Nagumo Miyabi's lips curved into a thin, predatory smile as Sakamoto's "bird-watching" testimony settled into the record. He tilted his head, voice dripping with theatrical skepticism.
"Bird-watching. I see." He let the words hang. "The distance from the dormitory balcony to the corridor in question is not insignificant, Secretary Sakamoto. And yet your response time—from 'noticing an anomaly' to physical arrival and intervention—appears rather… exceptional. Wouldn't you agree?"
His tone was silk wrapped around a blade. A seed, planted.
But even as he spoke, a cold, inward laugh echoed in his own mind. Who am I kidding? Questioning Sakamoto's physical capabilities? This was the man who had materialized in a locked bathroom stall to deliver toilet paper like a sacred offering. Sprinting downstairs to break up a fight was, by comparison, utterly mundane.
The seed found barren soil.
Before Sakamoto could respond, Nagumo registered the微妙 expressions around the table. Kanzaki's brow was furrowed—not in suspicion of Sakamoto, but of Nagumo's line of questioning. Horikita Suzune's lips had thinned into a faint frown; she was clearly sensing an agenda. Even Sudo Ken, sullen and resentful, showed no flicker of doubt toward his interceder. The collective subtext was unmistakable: What's so strange about that?
Nagumo's smile tightened. He pivoted smoothly, burying his failed jab under a veneer of procedural redirection.
"Very well. Let us table the matter of alacrity." He cleared his throat, then leaned forward, his next question already loaded and aimed.
"Then, regarding the rumors themselves. I've reviewed the anonymous posts. The content is, as stated, largely absurd. Yet an interesting pattern emerges." His gaze swept the room, a prosecutor presenting a closing argument, before settling back on Sakamoto.
"While other students were subjected to rather vicious, ad hominem attacks… the rumor concerning you is notably gentler. One might even say, contextually plausible."
He paused, letting the implication crystallize.
"'Class A is controlled by Sakamoto.'" He quoted it slowly, savoring each word. "That doesn't sound like baseless slander. After all, here you sit—Student Council Secretary, participant in this arbitration, and, to a nontrivial degree, an influencer of its outcome. It's not unreasonable to wonder if the line between 'rumor subject' and 'rumor source' has blurred."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Kanzaki's expression sharpened. Horikita's gaze flicked between Nagumo and Sakamoto, recalculating. Ayanokoji remained still, but his attention had narrowed to a fine point.
Nagumo leaned back, his smile gracious, his eyes cold. He had drawn blood—not with evidence, but with implication. It was enough.
Sakamoto raised his head slowly. The motion was unhurried, almost ceremonial. His middle finger rose to the bridge of his glasses and pushed upward with elegant finality. The lenses caught the fluorescent light, flooding them with an opaque, glacial gleam.
"A rumor is defined by its lack of foundation," he said, his voice even, uninflected. "Its content may be cruel, absurd, or deceptively 'reasonable.' But without root, it remains hollow. To infer truth from aesthetic fit is to chase echoes, Vice President Nagumo. The sword was never in the water."
He turned, a measured pivot, to address the representatives of both classes. "We have heard both parties' statements. The core dispute remains the attribution of cause and responsibility. Further deliberation on tangential speculation serves no procedural purpose. I recommend we refocus on the incident itself."
Nagumo's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to press further—
"Oh my~"
A light, lilting voice interjected. Hoshinomiya Chie, who had been observing with the detached amusement of a cat watching mice, tilted her head with theatrical curiosity.
"Sakamoto-kun makes such a compelling argument. But as a humble educator, I confess I'm simply fascinated by something else." She propped her chin on her hand, smiling. "You only joined the Student Council recently, yes? And yet here you are, Secretary already, presiding over cross-class arbitrations… President Horikita must think very highly of you~"
The question was wrapped in cotton, but its core was steel.
Sakamoto's expression did not shift. "Hoshinomiya-sensei overestimates my standing. I am a provisional secretary, tasked with basic clerical duties by President Horikita. My presence here is by Vice President Nagumo's directive, for the sole purpose of record-keeping. I hold no adjudicative authority. All rulings remain subject to school regulations and the determination of the designated responsible parties."
With surgical precision, he returned the burden of judgment to its original owner.
Hoshinomiya's smile widened, but she offered no rebuttal. Chabashira Sae observed the exchange in stony silence, her position deliberately opaque.
The representatives from both sides reiterated their positions. The words were slightly different; the substance was unchanged. Class C demanded accountability. Class D denied malicious intent and demanded evidence. The stalemate remained, immovable.
Nagumo surveyed the table—the locked jaws, the guarded eyes, the silent, recording figure beside him who had just neutralized his attack without breaking pace—and felt a cold, coiled satisfaction. The meeting had not gone his way. Not yet.
But the game was far from over. And he still held cards the others hadn't yet seen.
His smile remained. Behind it, something far less pleasant sharpened its claws.
Delay. Obscure. Let suspicion fester. With each passing day, the fracture between C and D would deepen. Ryuuen's objectives would be achieved without Nagumo lifting a finger. And Sakamoto—he cast a sidelong glance at the silent recorder—you who always materialize at the critical moment, whose 'secret techniques' unravel the impossible in seconds—what can you do against the slow, patient grind of time itself? This battle cannot be won with a single, elegant stroke.
The satisfaction was exquisite.
He opened his mouth to declare adjournment.
"Regarding this matter."
The voice was calm. Unhurried. And it cut through Nagumo's momentum like a blade through silk.
Sakamoto rose from his chair. The motion was fluid, inevitable. His fingers found the bridge of his glasses and pushed upward, the lenses catching the light and flaring into opaque shields.
"I believe a resolution can be reached today. There is no need for delay."
The room suspended itself. Breath held. Eyes locked.
Nagumo's smile stiffened, a crack in porcelain. "...Secretary Sakamoto. Are you claiming possession of critical evidence not yet submitted to this body?"
Horikita Suzune and Ayanokoji Kiyotaka exchanged a glance—swift, sharp, loaded with unspoken recalibration. They had suspected an external architect, but Sakamoto's certainty suggested something more: knowledge.
Kanzaki Ryuji's posture tightened, hope and skepticism warring across his features. Shiraha Chihiro stared, wide-eyed. Sudo Ken's jaw hung slack. Even the teachers—Hoshinomiya's lazy curiosity sharpened; Chabashira's glacial composure betrayed the faintest flicker of interest.
Nagumo's fingers, resting on the table, curled inward.
Sakamoto's voice, when it came, was the calm of deep water.
"First: the origin of the rumors."
He did not rush. Precision was its own authority.
"Following the initial appearance of these anonymous posts, I conducted a preliminary tracing of their distribution nodes. The findings indicate that the mass propagation and coordinated targeting did not originate within Class D or Class C."
A pause. The room leaned forward, collectively, involuntarily.
"The source is Class 1-B. Specifically, a coordinated effort by multiple students within that class to fabricate and disseminate this malicious content."
"Class B?!"
The exclamation came from multiple throats simultaneously. Kanzaki's shock. Shiraha's gasp. Even Horikita's carefully maintained composure fractured, her eyes widening.
Nagumo's smile did not break, but it froze. Behind his eyes, something cold and frantic began to claw at the walls of his composure. How? It hasn't even been a day. How has he already—
Sakamoto did not acknowledge the disruption. He continued, inexorable.
"Second: the incident of physical conflict."
Another pause. Deliberate. Weighted.
"I have submitted to the school administration a complete video recording of the event in question—its initiation, escalation, and de-escalation. The footage includes all relevant parties and their actions prior to my intervention."
The silence that followed was not the silence of shock. It was the silence of a room realizing the chessboard has just been overturned.
Sakamoto adjusted his glasses once more.
"Therefore, Vice President Nagumo. Adjournment is procedurally unnecessary. The evidence required for adjudication is already in the school's possession."
He turned, very slightly, to face Nagumo directly.
"I await the administration's determination."
The trap Nagumo had so carefully laid—the patient erosion of trust, the slow poison of delay—lay in ruins at his feet. Sakamoto had not played the game. He had simply, calmly, ended it.
Nagumo's smile remained fixed on his face. It was the only thing still holding it together.
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