Sunlight slanted through the teaching building's connecting corridor, cutting geometric patterns of light and shadow on the clean windowpanes.
Sakamoto's figure, like a precisely calibrated pendulum, moved through the corridor with a constant and elegant stride, the hem of his burgundy uniform subtly arching with each step.
He stopped outside the back window of Class 1-B, a silhouette blending into the background, only his glasses reflecting a cold gleam as light refracted off them.
The air in Class B was thick and warm, like honey.
The boys and girls, having just finished their self-introductions, still wore the shyness of first encounters, gathering in small groups to exchange expectations for their new lives.
Beside the podium, a pink-haired girl was bending over, tidying the newly distributed "Key Provisions Handbook," her fingertips tracing the school emblem, her profile radiating a cloudless smile—until her peripheral vision caught sight of the still silhouette outside the window.
Ichinose Honami's movements paused slightly.
That boy looked a bit familiar? Had she seen him at the entrance ceremony? He seemed to be from Class A.
His posture was as upright as a pine, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, the other naturally hanging down.
His gaze behind his black-rimmed glasses calmly swept over every face in the classroom, not scrutinizing, but rather with a gentle observation.
It was as if he was getting to know future companions who might stand alongside him or compete with him.
As his gaze passed over her, he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth seeming to curve into an extremely faint, polite arc, as if silently greeting her, then naturally moved on, like passing over a detail worth appreciating in a landscape painting.
"What are you looking at, Ichinose-san?"
The girl next to her turned her head, following her gaze.
Outside the window, there was no one, only the fleeting shadows of trees swayed on the windowsill as the wind blew.
"Nothing,"
Honami smiled and shook her head, but her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the cover of the handbook,
"I just feel... someone is measuring this world with a ruler."
She murmured softly to herself. Though curious about the boy's actions, she was left only with an impression of a calm and slightly benevolent profile.
A faint hubbub floated in the air of Class C. Desks and chairs were arranged somewhat casually, a few boys huddled together, whispering about something, and someone in the back row was dozing on their desk.
Ryuuen Kakeru leaned against the window, his fingertips twirling an eraser, letting it tumble and bounce between his knuckles, his gaze idly cast outside the window—until the eraser suddenly stopped.
A figure stopped outside the window.
Black-rimmed glasses, a posture as straight as a spear, his gaze calmly surveying the entire classroom.
That posture, that look.
Ryuuen's lips twisted into an undisguised sneer. Putting on an act.
Was this guy inspecting each class like a peacock patrolling its territory?
He observed the people in the classroom, his eyes devoid of curiosity, only a cold sense of recording.
"Hmph," Ryuuen scoffed at the empty direction outside the window, the eraser snapping back into his palm with a "thwack."
"Which class sent the spy? So eager to gather information?" He withdrew his gaze, his eyes growing a bit darker.
"He's putting on quite the act." He no longer paid attention to the observer who had disappeared at the end of the corridor, but he quietly memorized the face.
The clamor of Class D was like an overturned palette.
Some argued loudly about club choices, some buried their heads in books, and chalk bounced between desks and chairs.
Horikita Suzune frowned, moving away from the noise, sitting alone by the window, engrossed in the "Handbook," her back straight as a ruler—until a shadow fell upon the page.
She looked up.
Outside the glass window, Sakamoto stood still.
He held nothing, his hands naturally at his sides, his posture relaxed yet upright.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze like a gentle searchlight, slowly sweeping over every face in the classroom.
As his gaze passed over the playful crowd, it carried a hint of tolerance; when it swept over the lone figures in the corners, it seemed to gain a touch of understanding; finally, his gaze lingered on her face for an extremely brief moment.
Horikita felt a subtle sense of being scrutinized, not cold, but with a penetrating focus that made her instinctively straighten her back even more.
"Classmate Ayanokoji," she turned to her neighbor, her voice lowered, "that person outside the window…"
"The one on the bus." Ayanokoji Kiyotaka replied flatly, his gaze also falling on the window.
He remembered that figure—the boy who had used a detached umbrella stand to create a makeshift seat for an old woman this morning.
Now, he was intently observing Class D, his eyes sharp and calm, but that sharpness was not hostility; it was more like meticulously sketching a portrait.
His gaze lingered a bit longer on a few students with defiant expressions or flickering eyes, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, then moving on, as if evaluating something.
Horikita pursed her lips, her fingertips unconsciously tightening on the page: "What is he doing? Memorizing faces?"
"More like building preliminary profiles." Ayanokoji's gaze followed Sakamoto's moving line of sight, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.
The figure outside the window completed his "tour" of Class D.
As he withdrew his gaze, he seemed to nod very slightly towards the classroom, like a silent farewell.
As he turned to leave, the arc of his coat hem was as sharp as a paper cutter's mark, yet it carried an indescribable, serene beauty.
The atmosphere in Class A did not completely relax after Sakamoto left.
Sakamoto's words about "points" and "worth" were like stones thrown into a calm lake, the ripples still spreading.
Katsuragi Kohei remained in his seat, his brows tightly furrowed, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desk.
100,000 points, was it just living expenses? That Sakamoto said "use it where it's truly worth it" at the end… Did these points have a deeper meaning beyond just purchasing items?
Inseparable from "the honor and disgrace of the collective"… He repeatedly chewed on Mashima's and Sakamoto's words, trying to piece together the hidden rules.
Sakamoto's behavior, though peculiar, always seemed to point to something crucial.
Hashimoto Masayoshi, on the other hand, seemed invigorated.
He leaned by the window, looking towards the senior high school building, his eyes sparkling.
"Hey, Sakayanagi," he turned back, a eager smile on his face, his gaze directed at the silver-haired girl, "do you think Sakamoto-kun's paper airplane, specifically thrown under the senior high school building, is hinting at something? Like, the answer is there?"
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
"Shall we go to the senior high school building for some 'friendly exchange'? Maybe we can dig up some inside information about the point system?"
Sakayanagi Arisu sat upright in her seat, and upon hearing Hashimoto's words, she tilted her head slightly, a subtle, playful curve gracing her lips.
"Hashimoto-kun's idea is quite interesting." Her voice was soft and clear.
"Sakamoto-kun was staring out the window for a long time; perhaps… he was observing the senior high school building all along.