The world had always seemed like a simple game to Kikyō Kushida. A game where smiles were her weapons, and secrets were her shields.
She knew it since junior high — validation was her oxygen. Every compliment, every admiring gaze, every whispered "Kushida-chan's amazing!" was the sustenance that kept her alive.
But the moment people stopped believing the façade — the moment the first rumor spread that her kindness was an act — everything had crumbled.
In middle school, she had learned to create her own battlefield.
It wasn't strength or intellect that made her survive. It was manipulation. She extended her hands toward those who were unwanted — asocial boys, awkward girls — and smiled through her disgust. Every new friend was an investment. Every confession of their insecurities, a weapon stored for later.
And when they disappointed her, when they tried to outshine her — she struck.Her secrets tore through reputations like invisible daggers.
But such a system had a flaw: fear replaced admiration, and hatred took root where affection once bloomed.
So when she entered the Advanced Nurturing High School, she swore — I'll do it right this time.She would become the idol again. The perfect friend. The girl everyone loved.
And then — she saw her. Suzune Horikita.
That calm, cold girl sitting quietly on the bus on the first day, her sharp eyes piercing through the crowd.Kushida's chest constricted, her fingers tightened around her phone.
Why her? Why is she here?
Because Suzune Horikita wasn't just a new classmate. She was a ghost from the past — the only person who knew about the incident.The incident that shattered her "perfect" middle school life.
That's why peace would never come as long as Horikita existed.
And now, after the sports festival, with all her schemes to crush Horikita through Ryūen having failed, Kushida sat alone in her dorm room, the smile gone, staring at her reflection.
She whispered to herself —
"I can't lose again. I won't lose again. Even if I have to destroy everyone… I'll be loved. I'll be the one they all choose."
She clutched her phone, eyes glinting with that same desperate hunger that once devoured her middle school.And deep inside, something darker stirred —A hatred not just for Horikita… but for Ayanokōji, who had seen through her mask so effortlessly.
The Monday after the festival, the entire school gathered in the gymnasium.The chatter quieted as Nagumo Miyabi stood before the crowd in the pristine white uniform of the Student Council President.
His posture radiated casual arrogance, the confidence of a man who already saw himself as the system's future ruler.
"From today onward," Nagumo declared, his voice ringing through the hall,"the Student Council will take on a new philosophy — meritocracy without limits."
Murmurs filled the hall.
"Until now, this school has provided opportunities for every student to grow. But the truth is simple: the weak hold back the strong. From now on, I intend to eliminate those limits. Performance, influence, and competitiveness will be everything."
He smiled.It was a smile that chilled even those who didn't understand the implications.
Beside him, Manabu Horikita, the former president, stood silently in the corner, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable — perhaps disappointment, perhaps reluctant acknowledgment.
Nagumo's gaze swept across the first-year students, pausing on Ayanokōji for a fraction of a second.
"We'll be watching your progress carefully. Especially you… new talents."
The announcement ended, but the tremors it left behind lingered.The era of quiet, balanced leadership was over. And Nagumo's ruthless meritocratic regime had begun.
Later that afternoon, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka was walking down the path between the gym and the dorms, his phone in hand, when Maya Satō approached him, fidgeting slightly with her hair.
"Ayanokōji-kun! Wait up!"
He stopped, expression neutral. "Satō?"
She smiled nervously. "Umm… after that relay race, you were really amazing. Like, I didn't even realize you were that fast."
"…Thanks," he replied simply.
She hesitated, then pulled out her phone.
"Could we, um, exchange numbers?"
Ayanokōji looked at her quietly for a moment before nodding. "Sure."
As their phones connected, Satō exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for hours.
Then, gathering her courage, she asked,
"Do you… have a girlfriend?"
He blinked once, thinking. "No."
She smiled — a little too brightly.
"That's great! I mean — I just thought you were kind of cool. Like… gentler and more mature than even Hirata."
She laughed awkwardly, cheeks flushed.
"Maybe we could, you know, start off as friends?"
He nodded. "That sounds fine."
Behind him, unseen, Karuizawa Kei watched from afar with narrowed eyes.
Within minutes, word had spread through the girls of Class D — Satō exchanged numbers with Ayanokōji.
By the time he returned to the dormitory, his phone buzzed. It was Karuizawa.
"Hey… I heard Satō talked to you. That true?"
"Yes," Ayanokōji answered casually. "She asked for my number."
"Wow, so it's true. You're becoming quite the ladies' man, huh?"
There was a playful tone in her voice, but also something faintly tight — almost like jealousy hidden under teasing.
"Don't read too much into it," he said. "She just wanted to talk."
"Uh-huh. Well, just remember… girls talk. A lot. Try not to give them too much to talk about."
He could hear the faint pout in her voice before she hung up.
Not long after, as Ayanokōji walked toward the vending machines, a familiar tall figure approached — Katsuragi Kōhei, the stoic strategist of Class A.
"Ayanokōji. Do you have a moment?"
Ayanokōji nodded. "Sure."
Katsuragi's expression was grim. "I wish to speak with you privately. It concerns Sakayanagi."
At the mention of the name, Ayanokōji's eyes narrowed slightly.
They walked down the quiet hallway near the school's library.Katsuragi finally spoke, his voice low.
"I know she spoke with you after the festival. And I don't need to know what she said. But understand this — she doesn't move without purpose."
Ayanokōji regarded him coolly. "You're saying she's dangerous."
"She's worse than dangerous," Katsuragi said. "She enjoys playing with lives. She'll push you, Ayanokōji — not because she hates you, but because she finds you interesting."
Ayanokōji thought back to her words — 'It's been eight years and 243 days.'A faint shadow crossed his face.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said.
Katsuragi gave a curt nod. "Good. Then I'll consider my warning delivered."
As he walked away, Ayanokōji looked out the window, where the setting sun reflected off the school's pristine courtyard.
"Sakayanagi… looks like you're not the only one preparing for war."
The school had been tense ever since the festival, but for Sōshi Miyamoto, today felt almost peaceful.
The room smelled faintly of chips and instant noodles. The sound of game controllers clicking filled the air. On the screen, a battle royale match blazed to life — Teruhiko Yukimura shouting commands, Haruka Hasebe laughing hysterically after accidentally friendly-firing, and Akito Miyake trying to carry the team despite the chaos.
"Yu Wang! Cover me!" I yelled, leaning forward.
"Wait, I'm looting!" Mei Yu Wang shouted back, laughing.
"Again?! You loot more than Yamauchi stares at girls!"
"Hey!" Yamauchi protested from the couch, his mouth full of chips. "That's discrimination!"
"Against perverts, maybe," Sudō shot back with a grin, lounging beside him.
The Three Idiots — Sudō, Ike, and Yamauchi — had come over after dinner, drawn by the promise of snacks and Miyamoto's wide-screen TV.
The room was a battlefield of laughter, half-empty cola bottles, and controllers tangled like snakes.
Airi Sakura sat quietly in the corner, her small smile reflecting in the blue glow of the screen. An Maezono cheered every time someone scored a headshot.
"Yo Miyamoto, your team's cracked," Ike said, eyes wide. "No way you're this good!"
I smirked. "You doubt me, Ike? Watch and learn."
A perfectly timed grenade wipe secured the win, and everyone erupted in cheers.
"Victory royale, baby!" Wataru Ijuin shouted, throwing a fist in the air.
Sudō laughed. "Man, this is way better than that stupid relay. Should've just done this for the festival!"
"Yeah," I chuckled, reclining. "We'd have gotten first place for sure."
For a few hours, the competition, the plotting, the hidden agendas — all of it vanished.
They were just friends — loud, messy, imperfect friends. And for Miyamoto, that was enough.
He looked at them all — the idiots, the gamers, the quiet ones — and smiled faintly.
"If school life's a battlefield," he thought, "then this… this is my safe zone."
Late that night, as the laughter faded and the others left, Miyamoto sat on the edge of his bed, phone glowing dimly in his hand, a single message appeared on Miyamoto's screen.It was from Ayanokōji.
"Enjoying your downtime, Miyamoto?"
Miyamoto smiled faintly.
"Yeah. For now. You?"
"For now," came the reply."But things will get messy soon. Be ready."
Miyamoto set his phone down, looked toward the night sky.