The moon hung high in the inky sky, a silent, silver witness to the first day's end.
The 8 PM roll call had concluded without incident; every student in Class D was accounted for, their presence confirmed by Hirata's diligent checklist. A fragile sense of accomplishment settled over the camp as students gathered around the fire, sharing the day's meager but satisfying meal of grilled fish and roasted corn.
But as Horikita did a final headcount, a single, glaring absence snagged her attention.Koenji Rokusuke was nowhere to be seen.Her mind raced. He had been present at the roll call, she was certain of it. Where could he have gone? He wasn't the type to wander off aimlessly; every action he took, no matter how bizarre, seemed to have a purpose, even if that purpose was simply his own amusement. She scanned the camp again. Nothing.
Then, a thought struck her, a sudden, dreadful premonition. The cruise ship. He was the only one arrogant and self-absorbed enough to simply… quit.
She excused herself from the group and made her way through the darkened forest, back towards the beach where the imposing silhouette of the Speranza was docked, its lights twinkling like a distant, forbidden city. And there he was. Just as she'd suspected. Koenji stood at the water's edge, calmly stripping off his school-issued jersey. He was preparing to abandon the exam, to swim back to the air-conditioned comfort of the ship.
"Leaving so soon, Koenji-kun?" Horikita's voice cut through the quiet lapping of the waves.He turned, not with a start, but with a slow, deliberate grace, a faint smile on his perfectly sculpted face.
"Ah, Horikita-girl," he said, his voice smooth and untroubled. "Have you come to bid me a fond farewell? To gaze upon my perfect form one last time before I depart this rustic stage?
"Horikita-girl. The suffix was both familiar and infuriating. Was it his way of infantilizing everyone around him, a constant reminder that he saw them as mere children compared to his self-proclaimed perfection? She pushed the thought aside. That was a puzzle for another time
."I'm not here to stop you," she said, her voice even. She knew trying to reason with him was like trying to reason with a hurricane. He was a force of nature that operated on its own inscrutable logic.
"I know you are a man who listens only to himself. I am simply here to confirm your intentions. Are you truly certain about this?""Certainty, my dear girl, is the bedrock of my existence," he replied, stretching his arms languidly. "This test is a tedious affair, unworthy of my time and effort. I have already experienced all the novelty this island has to offer."
"Withdrawing will cost the class 30 S-Points," she stated, testing his resolve. "And it will undoubtedly make you a target of your classmates' resentment when this is over. That could… bite you in the future."
Koenji laughed, a rich, melodious sound that was utterly out of place on the dark, deserted beach. "Bite me? Little puppies cannot bite a dragon. Their opinions are as inconsequential to me as the grains of sand beneath my feet. Let them resent me. It will be an excellent lesson for them in appreciating true greatness when they are in its presence."
His narcissism was a fortress, impenetrable to logic or social pressure. Horikita changed her approach.
"Fine," she said. "If you are determined to return to the ship, then at least make yourself useful. The manual says nothing about borrowing supplies from the cruise ship itself. Bring back food. Medical supplies. Anything that isn't on the purchase list. It would be a small price to pay for the damage you're causing."He paused, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"A clever, if desperate, proposal, Horikita-girl. However, I must refuse. The act of becoming a delivery boy is simply not befitting of my perfect existence. My purpose is to be admired, not to run errands."
Frustration, hot and sharp, finally pierced Horikita's icy composure.
"You are causing far too much damage to the class!" she snapped, stepping forward and grabbing his wrist. The contact was brief, but his skin was cool and his muscles were as hard as stone. "We are trying to climb to Class A! An extraordinary student like you could be our greatest asset, but instead, you choose to be our greatest liability! Your behavior could get you expelled in the future!"
Koenji simply looked down at her hand on his wrist, his smile unwavering. Then he looked back at her face, his gaze suddenly sharp, analytical. He laughed again, but this time it was different. It was quieter, more knowing."Expelled? Hahaha. My dear girl, based on your current condition, I'd say you are in far more danger of withdrawing from this exam than I am."
Horikita froze. Her eyes widened in shock. How? How could he possibly know?She had felt it since that morning. A slight ache in her muscles. A faint, persistent chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze. She had been hiding it, pushing through it with sheer force of will. She had told no one, shown no weakness. She couldn't afford to. The leader, even the decoy leader, could not be seen as faltering. She was sure she had succeeded.So how could this man, this narcissist who had only touched her hand for a single second, know she had a fever?While her mind reeled, trying to process the impossible, Koenji gently slipped his wrist from her grasp.
"Ponder that mystery at your leisure," he said, turning back to the water.
"Farewell, Horikita-girl. Try not to collapse before the test is over."And with that, he dove into the dark water, his powerful strokes carrying him swiftly and silently towards the distant lights of the Speranza.Horikita stood alone on the beach, the cool night air suddenly feeling much colder.
The rhythmic sound of the waves seemed to mock her. Two thoughts circled endlessly in her mind, each more unsettling than the last.First, how had he known? Was his perception really that sharp, that he could diagnose a fever from a brief touch of her wrist? Or was it something else, some analytical skill that belied his flamboyant exterior?
And second,
what was the source of his absolute, unshakable confidence? He had just deliberately sabotaged his class, made himself an enemy of forty people, and yet he showed no fear, no concern for the consequences. It wasn't just arrogance. It was a certainty, a deep-seated belief that he could, if he chose, subdue the entire class and bend them to his will.She wrapped her arms around herself, a genuine shiver running through her. Koenji Rokusuke wasn't just a narcissistic fool. He was something else entirely. Something far more dangerous, and far more complex, than she had ever imagined. And she, the class's strategist, was now compromised, her own body threatening to betray her at the worst possible time.
Horikita walked back to camp, the darkness of the forest a mirror of the turmoil in her mind. The moon cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to mock her, twisting into the shape of Koenji's infuriating, all-knowing smirk. How did he know? The question was a persistent, nagging itch in her brain. One touch. One single point of contact, and he had peeled back her defenses and seen the weakness she had so carefully concealed.
She tried to analyze it, to break it down into logical components. Was his sense of touch that sensitive? Could he feel the subtle increase in her skin temperature, the faint tremor of her muscles? It seemed impossible, superhuman. It was a puzzle without enough pieces, and her fever-addled brain, usually a precision instrument, felt dull and sluggish. The effort was exhausting.
Stop it, she told herself. This is not my strength. Analysis, the deep, intricate dissection of possibilities and human nature, that was his domain. She was the one who took the analysis and forged it into a conclusion, a plan of action.She found Hikigaya Hachiman exactly where she expected to find him: sitting alone by the dying embers of the campfire, a safe distance from the sleeping forms of their classmates, lost in his own world. The flickering light cast his face in a constant play of shadow and illumination, making his usual deadpan expression seem even more inscrutable.
"He's gone," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet crackle of the fire. "Koenji-kun. He withdrew from the exam."
Hachiman didn't seem surprised. He just looked up from the glowing woods, his dead-fish eyes reflecting the flames. "Did he give a reason? Aside from the usual 'this is beneath my perfect existence' nonsense?"
"The usual nonsense was the primary reason," Horikita admitted, sitting down on a log opposite him. She recounted the entire conversation, from Koenji's casual dismissal of the class to his refusal to help with supplies. She deliberately omitted the part about him discovering her fever. It was a weakness, and she wasn't ready to reveal it, not even to him.
"But his confidence…" she continued, "it was absolute. I threatened him with the class's resentment, with the possibility of future expulsion. He just laughed. It's as if the rules of this school, the very system of points and punishments that governs the rest of us, simply do not apply to him. What makes him so sure?"
Hachiman stared into the fire for a long moment, the cogs of his analytical mind turning. "Money," he said finally, the single word cutting through the complexity of the problem.
"Money?" Horikita repeated, confused."Real money," Hachiman clarified. "Not private points. We're all trapped in this school's closed economic system. One private point equals one yen, but you can't turn points back into yen. It's a one-way street. That's the school's ultimate control mechanism. But Koenji… his family is obviously obscenely wealthy. What if he's operating outside that system?"
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Think about it. What could a third-year student, about to graduate, want more than anything? Real-world cash. Imagine Koenji making a deal with some influential but point-poor seniors. 'Help me out, protect me, vote for me if needed, and in exchange, when I graduate, I'll transfer a few million yen into your real-world bank account.' For them, it's a win-win. They get a massive payday for services rendered with a currency—private points and influence—that's about to become worthless to them."
The idea was audacious, a blatant subversion of the school's entire structure. And it made perfect, terrifying sense."With private points," Hachiman continued, "you can buy almost anything. Test scores, protection… the manual even hints that a massive sum, something like 20 million points, can be used to buy a transfer to Class A. There's probably even a price tag on preventing your own expulsion. If Koenji can essentially buy an infinite supply of private points from graduating seniors, then he's not playing the same game as us. He's playing with cheat codes."
Horikita felt a chill that had nothing to do with her fever. "So while we're all scrambling, working ourselves to the bone to earn a few points, he can just… buy his way out of any problem?" she asked, the injustice of it stinging. "Is there truly no way to deal with him?"
"There's a flaw in the plan," Hachiman mused, poking the fire with a stick. "Your brother. Horikita Manabu is the Student Council President, and he strikes me as a stickler for the rules, a purist. He would never allow such a blatant manipulation of the system to happen on his watch. If he caught wind of it, he'd shut it down instantly. Which means Koenji is likely not making deals with the current third-years. It's too risky."
"So he's dealing with the second-years," Horikita concluded.
"Exactly. Which gives us a timeline," Hachiman said. "Your brother loses his absolute authority in about six months when the next president is elected, and he graduates in a year. Even after he's no longer president, his influence will linger. It gives us a window. Koenji's plan is powerful, but it's not instantaneous. We have, at most, this one school year to find a way to deal with him before his network becomes too entrenched."
He saw the frustrated, overwhelmed look on her face. "But," he added, his voice softening fractionally, "that's a problem for the future. There's no point in worrying about a war that's a year away when we're in the middle of a battle on a deserted island right now."He stood up, stretching his arms. "For now, we need to focus on this exam. And for that, we need energy." He looked down at her. "You should get some sleep, Horikita. You look… tired."
She knew he was right. The fever, the stress, the endless strategizing… it was all taking its toll. Thinking about Koenji's grand, infuriating schemes was a waste of precious energy.With a weary nod, she stood up as well.
"You're right."They walked to their respective hammocks, the camp silent around them. As Horikita settled in, the rough cloth a poor substitute for a real bed, she replayed Hachiman's words in her head. He had, with his usual incisive logic, taken the terrifying, larger-than-life problem of Koenji and broken it down into a manageable, long-term objective.
He had taken her anxiety and given it a timeline, a boundary.It was, she realized, what he did best. He took the chaotic, messy, emotional problems of the world and distilled them into simple, logical truths. And for someone like her, someone whose world was currently being shaken by fever and self-doubt, that cold, unwavering logic was an unexpected and deeply appreciated comfort.
As Horikita lay in her hammock, the gentle rocking doing little to soothe her frayed nerves, her focus shifted from the grand problem of Koenji to the immediate threat sleeping just a few meters away. Ibuki Mio. She couldn't trust her. The girl's story was too convenient, her presence too opportune. If Ibuki was a spy for Ryuuen, she would undoubtedly make her move at night, under the cover of darkness.
But when?
Horikita thought, her fevered mind trying to piece together a profile. She's not a trained soldier. None of us are. We're just high school students. After a day of physical exertion on this island, staying awake all night is impossible.
She doesn't strike me as the most patient person, either. Horikita calculated. The deepest point of sleep for most people would be a few hours after they drifted off. But a spy, looking to act, would likely move sooner, while their own energy was still high and before their target was too deeply asleep. She'll wait until she thinks everyone is out, maybe 30 minutes, an hour at most, then she'll make her move.
So, Horikita waited. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep, her breathing slow and even. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a jolt through her senses. She fought against the waves of exhaustion, the heavy pull of her fever-induced fatigue. She counted the seconds, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty-five. An hour. Nothing. Not a single suspicious movement from the girls' tent.Either my theory is wrong, she thought, a wave of disappointment and relief washing over her, or she's more patient than I gave her credit for aur she will make her move later. With her energy reserves completely depleted, she finally succumbed, letting the heavy curtain of sleep fall. She knew, with a grim certainty, that tomorrow morning would be a disaster
.And a disaster it was. The 8 AM roll call began as usual, with Hirata calling out names. When he reached Koenji's, there was only silence.Chabashira-sensei, looking utterly unfazed, made a note on her tablet.
"It seems you are one student short.""Sensei, Koenji-kun is missing!" Hirata said, a worried look on his face."I am aware,"
Chabashira replied, her tone flat. "Koenji Rokusuke officially withdrew from the special test late last night. He cited a sudden onset of fever.
"The news ripped through the assembled Class D students like a shockwave. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the dam broke.
"He what?!" Ike roared, his face turning red. "He just quit?!""That bastard! After all that talk about being a 'perfect human'!" Yamauchi yelled.
"And for a 'fever'?" Shinohara scoffed. "That's obviously a lie! He just didn't want to deal with this!"
"We just lost 30 points because of him!" Yukimura cried out, his voice shrill with panic. "Our total is now 270 before we've even started spending! We're back on the same level as Class A!"
The anger and panic fed off each other, spiraling into a chaotic vortex of accusations and despair. The fragile unity they had built the day before was crumbling.
"It's not fair!""What are we supposed to do now?!""We're finished! Class D for life!"
"Everyone, calm down!" Hirata's voice, though strained, cut through the noise. "Panicking won't change anything! What's done is done!"
"He's right!" Kushida added, her voice full of her usual sweet reason. "Getting angry at Koenji-kun won't bring the points back. We just have to work harder to make up for the loss! We can still do this if we work together!"
Their combined charisma worked like a balm on the class's frayed nerves. The shouting subsided into resentful grumbling. They were still angry, but the panic had been contained. Crying over spilled milk, as Hachiman would put it, was an inefficient use of energy.
With a collective, resigned sigh, the class got back to their assigned tasks.With the morning's crisis averted, Horikita and Hachiman set out on their own mission: to check on the camps of Class A and Class C.
They made their way back to the cave they had discovered the previous day. As they approached, they saw that the entrance was now almost completely obscured by a large, blue tarp, creating a makeshift but effective door. Class A had turned the cave into a veritable fortress.
As they stood there, observing from a distance, Hachiman realized with a jolt that they were standing by the exact same cluster of bushes where Horikita had pulled him back the day before.
The memory, unbidden, flooded his mind: the sudden yank, his back pressing against her, the softness of her chest, her hand on his mouth…A faint blush crept up his neck.Horikita, whose mind seemed to have gone to the same place, also turned a light shade of pink. She saw the look on his face and knew exactly what he was thinking.
Thwack.
She hit him lightly on the back of the head. "Don't think about it," she ordered, her voice a little too sharp, betraying her own embarrassment. "Focus on the mission.""I wasn't thinking about anything," Hachiman mumbled, rubbing his head. They both knew he was lying.
With an awkward, unspoken agreement to never mention the incident again, they decided to move on. Class A was no longer a primary concern. They knew their leader—or at least, they were 99% certain they did. Wasting time observing them was pointless.Their next stop was the camp of Class C, located on a long, open stretch of beach. And what they saw baffled them. It wasn't a camp. It was a full-blown beach party. Music was playing from a portable speaker. Students were laughing, swimming, and playing in the sand.
A large barbecue pit was smoking merrily, the scent of grilled meat wafting on the breeze. They had clearly spent a fortune of their S-Points on creating a paradise of comfort and leisure.Hachiman and Horikita watched from the edge of the forest, utterly bewildered.
"What… is this?" Horikita murmured."It's a picnic," Hachiman replied, equally confused. "They're burning through their points like there's no tomorrow."
In the center of it all, lounging in a comfortable beach chair under a large parasol like a king on his throne, was Ryuuen Kakeru. He wasn't participating. He was just watching his classmates, a lazy, predatory smirk on his face.This made no sense. Ryuuen was intelligent, cunning, and ruthless.
This display of hedonistic wastefulness was completely at odds with his character. It was illogical. It was inefficient. It was… a performance.A single, chilling question formed in both their minds as they stared at the bizarre scene.
What is Ryuuen planning?.
They stood at the edge of the forest, silent witnesses to the theater of absurdity unfolding on the beach. It was a scene of such strategic madness that it defied all logic. While every other class was scrimping and saving, counting every point, Class C was engaged in a spectacular act of self-immolation.Just as they were about to retreat and try to make sense of it all, a boy from Class C spotted them. He jogged over, his expression a mixture of nervousness and deference.
"Um… Horikita-san? Hikigaya-san?" he said. "Ryuuen-san saw you. He requests your presence."It wasn't a request; it was a summons. Hachiman and Horikita exchanged a look. Walking into the lion's den was a terrible idea, but refusing could be seen as an act of fear, which Ryuuen would undoubtedly exploit.
With a subtle nod, they followed the boy onto the beach.The atmosphere was surreal. The closer they got, the more opulent the scene became. It wasn't just a barbecue; it was a catered feast. There were coolers overflowing with drinks, bags of expensive snacks, and even a set of jet skis bobbing in the gentle surf.
In the center of it all was the throne room. Ryuuen Kakeru was laid back on a plush beach lounger, sunglasses perched on his nose, taking a sunbath. Holding a large parasol over him with one massive arm, standing as still and silent as a mountain, was Yamada Albert, a hulking student of mixed American and African descent. His presence was an unspoken statement of power.Ryuuen didn't open his eyes as they approached.
"So, the little hero of Class D comes to see how the other half lives," he said, his voice a lazy drawl.Horikita got straight to the point, her voice sharp and cold.
"What do you think you're doing, Ryuuen-kun? This is an exam, not your personal resort."
He finally cracked open an eye, a sliver of amusement showing.
"Is there a difference? Every other class is running around like frightened cavemen, starving themselves for what? A measly two or three hundred points? Kukuku. Pathetic." He waved a dismissive hand at his frolicking classmates.
"This is a vacation. The school gave us points, and the rules state we are free to do what we want with them. So, we are enjoying ourselves. When the points run out, we'll simply withdraw and return to the comfort of the Speranza. It's the most logical way to enjoy a holiday."
While Horikita engaged with the tyrant, Hachiman's eyes were scanning, analyzing, calculating. His mind was a running tally: Barbecue setup, high-end, probably 50 points. Jet ski rental, that has to be at least 20 points per hour, per ski. Coolers, food, drinks… he's already burned through at least a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty points. On the second day. It was strategic suicide. It had to be a front.Then, he saw it.
Sitting on a small table next to Ryuuen's lounger, partially obscured by a bag of chips, was a walkie-talkie. A high-end model, likely purchased from the manual. To contact who? The answer was painfully obvious. Ibuki. And the other one, Kaneda, in Class B's camp. He was coordinating his spies. This whole party… it was a distraction, a smokescreen to make them look like fools while he conducted his real operations in the shadows.
Hachiman was snapped out of his thoughts by Ryuuen's voice, now directed back at Horikita, dripping with a slimy, suggestive tone.
"You know, Suzune," he said, taking off his sunglasses to look her up and down. "You look tense. All this running around, trying to save your pathetic classmates. Why don't you come and join me? We can have some fun. I'll even arrange a private tent, just for the two of us."
The offer was crude, demeaning, and deliberately provocative. Albert's stoic expression didn't change, but Hachiman could feel the sudden, icy drop in the temperature around Horikita.
"I would rather swim to Tokyo," she replied, her voice laced with pure venom. She turned on her heel. "Hikigaya-kun. We're leaving. There is nothing but filth here."They walked away, Ryuuen's dry laughter following them off the beach and into the trees.As they walked, Hachiman could see that despite her iron composure, Ryuuen's comments had gotten to her. There was a slight tremor in her hand, a rigid set to her shoulders that wasn't there before.
She was trying to hide it, but the crude, personal nature of the taunt had left her feeling uncomfortable, violated.He didn't say anything. Words would be useless. He wouldn't know what to say anyway—
"Don't listen to him"? "He's just a jerk"? Such platitudes were an insult to her intelligence.So instead, acting on an instinct he was getting tired of questioning, he simply reached out and took her hand.She flinched, startled, and was about to pull away, her usual tsundere defenses kicking in.
"What do you think you're—" she started to say, but then she stopped.His hand was steady, his grip firm but not tight. It wasn't a romantic gesture. It was an anchor. A silent, grounding statement that said, "I'm here. He's not. You're safe."
She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at the path ahead. A faint blush of embarrassment dusted her cheeks, but she didn't let go. Her fingers, which had been tense, relaxed slightly in his grasp.
"Don't get the wrong idea," she muttered, her voice low. "This is just… to ensure we don't get separated in the forest."
"Right," Hachiman replied, his own face feeling a little warm. "Forest safety."They walked the rest of the way back in a comfortable silence, hand in hand. It was enough to tell him that she appreciated the gesture, more than any words ever could.
...END...