The dismissal bell echoed through the halls. Ryuuen Kakeru moved against the tide of students, his path not leading to the dorms but winding toward a different destination. His steps were deliberate, his mind a focused scalpel dissecting the nascent plan to turn Class D's fractures into weapons against Class C.
But first, he needed to confirm a hypothesis.
The leaked midterm exams in Sakamoto's name—a clumsy, broad-spectrum poison. The fragmented intelligence he'd gathered from whispers and observation all converged on a single source: the second-year luminary, Student Council Vice President Nagumo Miyabi. He had the motive, the reach, and, Ryuuen suspected, the petty arrogance for such a move. Ryuuen needed to see the architect's face, to take the measure of the senior who thought he could puppeteer the first-year chaos from the shadows.
He arrived at the administrative building and climbed to the second floor without hesitation. The polished plaque on the door read Student Council Room. He knocked—three sharp, definitive raps.
A beat of silence, then a slightly tight voice from within. "Enter."
Ryuuen pushed the door open.
The room held only one occupant. Golden hair, a languid posture that didn't quite mask a underlying alertness. Nagumo Miyabi sat behind the president's desk like a king on a temporary throne. When he saw it was Ryuuen and not the specter he clearly dreaded, the subtle tension in his shoulders dissolved into a practiced, cynical ease.
"Ryuuen Kakeru of Class 1-B," Nagumo drawled, lacing his fingers together on the desk. "To what do I owe the… pleasure?"
He knew the name. The first-year who had orchestrated an upset in the very first month was a notable entry in his mental ledger.
Ryuuen shut the door and strode to the desk, dispensing with all pretense of formality. His gaze was a direct challenge.
"Vice President Nagumo. A question." His voice was flat, stripped of deference. "The 'past exams' leaked under Sakamoto's name. That was your work."
It wasn't a question.
The smile on Nagumo's face didn't falter, but it grew still, like a painted mask. He hadn't expected such a blunt, uninvited audit. A flicker of intrigue, quickly smothered by annoyance, crossed his eyes.
"Heh~" A soft, dismissive chuckle. "And if it was? They were just old papers. Harmless trivia. What concern is it of yours?"
"Harmless?" Ryuuen's lip curled in a cold smirk. "Your plan failed. Miserably. You underestimated your targets and overestimated your bait. I'm just curious—why would a big-shot vice president bother with such a… clumsy gambit against a first-year?"
The word clumsy struck a nerve. A visible tremor flickered in the depths of Nagumo's eyes. Failed was an understatement. The aftermath had been a personalized hell he was still trying to forget. But he'd rather die than admit that to this arrogant underclassman.
"Clumsy, elegant—results are all that matter in the end," Nagumo deflected, his tone light but his knuckles whitening slightly. "As for targeting Sakamoto? Perhaps I just find it… amusing. Isn't it entertaining to watch the so-called prodigies squirm?" He aimed the barb, trying to probe if Ryuuen shared his jealousy.
Ryuuen was about to fire back when he caught it—a micro-expression. As Nagumo spoke, his eyes darted past Ryuuen's shoulder toward the door. The casual arrogance on his face solidified into a split-second of pure, undiluted dread. His pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Ryuuen's instincts screamed. He whirled around.
The door to the Student Council room, which he had shut firmly behind him, was now open a silent, precise crack.
And framed in the shadow of the doorway stood a tall, impeccably still figure.
The gaze behind the black-framed glasses was preternaturally calm, as if it had been observing the scene for an eternity.
Sakamoto.
When did he get here? How much did he hear?
Ryuuen's brow furrowed for a heartbeat, then smoothed. So what if he'd heard? Secrecy hadn't been the goal. In fact, Sakamoto's reaction was now the most valuable piece of data in the room.
"Speak of the devil," Ryuuen said, turning his body to face the doorway, placing himself between the two. "You caught the show. So, about our Vice President's little framing operation… were you in the loop?"
Sakamoto did not reply immediately. He pushed the door fully open and stepped inside with silent, measured steps. His movements were a study in protocol. He offered a slight, formal bow first to Nagumo. "Vice President Nagumo. Good afternoon."
Then, he turned the same unnervingly placid attention to Ryuuen. "Ryuuen-kun. Good afternoon." He paused, as if carefully selecting his words from a pre-approved lexicon. "I am aware of the rumors. However, slander halts before the discerning ear, and clarity is the refuge of the blameless."
Nagumo felt a familiar, icy knot tighten in his stomach at Sakamoto's arrival. The brief respite was over. He forced his voice into a cold, authoritative register. "Sakamoto. Your presence here is unannounced. President Horikita assigned you no specific duties."
Sakamoto adjusted his glasses, the gesture precise. "Precisely because of my undefined role, I must be proactive. The cataloguing and organization of council archives is a perpetual, detail-oriented task. I am here to offer my assistance." His gaze drifted to the modest pile of unsorted papers on Nagumo's desk. "My timing appears fortuitous."
Nagumo's eye twitched. Assistance. Organization. The words were innocent, but in Sakamoto's vocabulary, they were threats. He could already visualize the horrifying, hyper-efficient, and undoubtedly public spectacle Sakamoto would make of "organizing" a single paperclip.
Ryuuen, however, brushed past the bureaucratic theatre. He took a step closer to Sakamoto, his voice dropping, sharpened to a point. "'Clarity for the blameless.' Fine. Then answer this: the last-minute, comprehensive overhaul of the midterm exam. The one that made those 'past papers' worthless. Was that your doing?"
This was the core of Ryuuen's suspicion. The correction had been too perfect, too surgical, as if the system itself had been commandeered to self-clean.
Sakamoto met his piercing gaze without flinching. The light from the window caught his lenses, flaring them into twin white shields that hid his eyes completely. He said nothing. He merely pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a slow, deliberate motion of his middle finger.
The silence was volumetric, dense with unspoken confirmation.
Ryuuen stared into those reflective panes for a long moment. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across his face. "Heh. I see."
He had his answer. He didn't need the words. The mechanism of the correction mattered less than the fact of its existence—and the implication of influence it carried.
He turned on his heel and strode toward the door. As he passed Sakamoto, he didn't break stride, but let a low, charged comment hang in the air between them. "Trying to crush you… is going to be far more entertaining than I thought."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a sudden, heavy quiet in its wake.
The Student Council room now held only Nagumo and the source of his lingering anxiety. Nagumo looked at Sakamoto's impeccably composed form, then at the door through which the aggressively perceptive Ryuuen had just exited. A fresh wave of irritation, mingled with a deep-seated unease, washed over him. These first-years… they were both disasters in their own right.
Sakamoto, seemingly impervious to the tense atmosphere he curated, gave another slight bow. "Now, Vice President Nagumo. Which documents shall I begin processing?"
His tone was the very model of humble diligence.
Nagumo Miyabi stared at him, feeling the beginnings of a profound, soul-crushing headache pulse behind his temples. The trap he'd set had long ago sprung shut—on himself.
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