out, heels clicking like a judge's gavel.
Kushida watched her leave, face unreadable. "I'll… see you both later," she said, forcing a smile before following.
Ayanokōji said nothing. Neither did I.
But I noticed the faintest shift in his expression—curiosity, maybe suspicion.
Later that evening, I saw him heading toward the stairwell. His steps were light, deliberate. That alone told me something was off.
I followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows.
He climbed all the way to the roof. The door creaked open just enough for me to hear a voice carried by the wind.
"…stupid girl…"
Kushida's.
Her tone was sharp, venomous—so unlike the cheerful persona she wore every day.
"…acting like she's better than everyone… I just wanted to be friends…!"
The bitterness in her voice was startling. I froze, unsure whether to step in or leave. Then I heard the door creak again.
Ayanokōji must've tried to back away, but the sound gave him away instantly.
The wind cut off.
Then—
"Kiyotaka?" Her voice was suddenly sugar-sweet again, but there was steel underneath.
He didn't answer.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes," he admitted.
Silence. Then soft footsteps.
"You shouldn't have," she whispered.
I peeked from the stairwell just in time to see her step close to him—too close.
Her hand reached out, grabbed his, and pressed it against her chest.
"Now," she said, voice dripping with cold logic, "you'll stay quiet. If you tell anyone what you heard, I'll say you assaulted me. Understand?"
He didn't flinch. "Understood."
"Good."
For a long moment, neither moved. Then she stepped back, eyes glinting dangerously under the fading sunlight.
"You're smart, Kiyotaka. Don't make me your enemy."
He didn't respond, just watched her leave.
When she was gone, I stepped out from the dark corner of the stairwell.
Ayanokōji turned his head slightly. "You too, huh?"
"Old habits die hard," I said. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You didn't see anything."
"I saw enough," I said quietly.
The night air was heavy with the hum of cicadas and the faint buzz of the dorm's fluorescent lights.It was already past nine when I glanced at my phone, the reflection of its pale glow glinting in my eyes.
Miyamoto: Airi, are you awake?
The typing dots appeared, then vanished, then returned.
Airi: Eh? Y-yeah… I'm up. What's wrong?
Miyamoto: I need your help. Bring your camera. Meet me at the dorm entrance in ten minutes.
Airi: Now?! What for?
Miyamoto: You'll see. I just need your photography skills.
Airi: …O-okay.
She replied with her usual hesitation, but I could imagine her already fumbling to grab her equipment.Sakura Airi was quiet—painfully so—but behind her timid voice was a genuine talent for photography.And tonight, I needed that talent.
When she arrived, she was bundled in a thin cardigan, clutching her camera like a lifeline.Her eyes darted nervously between me and the silent dorm lobby.
"M-Miyamoto-kun… what exactly are we doing?" she whispered.
I gave a small grin. "Something that might prove useful later. Don't worry, we're just… observing."
"Observing?"
"Yeah. Think of it as photography practice with a purpose."
Airi blinked in confusion but nodded. She trusted too easily sometimes—it made me feel guilty, but I couldn't let that stop me.
We took the elevator down to the ground floor. The lobby was quiet, save for the faint hum of vending machines. The clock on the wall read 9:52 p.m.
In another part of the dorms, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka sat on his bed, staring at the glowing screen of his phone.The group chat he shared with Ike, Yamauchi, and a few others was lighting up with messages again.
Ike: Horikita's acting all high and mighty again. Who does she think she is?Yamauchi: Seriously! She thinks we're dragging the class down, but she's the one who never smiles.Kushida: Let's all calm down, okay? Fighting won't help anyone!Ike: Easy for you to say, Kushida-chan.
The chat scrolled endlessly—complaints, jokes, subtle insults.
Kiyotaka exhaled softly and locked his phone. "Pointless," he murmured, tossing it onto his desk.
Sleep didn't come easily that night. He rolled over again and again before finally giving up and standing.The dorm lights had dimmed to a twilight glow. He slipped on a light jacket and stepped into the hallway, heading down to the lobby for a drink.
He bought a can of black coffee from the vending machine and leaned against the wall, the bitter taste grounding him in the moment. Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed movement on the security screen behind the reception desk.
The elevator camera showed Horikita Suzune descending alone.
Curiosity flickered behind his calm expression.
He set down the can and quietly stepped into the shadows, waiting.
When the elevator door opened, Suzune walked out with her usual composed stride, her eyes sharper than ever. She didn't notice him. Instead, she headed straight for the exit.
He followed—silent, deliberate, a shadow beneath the moonlight.
From outside, Airi and I watched from behind a hedge near the side gate.My phone camera was recording, while Airi adjusted her DSLR lens with nervous hands.
"Someone's coming," she whispered.
We both froze. Through the faint glow of the courtyard lights, we saw two figures—Suzune Horikita and an older male student, tall, composed, with the kind of presence that screamed authority.
"That's him," I muttered. "Manabu Horikita. The Student Council President."
"The president?" Airi's voice trembled slightly.
We crouched lower, the phone recording silently as the siblings faced one another under the pale moon.
"Why are you here, Suzune?" Manabu's voice was cold, yet heavy with something that resembled disappointment.
She stood straight, meeting his gaze. "I came to this school to catch up to you. I'll reach Class A, no matter what it takes."
"Catch up to me?" He chuckled—a humorless, hollow sound. "You've always been chasing shadows."
"I'm not that weak anymore," she replied firmly. "This school measures worth through merit, and I'll prove I belong at the top."
Manabu's expression hardened. "You're still as naive as ever."
Before she could react, he stepped closer, his hand gripping her shoulder before slamming her against the wall. The sound echoed sharply across the courtyard.
Airi gasped beside me. I put a hand on her shoulder, silently urging her not to make a sound.
Manabu's eyes were cold as steel. "You should leave this school. You're not ready for this world."
"I refuse," Suzune said, voice trembling but unbroken. "I won't run away again."
Manabu's hand rose as if to push her harder—but it never landed.
Because Kiyotaka was suddenly there.
His hand caught Manabu's wrist mid-motion.
"That's enough," he said quietly.
Manabu's eyes flicked toward him, calculating. "And you are?"
"Just a classmate," Kiyotaka replied.
Their eyes locked—two predators measuring one another.
"Let go," Manabu said evenly.
Kiyotaka did. Manabu swung immediately, a fast, precise strike.
Kiyotaka stepped aside effortlessly.
A second blow—dodged.A third—deflected with surgical calm.
The president's brow furrowed slightly. "You're no ordinary student."
He feinted, offering his hand suddenly. "Peace?"
Kiyotaka's gaze flicked once—then he slapped the offered hand away.
Even from a distance, I felt the tension like static in the air.
Then, slowly, Manabu's posture relaxed. A faint smile ghosted across his face. "Interesting. I didn't think Suzune was capable of befriending someone competent."
He turned, finally noticing us in the distance—me and Airi, crouched in the dark, phones in hand.
I cursed inwardly. "Damn it…"
His eyes met mine across the yard. Calm. Sharp. Knowing.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and with a few taps, transferred something. My own phone buzzed a second later.
Incoming transfer: 1,000,000 Private Points.
"Delete the footage," he said simply.
I glanced at Airi, then back at him. "And if I don't?"
"Then I'll consider it a declaration of war against the Student Council."
Airi froze beside me, but I gave a small nod. "Understood. The footage is gone."
I hit delete right in front of him. He smiled faintly, satisfied.
"Good. You're sharp, Class D. Don't waste that."Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving only the faint echo of his footsteps behind.
Silence filled the courtyard once he was gone.Suzune stood motionless, staring at the ground. Her hands trembled slightly before she clenched them tight.
Kiyotaka watched her quietly. "You okay?"
"…I'm fine."
He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.
"Wait."
She stepped forward, her eyes searching his face. "Who are you, really? You dodged the Student Council President's attacks like they were nothing. You got perfect scores without standing out. Are you pretending to be average?"
He looked at her evenly. "You're overthinking it."
Her jaw tightened. "Don't lie to me. You're hiding something."
"Maybe," he said softly. "But aren't you?"
Her eyes widened.
He stepped past her, but she spoke again, quieter this time. "I shouldn't have let you see that. My brother… he doesn't believe in me. And now, neither do you."
Kiyotaka paused. "I never said that."
"Then prove it. Help me reach Class A."
He shook his head. "It's not that simple."
She glared at him. "Why not?"
"Because you're missing something important," he said calmly. "You think this school only values grades. But it measures everything. Cooperation. Adaptability. Merit beyond academics."
He turned slightly, his voice carrying in the still air. "If one of our classmates fails and gets expelled, there might be consequences you don't understand yet. The school doesn't show all its cards."
Suzune's frown deepened. "What are you implying?"
"I'm saying that abandoning the weak might cost you more than you gain."
He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "The Idiot Trio—you see them as dead weight. But they have strengths you don't. Ike connects people. Yamauchi reads emotions. Even Sudō's stubbornness can move others when used right."
She hesitated. "…You're telling me to rely on them?"
"I'm telling you not to discard them," he corrected. "In this school, everything has value—if you know how to use it."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, quietly, almost reluctantly, she asked, "And you'll help me?"
He shrugged. "I'll help the class. Whether you're part of that or not is up to you."
Then he turned and began walking away.
"Wait," she said softly, her voice losing its usual coldness. "I'll reconsider. I'll try again—with them."
He didn't look back, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Good. That's a start."
I watched from the shadows until they were gone.Airi lowered her camera, exhaling shakily. "That was… scary."
I nodded. "Yeah. But we learned something tonight."
"About what?"
"That every strong person here has cracks," I said. "Even Horikita."
Airi looked at me, uncertain. "What about you, Miyamoto-kun? Do you have cracks too?"
I smiled faintly. "Everyone does. The trick is learning how to hide them."
She didn't reply, just nodded and hugged her camera close.
We walked back toward the dorms, the moonlight following us like a silent witness.
When we reached the door, I paused and looked at her. "Airi, keep the photos. Don't share them with anyone. Not even me."
"Eh? But—"
"Just in case. Someday, they might be useful."
She hesitated, then nodded, trusting me once again.
Back in my room, I opened my phone and checked the group chat again. It was quieter now—most of them asleep or ranting in private messages. I scrolled past their arguments, past their jokes, until I saw a notification from Ayanokōji.
Kiyotaka: There's a meeting tomorrow. Horikita's decided to try again. Be there.