After a while, Mashima Tomoya's low voice finally ceased, bringing the routine explanation of "Key Provisions of the Advanced Nurturing High School" to an end.
His sharp gaze swept over the class one last time, lingering for half a second on the window seat—Sakamoto—before he turned and left the classroom with steady steps.
The door closed softly behind him, as if cutting off some invisible pressure valve.
Instantly, the taut air rippled like water into which a stone had been cast.
Although the Class A elites still maintained basic composure, their bodies visibly relaxed, and whispers began to flow between desks and chairs. However, most people's gazes, as if drawn by a magnet, converged on the window seat at the back of the classroom—Sakamoto.
He had stopped his dazzling rapid writing at some point.
The pen tip rested quietly on the notebook, his right hand maintaining a posture that was extremely relaxed yet full of tension—thumb and forefinger lightly pinching the end of the pen, the other three fingers naturally extended, his elbow elegantly resting on the desk, as if what he had just completed was not a high-speed calculation, but an exquisite sketch.
That composed posture formed a curious contrast with his previous concentration while writing.
Katsuragi Kohei was the first to move.
His robust frame walked steadily to Sakamoto's desk, his hands habitually clasped behind his back, his posture upright, his bald head appearing serious and proper in the sunlight.
His brow was slightly furrowed, his eyes scrutinizing and puzzled, his voice low but not aggressive:
"Sakamoto-kun, what were you writing just now? That question, you seemed to understand something?"
His gaze fell on the notebook under Sakamoto's hand.
Immediately after, Hashimoto Masayoshi also came over with his characteristic sunny smile, nimbly squeezing next to Katsuragi, his eyes sparkling with undisguised curiosity:
"Wow! Sakamoto-kun, that was so cool just now! Interrupting the teacher, then 'I understand'! What exactly did you understand? Tell us quickly! And that notebook, does it hide the secret of the s system?"
He tried to lean in to see the contents of the notebook.
Kamuro Masumi, though still keeping her distance, also looked over with her indifferent purple eyes, her steps unconsciously moving a few paces closer.
Even Kito Hayato in the corner quietly left his seat, standing like a shadow slightly outside the crowd, his gaze, hidden beneath his thick curly hair, fixed intently on Sakamoto and the notebook in his hand.
Sakamoto became the center of the storm.
Facing Katsuragi's serious inquiry, Hashimoto's enthusiastic probing, Kamuro's silent gaze, and Kito Hayato's quiet observation, Sakamoto's expression remained unchanged.
He calmly looked up, his gaze behind his black-rimmed glasses sweeping over the few people who had gathered around, the corner of his mouth seeming to curve into an extremely faint arc.
He did not directly answer Katsuragi's question, nor did he respond to Hashimoto's persistent inquiries.
Under everyone's gaze, he performed an extremely fluid motion: his left hand still pressed firmly on the notebook page, while his right hand elegantly picked up the pen that had just stopped.
Then, under everyone's curious gaze, Sakamoto's left hand moved.
His left hand, with an extremely nimble and precise motion, as if by magic, gently tore off the page filled with content from the notebook!
The movement was gentle, swift, and conveyed an undeniable sense of control.
Next, under Katsuragi's focused, Hashimoto's surprised, Kamuro's puzzled, and Kito Hayato's even more concentrated gazes, Sakamoto's hands began to fold the paper.
His fingers were long and flexible, his movements fluid, without any hesitation or pause.
The paper fluttered, folded, and creased between his fingertips... the speed was so fast that the specific steps were almost imperceptible, yet it carried a strange sense of rhythm and beauty.
A few seconds later, a paper airplane with simple lines and sharp angles lay quietly in Sakamoto's open palm.
The entire class's gaze was focused on this small paper airplane.
It was folded from that mysterious notebook paper, carrying the results of Sakamoto's furious writing just now and the biggest question in everyone's minds.
Sakamoto picked up the paper airplane, his gaze calmly directed at Katsuragi Kohei, his voice clear and gentle:
"Katsuragi-kun, what's important isn't 'what I understood'."
He paused, his gaze sweeping towards Hashimoto, Kamuro, and Kito Hayato, his voice steady and clear,
"Rather, it's what 'we' need to understand: although points are deposited into individual accounts, their value may not belong solely to individuals."
He lightly weighed the paper airplane in his hand, his posture elegant:
"Mashima-sensei's words are true; points are indeed for personal discretion."
His words clearly reached everyone's ears,
"But please note his use of 'inseparable'—individual points are closely linked to the collective's honor and disgrace."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze directed towards the upperclassmen's teaching building outside the window, as if implying something:
"Points are numbers, resources. They can buy anything, but perhaps,"
He withdrew his gaze, looking at the paper airplane in his palm, his fingertips gently stroking the edge of the wing, his tone carrying a hint of benevolent reminder,
"They can also measure some intangible things—such as the value of 'Class A' itself, where we are."
Under Katsuragi's tightly furrowed brow, the confusion in his eyes gradually gave way to contemplation; Hashimoto's smile faded, replaced by serious thought; Kamuro's confusion in her purple eyes seemed deeper, but her investigative intent was also stronger; Kito Hayato's gaze, hidden beneath his curly hair, seemed to brighten.
"As for this,"
Sakamoto held up the paper airplane in his hand, turning it slightly in his fingertips against the light streaming in from the window,
"It carries not an answer, but a reminder."
He smiled faintly, that smile gentle and with a hint of profound meaning:
"Some things, seen with one's own eyes, verified with one's own hands, might be clearer than what is heard."
As his words fell, before everyone had fully processed the meaning of his words, Sakamoto's wrist gave a gentle flick—
That paper airplane, folded from the mysterious notes, as if endowed with life, slid lightly and swiftly from his fingertips!
It did not fly towards anyone.
It traced a low, precise arc, flying directly towards the open window!
The paper airplane elegantly passed through the window frame, glided briefly in the afternoon sun, then precisely adjusted its direction, flying towards the large, clearly categorized trash can below the upperclassmen's teaching building—the building opposite!
"Plop."
With a soft sound, the paper airplane landed steadily inside the opening of the bin marked "Recyclables"!
Sakamoto withdrew his gaze, calmly adding:
"There's no trash can in our new classroom for now, so I had to resolve it this way. My apologies."
This sudden action and explanation stunned everyone! Katsuragi's mouth hung open, Hashimoto's eyes widened, Kamuro unconsciously took half a step forward, and Kito Hayato's gaze tightly followed the trajectory of the paper airplane's disappearance.
Sakamoto, however, no longer paid attention to the paper airplane. He calmly stood up, smoothly tidying the collar and cuffs of his burgundy uniform, every detail meticulously arranged.
Then, he bowed slightly to the few people gathered around his desk—Katsuragi, Hashimoto, Kamuro, and Kito Hayato a little further away—his posture as elegant as a gentleman bidding farewell:
"Excuse me, everyone."
Having said that, without waiting for anyone to react, Sakamoto began to walk.
His steps were still steady and fluid, each one as if measured, his arm swing just right, his shoulders and back straight as a pine. He passed through the gap that automatically opened in the crowd, walking towards the classroom door.
Just as he was about to step out of the classroom door, he seemed to remember something, pausing slightly and turning sideways.
The afternoon sun happened to slant in from the corridor window, gilding his tall figure.
He pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, the lenses precisely reflecting a cold and dazzling stream of light in the sunlight, briefly illuminating the dark brown tear mole under his left eye.
He looked at everyone in the classroom, the corner of his mouth curving into an extremely brief, yet mysteriously charming arc, his voice clear and gentle:
"May all your points be used for 'worthy' purposes."
As his words fell, he no longer lingered, turned, and his figure disappeared into the sun-drenched corridor outside the classroom door.
Leaving Class 1-A in silence.
Katsuragi Kohei stood in place, his brow still tightly furrowed, but the seriousness in his eyes had been replaced by deep contemplation. He unconsciously looked towards the direction of the upperclassmen's building downstairs outside the window.
Hashimoto Masayoshi scratched his head, a smile returning to his face, but with a few more layers of thoughtfulness. He murmured to himself:
"'Worthy' purposes? This guy is really interesting."
Kamuro Masumi stood in place, her purple eyes gazing at the door where Sakamoto had disappeared, a clear expression of "curiosity" appearing on her indifferent face for the first time.
Kito Hayato silently walked to the window, looking at the trash can below the opposite building, his gaze deep beneath his thick curly hair.
And Sakayanagi Arisu remained seated, her fingertips rhythmically tapping the smooth top of her cane.
She watched the direction where Sakamoto had disappeared, the playful curve of her lips deepening.
That paper airplane that flew to the upperclassmen's building downstairs, that reminder about "worthiness," and that elegant and mysterious figure disappearing into the sunlight... this variable named Sakamoto had cast an unpredictable chess piece onto the elite chessboard of Class A.