The wind brushed against his face.
The air on the school rooftop felt fresh.
The sky that day was cloudy, though not gloomy—comfortable enough to sit and enjoy the bento he held in his hands.
Makoto Yuki explored the school grounds with a detached methodicalness, familiarizing himself with his surroundings as if mapping out a new territory.
During lunch breaks, he often followed his own path—walking toward places he hadn't visited yet, until eventually there were no new directions left to explore.
That day, his steps led him to a staircase at the far end of the fourth-floor corridor.
Few students seemed to use it.
The door at the top wasn't locked.
Makoto opened it without much thought.
And the moment it swung open, the wide sky greeted him.
The rooftop.
Spacious.
Quiet.
The wind felt good up here.
The sunlight was warm without being harsh.
Makoto stood there for several minutes, looking over the school grounds from a different angle.
The athletic field looked smaller from this height.
The dormitory buildings stood in the distance. Walking paths cut through the green spaces that stretched across the campus.
Then his eyes caught something.
A surveillance camera mounted in the corner of the rooftop.
He observed it for a moment.
But not long after, he noticed something else.
A blind spot.
There was one small area the camera couldn't cover.
Makoto tilted his head slightly.
Was that intentional?
Since that day, the rooftop became one of his default places.
Along with the benches in the garden.
Especially during lunch break, when the field was too crowded or the garden benches were already occupied.
Or in the afternoon, when he had nothing particular to do and the wind from above felt better than the stagnant air inside the corridors.
---
Another day. Lunch break.
Makoto sat with his back against the rooftop railing.
His bento box rested beside him—rice and simple side dishes he had prepared that morning. In his hand was a bottle of tea from a vending machine.
He ate quietly while looking down at the field below.
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Makoto didn't turn around.
The steps were different from those of students.
More measured. Slightly heavier.
The steps of someone accustomed to moving with purpose.
A small clicking sound followed.
A lighter.
Not long after, the smell of cigarette smoke drifted toward him with the wind.
A few seconds passed.
"…Hm? This area is off-limits for students."
Makoto lifted his gaze.
Several meters away stood a woman holding a cigarette.
Sae Chabashira.
Her expression showed a mixture of surprise and mild irritation—like someone who had discovered something unexpected in a place she hadn't anticipated sharing.
The homeroom teacher of Class D studied him carefully, as though evaluating the situation.
Still deciding how to respond.
"Sorry," Makoto said.
"Usually no one comes up here at this time."
"The wind's nice."
Chabashira looked at him for a few seconds longer.
Makoto began to stand, intending to leave.
But her expression shifted slightly.
As if she had decided the situation didn't require that much effort to resolve.
"Well," she finally said, "I don't feel like being too strict today. I came here to relax. Let's just call this an exception."
She exhaled a stream of smoke.
"Enjoy your lunch."
Makoto gave a small bow.
"Thank you, Sensei."
Chabashira walked toward the opposite side of the railing—far enough that they weren't really sharing the same space.
She continued smoking.
Makoto returned to his bento.
They remained on opposite sides of the rooftop in silence.
Not the kind of silence that needed to be filled.
More like two people who had come to the same place for unrelated reasons—and saw no need to change that.
The wind blew gently.
From below, the faint sounds of activity from the sports field drifted upward, though not loud enough to disturb the quiet.
Chabashira finished half her cigarette before speaking again.
"Name and class?"
"Yuki Makoto. Class B."
She exhaled smoke.
"Hoshinomiya is your homeroom teacher."
"Yes."
"What kind of teacher is she?"
Makoto considered the question for a moment.
"She's enthusiastic," he said. "She seems like a teacher who cares about her students. And she presents herself as someone cheerful."
The word seems made one of Chabashira's eyebrows twitch slightly.
She didn't respond immediately.
Several seconds passed before she spoke again.
"That's a generous evaluation."
"I'm only describing what I've observed."
The corner of Chabashira's mouth shifted slightly—almost forming a smile, but stopping just short of it.
"I hear Class B started coordinating as early as the first week."
"That seems to be the case."
"You don't look very interested."
"That's not my intention."
Chabashira glanced at him more carefully now.
"For a student with perfect scores, you don't seem to feel the same responsibility as the others."
Makoto lifted his gaze from his lunch.
(So I'm that well-known already.)
"You know my scores, Sensei?"
"Homeroom reports circulate among teachers."
She extinguished the cigarette in a small portable ashtray she had brought with her—a small detail that suggested this wasn't her first time coming to the rooftop.
"Your results are too consistent," she continued. "Too consistent for someone who, according to Hoshinomiya, is never seen studying."
Makoto picked up his bottle of tea.
"Exams are a personal matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Whether someone studies or not is their own decision," Makoto said after taking a sip. "What matters is the result, not the visible process."
Chabashira watched him silently for a moment.
"A strange student."
"That wasn't my intention."
"You're not bothered?"
"No."
Silence returned for a while.
Then Chabashira spoke again, almost abruptly.
"Class D will probably get zero points this month."
Her tone was flat.
She wasn't asking for sympathy. Nor was she seeking a reaction.
"You're certain you should be telling me that?"
"What difference does it make? You probably already know."
Makoto finished the last of his rice.
"The evaluation system seems designed to punish students who aren't observant during the first month."
Chabashira glanced at him again.
"You understand the system already?"
"Not in detail," Makoto replied. "But enough to understand its direction."
He took another sip of his tea.
"Hoshinomiya-sensei's explanation was actually very clear. And I once asked her about skipping class. Instead of dismissing the question, she considered it seriously before answering."
Chabashira looked at him more sharply now.
"You wanted to see how literal the rules are."
"Yes."
"And your conclusion?"
Makoto set his empty bento box aside.
"It seems the school was designed with deliberate ambiguity," he said calmly. "Students who fail to read between the lines will make mistakes they can't take back."
He drank from his tea again.
"Some might see that negatively. But it's probably part of the curriculum."
Chabashira didn't reply right away.
She looked down at the field below.
"You're not angry about that?"
"Why would I be?"
Makoto watched the same field.
"I enrolled here knowing what kind of school this is. Being angry at a system that was explained from the beginning isn't very productive."
"Most students still get angry."
"Because their expectations don't match reality."
Makoto stood.
He picked up his bento box.
"I didn't come here with expectations like that."
Chabashira watched his back as he walked toward the door.
Then suddenly she asked,
"If not for Class A… why did you enroll here?"
Makoto paused briefly.
"I'm an orphan," he said eventually. "And this school—with all its facilities—is comfortable."
He opened the rooftop door.
"To be honest, I'm here for practical reasons."
"The point system is basically a scholarship."
He stepped through the doorway.
"And three years is a long time."
The door closed.
Chabashira stood alone on the rooftop.
The cigarette in her hand had nearly burned out.
She stared at the closed door for a few seconds before turning back to the field.
"Strange student."
She lit another cigarette.
"But not an unpleasant one."
By the standards of the students she usually dealt with, that was already saying something.
---
Friday.
The rooftop again.
Makoto was already there when the door opened.
He didn't look back.
The footsteps were familiar now.
Chabashira walked to her usual spot.
Click.
The smell of smoke returned with the wind.
"Last time was an exception—"
"I'll pay with points," Makoto said flatly. "So please give me some leeway."
Chabashira looked at him.
"Ten thousand personal points."
Makoto paused for a moment.
That felt like robbery.
Still, his expression remained calm as he paid.
They returned to the quiet of the rooftop.
A few minutes passed.
"Of all places," Chabashira said eventually, "why are you so determined to eat here?"
"I like the atmosphere."
"…."
She didn't argue with that.
She understood the sentiment.
Makoto then asked,
"So I have to pay ten thousand points every time I eat here?"
Chabashira exhaled smoke.
"That's right."
"What if I prepare a bento for you, Sensei?"
She turned to look at him.
"Maybe there could be some flexibility."
"That won't be necessary."
She was used to making transactions with students.
But this was the first time a student had offered a homemade lunchbox as an alternative form of payment.
"My cooking can make people float," Makoto added calmly.
Chabashira studied his expression.
From his completely serious face…
He probably meant it.
"…You."
Makoto took another sip of coffee.
After a moment Chabashira asked again,
"Seen the club fair yet?"
"Yes."
"Anything interesting?"
Makoto thought for a moment.
"Kendo. And archery."
Chabashira seemed slightly surprised.
"Both?"
"They're interesting. That doesn't mean I have to join both."
"You have experience?"
"Kendo."
Makoto looked toward the field.
"I'm familiar with swords."
Chabashira didn't ask further.
The way he said it made it clear the statement wasn't meant as an invitation for more questions.
The wind grew stronger.
A few dry leaves drifted up from the edge of the field.
"You come here often, Sensei?" Makoto asked.
"Fairly often."
"Because no one else comes here?"
She didn't answer.
But the silence that followed was answer enough.
Makoto gave a small nod.
Two people who came to the same place.
For different reasons.
Yet fundamentally the same.
A quiet place.
Good wind.
Nothing that needed explaining.
The bell rang from below.
Makoto stood, picked up his empty coffee can, and walked toward the door.
"Sensei."
Chabashira raised her gaze slightly.
"Thank you for not kicking me out yesterday."
Her expression shifted faintly—not quite a smile, but no longer completely neutral.
"You weren't breaking any rules," she said. "I only told you the area was off-limits. The rule itself isn't that strict. But rules are still rules, so it's my job to warn students."
Makoto nodded.
"Even so."
He opened a small bag and took out a bento box wrapped in cloth.
Makoto held it out toward her.
"For you, Sensei."
Chabashira immediately looked at the box with a firm expression.
"That's not necessary."
Makoto didn't lower his hand.
"Just consider it a thank-you."
"I can't accept that."
Her voice remained flat, but there was a clear refusal in it—almost cold.
Yet Makoto simply stood there with the same stoic expression, still holding out the bento box.
Several seconds passed.
The wind moved softly across the rooftop.
"…."
Chabashira exhaled a short breath.
"Tch. You're going to get me into trouble."
Finally, she took the bento from his hand.
Makoto released it without another word.
"It's a disposable box," he said. "You don't need to return it."
He opened the rooftop door.
Without waiting for a reply, Makoto left.
In the quiet fourth-floor corridor, Makoto walked toward the stairs.
His pace was the same as always.
An interesting teacher.
He stored that observation in the same place as many others—those that didn't require immediate action.
Though this one had a slightly different label.
Not because it was relevant to the school.
Simply because it was interesting.
Inside his jacket pocket, Makoto checked his phone.
His personal points had decreased by ten thousand.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"Expensive…"
End of Chapter 3
---
[Omake: The Taste of a Wild Card]
The faculty office was bathed in the long, orange shadows of the setting sun. Most of the staff had already headed home or to their respective club observations, leaving a rare silence in the room. Sae Chabashira sat at her desk, staring intensely at a bento box wrapped in a simple cloth.
To be honest, her expectations were rock-bottom. To Sae, a high schooler's cooking usually occupied the narrow spectrum between "edible" and "disaster"—perhaps some soggy rice or octopus-shaped sausages at best. However, as she pulled back the lid, the air around her desk seemed to shift.
"What in the world..." she whispered.
The presentation was intimidating. The vegetables were julienned with surgical precision, the grilled salmon possessed a vibrant, glazed hue, and the aroma—even at room temperature—was complex, layered, and unmistakably elegant. This wasn't a student's lunch; it looked like a masterpiece from a high-end kaiseki restaurant that would easily cost five figures in the Ginza district.
Sae lifted a piece of the salmon, her movements shadowed by a hint of hesitation. One bite, and her eyes widened. The savory depth and perfect flake of the fish brought a sudden, overwhelming wave of comfort. For a split second, the crushing weight of Class D simply evaporated.
These ingredients... he must have spent a fortune on high-end organic goods at the Keyaki Mall, Sae thought, her logical mind trying to justify the explosion of flavor. She had no way of knowing that Makoto had simply scavenged the "30% Off" section of the supermarket and applied techniques that bordered on the supernatural.
"Heeeee~? Sae-chan, what's that? That smells incredible! Are you secretly ordering gourmet catering?"
Sae nearly choked. Chie Hoshinomiya had appeared out of thin air, leaning over Sae's shoulder with eyes that scanned the bento box like a predator.
"Chie—no, stay back," Sae tried to close the lid, but Chie's hand was faster.
"Wait! That... that wrapping cloth belongs to my dear Mako-chan!" Chie shrieked, her voice echoing off the office walls. "Why do you have a bento made by Makoto?! He hasn't even made one for his own beautiful, hardworking homeroom teacher yet!"
"He gave it to me as... compensation," Sae replied, trying to maintain her icy composure despite the slight flush on her cheeks from being caught enjoying the food so much.
"Compensation?! You're extorting him, aren't you!?" Chie began to whine, tugging at the sleeve of Sae's blazer like a spoiled child. "Give me a piece! I have to know what my student is feeding my rival!"
Sae let out a weary sigh. To silence the noise, she picked up a small portion and offered it to Chie. As soon as the flavor hit Chie's tongue, her playful, manic energy died instantly. Her face became uncharacteristically serious—almost emotional.
"Sae-chan..." Chie whispered, her eyes glistening. "Starting tomorrow, I'm boycotting the cafeteria. I will crawl to Mako-chan's dorm room and beg until he makes me the same thing. No... I want something even bigger!"
Sae stared blankly ahead, her mind already racing. If Makoto could produce this level of quality, the potential was limitless.
The office door slid open with a soft metallic click. Makoto Yuki stepped inside, carrying a thick stack of Class B's assignment papers. Ichinose had asked him to deliver them because she was busy visiting a classmate who had come down with a sudden fever.
The sight that greeted him was a mess. Hoshinomiya was still pathetically clinging to the edge of Chabashira's blazer, while Chabashira herself was staring into the empty bento box with an expression of deep, philosophical contemplation.
"Class B's assignments," Makoto said curtly, placing the stack on Chie's cluttered desk.
Chie practically teleported to her feet, her eyes sparkling. "Mako-chaaan! You're just in time! Tell Sae-chan that bento was actually meant for me, right? You just got the desks mixed up, didn't you!?"
Makoto glanced at Hoshinomiya-sensei, then shifted his gaze to Chabashira-sensei. "I gave that to Chabashira-sensei as a rental fee for the rooftop."
Chabashira cleared her throat, desperate to reclaim her dignity as the stoic guardian of Class D. She stood up and approached Makoto, her hand reaching into her blazer to pull out her phone. "Yuki Makoto. Regarding that bento... I wish to reimburse you for the cost."
Makoto looked at her with his usual aloof gaze. "I already told you, that isn't necessary."
"No," Sae insisted, her gaze sharpening. "The ingredients you used... I know they weren't cheap. The texture of that salmon, the quality of the rice, even the seasoning. As an adult, I cannot accept such an expensive meal from a student without payment."
Makoto let out a long, heavy sigh—the kind of sigh that suggested he found the entire social construct of "politeness" to be an exhausting chore. "Sensei, those were just standard ingredients from the commercial district supermarket."
Sae froze. "What?"
"It's true that buying the bulk ingredients is expensive. But if you calculate the specific portion you just ate..." Makoto paused, his brain performing a rapid-fire cost analysis. "The raw cost of that meal was approximately 850 points. That includes the spices and the gas used for cooking."
A heavy silence fell over the office. To Sae and Chie, the figure of 850 points sounded utterly absurd. In this school, a mediocre "Premium Lunch Set" at the cafeteria cost between 1,000 to 1,200 points and tasted like cardboard compared to what they had just experienced.
"Eight hundred... and fifty?" Chabashira whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "That's cheaper than the lukewarm sandwiches I buy at the convenience store."
"Quality isn't about the price of the ingredients; it's about how you treat them," Makoto said flatly, his voice carrying a strange, accidental authority—the aura of a master chef.
Seeing both teachers standing there like statues, Makoto turned to leave. However, he stopped at the threshold and looked back over his shoulder.
"If both of you are that desperate to eat it again... just give me the points for the ingredients upfront. I'm in my kitchen every morning anyway; preparing an extra portion or two doesn't cost me much time. But there's a condition."
Chabashira raised an eyebrow. "A condition?"
"Consider these meals my 'rent.' In exchange for the food, you both agree to look the other way when I'm on the rooftop. No fees, no reports, and no lectures. Just silence."
Sae and Chie exchanged a brief, sharp glance. The deal was far too good to pass up.
"Fine. Deal," Chabashira said, her voice unusually quick.
"I'm transferring the points right now!" Chie cheered, already tapping furiously on her screen.
Makoto simply raised a hand in a silent goodbye and walked away. As he navigated the quiet, sterile corridors of the faculty wing, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to check the notifications.
[Transfer received: 20,000 Points - Hoshinomiya Chie]
[Transfer received: 20,000 Points - Chabashira Sae]
Makoto stopped in his tracks, staring at the screen with a hollow expression. They had both paid for a full month in advance without even asking for a menu.
"They really are a handful," he muttered to himself.
He tucked the phone away and stared out at the twilight sky. He had come to this school seeking a quiet, practical life. Now, he was the secret chef for two rival teachers, all within the privacy of his own apartment's kitchen.
At least I won't have to worry about the grocery budget anymore, he thought, as he headed back to the dorms to enjoy his own solitude.