Neither Eriri's tears of joy in Class B nor Akizuki Airi throwing herself into Makoto Nishikado's arms in Class F could compare to the sheer spectacle of what came next.
His laughter tore through the gymnasium like something unhinged.
Every student in the building turned to stare. Classmates, upperclassmen, even the principal at the podium on stage. Thousands of eyes, all locked on the same person.
The same question flickered through every mind: Why are so many people losing it today?
Itou Makoto gaped at the boy whose name was so annoyingly close to his own, muttering under his breath, "What... what's wrong with him?"
Beside him, his buddy Sawanaga Taisuke clicked his tongue. Jealousy dripped from every syllable. "Probably mentally ill. Is that what girls are into now? Guys with screws loose?"
The image of Akizuki Airi throwing her arms around Nishikado was still fresh, and it had set every boy in the class on fire.
Class F had its share of stunners. Ichinose Chizuru, Kitagawa Marin. But when it came to sheer figure, none of them held a candle to Akizuki Airi.
Sawanaga had been glued to her ever since the assembly lines formed, his brain churning out thoughts that wouldn't survive censor board.
Those golden twin tails, bouncing while he... no. He didn't dare finish the fantasy.
And she already belonged to someone else.
"Hey! Taisuke."
Itou Makoto flinched, tugging at Sawanaga's sleeve.
Sawanaga raised an eyebrow. He turned his head, and his gaze collided with Makoto Nishikado's.
Those eyes held nothing. Flat. Empty.
A chill crawled down Sawanaga's spine, and he stumbled back a step before he could stop himself.
An invisible pressure crashed over him. Breathing became a conscious effort.
Nishikado stood over a hundred eighty centimeters tall, towering among the student body, the kind of frame that demanded attention even standing still.
But right now it wasn't his height that froze the air. It was the violence seeping off him like heat from scorched metal.
Sawanaga couldn't even lift his chin to hold eye contact. His voice cracked. "W-what do you want?"
Crack.
The sound split the silence like a gunshot.
Under the stunned gaze of thousands, A dark shape was brutally slapped away, hurtling sideways, slammed into the gymnasium wall, and crumpled to the floor.
In the second-year section, Kasumigaoka Utaha and Akizuki Marina turned instinctively toward the impact.
What greeted them was a severed head, still wide-eyed, still trailing blood.
Sawanaga's.
"AAAAAAAAH!"
Screams erupted from the second-year rows and ripped through the first-years like a shockwave.
The boy who'd been breathing and blinking moments ago now lay in a spreading pool of crimson, a headless body with a ragged stump where his neck had been.
Girls went white, shrieking. Others doubled over, hands clamped over their mouths as their stomachs revolted. The metallic tang of blood flooded the air.
Thousands of students, frozen between silence and pandemonium.
Hiratsuka Shizuka, the homeroom teacher, stared with pupils shrunk to pinpoints.
"Nishikado! What are you doing?!"
The killing itself was horrifying enough. But what truly shook her was the force behind it.
Hiratsuka Shizuka was a former national karate champion. She understood the physics of the human body better than most: no human wrist could generate enough force to slap a man's head clean off his shoulders.
In the entire animal kingdom, maybe a polar bear could pull that off.
Hikigaya Hachiman, watching from the same class, and Eriri and the other players scattered nearby, all felt their stomachs lurch. But none of them were truly surprised.
He actually did it.
Two years together in the Naruto world. They hadn't talked much, but they'd all learned enough about Makoto Nishikado's temperament.
The man who'd just killed Sawanaga Taisuke drew a slow, deep breath, his expression settling into bliss. He looked like Yoshikage Kira the moment his fingers brushed the Mona Lisa's hands.
So this is the ecstasy that power brings. Fascinating.
Ahh~ a near-mint rarity~ hehe~ a rare specimen~
He'd wanted to kill these two since the first day of school, when he'd discovered that Itou Makoto and Sawanaga Taisuke were somehow both in his class.
Two of fiction's most repulsive creeps, breathing the same air as him. The disgust had been immediate and absolute.
Now, finally, the deed was done. It felt like slipping into a fresh pair of underwear on New Year's morning.
Bliss.
Itou Makoto watched his best friend become a headless corpse in the span of a heartbeat. His legs buckled. He hit the floor with a slap.
Nishikado's gaze drifted toward him, slow and unhurried.
Itou's teeth chattered. "D-don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"
Absolute terror turned his body against him. A warm stream ran down his thigh, and the sharp stench of urine spread through the surrounding air.
"Nishikado, sto..."
"So the moment you gain power, you can't wait to use it against the helpless?"
Hiratsuka's shout died in her throat, cut off by another voice. Cold. Furious.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
Nishikado turned.
She'd stepped out of Class B's formation and was walking straight toward him. Fear flickered in her eyes, but disappointment and rage burned brighter.
He raised an eyebrow, tone breezy. "What's the problem?"
He had zero interest in bullying the weak. Even with the power of tyrannical warlord at his disposal, that hadn't changed.
Not out of kindness. He couldn't be bothered.
As the great Mr. Lu Shuren once wrote: "The strong draw their blade against the stronger. The weak draw their blade against the weaker."
Where was the thrill in picking on nobodies?
If you're going to pick a fight, pick one with someone who can fight back.
That said, Nishikado didn't mind taking out the trash.
He just couldn't be bothered to explain himself to this sheltered little flower.
Yukino's disappointment deepened. "The person you are right now is despicable."
She'd started to think his icy exterior hid a warm heart, and had even developed a soft spot for him. Now, her opinion of him had plummeted straight back to rock bottom.
Instead of bristling, Nishikado's smile widened. Something seemed to occur to him, and he asked, almost gently, "So, would you consider yourself strong?"
Yukino blinked. She didn't understand where he was going, but she didn't deny it either.
She'd always seen herself that way. It was obvious from the philosophy behind the Service Club she'd founded in the original story: the strong had an obligation to help the weak.
Noble words. But embedded in them was the assumption that she stood on the stronger side.
Nishikado stopped looking at the trembling, urine-soaked Itou Makoto. He walked toward Yukino, each step deliberate, his voice light and edged with danger.
"You're a Purebred student. Daughter of a real-estate tycoon. Me? I'm a nobody who writes books for a living. By that math, you're the strong one and I'm the weak one. Wouldn't you agree?"
He'd closed to within two meters. His smile sharpened, equal parts amusement and threat.
"So, as the weak one, I'm coming to take on you, the strong one. You shouldn't have any objections, right?"
The students around them, those still frozen in shock and those still retching over the corpse, felt a fresh spike of ice shoot through their spines.
—
Wait.
Was he seriously going to kill Yukinoshita Yukino?
No way...
Hikigaya Hachiman, Eriri, and the other players felt their hearts seize.
They knew the two of them didn't get along. But this... this was going too far.