Morning sunlight spilled through the dormitory curtains, casting faint lines across the walls. Miyamoto Soshi groaned softly into his pillow, not because he was tired, but because waking up meant returning to the chaotic ecosystem known as Class 1-D.
He sat up, stretched, and rolled his shoulders. Muscles flexed beneath skin inked with coiling black tattoos. His ponytail came loose during sleep, so he tied it back neatly before slipping on his rings—one on every finger, each giving him the appearance of a guy who lived inside a back-alley brawl arena.
He knew how he looked.He also knew: appearances in this school mattered.
And today?Today was the day Class 1-D began to self-destruct.
By second period, the class atmosphere had deteriorated into pure slacking.
Students chatted loudly, swapped phone contacts, played mobile games, and wandered the room. A few even napped across desks. Papers remained untouched, textbooks unopened.
And the most shocking part?
Chabashira-sensei did absolutely nothing.
She sat at her desk, unreadable, watching the class burn their own future.
Soshi leaned back in his chair at the far back, watching it all unfold with the boredom of someone who already knew the consequences. This is the start of their downfall. The 100k points… all of it vanishing next month.
He'd seen the anime.Seen the future.Knew exactly who would cry the hardest when their points hit zero.
But he stayed silent.
Ayanokōji, several seats ahead, tapped his pen against his notebook. He looked like someone contemplating the physics behind apathy. He wasn't connecting with anyone—surprise to no one.
Then came the voice of a cold winter breeze.
"You're hopeless."
Horikita had appeared beside his desk, arms crossed.
"You've been here two days and already you avoid forming connections. You'll regret it."
Ayanokōji sighed. "It's not that easy."
Horikita turned away, dismissing him with the ease of someone dismissing a stray cat.
Soshi smirked faintly. Yep. These two really are the discount detective duo of Class D.
Class ended. Chairs screeched. Students stretched lazily.
Kushida pulls Ayanokōji aside
"Kiyotaka-kun! Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Kushida Kikyō bounced over with her radiant smile, her voice bright enough to blind a saint. Ayanokōji blinked, mildly concerned, but followed.
Soshi watched them from across the room. Kushida's body language was immaculate—friendly, inviting, disarming. But her eyes… there were moments when her pupils didn't match her smile.
She wanted information about Horikita.Ayanokōji had none.
Their conversation continued, but Soshi tuned out.
Because his attention had shifted to someone else.
To someone sitting alone, folding her notebook very slowly, as if hoping the world wouldn't notice her existence.
Airi Sakura sat quietly near the middle rows. Pink hair in low twin tails, gradient blue eyes, soft posture shrinking inward.
A girl trying to disappear.
A girl who, in the original story, would one day be targeted, stalked, harassed, and eventually saved by Ayanokōji.
A girl who, much later, would become the lowest scorer and risk being expelled.
A future internet idol hiding behind thick-framed glasses and a timid demeanor.
And Miyamoto Soshi—scary-looking, tattooed, ring-wearing—walked straight toward her.
Students watched from the corners of their eyes.
He stopped right beside her desk.
Airi froze.
Soshi raised a hand.
A few girls gasped softly.
Then—he gently patted Airi's head.
Soft. Slow. Careful.
Airi stiffened, cheeks burning, her entire existence trembling under his touch.
"S-S-Soshi-kun…? W-What…?"
"Go buy something for me."
His voice was calm. Soft, but heavy enough to make nearby boys swallow nervously.
Her eyes widened, panic flickering. Anyone watching would assume she was being pressured by a delinquent.
But Soshi didn't care about appearances.
He cared about something else.
"F-F-Food? Drink? What should I—"
"Anything you want," he said. "Just bring something."
She blinked rapidly.
"A-As in… you trust me to choose…?"
He nodded.
Her voice wilted into a whisper. "I-I can… I can try…"
She scrambled to her feet and half-ran out of the room, clutching her wallet like a lifeline.
The class erupted in whispers.
"Is he bullying her…?"
"She looks terrified…"
"Did he threaten her?"
"Damn, Soshi's scary…"
Soshi ignored them.
She's an idol. She'll be targeted again. And she's too timid to ask for help… so she needs small pushes. Someone noticing her. Someone reaching out before she disappears.
He wasn't the hero.He wasn't Ayanokōji.But he wasn't letting Airi Sakura fade into the background and suffer alone.
He returned to his seat.
Ayanokōji and Kushida briefly glanced his way—then looked away, confused.
Later that afternoon, word spread across the halls:
"Club fair for first-years at 3 PM in the gym!"
Ayanokōji considered the event quietly.
Then he walked next to Horikita.
"Wanna go take a look at clubs?"
Horikita's eyebrow twitched. "Why?"
"You don't have to join. Just watching."
"…If you want me to watch you fail at socializing, then fine."
She walked ahead of him.
Ayanokōji blinked slowly."…Thanks?"
Soshi watched them pass with a faint smirk. They bickered with the rhythm of two people destined to stand side by side yet never admit it.
The gym buzzed with noise.
First-years packed the bleachers, while clubs took turns presenting themselves on stage:
Basketball.Track.Karate.Tennis.Volleyball.
Each club shouted enthusiastically, promising fame, discipline, and achievements.
Soshi leaned against a wall in the back, arms crossed, uninterested in joining anything. Club activities meant obligations, meetings, interactions… all the things he avoided like an allergy.
His tattoos peeked from beneath his shirt collar; students gave him a wide space. Even in a crowded gym, he stood in a personal bubble.
Ayanokōji and Horikita sat near the middle, listening quietly.
More clubs presented.
Then silence spread.
One final presenter remained.
Footsteps echoed.
A presence cut through the gym like a blade through silk.
The student walked onstage, eyes sharp, posture impeccable, aura overwhelming.
Horikita Manabu. Student Council President.
His gaze swept over the first-years, freezing hundreds of students mid-breath.
"I am Horikita Manabu," he began calmly, "president of the student council."
His voice was controlled, powerful.
"The council seeks only exceptional individuals. If you do not believe you can uphold discipline, academic excellence, and personal conduct required—do not apply."
Silence.
Crushing silence.
For the first time all day, nobody dared whisper.
Suzune Horikita, sitting in the bleachers, stared at her brother—her idol, her unreachable standard—with parted lips and trembling eyes.
Soshi observed quietly, arms still crossed. Manabu's presence is absurd. Even I feel like sitting straight.
Manabu concluded his speech, then walked offstage without a single wasted step.
Suzune couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could barely breathe.
It was Ayanokōji who glanced at her with mild concern.
As the fair wound down, three familiar faces appeared beside Ayanokōji.
Sudō: energetic and fiery.Ike: loud and clueless.Yamauchi: somehow even more clueless.
"Yo Ayanokōji!" Sudō grinned. "You thinking of joining a club?"
"Not really."
"Same," Ike declared. "Too much work."
Yamauchi elbowed him. "Let's make a group chat! Exchange contacts!"
Ayanokōji blinked. "Sure."
He added them calmly, accepting their aggressive friendliness with mild resignation.
Horikita quietly slipped away, disappearing from the group like a shadow avoiding daylight.
Soshi watched the scene with mild amusement.
Class D's idiot trio adopting the protagonist…
But he didn't approach.
He blended back.
The way he always did.
After the crowd dispersed, Soshi walked out into the courtyard, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting upward toward the buildings.
He had an objective today.
A very specific one.
Locate every camera on campus.
He didn't trust this school. He didn't trust its freedoms. And above all, he didn't trust a system that monitored students 24/7.
He started by inspecting the exterior walls:
Corners of buildings
Under roof eaves
Above walkway intersections
Near garden entrances
Every time he spotted a lens, he memorized its angle, range, blind spots.
He moved like someone casually sightseeing—no suspicious behavior, no rushed steps—but his eyes scanned everything.
Behind the cafeteria building, he found a gap.
Two cameras faced opposite directions, leaving a thin slice of space in the middle—too narrow for most to notice.
He tested it.
Stepped into the pocket of space.
Clean.
Invisible.
He smiled faintly.
After that, he checked the dormitory halls. The elevator area. The outdoor field perimeter. The library entrance.
He found exactly four blind spots large enough to hide a person.
One near the vending machines behind the gym. One behind the maintenance shed. One between the dorm and club building. And one tiny dead zone beside the pool's filtration pumps.
Good. Useful to know. Very useful.
Students walked around him, glancing nervously at the muscular, tattooed newcomer surveying buildings like a criminal scouting for escape routes.
He ignored them.
Because in a school built on surveillance, manipulation, and control, only a fool ignored the shadows.
And Miyamoto Soshi had no intention of being a fool.