The day after handing the letter to Hirata, after school—
Mamoru stood on the rooftop, gazing through the fence at the schoolyard below.
Track and field, baseball, even during exam season, the sports teams were pouring everything into practice.
("I feel like a nervous middle school girl trying to confess her first crush... Sigh")
He hadn't come up to the roof for any particular reason—just to pass the time while waiting—but watching the students gradually drew his thoughts elsewhere.
He recalled the words Fuka had said to him just a few days ago.
"Be selfish, okay..."
That question had always lingered in the back of his mind: What do I actually want to do?
There was someone he aspired to be. Someone beyond reach. And yet, there were others who looked up to that person as a goal.
But that was a matter of who he wanted to be—not what he wanted to do.
Mamoru turned away from the schoolyard, leaned back against the fence, and stared up at the sky.
As clouds drifted lazily above, the rooftop door suddenly slid open.
Two boys and one girl stepped through.
Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Mamoru turned to face them.
He immediately recognized one of the boys—Yousuke Hirata, the student he had spoken with the day before. While other feels familiar... Beside hirata stood a girl with long black hair and a sharp, scowling expression.
( Wait... that Kushida-san...? i don't expect it to be her)
Mamoru had asked that only two others accompany Hirata, and had assumed one would be Kushida Kikyou—someone said to have considerable influence in Class D.
She was rumored to be sociable and well-liked, even outside her class. But this girl didn't match that image at all.
He shifted his attention to the other boy.
Brown hair. Blank, unreadable eyes. At first glance, he looked completely unremarkable.
But Mamoru narrowed his gaze.
(Now, after i meet him again... He's strong. Far more trained than most sorcerers)
You could see it in the way he walked, the way he stood. Balanced posture. A centered frame. Natural, relaxed... yet always alert, like he could react at any moment.
Mamoru couldn't pinpoint the boy's exact level, but one thing was clear—his fundamentals were exceptional. Far beyond an average magician.
(Is he really just ordinary students?)
On a whim, Mamoru created a small illusion barrier in front of him.
It had no magical power or physical force—just a harmless visual trick. The kind a sorcerer with decent perception would instinctively notice and avoid.
But the boy walked straight through it, showing no sign of awareness.
(He didn't even flinch...? That's unsettling in its own way...)
Honestly, if someone told him this boy was a hidden sorcerer, Mamoru would believe it. The fact that he wasn't made the whole thing even creepier.
How did someone in modern Japan—an apparent civilian—develop such a battle-ready mindset?
As Mamoru pondered this, the group came to a stop before him.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Hirata said.
Mamoru turned his attention away from the brown-haired boy and smiled.
"Not at all. I'm the one who invited you, after all. It's only fair I wait."
He gave a small nod to the group.
"I'm Gojo Mamoru, from Class 1-A. Nice to meet you..."
The black-haired girl stepped forward, keeping her arms crossed.
"Class D. Suzune Horikita... So it's you"
(Ah, so she's not Kushida...)
Mamoru was a little surprised by the mismatch in expectation, but he studied Horikita without letting it show.
Her posture was straight, firm. Her eyes sharp. She was clearly on guard.
(She's got quite the attitude...)
There was a chill behind her gaze. Not outright hostility, but enough to make it clear—she didn't want to be here. She seemed like the type to wall herself off from others, to keep people at a distance.
After a brief moment, Mamoru looked to the last student—the boy with the unreadable expression.
The boy didn't say anything, just stared at Mamoru with mild disinterest.
"Ayanokoji-kun?" Hirata prompted gently.
The boy blinked, as if coming back to reality.
"Ah, sorry. Zoned out. I'm Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, Class D..."
His tone was casual, but Mamoru could tell.
(They're on guard)
Horikita and Hirata flanked Ayanokoji slightly, both keeping a close eye on Mamoru.
Even if he lacked cursed energy, Ayanokoji may have sensed something from him.
While Mamoru continued analyzing the group, Hirata spoke up.
"Do you two know Gojo-kun?" Hirata asked.
Mamoru replied calmly, "I met both of them on the first day of school."
"Something like that… but that's not important," Horikita cut in, dismissing the small talk. It was clear she wanted to get straight to the point.
"I see, well… I'd like to get straight to the point. Can you tell us more about what you wrote in the letter?"
The other two said nothing, quietly observing. It was clear they were letting Hirata handle the conversation—at least for now.
Mamoru mentally categorized them:
Hirata was the diplomat. Horikita, the strategist. Ayanokoji... the hidden blade, ready to act if anything went wrong.
Interesting. These three were more layered than he expected.
And now, the real purpose of this meeting could begin: identifying Class D's key players.
◆◇◆
The first thing Ayanokoji Kiyotaka noticed about Gojo Mamoru wasn't him—but rather, his own reaction.
A chill ran down his spine.
His breathing grew shallow.
His heart thudded unnaturally loud.
It wasn't until he objectively assessed the symptoms that he realized: he was nervous.
(What is this guy...?) He didn't realize it at that time
He'd been raised in the White Room. A brutal training ground where "gifted education" extended far beyond academics. Violence, survival, psychology—all were taught as part of everyday life.
He'd fought opponents stronger than himself. Real fighters. Monsters, even...
And so, he understood this much:
(If it came down to violence, I wouldn't win.)
But that wasn't what was bothering him.
Ayanokoji didn't fear someone just because they were strong. That had never shaken him before.
So what was it about Mamoru that made him feel like this?
There were surveillance cameras. They were in public. Mamoru didn't strike him as someone who would act violently without reason.
And yet... the air around him felt unreliable. Like standing on thin ice in the dark.
A single step, and everything could collapse.
He knew it was irrational. Still, somewhere deep inside, he felt like his head might go flying at any second.
(Hm, this feeling... Fascinating...)
Despite the creeping unease, Ayanokoji's face remained calm. Unshaken. He chose instead to observe—memorizing the feeling for future analysis.
Back on topic, Mamoru finally responded to Hirata's question.
"That's right," he said. "I don't want to waste your time, so let's get right to it."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"As I wrote in the letter, I know a way to guarantee passing the upcoming midterm exam."
That much had already been written. But hearing him say it aloud seemed to weigh heavily on Hirata and Horikita.
"...It's hard to believe," Hirata said. "That there's any method beyond just studying."
Ayanokoji wasn't surprised. When Chabashira-sensei first explained the test, her words had carried the implication that there was a hidden solution.
This wasn't an unreasonable conclusion for someone sharp enough—like Mamoru—to reach.
Mamoru responded with a calm smile.
"I understand your skepticism. So let me show you this first."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a brown A4 envelope.
Inside was a stack of papers.
"These are the questions and answers for the upcoming midterm."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Horikita and Hirata exchanged looks, visibly shaken.
"Y-you're kidding, right?" Hirata finally said.
"No joke. Of course, I can't offer definitive proof. There is no physical evidence. But I'm confident. These will be on the test."
His voice was gentle. Not smug, not overbearing—he even seemed to soften his tone, as if trying to put them at ease.
"How could you possibly get something like that…?"
Hirata looked overwhelmed. Doubts swirled in his eyes—about the truth, about Mamoru's intent, about everything.
Sensing this, Horikita stepped forward.
"Hirata-kun," she said. "Let me handle things from here."
They had discussed this in advance. Hirata would start the talks, but Horikita would step in when negotiations began.
The switch came slightly earlier than planned, but Hirata nodded and stepped back.
"I'll ask plainly," Horikita said, eyes sharp. "Even if this is real—how did you get it? You didn't steal it from the staff room, did you?"
Her tone was provocative. Direct. That was just how she was—but Ayanokoji, who was still uneasy around Mamoru, felt a flicker of tension.
(Did she just piss him off?)
Mamoru, however, simply shook his head.
"Of course not. This wasn't obtained illegally."
He looked at each of them.
"And since I don't like long-winded explanations—I'll keep it simple."
He raised a finger.
"Every year, the first-year midterms contain the exact same questions."
Horikita and Hirata froze.
Their eyes widened, speechless.
(I thought so.)
While the others reacted in surprise, Ayanokoji was the only one who had already considered this possibility—and now, it had been confirmed.
Even if my prediction was correct, I still had doubts. But what puzzled him wasn't the content—it was the timing. Why reveal it so early?
From a negotiation standpoint, this was a card best saved for later.
At this point, Class D had already gained the most crucial advantage: a clear strategy to tackle the next exam. Mamoru had essentially handed them the key to success.
And yet, Ayanokoji quietly listened, waiting to see where the conversation would go.
"Let me just say this: I came across this information almost by accident. If you want to verify it, try talking to an upperclassman. They probably won't tell you outright, but you can confirm the truth from their reactions."
Mamoru said it was a coincidence, but Ayanokoji didn't buy that.
This school was known for its airtight information control. It was hard to believe a student could stumble upon something so crucial by chance.
"...I have a lot of questions about how you learned this" Horikita said, steadying her voice. "But for now, let's assume you're telling the truth.
That envelope contains past midterm questions. Are you here to sell them?"
She was trying to move the conversation forward. Given the current circumstances, it wasn't possible to verify the claim on the spot, so she opted to entertain the premise for now.
And in all honesty, Ayanokoji agreed—it was unlikely Mamoru was lying. As he said, the truth could be verified later.
"Thank you for getting to the heart of the matter so quickly," Mamoru said with a polite smile. "I'm sure you're all wondering if this is a trap. But you understand, don't you? Class A has no reason to sabotage you right now. In fact, this information alone already gives you a massive advantage."
Mamoru was clearly controlling the pace of the conversation—preempting questions and objections before they could be raised. For Horikita, that had to be frustrating.
Still, his words weren't wrong. Given Class D's situation, Mamoru stood to gain nothing by misleading them. If left alone, Class D would likely fail on their own. Class A didn't need to interfere.
Even Horikita seemed to recognize this, though she kept her composure as she asked:
"So… how much are you asking?"
"200,000 points."
Horikita's eyebrows twitched at how easily he said it.
"You're awfully confident."
"Gojo-kun, that's… a bit much, isn't it?" Hirata added, visibly surprised.
(Even if we wanted to pay, that's way too high.)
Ayanokoji silently agreed. It was far beyond what the three of them could pool together.
"Really? I think it's a fair price," Mamoru said.
"There are forty students in your class. That's 5,000 points each. And since this only covers one subject, it's basically 1,000 points per person.
If everyone contributes, it's not unmanageable."
Framed that way, the price did sound more reasonable.
Still, whether they could actually gather that amount was a different question entirely.
"And this is just my guess," Mamoru added, "but if anyone drops out after this exam, your class probably won't receive any class points. I'd say this information is worth the price if it prevents that."
At that, Hirata's expression darkened. The mention of expulsion clearly struck a nerve.
For someone who prioritized harmony, the thought of losing a classmate was painful.
Horikita, however, snapped back sharply:
"You seem to think we're desperate, but we're not as cornered as you assume. Even without this, I'm confident our class can avoid any dropouts—and I expect our scores to be quite high."
She was bluffing—at least partially. But her confidence in their current study group wasn't entirely unfounded.
"You're awfully optimistic," Mamoru said calmly. "But if you're aiming for high scores, I have some bad news. The test content changed last week. You'll find it a bit more difficult now."
"...The test scope changed?"
Horikita blinked, unable to hide her surprise.
Despite her confident front, the shock was genuine.
"You didn't know?" Mamoru said with mock surprise. "Last Friday, they drastically changed the scope across all subjects."
His tone was casual, almost teasing—but it had weight. He wasn't lying.
"W-wait, Gojo-kun. Are you serious?" Hirata asked, almost hoping it was a joke.
"If you don't believe me, check with your teacher or the other students later."
And indeed, they could. This was something that could be confirmed after the meeting.
Even at Ayanokoji's current pace, the revised material might push them to their limit. Without those past questions, failure seemed inevitable.
Horikita, realizing this, went silent—hand to her mouth, deep in thought.
After a pause, she finally spoke.
"...There's no need for us to buy them from you. If it's true that past exam questions exist, we can negotiate with upperclassmen. We'd probably get them for much cheaper."
Hirata's eyes widened in surprise, but she wasn't wrong.
Negotiating directly with older students would be cheaper and more reliable than trusting papers handed over by another class entirely.
It was the obvious next step.
And it was exactly why Ayanokoji had questioned Mamoru's decision to reveal the existence of the past questions so early.
"You're right," Mamoru said. "If you ask around, I'm sure some seniors would give them to you for 20,000 or 30,000 points."
Horikita's eyes narrowed, her expression laced with suspicion.
"Then why offer it at 200,000?"
"Simple. That price isn't just for the questions."
"...What do you mean?"
"It's hush money," Mamoru said plainly. "To be honest, I haven't told anyone else about these past questions. Not my own class. Not anyone.
If you buy this from me, I'll keep it a secret until the exam is over."
Horikita's eyes widened slightly.
This turned the past questions from a mere safety net into a potential weapon. An exclusive advantage.
If no one else had access to them, Class D could outperform the others—not just survive.
For someone aiming for Class A, that was a tempting offer.
"You seem awfully confident," she said coldly. "Not even telling your own class? Or are you just ignoring the other classes entirely?"
She stared at him, as if trying to gauge his true motives.
Mamoru, unbothered, answered calmly.
"I apologize if I came off arrogant. I know it might sound insincere, but I honestly don't care much about class competition. If trading with other classes brings personal gain, I see no reason not to."
It wasn't surprising. Mamoru had made it clear from the start: he wasn't here as a representative of Class A. He was here for himself.
Horikita and Hirata didn't seem particularly shocked—they'd probably suspected as much since receiving his letter.
But Ayanokoji alone felt something different.
(Is it really just about the points…?)
He couldn't explain why, but something didn't sit right.
Mamoru's attitude, his timing, his control of the situation—it all felt too calculated.
He's hiding something.
After several moments of silence, Horikita finally spoke again.
"…It's not enough. There's no evidence you'll keep your word. Even if you promise us now, what's stopping you from selling the same information to the other classes later? If they get it on their own, paying you would be meaningless."
It was a sound argument.
Even with past questions, there was no way to prove who had used them.
If other classes caught on and obtained the same materials, Class D would gain nothing—and lose 200,000 points in the process.
Mamoru, however, seemed prepared for that.
"In that case," he said, "I'll add one more condition. If Class D doesn't place first in the next exam, I'll refund every point you paid."
Horikita's eyes widened, shocked—but then narrowed in suspicion.
"...What are you talking about?"
It was an incredible offer—almost too good to believe.
Even with the past questions, there was no guarantee Class D could take first place.
Statistically, they were more likely to just pass, not win.
"I just want to be fair," Mamoru explained. "These questions are basically a ticket to first place.
If they don't help you win, then they weren't worth it. And if they weren't worth it, you shouldn't have to pay."
And with that, the vague unease Ayanokoji had felt took shape.
He finally understood what had been bothering him all this time.
Mamoru Gojo wasn't here to make a simple trade.
He was orchestrating something far more calculated.
(Does this guy not care about profit?)
Ayanokoji realized this only because he had been looking at the negotiation from the same detached angle.
What this person valued wasn't the reward—but the observation itself.
(Horikita can't keep up with him.)
This wasn't a matter of winning or losing.
To Mamoru, it made no difference whether the offer was accepted or not. He was simply watching to see if the bait would be taken.
Trying to outsmart him—or avoid being outsmarted—was pointless.
The deal was fair. If accepted at face value, there would be no real loss.
And so, Ayanokoji could already imagine how the rest would play out.
"I can't trust you. Like I said before—it's just a verbal promise. If I pay now, what's stopping you from denying it later?"
Horikita, ever skeptical, voiced the most reasonable concern. And Mamoru, having likely anticipated this, was ready.
"It's only natural you'd be suspicious. That's why I prepared this."
He pulled a small device from his pocket.
"A recorder?"
"A voice recorder. This contains everything we've discussed so far. If we go through with the deal, I'll hand over the audio data as proof of good faith. In return, should the data be leaked despite both parties upholding the agreement, you'll owe a penalty equal to all points earned over the next six months."
Mamoru reached into his bag and pulled out a written contract.
"You'll keep the voice data, and I'll hold on to this agreement as insurance—so neither side misuses the leverage."
"That's long-winded. Wouldn't it be simpler just to put everything in writing?"
"I considered that. But imagine this clause:
'If this contract becomes public, Class D pays Gojo Mamoru a penalty.' In that case, wouldn't you worry I might intentionally leak the contract just to collect the fine?"
The same logic applied to audio data.
If a party benefits when the agreement is broken, then they have an incentive to break it themselves.
That's why both sides needed leverage: each holding something, each equally bound.
The terms were meticulous—almost too meticulous. Designed not just to assure fairness, but to eliminate every potential doubt.
Even Horikita, who had begun the talk with open suspicion, now seemed quietly impressed.
"...Give us a few minutes to discuss."
"I don't mind."
Mamoru nodded without hesitation, and the three moved slightly away from him.
"He's a tricky one," Horikita muttered. "He seems honest, but there's something off. Creepy, even."
"Haha, i am not sure..." Hirata let out a laugh with weird feeling
"What do you both think of the deal?" Horikita asked. Hirata spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
"...I don't think it's a bad offer. The price is high, but if we explain it properly, I think the class will agree."
But Horikita shook her head almost immediately.
"Don't involve the others. They won't keep quiet. If word spreads, the whole deal loses its value."
"But then what's the point in getting the questions…?"
"It still helps," Horikita replied. "If we hand them out only two or three days before the test, we can minimize leaks and still raise scores significantly."
Ayanokoji tilted his head. "So you're leaning toward accepting?"
Horikita nodded after a pause.
"…We've gotten this far. It feels credible. Besides, we don't know when the next opportunity to gain class points will come. We need to narrow the gap while we can."
They could take the safe route and let the deal fail—get their money back when they didn't come first.
But Horikita wasn't aiming to break even. She was aiming to win.
"Then the issue is points."
"We'll pay it ourselves," Horikita said plainly. "Ayanokoji-kun, you only spent 20,000 last month. That leaves over 70,000, right?"
"What... Don't treat my wallet like it's public property"
"You're the one who told us to help the red-graders. That makes this your responsibility. Your wallet is now a class asset."
"...That's robbery."
Hirata gave a wry chuckle.
"Haha… you two really get along."
"If you think this is 'getting along,' you need your eyes checked," Ayanokoji replied flatly. On that point, he agreed with Horikita. Still, there was something oddly satisfying about the exchange.
"But we still don't have enough between us," Horikita said. "We either negotiate the price down or push for post-payment."
"If he agrees to lower it to around 150,000, I'll pay upfront. Postpay is the last resort. Even if he accepts it, explaining it to the class would be messy."
Split three ways, that would be 50,000 per person.
That was probably the most they could realistically afford now.
"The current D-class is full of strong personalities," Horikita added. "Even if we got points next month, I doubt they'd cooperate quietly or keep the secret."
Hirata nodded. He seemed to have reached the same conclusion.
"Okay. Let's go with that."
With two votes in favor, Ayanokoji quietly nodded as well.
Majority rule.
◆◇◆
"We've reached a consensus."
Returning to Mamoru, Horikita spoke firmly.
"Go ahead."
Mamoru showed no reaction. Whether they accepted or declined made no difference to him.
"The terms are fine—but the price is too high. As you probably know, D-class doesn't have the funds to pay 200,000."
(So we're negotiating now.)
Mamoru had expected that. No one was going to accept the original price without a fight.
"I see. So, how much are you offering?"
"100,000. That's the best we can manage."
(That worth for me to skip school for 2-3 days...)
"Sure. That's fine."
The price dropped by half—but Mamoru didn't even blink.
Horikita and the others, expecting a bit more back-and-forth, were visibly caught off guard.
"...That was fast."
"That's what you can pay, right? Makes no difference to me. Even if I sold it to other classes, I'd only get 20,000–30,000 each. I'm still making a profit."
Truthfully, Mamoru had never been focused on the points. From this whole negotiation, he'd already gleaned useful information about Horikita and Hirata's personalities. Ayanokoji remained a mystery—but it no longer seemed worth pressing further.
Mamoru pulled out a contract, a backing board, a pen, and a red ink pad from his bag.
"Sign here. Thumbprint too."
He had drafted the contract himself a few days earlier. It wasn't legally binding, but with a fingerprint, it would serve as credible evidence.
"Alright."
After confirming that all three had signed, he handed over the voice recorder and let them check the data.
Only then did he hand them the envelope containing the past exam questions.
"You could simply take out the device and transfer your points"
"Well then, the deal is done. Just in case I end up having to pay you back, let's exchange contact info. That okay with you?"
"I don't mind. Though I doubt that opportunity will come. Class D will be the one taking first place in the next test."
Horikita, glaring up at Mamoru from close range as she operated her device, gave off the air of a formal declaration of war. Mamoru, for his part, found it amusing—open hostility wasn't something he encountered often.
"I see. I'd actually be glad if that happened. I'm looking forward to it."
His words were sincere, but Horikita didn't seem to appreciate them. She gave him a short, sulky glance before quickly turning away.
Afterward, Mamoru exchanged contact info with Hirata and finally turned to Ayanokoji.
"Didn't get much of a chance to talk to you after all."
"Yeah, I'm not as sharp as those two. I figured I'd only get in the way."
Ayanokoji's expression was unreadable—whether that modesty was genuine or a cover, Mamoru couldn't tell. Still, one thing had caught his attention.
"You know... You don't need to be so cautious. I'm not the type to use violence without reason."
Mamoru's job had made him highly sensitive to tension and unease, and he could clearly feel it from Ayanokoji. Yet the boy only blinked, then replied in an almost bored tone.
"What are you talking about? I wasn't being cautious."
Mamoru's impression of Ayanokoji rose even further.
(He really is something. Not just physically—mentally, too.)
Unlike the body, the mind is hard to train. Though he wasn't on the level of a sorcerer, this guy was far from ordinary.
"Really? Then I must have misread you. Sorry if I said something weird."
"No, don't worry about it. I'm not good at social stuff. If I seemed a little wary, that's probably why. My bad."
"I see. Well, we're in different classes, but since we've exchanged info, I'll look forward to working with you."
"Same here."
With that, Ayanokoji took a step back. Their business was complete.
It looked like the three had more to discuss, so Mamoru decided to leave the rooftop first.
"Well then, I'll be off."
"Oh—right, Gojo-kun. Thanks for today. You really helped us out."
Hirata gave a courteous bow as Mamoru left. Ayanokoji offered a small wave. Horikita, on the other hand, turned away without a word.
"You're welcome."
With that, Mamoru exited the rooftop.
As he walked down the hallway toward the entrance, he reflected on the earlier conversation.
(Hmm, ayanokoji...)
Horikita and Hirata were certainly capable, especially for students in Class D. After speaking with Horikita, her issue was clear—communication. Hirata's weaknesses weren't yet obvious, but that meant they probably weren't critical at the moment.
The real wildcard was Ayanokoji. His physical ability and mental composure were both far beyond average. Mamoru had a gut feeling: depending on how Ayanokoji moved, Class D's entire future could shift—either for better or for worse.
(Strange how things turned out...)
At the very least, Mamoru had achieved his goal of meeting Class D's main players. But having met them, the uncertainty surrounding the class's future felt even more pronounced. There were certainly talented individuals... but also time bombs. It was unsettling.
Lost in thought, Mamoru reached the entrance.
No use worrying too much. With a sigh, he approached the shoe lockers—only to be interrupted by a voice.
"Well, I've been waiting."
"...Why are you here?"
Turning toward the voice, he found a familiar figure leaning against the wall—long silver hair, arms crossed.
Kiryuuin Fuuka.
"Today was the negotiation you mentioned, right? I was curious, so I came."
"A phone call or message would've sufficed."
"Don't be so cold. Walking home together, wandering aimlessly—that's the stuff youth is made of. Let's deepen our student bonds beyond training."
"Try doing that with someone who's actually your friend."
"Don't underestimate me, Mamoru. I don't have anyone at this school I'd call a friend."
"That's not something to be proud of, you know."
Mamoru didn't have many friends here either, so he couldn't exactly criticize. Still, her confidence about it caught him off guard.
"Listen, it's not that I mind not having friends. But I am interested in the idea of walking home with someone. As your senior, isn't it your duty to humor me a little?"
"Then find another underclassman. Seriously."
As he tried to walk off, Fuka clung tightly to the hem of his uniform.
"I can't do that. I'm not the kind of woman who invites just anyone."
"Says the woman who brought a near stranger into her room and held hands with him. You're not exactly selling me on your standards."
"Hmph. You were the first man to step into my room and hold my hand."
"I really don't get your sense of personal boundaries. Also—can you let go? Again? I'd rather not wrinkle my clothes."
Last time it was his hand. This time, his uniform. Honestly, he just wanted to avoid unnecessary drama.
"If you don't get the distance, then all the more reason to close it. Let's hang out. Karaoke, bowling—whatever. I'll pay."
"...Fine, I'll tag along a bit. But please let go of my clothes. If someone sees us like this, it'll be a hassle—"
Clatter.
A sharp metallic clang rang out from the nearby stairs. Startled, Mamoru turned toward the noise.
Two familiar students stood there.
Masumi Kamuro, eyes wide. And next to her, silver-haired Arisu Sakayanagi—perhaps the one Mamoru had known the longest at this school—stared his way, her signature cane lying at her feet.
"Ah."
Mamoru let out a noise that was far more stupid-sounding than he intended.
Watching it all unfold, Fuka crossed her arms and nodded, deadpan.
"Hm, interesting. So this is what carnage looks like."
"Please shut up for a second."