Morning sunlight spilled through the dorm windows, breaking through the clouds that had been hanging over Keyaki Mall all week. Our study group had agreed to meet early—just a few hours before the next big meeting—to watch a film together. Yukimura claimed it would help "stimulate mental relaxation," though everyone knew it was just his polite way of saying we needed a break.
Airi, still adjusting her glasses as she shyly scrolled through the film listings, walked beside me. Her voice was quiet but excited."Th-they say this movie's really good, Miyamoto-kun. It's about… friendship between rivals."
"That sounds about right for our group," I said with a small smirk.
She giggled, a soft sound almost drowned by the chatter of the mall crowd. Ayanokōji trailed slightly behind us, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable as ever.
The mall was buzzing with students—many from other classes, killing time before exams tightened their schedules again. Everything felt normal for once, as if the political war between classes had faded into the background. But in this school, "normal" never lasted long.
As we reached the theatre entrance, the automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss. The air conditioning hit immediately, cool and sterile. Movie posters lined the hallway, reflecting dim neon from the concession stand.
That's when we saw them.
"Karuizawa-san? Satō-san?" Airi blinked in surprise.
The two girls turned at the sound of her voice. Satō flinched slightly, clearly not expecting to be recognized, but recovered quickly with a grin.
"Oh, what a coincidence! Ayanokōji-kun, fancy seeing you here!" Satō said, eyes sparkling in that overly bright, practiced way. She moved closer—far too close—looping her arm around his before anyone could react."You're watching this movie too? That's perfect!"
"Coincidence, huh," Ayanokōji murmured under his breath, his tone flat but his eyes quietly calculating.
Karuizawa stood a few steps behind her friend, smiling nervously. "S-sorry about this, Miyamoto-kun, Sakura-san. Satō really wanted to come see this one."
I crossed my arms, amused. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. Happens all the time when you're popular with girls, right, Ayanokōji?"
Airi turned crimson. "M-Miyamoto-kun!"
Ayanokōji exhaled softly, giving me a half-lidded look that seemed to say 'please stop encouraging her'. He then glanced down at Satō's hand still wrapped around his arm. "Satō, could you let go?"
"Huh? Oh—uh—sure!" she said, pretending to be flustered, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her intentions. Even a casual observer could tell this "coincidence" had been planned.
We entered the theatre, found our seats, and settled in. Airi sat to my left, clutching her drink nervously, while Ayanokōji sat to my right, perfectly neutral. Satō had taken a seat in the next row, sneaking glances his way every few minutes.
Halfway through the previews, Airi leaned toward Ayanokōji, whispering, "Um… are you and Satō-san… dating?"
Ayanokōji's response came without hesitation. "No. We're not."
Airi's eyes flicked toward me for a brief second—soft, uncertain, almost expectant.I met her gaze and smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Sakura. He's not the type for those things."
She blushed again and looked away quickly, her hand tightening around her cup.
The movie began—a bittersweet story about trust, competition, and unspoken affection.But even as the screen flickered with emotion, I found myself studying the people around me instead.The way Satō leaned forward every time Ayanokōji moved. The way Airi occasionally glanced at me when she thought I wasn't looking.And Ayanokōji himself, as still as a statue, observing everything while pretending to be detached.
The next evening, the group gathered—not in the classroom, but at a karaoke bar. The idea came from Hirata, who wanted a "relaxed environment" for strategy discussions. It sounded ridiculous at first, but it worked—students were more likely to speak freely with microphones and background music covering their conversations.
The room we rented was large and private. Neon lights glowed softly across the walls, and the air smelled faintly of grape soda and air freshener.Horikita stood near the screen, arms folded, as the others took their seats.
"Alright," she began, voice calm but authoritative. "Before we begin the strategy, I'd like to acknowledge Sudō."
Sudō blinked, almost spilling his drink. "Huh? Me?"
Horikita nodded. "You've improved—not just academically, but in how you've handled conflicts. You've been attending study sessions regularly, and your last mock test results show clear progress. Keep it up."
Sudō scratched the back of his head, grinning awkwardly. "Uh… thanks, I guess."
Karuizawa, lounging casually near the corner, smiled. "See? Even Horikita can praise people. Progress for everyone."
But her expression changed when she turned toward Kushida. Kushida, as usual, was smiling sweetly, helping distribute drinks. "Here, Karuizawa-san. Grape juice, right?"
"Yeah," Karuizawa said shortly, taking it—but her eyes narrowed. "You're being really nice today, Kushida. A little too nice."
The room tensed instantly. Hirata glanced up. "Karuizawa, that's unnecessary—"
But before he could finish, Karuizawa stood up, her gaze sharp. "You know what? I've had enough of the fake act."
She raised her cup—and poured the grape juice directly over Kushida's blazer.
A stunned silence followed. The liquid splattered onto the carpet, the faint scent of artificial grape spreading through the air.
"Karuizawa!" Hirata shouted, standing up. "Apologize right now!"
Kushida, to her credit, didn't flinch. She just smiled faintly, dabbing her uniform with a napkin. "It's alright, Hirata-kun. I must've said something that upset her. No hard feelings."
Her voice was calm, too calm.That perfect composure only made it clearer that something deeper was playing out beneath the surface.
Karuizawa, realizing she might have overstepped, sighed and turned away. "Fine. I'll pay for the cleaning. Happy?"
She placed a few bills on the table, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door. "I need some air."
No one tried to stop her. Not even Ayanokōji.
The karaoke machine hummed softly in the silence that followed, looping an instrumental song no one was listening to. Then, almost imperceptibly, Ayanokōji checked his phone under the table—a brief vibration, a flicker of light. Whatever Karuizawa had done, it wasn't spontaneous.
It was staged.
Later that night, on his way back from the bar, Ayanokōji walked through the quiet paths of the campus. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves. Halfway across the bridge, he noticed someone standing by the railing—Katsuragi.
"Katsuragi-san," he greeted evenly.
Katsuragi turned, his expression tired. "Ayanokōji. Out late as well?"
"Just heading back," he replied. "You seem… troubled."
Katsuragi let out a deep sigh. "A-Class isn't as united as everyone thinks. Sakayanagi's leadership is strong, but it's… suffocating. She plays by her own rules, and the Student Council's pressure doesn't help."
Ayanokōji listened silently as Katsuragi continued, his words heavier with each sentence.
"I respect her intelligence," Katsuragi admitted, "but I can't agree with her methods. Sometimes I wonder if this school rewards deceit more than effort."
"Maybe it does," Ayanokōji said simply. "But that's how this system was built."
Katsuragi looked at him, then nodded faintly. "You're an interesting one, Ayanokōji. Careful—people will notice."
The two continued walking together toward the dorms, their conversation quiet, reflective.But as they reached the entrance, they noticed something unusual—students clustered around the mailboxes, whispering.
"What's going on?" Katsuragi asked.
A first-year student turned to him, holding up a piece of paper pinned to the board. "Someone posted this."
Ayanokōji stepped forward to read it.
"Ichinose Honami may be collecting points illegally."—Ryūen Kakeru
A murmur rippled through the crowd.Moments later, the man himself appeared—Ryūen, flanked by Ishizaki and Komiya, his smirk sharper than ever.And behind him, walking with her usual calm poise, was Ichinose Honami.
"Spreading rumors again, Ryūen?" Ichinose asked softly.
"Rumors? Or revelations?" Ryūen shot back. "People should know the truth, shouldn't they?"
Ichinose crossed her arms, her polite smile unwavering. "Then prove it."
"Oh, I plan to," Ryūen said, stepping closer. "You've been a model student, Ichinose. Too perfect, even. But perfection usually hides something ugly."
Her eyes hardened slightly. "If you're accusing me, I can report my total points and their sources to the school. But I won't explain them to you, or to a crowd."
Ryūen's smile widened. "Why not do it now, here? Let everyone hear."
"I have no reason to justify myself to you," she said, voice calm but firm. "If I've broken a rule, the school will punish me. If not, then your words mean nothing."
The tension between them was electric. For once, even Ryūen seemed momentarily thrown by her composure. His smirk faltered for a split second before returning.
"Tch. Fine. We'll see what the school says."
He turned, signaling his group to leave. Ichinose stayed a moment longer, bowing slightly to the watching students. "Don't worry. I haven't done anything wrong."
Her calm confidence silenced the whispers. The next morning, the official announcement came: "After review, no evidence of point misuse by Ichinose Honami was found."
Later that night, I met Ayanokōji again near the dorm vending machines. He was leaning against the wall, phone in hand, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.
"So," I said, inserting a coin into the machine. "Ryūen lost this round."
He nodded. "He'll try again. He doesn't stop until he gets what he wants."
I handed him a can of coffee. "Neither do we."
He glanced at me, faintly amused. "You sound confident."
"I have to be," I said with a small grin. "Otherwise, who'd believe in us?"
For a moment, there was silence between us—comfortable, understanding.
Then, quietly, Ayanokōji said, "You handled the café incident well. Ryūen didn't expect someone to intervene like that."
I shrugged. "I know"