June 1st. Class C.
The air in the classroom held the sweet, stale tang of cheap wine. Homeroom teacher Hoshinomiya Chie was face-down on the podium, her cheek smushed against the wood, her disheveled form a monument to the previous night's festivities. A low hum of student chatter filled the room, entirely unperturbed by the weekly spectacle.
Suddenly, she jerked upright as if zapped, gripping the podium for balance. "Stu-dents!" she rasped, her voice sandpapered by hangover. She blinked blearily at the digital display above the board. "Look! The rankings! Class A, 1082 points! Class B, 956! And us—" She jabbed a triumphant, wobbly finger. "Class C—902 points! We broke 900! We're right on Class B's heels!"
The triumph lasted precisely three seconds. Her face paled, a hand flew to her mouth, and she promptly folded back onto the podium with a groan.
The class erupted. "902! That's a huge jump!"
"It's the midterm results!"
"All thanks to Ichinose-san and her study guides!"
Every gaze, warm and unwavering, settled on Ichinose Honami. She flushed, waving her hands in frantic denial. "No, that's not right! This is everyone's victory! Every single person's hard work—"
She was cut off as Shiraha Chihiro—a petite bolt of energy—launched herself into Ichinose's arms, clinging like a barnacle. "Ichinose! I love you the most! The most, most, most!" she declared, her face buried in Ichinose's blazer.
A wave of affectionate laughter followed as other girls gathered around, creating a cozy, chattering orbit. "It's the best, being in Ichinose-san's class!"
Shiraha nodded vigorously, her voice muffled by fabric. "Mmm! The absolute best!"
Ichinose's flustered protests melted into a soft, genuine smile. She gently patted Shiraha's head. It was true. Despite their unreliable teacher and their demotion to Class C, this place… was full of heart. She looked at the hopeful, determined faces around her. A quiet fire lit within her. I'll reach Class A. I'll take all of you with me.
Class 1-A was a study in contrast. The air was crisp, silent save for the authoritative drone of Mashima-sensei. "Class points: 1082. We maintain our leading position." He announced it with the same gravity as stating a natural law. The class responded with a collective, subdued nod. Excellence was not celebrated; it was expected.
Beneath Sakamoto's silent, omnipresent aura, a subtler hierarchy had solidified. Two distinct poles now existed: the Katsuragi Faction, built on discipline and collective pragmatism, and the Sakayanagi Faction, woven from calculated charm and information networks. A cold, intelligent truce held between them—internal strife was an illogical drain when the goal was to widen the gulf beneath them.
Sakamoto himself operated on a different plane entirely, a solitary satellite indifferent to the gravitational pulls of factional politics.
When the final bell chimed, Sakamoto was a study in efficient motion, his bag packed before the echo faded. His routine exit, however, was intercepted.
A figure appeared in the doorway—a splash of soft pink and warm light against the monochrome precision of Class A.
"Um… Sakamoto-kun? Sorry to disturb you…"
Ichinose Honami.
The ambient sounds of packing and conversation died instantly. The collective focus of the room—a tangible, oppressive force—snapped to the intruder.
Hashimoto Masayoshi's fingers stilled on his chin, his eyes sharpening with instant, hungry curiosity. The Class C idol. Seeking out our anomaly. Fascinating.
Katsuragi Kohei recognized her from brief Student Council crossings. His brow furrowed minutely. What legitimate business could she have here?
Morishita Ai's eyes widened, then narrowed with competitive inspiration. She just… asked him? In front of everyone? Maybe I've been too subtle…
Kamuro Masumi, observing from her seat, felt her usual detachment pricked by a faint, inexplicable chill.
Sakayanagi Arisu merely let a faint, delighted smile play on her lips. How wonderfully disruptive. The first external variable to breach the sanctum.
Ichinose felt the weight of their gazes—polite, analytical, and piercing. The atmosphere was thick with silent assessment, a world away from her class's warm chaos. Her cheeks burned. She was here out of pure, private desperation—a problem only a boy could solve, and in her frantic search for a solution, only one name, enigmatic and capable, had come to mind. With no way to contact him, this public, nerve-wracking approach was her only option.
"Sakamoto-kun, could you… come outside for a moment? There's something I need to ask you…" Ichinose's voice was a strained whisper, a plea wrapped in embarrassment.
Sakamoto paused, his gaze resting calmly on her flustered form. He gave a slight nod. "Very well."
He followed her out, the weight of Class A's collective scrutiny—curious, analytical, speculative—lifting only when the classroom door clicked shut behind them.
Ichinose practically fled down the corridor, not stopping until they were a safe distance away. She let out a shuddering breath, then led him to a secluded alley tucked between school buildings.
"I'm so sorry for ambushing you like this, Sakamoto-kun!" She bowed deeply, her face flushed with mortification.
"There is no need for apology," Sakamoto replied, his tone undisturbed. "What is the nature of your request, Ichinose-san?"
Ichinose took a steadying breath, as if steeling herself for a plunge. "It's… it's a girl in my class. She seems to have… feelings for me. Beyond friendship." The words came out in a rush, her cheeks burning. "This afternoon, she gave me a letter… asking to meet me here after school. I… I don't know how to handle this. I don't want to hurt her, but…"
She trailed off, then clenched her fists, eyes squeezing shut as she forced out the request. "So, I was wondering… if you could… temporarily pretend to be my boyfriend? Just to help her let go gently! Please!"
She bowed again, unable to meet his eyes.
Sakamoto was silent, processing the unconventional appeal.
At that exact moment, soft, hesitant footsteps echoed at the mouth of the alley. Both turned.
Shiraha Chihiro stood there, a letter clutched tightly in her hands, her face a canvas of hopeful shyness that was meant only for Ichinose. But her eyes widened as they landed on the tall, composed boy standing beside her idol. The color drained from her cheeks, replaced by confusion and dawning hurt.
"Ichinose…san? Who… who is this?" Her voice was a fragile thread.
Ichinose's mind went blank, her carefully rehearsed plan evaporating. "Ch-Chihiro! Um, he's…" She floundered, shooting a desperate, panicked look at Sakamoto.
In that critical silence, Sakamoto moved.
He did not step forward to play the part of a boyfriend. He didn't even acknowledge Shiraha directly. Instead, his gaze swept past her, focusing on a point on the ground near the alley entrance.
Then, with a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, he leaned forward. His right hand formed a precise spear-hand, index and middle fingers extended together, and struck downwards with lightning speed.
Tap.
A minute, crystalline sound.
A tiny, forgotten screw, nestled in a crack in the pavement, was flicked away by the pinpoint impact. It spun through the air in a brief, gleaming arc before landing with a soft ping against the corroded base of an old, flickering lamppost just outside the alley.
A connection, loose for who knows how long, was jolted into place.
With a soft pop, the lamppost's bulb—which had been sputtering weakly—flared to life, casting a sudden, steady pool of warm, bright light that cascaded down, perfectly framing Shiraha where she stood.
The light illuminated her utterly bewildered expression, the unopened letter in her hand, and the tears of confusion beginning to well in her eyes.
It was a surreal, inexplicable interruption that shattered the tense script of the scene entirely.
Sakamoto slowly straightened. Only then did he turn his calm attention to Shiraha, now haloed in the unexpected light.
"Light," he said, his voice gentle yet clear, "often provides the clarity the heart seeks."
"Shiranami-san, the feelings you hold are much like this lamp. They require the proper illumination to see their true shape… and their true destination."
"Perhaps more so than requiring a specific recipient."
His words, cryptic yet profound, woven with the magic of the inexplicably fixed light, seeped into the charged atmosphere. The awkward pressure of a confession was displaced by a moment of pure, strange wonder.
Shiraha stood frozen, her impulsive courage cooling under the gentle glow. She looked at the light, then at Ichinose's worried, guilty face in the alley shadows, then back at Sakamoto's serene countenance.
Have I… really thought this through? The question, prompted by his words, bloomed in her mind. If my feelings just become a burden for Ichinose-san…
The feverish urge to confess ebbed, replaced by a quieter, more painful throb of introspection. Her blush remained, but the desperate determination in her eyes softened into uncertainty and thoughtfulness.
Sakamoto offered no further commentary. He gave Ichinose a slight, reassuring nod, then turned and walked away, his footsteps silent on the pavement. He left the alley, the light, and the tangled, delicate feelings to the two girls, granting them the space to find their own resolution in the quiet he left behind.