June drifted by, a placid surface over deepening currents. In the Class 1-B classroom, Ryuuen Kakeru lounged in his seat, a predator satisfied with the lay of the land. His plan to weaponize Class D's fractures against Class C was no longer a sketch—it was a loaded mechanism, primed and ready.
What delighted him most were the two unexpected "catalysts" that had fallen perfectly into place. One was the willing collaborator from within Class D, driven by her own venomous agenda. The other… remained in reserve. It was a gift, handed to him on a silver platter.
Victory for Class B was transitioning from possibility to inevitability. Now, he merely had to wait for the "nail" he'd driven into Class D's heart to begin its work.
Class 1-D, Lunchtime.
The room was its usual tapestry of chaotic noise and lethargy. Kushida Kikyo moved through it like a sunbeam, her smile a flawless instrument of connection and comfort. The girl who had unraveled on the windswept shore, exposed before Sakamoto, was nowhere to be seen. She had been meticulously erased.
But the erasure was itself the evidence. Beneath the polished veneer, a corrosive darkness churned. Every glance toward Horikita Suzune, reading silently by the window, was a needle of anxiety. Every whispered mention of Class A's legendary figure was a reminder of a witness she could not control.
Sakamoto… He had seen the rot. His calm was a silent judgment, a potential annihilation waiting to happen. He had to be removed.
Horikita Suzune… She was a living ghost from a past Kushida had burned to the ground. They had attended the same junior high. Horikita might not remember the class-destroying incident Kushida had orchestrated, but Kushida remembered her. Her very existence was a fuse leading directly back to the explosion Kushida had buried. Horikita, too, had to disappear.
To protect her constructed paradise, Kushida would scorch the earth. Even if it meant betraying Class D entirely, her own survival was non-negotiable.
Her investigations had been discreet and efficient. Her social web was vast. She quickly identified the perfect ally: Ryuuen Kakeru of Class 1-B. A predator of similar renown, one who clearly viewed Sakamoto as an obstacle. She approached him, offering a "confession" of mutual interest: the elimination of two shared problems—Sakamoto and Horikita.
Ryuuen's interest was immediate and palpable. Common enemies were the strongest glue. Her additional vendetta against Horikita was a welcome bonus, perfectly dovetailing with his need to destabilize Class D from within.
He made it effortless. He even offered a generous guarantee: even if Class D's points suffered in the crossfire, he would compensate her personally from his substantial private points. Her safety was assured.
Empowered by this alliance and promise, Kushida felt a dark, solid certainty settle within her. The gloves were off.
Ryuuen outlined the first phase: a campaign of carefully crafted rumors within Class D, designed to breed paranoia and distrust, while simultaneously muddying the waters by implicating other classes. The ultimate goal was to create a smokescreen, directing blame toward Class C and creating an opening for Class B.
Kushida found the plan elegant. Not only could she execute it flawlessly, but she could also… improvise. She could weave in threads specifically designed to ensnare Horikita.
And then there was Ryuuen's final, delicious piece of intelligence: Ichinose Honami, Class C's radiant saint, might be hiding a very dark secret of her own.
A cold, serpentine smile touched Kushida's lips when no one was looking.
The operation commenced.
The next morning, a new, toxic atmosphere seeped into Class D. Students huddled in clusters, voices lowered to whispers, faces etched with confusion, curiosity, and a dawning unease. The source was a series of posts that had erupted on their class's anonymous forum overnight.
The content was a bizarre, malicious grab-bag of "revelations":
"Yamauchi Haruki's secret obsession? It's not a girl—it's Sakamoto from Class A!"
"Ike Kanji's late-night 'hobby' isn't gaming. Ask him about his 'special collections.'"
"Sudo Ken's passing grade? Let's just say his eyes wandered further than the textbook."
And, most brazenly:
"Want to know what's behind Kushida Kikyo's perfect smile? The word you're looking for is 'fraud.'"
The rumors were outlandish, yet their precise, personal targeting made them perversely compelling. And they didn't stop at Class D's borders:
"Class A doesn't have leaders. It has a sole proprietor: Sakamoto."
"Ryuuen Kakeru didn't unite Class B. He conquered it. With his fists."
And the centerpiece, the grenade tossed into another class's courtyard:
"Ichinose Honami's halo is made of lies. Ask her what she's really running from."
The classroom hummed with agitated energy. "This is insane! Who would do this?"
"It's obviously someone from another class trying to mess with us!"
"But why drag Kushida-san into it? That's just cruel!"
On cue, Kushida stepped into the center of the storm. Her expression was a masterpiece—wounded yet brave, indignant yet calming. "Everyone, please!" she called out, her voice soft but firm. "Don't give these words any power! This is exactly what they want—to make us doubt each other, to make us look foolish! We can't let them win! We have to trust each other now, more than ever!"
She stood as the bastion of unity, even as the poison she had helped release began to work its way through the class's veins.
A flicker of 'hurt' crossed her features as her eyes scanned the malicious words about herself, but it was quickly mastered into an expression of resilient determination. "I'm fine, really! This is exactly why we mustn't fight among ourselves. We need to come together even more strongly!"
The class's other pillar of stability, Hirata Yousuke, swiftly moved to reinforce her. His voice was a soothing, reasonable counterpoint to the digital hysteria. "Kushida-san is absolutely correct. These are anonymous provocations with zero evidence. The best response is to dismiss them and not give them an audience. Our energy is better spent on our collective goals."
Under the dual calming influence of their two most visible 'leaders,' the visible agitation in Class D settled into a tense, brittle quiet. On the surface, order was restored. But the rumors, insidious and specific, had done their work—tiny seeds of doubt and curiosity planted in fertile soil, waiting to sprout.
During lunch, Kushida slipped away on a fabricated errand. In a deserted stairwell, she brought her phone to her ear, her voice a tight, hushed whisper. "Ryuuen. The forum posts. Why is there one targeting me? This wasn't part of the arrangement."
Ryuuen Kakeru's chuckle from the other end was low and devoid of warmth. "Heh. A little misdirection. It makes the source murkier. That line about you is toothless—it actually makes you look more like a victim, doesn't it? Better cover." His tone hardened, leaving no room for debate. "Stick to the plan. The priority is getting Class D to chew on this gossip."
Kushida was silent for a beat. "...Understood."
The moment the call disconnected, the performative distress melted from her face like wax. In its place was an expression of cold, focused calculus. The mask was off. The architect was back at her drawing board.