Chapter 4: Into the Lions Den
The library's quiet hum was broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers and the faint scratching of pens. Carlos had been halfway through skimming Bayshore when his phone buzzed with a message from Horiyama.
Meeting. Now. Same place.
That was all it said, but with Horiyama, it didn't need to say more.
Minutes later, Carlos arrived at the back corner of the study hall where the three of them—Horiyama, Bubbles, and Sasakibe—were already gathered. Horiyama stood with his arms folded, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Sasakibe was leaning against a shelf, silent and still as a statue. Bubbles, of course, was seated cross-legged on the table itself, swinging one leg idly as she looked far too amused for a "serious" meeting.
"Well," Carlos began, "either this is about the midterms… or you're here to tell me my sombrero's against school dress code."
Bubbles smirked. "If it were up to me, Sombrero-kun, you'd have to wear it during the test. For morale."
"Definitely the latter, then."
Horiyama nodded, arms still crossed. "I want to talk about how the first month went. We lost 150 points in total, which brought us down to 850 class points. That translated into 85,000 personal points this month—just as I predicted. Making mistakes costs not only class points, but private points as well."
"That's my Muscle-kun," Bubbles said with a mock cheer.
Sasakibe finally spoke, voice steady. "It seems Class A, even with their civil war, are enduring as ever. Only losing 60 points still makes them worthy of their title."
"Yeah, but Class F lost all 1,000 points," Bubbles added with a sly grin. "I actually met two kids from that class a few weeks back. One of them was playing into her goody-two-shoes role a little too well. The other one…" she waved a hand dismissively, "…didn't interest me much."
Horiyama leaned forward. "Tell me more."
Bubbles crossed one leg over the other, smirking like she was about to tell a campfire ghost story. "It was outside Class 1-F, a couple weeks back. I ran into this girl—Kushida Kikyo—she's the type who smiles like she's everyone's best friend. Walks around with this guy, Ayanokoji… very quiet, very… hmm, wallpaper."
Carlos chuckled. "Wallpaper?"
"Yeah, the kind you barely notice until you realize the pattern's kinda unsettling."
She waved a hand as if brushing off her own joke. "Anyway, Kushida tried the whole 'let's be friends!' routine with me. I gave her my number—might as well see what she's like—but I couldn't shake the feeling she's… well, let's just say she's playing a role. Like she's auditioning for 'Sweetest Girl in Japan.'"
Horiyama tapped his pen. "Evidence?"
"Not much," Bubbles admitted. "She didn't drop the act, but there was this flicker—like she didn't like me clocking her vibe. And her friend? The quiet one? Didn't say much at all, but he had this way of just… staring. Gave me nothing back. Either he's shy or just mute. Probably harmless."
Carlos glanced at Horiyama. "She thinks Class F is harmless."
"I didn't say harmless," Bubbles corrected with a grin. "I said 'probably.' Big difference."
Horiyama's eyes narrowed slightly, already running the numbers in his head. "Alright… I'll keep them in mind."
Horiyama listened without interrupting, his hands folded on the table. When Carlos finally ran out of steam, he just nodded once.
"So," Horiyama said evenly, "how did it go with Jito?"
Carlos snorted. "Define 'go.' If you mean, 'Did I get him to sit still long enough to look at a textbook?' then yeah. If you mean, 'Did I enjoy a productive study session?' then… absolutely not."
Bubbles, leaning back in her chair, gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. "See? I told you Sombrero-kun could pull it off. You just had to grease the wheels with a little… what's the word? Bribery."
"That's not—" Carlos started, then gave up. "Fine. Bribery. Ten thousand points, gone. He better not blow it all on snacks and gacha pulls."
Horiyama's eyes narrowed slightly. "He won't. If he does, I'll make sure he regrets it." His tone was so calm it was almost worse than anger.
Carlos raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I already told him the same thing. But honestly, the guy's a piece of work. He treats grades like they're optional DLC."
Bubbles tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Maybe he's just a free spirit."
Carlos turned toward her, deadpan. "Maybe he's just a free idiot."
Horiyama allowed himself the barest hint of a smirk before standing. "Either way, if he passes, that's all that matters. Good work, Carlos. You've probably saved us more points than you realize."
Carlos muttered under his breath, "Still think I should've been paid for the trauma."
Bubbles grinned. "I'll buy you a coffee later. Think of it as hazard pay."
Horiyama lingered by the window after Carlos finished his venting. His gaze drifted to the courtyard below, where students from other classes were scattered in small study groups.
"Points are the obvious prize in these exams," he said finally, "but there's something more valuable we might gain."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
"Information."
Bubbles perked up. "Ooooh, you mean the juicy kind?"
Horiyama's eyes narrowed slightly, watching a group of Class 1-D students bicker over a worksheet. "We still don't know the exact cost of failure here. The school hasn't spelled it out, and I doubt they will unless it happens. If someone from another class gets expelled… we'll finally have concrete data."
Carlos blinked. "Wait—you want someone to fail?"
Horiyama turned back toward them, his expression unreadable. "From another class? Absolutely. Every unknown is a weapon in someone else's hands until it's in ours. The sooner we know the exact penalty, the better I can prepare for the future."
Bubbles leaned forward on her elbows, smirking. "So you're rooting for academic tragedy. Scandalous, Muscle-kun."
"Strategic," Horiyama corrected without missing a beat. "If we learn from their loss, it might save one of ours later. Knowledge is the best defense."
Carlos exhaled through his nose. "Cold-blooded. But… I guess I see the logic."
Horiyama allowed himself a faint smile. "Logic is how we stay on top, Carlos. Sentiment is for the ones who fall behind."
Carlos was still processing Horiyama's ice-cold logic when movement at the far end of the hall caught his attention.
A girl with straight black hair, neatly cut to her shoulders, passed by with a slim notebook clutched against her side. Her posture was rigid, but her steps dragged faintly, like she'd been running on fumes for hours.
Bubbles tilted her head. "Who's the iceberg?" she whispered.
Horiyama didn't even glance over. "Unknown. Not from our class."
Sasakibe, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, squinted at her retreating back. "That's… Class 1-F, I think. Saw her once during the entrance ceremony."
"Class 1-F? Thought they were all hopeless cases," Bubbles said, smirking.
Horiyama's gaze sharpened ever so slightly, following her for a moment. "Hopeless or not, she's carrying herself like someone shouldering the work of several others."
Carlos frowned. "You can tell that just by looking at her?"
"Her eyes," Horiyama said simply. "They're the eyes of someone running damage control. My guess—she's propping up one of their troublemakers before midterms."
"Sounds familiar," Carlos muttered, thinking of Jito.
The girl—Horikita Suzune, though none of them knew her name—disappeared around the corner, leaving only the faint sound of her fading footsteps.
Bubbles shrugged. "Well, whoever she is, she looks one bad day away from snapping a pencil in half."
"Or someone," Sasakibe added dryly.
Horiyama finally turned back to them. "File her face away. If she's the type to work herself to exhaustion for her class, that makes her both an asset… and a potential weakness."
Carlos blinked. "You're already plotting against her? We don't even know her name."
Horiyama's expression was calm as ever. "The board is larger than you think, Carlos. Every piece matters, whether we've spoken to them or not."
"How philosophical," Bubbles said with a teasing smile, her eyes glittering like she'd just been told a bedtime story about war strategy.
Horiyama didn't rise to the bait. He simply glanced at the clock, then back at the group. "That's enough for today. Meeting's over—get back to your preparations for midterms."
Sasakibe pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Finally."
Carlos let out a low sigh of relief. "About time. I've got to recharge before I'm forced into another round with Jito."
"Good," Horiyama said flatly, already collecting his papers. "Because the next time we meet, I expect results… not excuses you still have 2 more days until midterms."
With that, the leader of Class 1-B strode away, leaving the others in the hallway with the faint echo of his footsteps and the weight of his words.
The next morning – Class 1-D
The classroom was already buzzing before homeroom. Papers shuffled, chairs scraped, and voices overlapped in a chaotic symphony of midterm nerves.
"You're holding the book upside down, you idiot," one boy muttered, snatching the practice test from his classmate.
"It's a warm-up," Amaki shot back defensively. "I'm training my brain to read from all angles."
"Your brain doesn't need training, it needs CPR," the red haired girl cut in from across the room.
The insults bounced back and forth like a table tennis rally, each one sharper than the last. In the middle of it all, a pair of students were locked in a heated debate over whether memorizing answers counted as real studying.
"Alright, enough, you ruffians—let's get to the real game plan," Shireen muttered, leaning forward on her desk with that same lazy confidence she'd worn the day she first declared herself leader.
Her voice cut through the chaos the way a blade parts air—sharp, decisive, and impossible to ignore.
Instantly, the arguments simmered down, though not out of respect alone. Everyone remembered the way she'd slammed a desk aside and pinned someone against the wall like it was nothing. Shireen wasn't just talk; she was the kind of leader who'd drag them forward whether they wanted to move or not.
Amaki smirked from his seat. "Guess we're back to business, boss."
Shireen didn't bother returning the smile. "Midterms are coming. If we're going to climb the ranks, we can't afford dead weight."
A few pairs of eyes darted toward the laziest students in the room.
"Yeah, yeah," one boy grumbled. "Just tell us what to do."
Her gaze swept over them like a silent challenge. "Don't tempt me to make examples again."
The tension that followed was almost comfortable for Class 1-D. This was how they operated—half threat, half motivation, and fully chaotic.
"Kallen Kozuki."
The name dropped into the air like a stone into still water, and the ripples hit every student. Everyone knew her—half British, half Japanese, razor-tongued, and one of the smartest in Class 1-D. Also, the same girl Shireen had nearly fought to a standstill back on day one.
Kallen's eyes narrowed instantly. "What?"
"You're going to run a study group," Shireen said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Some of these clowns actually want to pass midterms. You're going to make sure they do."
A few students shifted uncomfortably under Shireen's words.
Kallen crossed her arms. "Why me? You're the one barking orders—why don't you do it?"
Shireen's smirk was faint, but the glint in her eyes was sharp. "Because I don't need it. You do. Not for yourself, but for the class. You want to prove you're better than me? Fine—prove it by making sure no one drags us down."
The room went quiet, everyone's eyes ping-ponging between the two.
Kallen's jaw tightened, but she didn't look away. "Fine. But don't think this means I'm following you."
Shireen leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "Follow me? No, Kozuki… you're just keeping pace. For now."
The tension hung there until Amaki broke it with a low chuckle. "Guess we've got ourselves a tutor."
(Yes this is a Code Geass reference)
(Evie's POV)
The commotion was barely over when Evie caught another detail—something she did understand, if only because it stood out in the mess of Japanese she couldn't parse.
"Kallen Kozuki."
The black-haired girl—Shireen, Evie thought she'd heard someone call her—said it with a deliberate edge, like she was pulling the name out just to see how the owner would react.
And react she did.
Red-hair—Kallen—straightened with that same spark in her eye from earlier, but there was something new now: confusion mixed with irritation.
Shireen said a whole lot after that, her voice firm, the class quieting like she was reciting orders. Evie didn't catch the words, but the shift in tone was obvious—no one was laughing anymore.
Then Kallen replied, just as sharp. Evie's ear caught something familiar in the sound—an accent? She couldn't be sure, but her gut said yes.
When the exchange was over, Evie leaned toward the boy in front of her and whispered in halting Japanese,
"Half… British?"
He gave her a quick look, then nodded. "Hai."
Ohhh, so that explains it, Evie thought. No wonder her Japanese sounds a little different.
She leaned back in her chair, mulling it over. Half British, huh? That meant at least one person in this class had a connection to the outside world like her. Not that it meant they'd be friends—if anything, Kallen looked like the kind of person who wouldn't give you the time of day unless you earned it.
Still… there was something oddly comforting about knowing she wasn't the only one who didn't fully "fit" here.
When Shireen finished, Kallen looked reluctant but resigned. From the tone, Evie guessed Shireen had just handed her a job she didn't want. A few students shot glances Kallen's way—some smug, some wary.
Evie tilted her head. "Orders?" she asked the boy in front of her.
He thought for a second, then tried to translate in broken English:
"She… say… Kallen help study… or… uh… class bad."
"Ah," Evie muttered. "So she just voluntold her."
She didn't know much about Shireen yet, but one thing was certain—this girl didn't ask for things. She took them.
And somehow, Kallen Kozuki had just been drafted into whatever game she was playing.
(Shireen's POV)
Before anyone could so much as scrape a chair back, the door slammed open.
Not just opened—slammed.
Every head in Class 1-D turned at once, and the room's easy noise cut like a rope.
Ryuuen Kakeru stepped through the doorway with the kind of swagger you couldn't fake. He moved like he owned the floorboards, like we were all just squatting here until he decided to collect rent.
Behind him came three others—towering Yamada Albert, who looked like he could pick up a desk with one hand and use it as a toothpick, Ishizaki Daichi with his constant half-scowl, and Kyogo Komiya, another member of the basketball club.
This was the first time Ryuuen had ever set foot in 1-D territory. The first time he'd dared to make a move this openly.
I didn't rise from my seat. I didn't have to.
Kallen froze in place, eyes flicking between me and him like she wasn't sure who was the bigger threat right now. The rest of the class seemed to instinctively shrink back—some out of fear, others out of the unspoken knowledge that when Ryuuen walked in, things never stayed civil for long.
He smirked, scanning the room like a hawk sizing up prey. His gaze lingered on me for just a beat too long.
"Well," he drawled, voice carrying just enough to make sure the whole room caught it, "looks like Class 1-D's got some teeth."
I met his eyes. "Teeth are nothing without bite."
That earned a laugh from Ishizaki, but Ryuuen didn't break eye contact. He stepped further in, the others fanning out behind him in that calculated way that made it feel like we were being surrounded.
Whatever he was here for, it wasn't friendly. And it wasn't about me—at least, not yet. But the way he looked at me told me one thing: if our paths crossed in the wrong way, he'd enjoy it.
I stood—not on the floor, but on my desk—smiling down at him.
A Wolf staring down a Red Dragon.
Ryuuen's smirk curved wider. "You have some bite, girl. It seems Class 1-D's leader is certainly precious."
"Oh really?" I tilted my head, still balanced on my desk. "You seem more rodent than man yourself."
A few gasps and muffled laughs rippled through the room, the kind of noise people made when they wanted to see blood but didn't want to be caught asking for it.
For a split second, Ryuuen's eyes narrowed—not enough for most to notice, but enough for me to know the jab had landed. Then he chuckled, low and unhurried, as if to say good, keep talking.
He stepped closer, closing the gap like a predator testing the strength of its prey. "Careful, Girl. Rodents have a way of surviving… even when the bigger animals get wiped out."
"Oh really?" I said, my voice dropping to a low challenge. "Then let's see you try it."
In one smooth motion, I hopped down from my desk—not away from him, but toward him. My boots hit the floor with a sharp thunk, and in two steps, my face was level with his.
Ryuuen didn't flinch. He leaned forward just enough for the space between us to feel like a live wire, his breath slow, deliberate. Around us, the room seemed to shrink; I could hear desks creak as students leaned in to watch, holding their breath.
His smirk didn't waver. Mine didn't either.
This wasn't about throwing the first punch. This was about seeing who'd blink first.
I could see it in his eyes—he wasn't here to talk.
Absolute violence will win this confrontation.
The thought wasn't just mine; I could tell he was thinking the exact same thing.
Two predators sizing each other up, both convinced they'd be the one to strike last and stand tallest.
Her eyes don't flinch, Ryuuen thought. But that doesn't matter. In this school, fear isn't weakness—it's currency. And I always collect.
He's expecting me to back down, I thought. He's used to people folding under that smug grin. But I'm not people.
The air between us was so thin it felt breakable. If someone dropped a pen, the sound might've been enough to set us off.
Absolute violence will win, his gaze promised.
Absolute violence will win, mine promised back.
Ryuuen moved first.
A blur of motion, the crack of air splitting as his arm swung wide toward my head.
I ducked instantly, hair brushing the desk edge, already ready to counter—
"KNOCK IT OFF!"
Kallen's voice cut through the tension like a whip. She stepped between us without hesitation, arms spread, eyes blazing. "Seriously? We've been in school less than 2 months and you two are already trying to kill each other? I swear, it's like babysitting wild dogs."
From the back, a brown-haired boy propped his chin in his palm, watching with a slow, deliberate sigh.
Fantastic. Another episode of Wild Animals in Their Natural Habitat. Starring: my classmates and even further. It's like living in a zoo, except the monkeys pay tuition how disgusting I spit out methodically.
Ryuuen's smirk widened. "Seems even your own pets don't think you're fit to lead, girl. Mine?" He jerked his chin toward Ishizaki, Albert, and Komiya. "They'd follow me into hell."
"Adorable," I replied without missing a beat. "Though I imagine hell's a downgrade from your classroom." I tilted my head toward Kallen. "And as for my so-called pet? She's just punctual. Which is fair, since class starts in—" I glanced at the clock, "—eight minutes."
That earned a faint twitch from Kallen's brow, but she kept her arms up between us.
The verbal jabs didn't stop.
"You talk big," Ryuuen said, "but I see someone who's all bark."
"Better bark than the flea-bitten mutts you keep," I shot back.
Behind him, Komiya muttered something under his breath toward Amaki, the only other basketball club member in the room.
Amaki didn't miss a beat. "Careful, Komiya, your game's just like your mouth—sloppy, slow, and easily blocked."
Komiya bristled. "Oh yeah? I—"
"Save it for the court," Amaki said with a grin that made Komiya's scowl deepen.
Ryuuen finally broke off the staring match, scanning the room with a lazy, predatory gaze. His eyes lingered here and there, marking faces in some invisible mental ledger.
"I've got my list," he said, turning back to me. "Whoever sent me that note? Not you. But you…" His smirk sharpened. "You'll make a very fun opponent."
"Likewise," I said, leaning on my desk. "Next time, don't miss."
He chuckled, low and dangerous, before stepping out with his crew, leaving the room to slowly breathe again.
Kallen sighed, the red haired girl dropped his head onto his desk.
God help me. This is going to be the longest school year of my life.
Evie's POV
Evie Callahan had no idea what was being said.
Not a clue.
One moment, the room was loud in that I'm barely paying attention to the teacher kind of way. The next, the door slammed so hard the windows rattled, and four guys strutted in like they were about to drop a new rap album.
The tall one in front—the one with the I'm here to ruin your day smirk—locked eyes with Shireen. Evie didn't know Shireen well, but she'd seen that look before. Back in middle school, it was the exact face kids made right before a fight broke out and the lunch lady had to get involved.
The two started trading words, voices sharp enough to cut glass. Evie couldn't follow the conversation, but the tension was universal. Shireen even stood up on her desk at one point, which—Evie assumed—was not part of normal classroom etiquette.
Then the tall guy swung.
Like, actually swung.
Evie's eyes went wide. Her brain short-circuited between oh my god holy shit and do I film this? but before she could decide, the other girl—Kallen, Evie knew that was her name now—stepped in and started yelling at both of them.
More words flew back and forth. Evie caught one or two English ones—"leader" and "fun"—but that didn't help much. The tall guy finally gave Shireen this I'll be back for you look before leaving with his crew, like a gang of anime villains exiting stage right.
Silence settled for a moment. Evie blinked, still processing.
Okay… so that happened.
From her seat, she scribbled in the margin of her notebook:
Note to self: Learn Japanese fast. Or at least learn the word for "fight," because apparently that's gonna come up a lot.
[Present Day – Class 1-B]
Rose Tanihana sat near the window, chin resting on her palm, eyes glazed over as the morning chatter of Class 1-B blurred into background noise. She wasn't really listening. Not to her classmates, not to the teacher shuffling papers at the podium.
Her mind was still on last night.
The wind was sharper up there than she expected. She remembered brushing her ponytail over her shoulder, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets as she stepped onto the rooftop. The city lights in the distance flickered like dying candles, and the hum of the school's generators filled the silence.
She had come expecting another scheme from Jito—a second round of blackmail, some smug smile waiting to bleed more points from her. But instead…
It was someone entirely different.
⸻
[Flashback – Yesterday, Rooftop, 8:02 PM]
The rooftop door shut behind her with a heavy clunk. A lone figure stood by the railing, back to her, hands resting casually on the metal.
Rose didn't recognize the posture, but something about the stillness told her they'd been waiting a while.
"You're not Hakibi," she said flatly.
The figure turned. Not Jito. Not even someone from her class.
"Didn't say I was," the voice replied—calm, almost friendly, but with a weight underneath.
Rose stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the concrete. "Then you'll forgive me for not trusting anyone who asks me to 'come alone' at night."
A faint smile. "Fair enough. But if I wanted to blackmail you, I'd have brought a camera."
Her jaw tightened. "You know about that?"
"I make it my business to know things," they said, still leaning against the railing. "But no—this isn't about him."
Rose's shoulders eased a fraction, though her guard stayed up. "Then what is it about?"
"That depends," they said. "On how badly you want to stop being someone's pawn."
The words cut through the night air like a blade. Rose didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied them—measuring tone, body language, searching for the catch.
Something in their expression told her this wasn't just small talk.
"Class 1-B holds a figure from my past."
Rose's eyes narrowed. The way they said it—steady, without a hint of nostalgia—told her this wasn't some reunion story. This was a grudge.
"And you're telling me this… why?"
They finally stepped away from the railing, boots scuffing against the concrete. The rooftop light caught their face just enough for her to see the faintest smirk.
"Because I'm going to do you a favor," they said. "Twenty thousand points' worth."
Rose crossed her arms, unimpressed. "And you expect me to just believe that? Out of the goodness of your heart?"
"Not quite. Think of it as… an investment."
"In me?"
"In what you can do with the right leverage," they corrected. "Right now, you're tied down. Hakibi's leash is tight. I cut it, and you get to breathe. All I want in return is for you to take an opportunity when it comes."
"That's vague."
"That's intentional."
She studied them again, and it struck her—this wasn't about her. Not really. She was just a piece on a board they were already playing on.
"And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then you go back to Class 1-B tomorrow morning, still paying Hakibi, still waiting for him to decide when he's done with you. And I… find someone else to take the offer."
The words lingered between them, heavier than the night air.
Rose exhaled slowly. "Let's say I take this… investment. What exactly is the twenty thousand for?"
A shadow of a smile. "Think of it as a small push. Enough to tilt the game. You'll know when to use it."
She didn't like it. Every instinct told her there was more under the surface—but the thought of finally getting that smug grin off Hakibi's face was enough to make her consider it.
"Fine," she said at last. "But if this comes back to bite me—"
"It won't," they said, already heading for the door. "And remember, Tanihana—sometimes you don't get to choose which game you're in. Only how you play it."
The rooftop door shut behind them, leaving her alone under the hum of the floodlights, twenty thousand points richer… and with a knot in her gut that told her she'd just stepped into something much bigger than her feud with Hakibi.
What is with people using my given name she thought with an annoyed sigh.
⸻
[Present Day – Class 1-B]
Rose blinked, snapping back to the classroom as her Liyana nudged her. A pink haired girl with glasses and a skinny frame she was one of the smarter students in class 1-B. "Spacing out before midterms? Dangerous habit."
She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Just thinking."
But her mind wasn't on the exam schedule.
It was still on the rooftop… and the offer she hadn't yet decided whether to accept.
Amaki Tsukihara stepped out into the hallway, the faint squeak of his basketball shoes echoing against the polished floor. Practice wasn't for another hour, so he figured he'd grab a drink from the vending machine before heading to the gym.
Halfway there, a figure rounded the corner.
He slowed.
The girl was walking with a pleasant smile, chatting with a couple of her classmates. Perfect posture, perfectly friendly. But Amaki's mind stalled as recognition slammed into him like a shove to the chest.
That face.
That voice.
For a split second, her gaze swept over him—and stopped.
The smile didn't fade, but something behind her eyes… shifted. Her pupils tightened, the kind of micro-expression only someone who knew her before could notice.
Amaki didn't say a word at first. He just watched her, watched the careful mask slide back into place as if it had never slipped.
"…Kikyo," he said finally, his tone low and unreadable.
Her smile brightened, just a fraction too much. "Oh? Do I know you from somewhere?"
Amaki's lips curved into the faintest smirk, though his eyes stayed flat. "Yeah. Middle school."
The hallway noise seemed to dim, the laughter of her classmates fading into the background. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Kushida tilted her head, all sugar and sunshine. "I think you're mistaken."
But Amaki could see it—the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled against her skirt.
"No," he said, stepping past her toward the stairs. "I'm not."
He didn't look back, but he could feel her eyes burning into him the whole way down the hall.
Amaki didn't look back, but as his hand gripped the stair rail, a smirk tugged at his lips.
Five months. That's how long it had been since he'd last seen that mask in action—the same sweet smile that had manipulated him back in middle school. The same smile she'd used to set their entire class on fire in a single day.
What a fool he'd been.
He'd fallen for every word, every fabricated tear, every carefully planted rumor. And when the dust settled, it was too late. She'd already won.
But this time… things would be different.
He'd made sure of it.
The moment he realized Kushida Kikyo had landed in this school, he'd sent her a quiet warning—a message meant to cut deeper than any threat could. She'd laughed it off, of course. That was her way.
What she didn't understand yet… was that he wasn't playing her game anymore.
And from this day forward, she wouldn't be safe around him.
Kushida's smile didn't falter—not here, not in the hallway where eyes could be anywhere. But the second Amaki passed out of sight, her jaw locked tight enough to hurt.
Damn him.
That look in his eyes—calm, knowing, deliberate—wasn't the look of someone she could charm into silence. He remembered. Not the sugar-coated version she fed to everyone else, but the real one. The ugly truth.
Five months…
Had it really been that long since she'd shredded that class to pieces? She could still hear the crying, still see the stunned faces when she turned every whispered confession into a weapon. All because they couldn't accept her for who she was. No—because they tried to expose her.
And now here he was, walking these same halls, acting like he'd already written her fate.
She hated that. Hated it more than anything.
People like Amaki were dangerous—not because they shouted your secrets, but because they could wait. Patient. Silent. Watching for the perfect moment to strike.
She'd seen it before. And she'd made sure never to let it happen again.
If he thought for a second that she'd let him put a target on her back and walk away… he had another thing coming.
He wasn't going to expose her. Not here. Not in this school. Because if he tried, she'd make sure he regretted it—publicly, painfully, and permanently.
Her lips curled back into that practiced, perfect smile as a group of girls passed her in the hall.
Let him think he's in control. Let him think he has the upper hand.
By the time she was done, Amaki Tsukihara wouldn't even remember what it felt like to win. He will be eliminated from ANHS Kushida makes a vow and so will Horikita.
Midterms were tomorrow let the chaos ensue.
End of Chapter 4.