The cruise ship was a marvel.
After weeks of suffocating classrooms, bitter arguments, and tense exams, stepping onto the polished deck felt surreal. The vast ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending sky and sea into one. For once, there were no bells ringing, no Chabashira-sensei's cold lectures, no whispering rumors about expulsions.
Only calm waves.
Only a fleeting sense of freedom.
But I knew better than to believe in paradise.
The school didn't hand out luxuries without strings attached. If they gave us rest, it was because the storm ahead demanded it.
And storms always came.
Our cabin wasn't small by ship standards, but for four boys, it felt just cozy enough to spark friction.
Yosuke Hirata placed his bag neatly by his bed, smiling as if he were hosting us in his own home. "It's nice, isn't it? After everything we've been through, a few days like this will help everyone recharge."
Koenji flexed in front of the mirror, shirt already off. "Magnificent! The great Koenji Rokusuke requires no such 'recharging.' My body is a temple, a masterpiece maintained by relentless effort! Even this ship pales in comparison to my radiant form!"
I suppressed a sigh. Of course, he'd say something like that.
Ayanokoji, on the other hand, simply placed his things down, calm as ever. He scanned the room once, then sat on his bed with the kind of ease that made him seem invisible. If Hirata was the sun and Koenji the storm, Ayanokoji was a shadow on the wall.
And then there was me. Soshi Miyamoto.
I unpacked quietly, taking the bed by the window. From here, I could see the endless sea whenever I wanted. It suited me — half a step apart, watching the world while others lived loudly within it.
"Looks like we've got a balanced room," Hirata said warmly, oblivious to the clash of personalities. "Let's get along well."
Balanced? I thought. Perhaps in appearance. But one wrong step and this room could be chaos.
The first day passed in a blur of exploration.
The ship was enormous — restaurants, gyms, lounges, even a small theater. Students from all four classes roamed freely, the invisible walls of rivalry momentarily lowered. Laughter and chatter filled the halls, yet beneath it I sensed tension. Like predators circling the same watering hole.
Class B was the most noticeable. Led by Honami Ichinose, they moved as a single flock, cheerful and welcoming. She greeted students from other classes with the same radiant smile, drawing admiration like a magnet.
"Ah, Miyamoto-kun!" she called once, waving when she noticed me observing from the deck railing. "Isn't this ship amazing? We should all enjoy it before the next challenge comes!"
I gave a polite nod, offering no more than a faint smile. Ichinose's charm was genuine — and dangerous. She wasn't naïve; she was building bridges, weaving a web of goodwill across classes.
Class A, meanwhile, carried themselves with pride, even in leisure. Kohei Katsuragi stood tall among them, his serious expression unwavering. Without Sakayanagi's constant presence, his authority went unchallenged. He spoke little, but when he did, his classmates listened.
And Class C?
They were loud, rowdy, and disruptive. Ryuen laughed with his pack of delinquents, shoving others aside in the dining hall, claiming spaces like wolves marking territory. They didn't hide their contempt for rules. Yet behind his grin, Ryuen's eyes were sharp. He wasn't just here to play — he was scouting.
Every class was preparing in their own way.
And I was doing the same.
While others mingled for fun, I observed. Information was the currency that never lost value.
In the lounge, I overheard Class B discussing Ichinose's plan to host a "friendship event" on the second night, gathering volunteers from all classes.
On the deck, I caught whispers from Class A students about Katsuragi drilling them on "discipline" even during vacation. He hadn't said what for, but I could guess.
And from Class C's corner, I learned enough to know Ryuen had no intention of letting anyone rest. "Special test's coming," he told his lackeys. "And when it does, we'll crush the sheep before they even know the wolves are here."
Subtle hints, small details — each piece formed a larger picture.
The school wasn't giving us a vacation. It was giving us time to prepare for war.
Back in our room, the dynamics played out predictably.
Hirata tried to keep harmony, asking about everyone's day, suggesting we explore together tomorrow.
Koenji, naturally, turned every conversation into a soliloquy about his physique or his "magnificent aura."
Ayanokoji stayed quiet, replying only when addressed, his voice calm, his expression unreadable.
And me? I listened.
"…You're quiet, Miyamoto-kun," Hirata said one evening, smiling warmly. "You're always watching, aren't you?"
"Habit," I replied simply.
"Observation!" Koenji roared, striking a pose in the center of the room. "Yes, yes! You study the world as I study the glorious reflection of my muscles. Truly, you must be inspired daily by the magnificence of Koenji!"
I gave him a flat look. "If that helps you sleep at night."
Ayanokoji's lips twitched — not quite a smile, but something close. Hirata laughed awkwardly, trying to smooth things over.
Yet even in these small exchanges, roles became clear. Hirata was the diplomat, Koenji the wild card, Ayanokoji the shadow… and me, the quiet strategist threading information together.
The second night, Ichinose's event took place in the ship's lounge. She framed it as "bonding before the next challenge," but I knew it was more than that.
Students from every class attended. Laughter filled the room as games and casual talks unfolded. Even some from Class A participated, though they remained aloof.
I stood at the edge, observing.
Ichinose's warmth drew many in — even Hirata, who naturally gravitated toward her ideals. Koenji, of course, made a spectacle of arm-wrestling half the room, declaring his dominance after every match.
Ayanokoji lingered at the sidelines, much like me. Our eyes met briefly across the room. Neither of us spoke, but the recognition was there. He knew what I was doing. I knew what he was doing.
Ryuen didn't show. Too clever to walk into Ichinose's net. But his underlings lurked, gathering what they could.
Katsuragi appeared briefly, spoke little, and left early. His stoicism only reinforced his image as Class A's pillar.
And me?
I used the moment to map connections — who gravitated to whom, who avoided whom, where alliances might be forming.
On the third day, an announcement called all students to the ship's main hall.
Chairs filled row by row as teachers and student council members took the stage. Chabashira stood among them, her expression sharp. Nagumo lounged casually, arms crossed.
The room quieted.
"Students," the head instructor began, "your vacation has served its purpose. Rest well, for tomorrow you will face your next special test."
Murmurs spread instantly, the calm atmosphere shattering.
"This test will be unlike the last," the instructor continued. "You will not face it as individuals, nor simply as classes. Instead, you will be divided into groups across class lines. Your intelligence, your leadership, and your ability to cooperate with strangers will all be tested."
A ripple of shock ran through the hall. Divided across classes? That was new.
The instructor's voice was firm. "Details will be revealed tomorrow morning. Until then, prepare yourselves."
The hall buzzed with noise as students left, whispering, speculating, panicking.
But I felt only a familiar stillness.
The sea was calm now. But storms always came.
That night, in our cabin, Hirata voiced what everyone felt.
"A test already…? After everything, I thought we'd have more time."
"Only the weak crave endless breaks," Koenji declared, flexing by the mirror again. "I, Koenji Rokusuke, stand ever ready! No trial can shake my glorious form!"
Ayanokoji said nothing, lying on his bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. But I knew he was calculating.
And me? I sat by the window, staring at the dark horizon.
"We're not here to rest," I said finally. "We're here to be tested. This ship isn't a vacation. It's the calm before the storm."
Hirata looked uneasy, but he nodded slowly. Koenji laughed at my "dramatic phrasing," and Ayanokoji's eyes flicked toward me, unreadable.
The sea outside was endless, still, deceptively peaceful.
But tomorrow, the desert island awaited