The fifth day of Yukimura's study group began like any other—quietly, methodically, with a lingering undertone of exhaustion. After days of repetitive study sessions at the Pallet café, the group decided to change their environment. The café had been unusually crowded lately—likely filled with other students scrambling to review before the upcoming special exam.
So, we ended up at a different café inside Keyaki Mall—modern, minimalist, and slightly quieter than Pallet, though not by much. The scent of roasted beans and steamed milk mingled in the air, accompanied by the faint hum of chattering students and the clicking of mechanical keyboards.
Around the large rectangular table sat our study group: Teruhiko Yukimura, the intellectual and somewhat rigid leader of this particular session; Haruka Hasebe, eternally casual and prone to teasing; Akito Miyake, focused yet visibly tired from balancing archery practice; Mei Yu Wang, the silent observer; Kyosuke Okitani, ever cheerful and light-hearted; Wataru Ijuin, with his usual calm demeanor; Airi Sakura, nervously fiddling with her notebook; An Maezono, quietly reviewing notes; and myself, Sōshi Miyamoto.
Yukimura was already in his element, his pen tapping against his notebook as he distributed liberal arts worksheets across the table.
"Alright, let's begin. Today, we'll focus on liberal arts comprehension—questions that demand not memorization but understanding. Ayanokōji, you first."
Kiyotaka, sitting two seats to my right, blinked with that signature deadpan expression. "Why me?"
"Because you're the quiet one," Yukimura replied dryly. "And quiet people always have hidden depths."
Hasebe chuckled. "Oh, here we go again. Yukimura the philosopher."
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my coffee. "You're not wrong, though. Sometimes the quietest ones are the most dangerous."
That earned me a quick glance from Ayanokōji—just a flicker of acknowledgment before he returned to the paper in front of him. He picked up his pen with mechanical calm and started solving the question Yukimura had prepared. Within seconds, his pen danced across the page, and he placed it back down.
"All done," he said flatly.
Yukimura blinked, then frowned, scanning the paper. "…That's correct. Almost too correct."
Hasebe laughed. "So he's the quiet genius type. We get it."
"Don't flatter me," Ayanokōji muttered, voice indifferent. "I just read the question properly."
The atmosphere was lighthearted for a while after that. We continued studying, with Yukimura occasionally sighing in exasperation whenever someone got distracted. Airi shyly asked questions about sentence interpretation, Miyake patiently explained a formula, and Okitani kept cracking harmless jokes about how he'd rather be playing basketball than memorizing historical dates.
Then, halfway through the session, Haruka Hasebe stood up and stretched. "I'll go get more sugar. Anyone want something?"
"Yeah, grab another coffee for me," Miyake said.
"I'll take one too," I added.
As Hasebe made her way toward the counter, the calm rhythm of the afternoon shattered.
She slipped.
It was sudden, almost comedic at first—her foot caught the edge of a chair leg, and the cup she was holding tilted, spilling a streak of coffee across the floor. But before anyone could move to help, a sharp sound of crushing ceramic echoed through the café.
A black shoe pressed down on the fallen cup.
Everyone froze.
"Ah… what a shame," said a familiar voice, smooth yet laced with quiet menace.
Ryūen Kakeru.
The entire café seemed to dim when he appeared. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze sharp enough to cut through glass. Behind him stood Hiyori Shiina, her gentle expression betraying no emotion, and two other members of Class C, watching with quiet amusement.
Ryūen's eyes scanned the group until they locked onto Yukimura and Ayanokōji. Then, with a smirk, he said, "Tell me, did you two receive my little 'gift'?"
Yukimura frowned. "Gift?"
Ryūen's smile widened. "Don't play dumb. You know what I mean—the message."
Ayanokōji leaned back slightly, face unreadable. "Message?"
"The one that said, 'Who are you?'" Ryūen's tone dropped, sharp enough to draw attention from nearby tables.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Yukimura said, forcing composure.
Ayanokōji mirrored him perfectly. "Neither do I."
Ryūen chuckled. "Cute. Denial suits you both. But let's make it interesting."
He turned slightly to Shiina. "Well, Hiyori? You're good at reading people. Tell me, are they lying?"
Shiina's golden eyes softened as she gazed at them thoughtfully. Her fingers brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hmm… interesting. Their eyes aren't shifting much, but their breathing patterns are slightly uneven. Especially Yukimura-kun's. He seems tense."
I could feel the air thickening. Enough of this.
I stood, stepping forward between Ryūen and Yukimura, placing a hand on Ryūen's shoulder. "Do you have a problem with my subordinate?"
The motion was slow, deliberate. My tone calm, but each word carried a quiet warning.
Ryūen blinked, then tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "Oh? So you're his boss now? That's cute. Sōshi Miyamoto, right?"
"You already know my name. Then you also know I don't like people intimidating my team during study hours."
For a moment, the air between us felt electric—an invisible tension that made everyone around us hold their breath. Ryūen didn't back down, but he didn't push further either. His eyes glinted with amusement.
"Relax, Miyamoto. I'm just making conversation." He stepped back slightly, brushing off his uniform. "I suppose I've overstayed my welcome."
He turned toward Shiina. "We're leaving."
Shiina lingered, however. She looked back at us—particularly at Ayanokōji—with a curious expression before saying softly, "He asked me to come along, but I'm not his spy. I only came because I was requested."
"Then why analyse us?" Yukimura asked coldly.
"I was curious," she said simply, smiling faintly. "Ryūen's been obsessed with finding the 'mastermind' behind Horikita-san. That person… must be very intelligent."
Her eyes darted between Ayanokōji and me. "C-Class is looking for that mastermind. You should be careful."
With that, Shiina walked off toward the counter. When she returned, she was holding a fresh cup of coffee, handing it gently to Hasebe. "The same amount of sugar you used before," she said. "I counted."
Then she left.
For a long moment, nobody spoke. The sound of the café filled the silence once more—clinking cups, soft conversation, distant music. But the atmosphere at our table was heavier than before.
Miyake exhaled. "That guy gives me the creeps."
Hasebe muttered, "Yeah… and that girl too. She's way too observant."
Yukimura rubbed his temples. "We can't let him get into our heads. Let's just focus."
I nodded. "Agreed. Ryūen's the type to test reactions. Don't give him what he wants."
After the tension settled, Ayanokōji shifted topics. "Hasebe, I wanted to ask—what's Satō like outside of class?"
Hasebe blinked, surprised. "Eh? Why are you asking me that?"
"She's been acting… odd lately," Ayanokōji replied, voice flat.
Hasebe grinned. "Oh-ho, are you interested in her?"
Ayanokōji sighed. "No. I just want to understand her behavior."
"Well, if you want to know about Satō, ask Karuizawa," Hasebe said, leaning on her palm. "They're close."
"If I could talk to Karuizawa about that, I wouldn't be asking you," Ayanokōji replied coolly.
"Then… how about Kushida?" she offered, though the name left her lips hesitantly.
"Absolutely not," he said instantly.
Hasebe laughed. "You're hopeless."
Miyake finally stood up, stretching. "I'm going to get ice cream before we head back. Anyone want some?"
Everyone declined, and Hasebe gave him a thumbs-up. "Get the mint flavor! You'll regret it, but it's worth it."
The group dissolved into small chatter after that, though I caught Ayanokōji staring out the café window, lost in thought. There was something unspoken between all of us—an awareness that the line between class alliances and psychological warfare was growing thinner by the day.
Later that night, after returning to the dorms, I received a message from Yukimura about reviewing tomorrow's plans. But before I could reply, I noticed Ayanokōji sitting alone on a bench near the vending machines, his phone pressed to his ear.
"…Yeah, I've gotten closer to Yukimura," he said quietly.
It was Horikita's voice on the other end.
Their conversation was calm, analytical—two strategists sharing notes. Horikita mentioned she'd been cooperating more closely with Hirata lately, mirroring Ayanokōji's growing rapport with Yukimura. Then, her tone shifted, sharper. "There's a strategy meeting tomorrow at 8 PM. Be there."
"Understood," he replied simply.
When the call ended, Ayanokōji stared at his phone for a long moment before another message arrived—this time from Karuizawa.
He opened it, eyes flickering with faint surprise.
'Shiina from Class C is pretty sharp. Be careful around her. She notices things fast.'
He replied:
'I figured as much. Do something for me during the meeting tomorrow. I'll send details later.'
A moment passed.
Then, another message arrived—a cheerful sticker of a small cake with candles and the words "Happy Birthday!"
Ayanokōji stared at it longer than he probably realized. His finger hovered over the delete button, but he didn't press it. Instead, he placed the phone down beside him, eyes distant.
For the first time, he seemed… humanly uncertain.
Maybe even a little bit touched.
The vending machine hummed in the background as he finally whispered to himself, "October twentieth… huh."
He opened Karuizawa's profile and scrolled until he found her listed birthday. Then, almost absently, he memorized it.
A small gesture, but one that spoke volumes in his otherwise emotionless world.