(A Big thanks to paladar blade for being a Quill Club patron.)
Around 2 p.m., Hirata was in Ayanokouji's dorm room, much to Ayanokouji's dismay. As an "ordinary person," he couldn't simply refuse the central figure of the class.
While Hirata analyzed Ren, Ayanokouji analyzed a more pressing question: How long is he planning to stay here?
The answer came to him quickly. Without Ren's contact info, Ayanokouji was Hirata's only link. Until the conflict was resolved, Hirata would cling to him like a life raft. Ayanokouji discovered that Hirata was fundamentally incapable of accepting a bad outcome; his mind would only entertain a happy ending. When Ayanokouji gently suggested they should be prepared for the worst, Hirata's knuckles turned white around the cup he was holding, and a vein bulged on his temple.
Ayanokouji understood. Hirata didn't want to understand Ren; he wanted to fix the situation.
Honestly, Ayanokouji barely knew Ren himself. Words weren't going to solve this. If mutual understanding could prevent conflict, war wouldn't exist. It would be far simpler to just give Hirata a direct solution.
And Ayanokouji already had one in mind. The only problem was figuring out how to present it. How could an "ordinary person" like him solve a problem that had completely stumped a shining star like Hirata? He needed to package it correctly.
Inside Ayanokouji's dorm room, the conversation continued.
"Hirata-kun," Ayanokouji began, choosing his words with care. "Have you ever considered that Ishikawa-kun is an international student from China?"
"China?" Hirata frowned. "You mean because of historical tensions…?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Ayanokouji quickly interjected. "If that were an issue, he wouldn't be studying here. I was thinking… what if his Japanese isn't as good as it seems?"
"Really? He sounded quite fluent to me."
"He told me that on his entrance exam, his score in Japanese was only… 44."
"Forty-four points?" Hirata's eyes widened. In a subject like the national language, which Japanese students use daily, a score below 60 was practically unheard of, even with minimal effort.
"It seems his Japanese ability isn't very stable," Hirata concluded, immediately accepting the lie. "Anyone with normal proficiency would get at least a 60. Wow… for him to tell you that, you two must have a really good relationship."
Ayanokouji remained silent, mentally noting that his own fabricated score of 50 in the subject was now officially below average.
"He probably has no issues with daily conversation," Ayanokouji continued, building his narrative. "But he might struggle with nuance. He might know the literal meaning of a word but miss the context or the appropriate level of politeness. Communication styles are different, too. In some cultures, it's more common to be direct, even blunt. Sometimes, certain swear words are used almost like punctuation, as interjections—words like wòcǎo(fuck) or kào(shit)."
He let the idea sink in. "Maybe when he used harsh language, he wasn't actually trying to insult anyone. Maybe it was just his normal way of communicating, just… more intense than we're used to. A cultural difference, perhaps? For various reasons, I think he might have what you'd call a 'communication barrier'."
"A communication barrier?" Hirata repeated, intrigued.
"Actually… I used to be the same way. Even now, I still struggle."
This was Ayanokouji's masterstroke. By claiming to be a fellow sufferer, he could explain his insight without revealing his true abilities. Others would simply think he was more empathetic to "people of the same kind." It also provided the perfect cover for his own unusual behavior and lack of common sense. After all, wasn't it normal for someone with social difficulties to be ignorant of the ways of the world?
Kill two birds with one stone.
"In the past," Ayanokouji said, staring at the floor with a practiced emptiness, "I would rush to express myself and use the wrong words. People would misinterpret what I said. And because I wasn't good at speaking… I could never explain myself properly. Then… I was isolated."
Though Ayanokouji's face was a blank canvas, Hirata felt a wave of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Ayanokouji-kun," he said, his voice full of genuine compassion. "Don't worry. We will definitely become good friends! I'll help you become friends with everyone, too!"
Ayanokouji felt this was an opportune moment to cry, but after a few token sniffs, no tears came. He settled for a defeated nod, as if he were numb to the pain.
"So, you think Ishikawa-kun has a communication barrier?" Hirata mused, his mind racing. "He didn't mean to say those things, but he lacked the vocabulary to find the right words, so he just grabbed for ones that seemed similar but were completely wrong in our context?"
Hirata's eyes lit up with dawning comprehension. "And that means when we listen to him, we should ignore the subjective, offensive language and focus only on the core information he's trying to convey!"
"And not just what he says," Ayanokouji added quietly. "We should also look at what he does. What are the results of his actions on the class, good or bad?"
Under Ayanokouji's subtle guidance, Hirata began to translate Ren's "encrypted" behavior.
"First, he revealed the school's point-based trap," Hirata began, ticking points off on his fingers. "He made everyone understand that our lifestyle depends on our performance, so we wouldn't indulge ourselves into poverty. And while his speech was harsh, he correctly pointed out that most of our class lacks self-discipline. He gave us a necessary shock."
Hirata's expression softened. "Viewed this way, he's made a huge contribution. The old saying is true: 'good medicine is bitter to the taste.' And if his poor Japanese is the cause, then his harshness is completely understandable!"
"I feel like those 'unpleasant' words are more powerful than a gentle warning would have been," Ayanokouji offered.
"I understand all that, but…" Hirata's brow furrowed again. "What about his three disciplinary violations? Why skip class and leave early?" He looked at Ayanokouji expectantly, as if to say: As a fellow sufferer, please explain his actions!
Why do you make things so hard for a guy with a 'communication barrier'? Ayanokouji sighed internally, before pretending to think deeply.
"You could think of it this way," he said slowly. "After Ren-kun berated the whole class, he made himself the class pariah, the one everyone isolates. This is how bullying often starts."
At the word "bullying," the plastic cup in Hirata's hand audibly creaked. "Bullying? No! That will not happen in Class D!"
"Don't worry," Ayanokouji said placatingly. "Ren-kun is very capable. He's using the threat of being bullied as a weapon. He's disguised himself as prey, but anyone who tries to bully him is the real target. He's manipulating the entire class."
"What do you mean?" Hirata asked, confused.
"Think about it. Ren has established himself as the 'bottom line.' Any opposition to him is seen as justified. Conversely, any behavior similar to his will get you labeled as 'another Ishikawa' and targeted by the group. To avoid that, students will subconsciously avoid the two things he's most known for: his arrogance and his rule-breaking."
Hirata's eyes went wide as the pieces clicked into place. A lightbulb went off in his head. "His three violations… he's drawing a red line for the entire class! He's putting a leash on everyone! The number 'three' is perfect—it's not so high that people get complacent, but it leaves room for error so they don't give up. His violations become a kind of grade. Zero is best. One is bad. Two is worse. But the real limit is two, because if you hit three… you become 'Ishikawa'."
"That makes sense," Ayanokouji said, not caring about the truth so long as Hirata accepted the explanation and would finally leave him alone.
But Hirata wasn't finished. "Wait! Remember when Ren-kun bought that information from Chabashira-sensei about the penalties for being late or absent? He saw that before deciding on two absences and one early departure. There has to be a deeper meaning!"
Hirata's eyes gleamed with insight. "What if different violations have different weights? What if he discovered that leaving early is less severe than skipping class? Perhaps two early departures equal one absence. He may have calculated that accumulating infractions equivalent to three full absences triggers some severe consequence. By choosing two absences and one early leave, he put himself right on the edge of that disaster to serve as a warning for the rest of us!"
Ayanokouji just stared. "…Maybe."
"He put himself in danger to protect his classmates!" Hirata declared, his voice filled with emotion. "He's using their dislike of him to keep them away from the red line he's drawn! Some people in our class would absolutely skip more than three times a month. This information is vital!"
"I think so," Ayanokouji mumbled.
"No! It must be this way!" Hirata suddenly grabbed Ayanokouji by the shoulders, his grip surprisingly strong. "Ayanokouji-kun, everything Ren-kun did was for the good of the class! He must love this class dearly. He's just terrible at expressing it, that's all!"
He began to shake Ayanokouji back and forth, his excitement growing. "You have to believe me, Ayanokouji-kun!"
Ayanokouji's head rattled, his teeth chattering. He recalled a book on human biology he'd read earlier. While his own pain tolerance was high, he knew an ordinary person subjected to this much force would be screaming.
So, with a perfectly blank face, he let out a flat, monotone plea. "Ah… Hirata-kun, you're hurting me… Ah, ah, please stop…"
The sound was so bizarrely calm that it instantly shocked Hirata out of his emotional high. He let go as if he'd been burned. A few seconds later, however, his passion returned, now mixed with righteous indignation.
"Ren-kun has sacrificed so much, only to be misunderstood and bullied by the very people he helped… No! I have to protect him! I have to make everyone understand his hard work!"
He turned back to Ayanokouji. "But my analysis alone might not be enough to convince them. Ayanokouji-kun, please, help me anticipate their questions so we can prepare our responses in advance."
It's still not over? Ayanokouji thought, his spirit sinking.
Outwardly, he just nodded. "Okay… okay."
____________________________________________________________________________
Check out my Patreon to access advanced chapters.
patreon.com/UrbanQuill