Part 1
May had finally arrived.
Makoto Yuki sat at his desk, a book propped open before him. His fingers flipped the pages with a constant rhythm, but his gaze wasn't truly anchored to the text. For him, reading at a time like this was merely a mechanism to fill the void—a tactical buffer between sitting in silence and waiting for the next instruction. Around him, the atmosphere in Class B was much denser than usual. There was a static energy crawling through the air, a sort of collective, unspoken, yet palpable anticipation.
This tension had originated from the notifications that hit every student's phone earlier that morning. A transfer of 72,000 private points. That number was a message: the first month's evaluation was complete.
Honami Ichinose sat in the neighboring seat. Her notebook was open, but her pen hadn't moved an inch. She stared straight ahead with her back rigid—the posture of someone who had staked everything on a gamble and was now just waiting for the dice to stop rolling. In another row, Kanzaki also appeared more wound up, occasionally adjusting his already perfect seating position.
In stark contrast, Makoto merely turned his pages with a 'Que Sera, Sera' mentality. Whatever happens, happens. His total lack of concern earned him a brief, puzzled frown from Ichinose, who seemed to wonder how anyone could be this relaxed while the class's fate hung in the balance, but she chose to remain silent and returned to her own quiet anxiety.
Part 2
The classroom door slid open with a sharp, mechanical click. Hoshinomiya Chie strolled in, her arms loosely cradling a stack of manila folders and textbooks. Her aura was as breezy and deceptively cheerful as ever, yet as she planted herself at the center of the podium, the atmosphere in the room shifted. There was a new, heavier gravity to her presence.
"Morning, everyone!" she chirped, though her eyes glinted with a knowing, predatory light. "Let's skip the small talk—today, we're peeling back the curtain on your first-month evaluation results."
The restless chatter died instantly. Chie turned to the whiteboard, her marker squeaking rhythmically against the surface as she scrawled the standings of the four classes.
Class A: 940 CP
Class B: 720 CP
Class C: 490 CP
Class D: 0 CP
Silence. The class collectively forgot how to breathe as they stared at the stark reality of those numbers. Chie then turned back, her signature smile still plastered on her face, but she raised a hand and pointed toward the corner of the ceiling.
"See that?" she asked, gesturing to the security camera that everyone had treated as mere classroom decor for the past month. "That's not just for show. From the second you stepped onto this campus, you've been under a microscope. Every whisper during a lecture, every tardiness, even the state of your desks after the final bell... it was all tracked and crunched into the numbers you see on this board."
"What... what exactly does this mean, Sensei?" Kanzaki broke the silence, his voice low and strained. "720 points... meaning we failed to keep 280?"
Chie's finger tapped the 720 with a hollow thwack. "It means that in the eyes of the S-System, you are currently worth 72% of your original potential. On day one, every class started with a clean 1,000 Class Points (CP). Think of it as a test of character you didn't know you were taking. While you were enjoying your 'free' 100,000 private points, the school was busy deducting points for every lapse in discipline, every forgotten textbook, and every moment of idle chatter."
Kanzaki shot a look at Ichinose. She gave a small, slow nod, her shoulders finally dropping as she exhaled a massive, pent-up breath of relief. Their month-long grind—the constant reminders to stay focused and the collective discipline they had enforced—had actually worked. They hadn't bottomed out.
Around the room, the mood shifted. Tight expressions broke into tentative smiles. "Ichinose-san was right," someone whispered, the sound carrying a religious-like devotion. "Thank god we listened to her."
Hoshinomiya-sensei spoke up again, her voice cutting through the rising murmurs. "Now, for the part that most of you haven't quite connected yet." She paused, making sure every ear was open. "Class Points and Private Points are directly tethered. Every month, your CP is converted into your personal allowance at a 100-to-1 ratio. Simply put: the class's collective performance is your personal bank account. Literally."
The room went dead for a heartbeat. Then, the realization hit like a physical weight.
"Wait—our allowance depends on the whole class?!"
"Why the hell didn't they tell us that from the jump?"
"Holy crap, we really avoided a total disaster."
Hoshinomiya raised a hand, and the noise died down instantly. "Which is exactly why the first month is the ultimate wake-up call. And—" she smiled, and this time it actually looked genuine, "—Class B's results make me pretty proud. You've proven you have the restraint to survive."
A wave of positivity washed over the room. People started showering Ichinose with praise, leaving her looking a bit flustered. "It was a team effort," she said, her voice steady but her cheeks slightly flushed.
Amidst the chaos, Ichinose finally relaxed. Makoto, who happened to glance her way, caught her closing her eyes for a split second—a rare glimpse of the heavy burden she'd been carrying alone before she opened them with an expression lighter than he'd ever seen.
Makoto turned his attention back to Hoshinomiya-sensei.
"You're lucky you're in Class B. At least you can still afford a decent meal. Look at Class D? They're at zero. Absolute zero. Assuming they blew through their points last month, they'll be surviving on the free 'bread-and-water' menu at the cafeteria for the next thirty days."
A grim silence followed. Surviving on zero points sounded like a nightmare.
"Zero..." someone repeated under their breath.
"Then again, 100,000 points is a lot," another student chimed in, trying to find a silver lining. "If Class D was smart, they might have enough left over. But if they went on a shopping spree... ugh, I don't even want to imagine."
Makoto listened to the chatter, propping his head up with one hand. His eyes were locked on the 0 under Class D.
'So that's the play. Makes sense now.'
The 'easy life' the school offered at the start was just bait to separate the self-controlled from the impulsive. It was a filter designed to reveal the cracks in one's character.
"The system is rigged that way for the first month." Hoshinomiya snapped her folder shut. "It's the school's way of hammering home a point: every choice you make has a price tag attached, whether you see it or not."
Makoto took it all in, his face as blank and unreadable as ever. It was exactly as he had pegged it on day one.
Kanzaki spoke up again, his analytical mind already moving to the next problem. "Sensei, how did Class A score so high? They didn't even drop 10%." The whole class stared at the 940 CP on the board.
"Ah, that. See, we teachers aren't supposed to hold your hands. But sometimes, it just takes the right 'trigger' to get us to spill the beans. And naturally, that information usually comes with a price."
Chie continued, "Remember when Yuki-kun asked about the cost of skipping class? That led to me offering info for two million points. It seems Class A is packed with 'special' kids too, and their teacher was just as open to making a deal. The only difference is, Class A pulled the trigger on day one while you guys played it safe. Still, keeping 720 points without a cheat sheet? You guys are pretty impressive in your own right~"
Kanzaki fell into a pensive silence.
"It's true... Yuki Makoto's 'reckless' question was what gave us the heads-up. It's what led Ichinose to suggest we play it safe last month," Kanzaki admitted.
('What's with the "reckless" label?') Makoto thought, pointedly ignoring the fact that the entire class was now staring at him.
Hoshinomiya looked his way, a playful glint in her eyes. "So, doesn't that make Yuki-kun the class hero? What do you think, Ichinose?"
Ichinose was caught off guard by the sudden spotlight. "A-ah, yeah, I guess so. It was thanks to Yuki-kun that we all got our guard up about hidden tests."
Hoshinomiya grinned. "Then let's have a big round of applause for Yuki-kun!"
One by one, the students started clapping enthusiastically. All eyes were on him. Makoto just gave Hoshinomiya a 'are you kidding me?' look, which she returned with a playful wink.
"Sensei, I was actually dead serious about skipping class..." Makoto muttered, his toneless voice barely audible over the laughter that followed.
Part 3
Ichinose raised her hand again, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "Sensei, is the school's promise of a 100% career guarantee actually true? And are there specific ways for us to increase our points?"
Hoshinomiya leaned back against the teacher's desk. Her playful vibe was still there, but her eyes held a sharp, serious glint. "It's absolutely true. But listen carefully: the privilege of a 100% career guarantee and exclusive recommendations to top-tier universities is a reward reserved only for the graduates of Class A. That is the finish line you're aiming for if you want a life served on a silver platter."
She held up a finger, emphasizing the point. "It's not that the other classes are left with nothing, but the school won't be rolling out the red carpet for you. As for increasing points? That is the heart of the S-System. It's a dynamic competition. If Class B manages to accumulate more Class Points than Class A, your positions will swap automatically. Class B becomes Class A, and Class A drops down. This continues until the day you graduate."
Kanzaki scowled, clearly displeased with the school's method of evaluating humans like a leaderboard of statistics. "Sensei, about these evaluations... is it really just about attendance and tidiness? It feels too shallow to judge a person's 'worth' based on that alone."
Hoshinomiya didn't answer him directly. Instead, she looked at Makoto, who was resting his head on his hand, looking toward the window. "Yuki-kun, you look like you're about to fall asleep. Do you remember what I told you on the first day?"
Makoto shifted slightly. He didn't look annoyed, just... pulled back from his own thoughts. He closed his book with a quiet click and looked at Kanzaki, then at Ichinose. He saw the genuine stress on their faces.
"On day one... Sensei mentioned that this school loves using real-world simulation terms based on meritocracy," Makoto said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the silent room.
"Think of it like a Performance Review or a Social Credit system. In a company, they don't just care if you're good at your job; they care if you're reliable. If you're late, you're a liability. If you're messy, you're inefficient."
He looked at the '720' on the board, then back to the class. "Take it with a grain of salt, but the administration doesn't see us as students. We're assets. That 100,000 points? That was just a 'probationary salary' based on our projected value. The S-System is a leaderboard that turns human worth into hard data. Class Points are just a metric of how much our 'division' is worth to the corporation."
The room went ice-cold. Makoto's corporate analogy hit way harder than any school-speak ever could.
"Makoto-kun..." Mako Amikura broke the silence, looking at him with a mix of confusion and dread. "How do you even know all this? The way you talk... it's like you understood the rules before the game even started."
Chie Hoshinomiya smiled—the kind of smile she only used when she was really enjoying herself. "Fufufu... Well, that's because Yuki-kun did know, didn't he?"
Kanzaki stared at Makoto, his voice dripping with frustration. "If you saw the system for what it was this whole time, why didn't you say anything? We could have saved way more than 720 points."
Makoto stayed leaned back, turning his head toward the window to dodge the demanding stares. He just watched the clouds drift by, his mind seemingly miles away.
"No one asked..." he muttered, just loud enough for the room to hear.
The class went quiet. No one called him out, but the whispers started up again instantly.
Hoshinomiya chuckled at his short answer and stood up straight. "Anyway, back to Ichinose-chan's question about points. The school has plenty of 'special events' and competitions lined up. You'll be pitted against the other classes to rack up CP."
She tapped her marker on the board. "The first big one is the Mid-term and Final exams. You can earn a maximum of 100 Class Points from those."
A few students groaned. "Only 100? We lost almost 300 in a month!" The gap between how easy it was to lose points and how hard it was to earn them felt suffocating.
"However..." Hoshinomiya slapped a large sheet of paper onto the board—the results of April's last quiz. "As you can see, Class B's average is solid. But, there are a few of you who are teetering on the edge of disaster in certain subjects."
Chie's face went dead serious, her playful mask gone. "This wasn't a big deal for a quiz. But it will be a fatal mistake during Mid-terms. Because this school has zero tolerance for academic failure."
Her voice dropped an octave, punctuating every word. "Anyone who fails or falls below the passing threshold on the Mid-term or Final exams will be expelled on the spot. No appeals. No second chances."
The room collectively froze. Expulsion wasn't a hypothetical anymore; it was a looming shadow.
But amidst the panic, their eyes were drawn to the very top of the list. There, in a row of numbers that looked like they came from a different reality:
Yuki Makoto — Math: 100, English: 100, History: 100, Science: 100, Japanese: 100.
A perfect, flawless sweep. No cracks, no effort. In a system that threatened to dump the weak, Makoto stood there with a score that felt like a middle finger to the school's rules.
"He doesn't even look like he tries..."
"Is that for real? All 100s?"
"Those are cheat-code numbers."
The whispers were frantic. Chie glanced at Makoto, then back at the stunned class. "So, I think you know who to go to for help if you don't want to 'vanish' from this campus early, right?"
Kanzaki looked at the list, then at Makoto. He wasn't just annoyed anymore. He was realizing that the "slacker" in the seat next to Ichinose was the most important variable Class B had..
Part 4
The final bell rang, and the heavy atmosphere in the room dissipated instantly. The looming threat of expulsion didn't vanish, but it shifted into the background as the usual noise of high school life took over. Students began gathering their things, their conversations a mix of nervous energy about the upcoming mid-terms and plans for the afternoon at Keyaki Mall.
At the center of the room, Ichinose Honami was already surrounded. She wasn't leading a meeting; she was just present, nodding and offering a steady smile to anyone who caught her eye. She was the anchor that kept the class from drifting into a panic.
Makoto Yuki, however, had already switched off. He packed his bag with a mechanical efficiency that suggested his mind was already out the door. For him, the school day was a shift to be completed, and he was ready to clock out.
He was halfway to the exit when a voice reached him over the chatter.
"Yuki-kun."
Makoto stopped. He didn't sigh or look annoyed; he simply turned his head. Ichinose had stepped away from her circle of friends and was walking toward him. She looked tired, but her expression was remarkably open.
"Thanks. For day one," she said quietly.
Makoto blinked, his expression neutral. "Day one?"
"The question you asked Hoshinomiya-sensei about the points for skipping," she explained, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "A lot of people thought you were just being difficult or lazy. But that was the specific trigger that made Kanzaki-kun and me realize the school wasn't telling us everything. It's the reason we're still standing as Class B today."
Makoto shifted his bag on his shoulder. He looked at her for a moment, then looked away toward the hallway.
"You're overthinking it," he said, his voice flat but not dismissive. "I wasn't trying to give anyone a 'heads-up.' I just wanted to know if I could buy my way out of a lecture. It was a selfish question, Ichinose-san."
"Maybe," Ichinose replied, not letting his bluntness deter her. "But it had a selfless result. You provided a variable we didn't have. Whether you intended to help the class or not, the fact is that you did."
Makoto looked back at her. He saw the sincerity in her eyes—the kind of earnestness that usually made him want to walk away faster. But he realized that if he kept denying it, she would probably just keep trying to convince him. It was more efficient to just end the transaction.
He let out a short, quiet breath—not a sigh of frustration, but one of surrender to the social moment.
"Alright. I get it," Makoto said, offering a small, almost imperceptible nod. "If it helped, then... you're welcome."
The response was short and lacked any grand gesture, but it was honest. He wasn't playing humble; he was just acknowledging her point so they could both move on.
Ichinose seemed satisfied with that. "See you tomorrow, Yuki-kun."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
Makoto turned and walked out into the quiet corridor. He didn't look back to see if people were watching, nor did he feel any particular surge of pride. He had answered a question, received a thanks, and closed the loop. Now, his only priority was finding a quiet spot to listen to his music before the sun went down.
Behind him, the classroom remained loud and full of life, but Makoto continued down the hall at his own pace, a silent outlier moving through a world of noise.
Part 5
The faculty room was a ghost town. The air smelled of stale coffee and old paperwork. Chie Hoshinomiya slumped in her chair, rubbing her temples. Between the caffeine and the paperwork, her head was throbbing.
On her screen, a file was open. This was the eighteenth time she'd looked at it this week.
Name: Yuki Makoto
Class: 1-B
Status: Orphan. Parents deceased in a car accident at age 7.
Current Legal Guardian: Velvet, W. — Academic. Residing in London, UK.
Chie scrolled to the ability stats. Her eyes narrowed at a string of grades that looked like a cheat code.
Academic: A+
Intelligence: A+
Judgment: A+
Physical: A+
Social Contribution: A+
"...What exactly is this kid?"
She wasn't asking anyone. It was just the exhausted mutter of someone who'd seen the same impossible data too many times. Her gut told her he was a diamond. Makoto Yuki belonged at the top of Class A, the golden boy of the elite. But the higher-ups had dumped him in Class B—the class for kids with 'cracks' in their social or emotional armor.
Was it a prank? Or did the school see something the A+ grades missed?
Honestly? Chie was stoked to have him. But that excitement came with a nagging feeling—like a splinter you can't quite pull out.
She scrolled down to the background. It was written in that cold, clinical style typical of official reports.
Makoto was a bright, cheerful kid... well-liked... then tragedy at age seven...
Chie's hand paused on the trackpad. Then she kept going.
Became quiet after the accident. Bounced between relatives. Entered a boarding school in Arakawa on a scholarship. Remained independent, worked part-time even when underage.
"Reasonable. Doesn't seek out talk, but doesn't avoid it either. Self-sufficient since age ten."
"Good kid," Chie whispered. "Smart. Sane. And—"
She stopped.
Note: Student was frequently spotted feeding stray cats in the park near school. The area eventually became a local gathering spot due to his actions.
"...Cats?"
Chie stared at that line longer than she should have. Among all the perfect, rigid data, the cat thing was the only part that felt real. Spontaneous. Inefficient. There was no point to it, yet he did it anyway.
"Maybe he's just a cat person..."
She scrolled again.
"Socially passive. Goes with the flow. Maintains integrity against bad influences."
"Hmm."
"Lack of enthusiasm was a concern. Possible trauma from the accident."
"Makes sense—"
"However, entering his third year of middle school, Yuki showed a radical shift."
Chie read the next part very slowly.
"His demeanor brightened. Smiled more. Academic performance surged to flawless levels. Physical abilities spiked, far exceeding average athlete standards."
"...Surged?"
"Hard to detect for those who didn't know him, as he remained calm overall."
Chie leaned back. "It's like seeing a Magikarp turn into a Gyarados overnight," she muttered. "But even a Gyarados fits in a category."
Makoto Yuki felt like something that had finished its evolution before anyone even saw it start. He'd gone from an ice block to a bowl of shaved ice—sweeter, easier to deal with, but still freezing at the core.
She scrolled to the end. The name was there.
Guardianship: Change of guardian.
New Guardian: Velvet, W. Senior Academic. London, UK. International
Adoption process: Fourteen days.
Chie blinked. Fourteen days.
"Huh?"
She checked again. Still fourteen days.
"A professor from London just hops over and adopts an orphan in Japan in two weeks?"
Chie snorted. "What kind of strings did this guy pull?"
International adoptions took months. Background checks, home visits, interviews... you're lucky to get it done in six months. And this guy did it in fourteen days.
She opened the social worker's notes.
"New guardian demonstrated extreme financial and academic eligibility. References from international institutions attached (un-verifiable at this level). Yuki Makoto did not object."
"Un-verifiable at this level..." Chie muttered. "What 'level' are we talking about? God level?"
She stared at the screen. A name that appeared once and vanished. An institution with no records. An impossible adoption. And at the very bottom:
"Yuki Makoto did not object."
A fifteen-year-old kid is handed a life-altering decision, and the only note is that he didn't mind.
'Did he pick this,' Chie wondered, 'or just let it happen?'
"The more I read, the less this makes sense." Chie scratched her head. "Are we living in a light novel or something?"
Silence was her only answer. She shut the laptop. Click.
She walked to the window. Outside, the campus lights were glowing. Students were heading home—normal kids doing normal things.
She thought about Makoto. Not the 'file' Makoto, but the kid she saw every day. The one who nailed every answer without trying. The one who asked about the 'price of skipping' on day one, then sat there with a blank face while the class grilled her. The one who greeted the Student Council President like a casual buddy. The one who'd already signed a bento deal with her and Sae.
"Seriously," she muttered, thinking about the lunch he'd made. "That cooking is on another planet."
She pulled a small bottle of sake from her desk and took a swig.
"Well," she told the empty room. "As long as he keeps Ichinose-chan happy and doesn't break my brain—" Her voice jumped an octave. "—I'm gonna use him for all he's worth! Sae-chan got a 'special' student? Who cares. I've got Makoto. As long as Class D stays at the bottom, everything is—"
Chie stopped. She looked left. Right. Empty.
"Ehem."
She coughed, straightened her coat, and tried to look professional again. She took another sip, more dignified this time.
"Age is a bitch," she sighed. "Wish I could stay in high school forever."
Outside, a silhouette with blue hair walked under the lights. Hands in pockets. Earphones in. Moving at his own pace, unfazed by the world.
The most relaxed kid in the building, Chie thought. Like the rules are just a suggestion.
She watched him until he vanished around the corner. Then she killed the lights and left. The file sat there, labeled 'Makoto Yuki Data Profile.' A file that had more holes than answers.
— End of Chapter 7 —
Omake — Kanzaki Ryuji
Part 1
I have always believed that the world operates on a series of predictable, logical constants.
In a school like the Advanced Nurturing High School, these constants are usually easy to identify. There are the ambitious, the followers, the manipulators, and the outliers. To lead a class to the summit of Class A, one must simply account for every variable and solve for the most efficient outcome.
Honami Ichinose is the heart of Class B. I am its structure. Together, we should have been able to map out our entire first month without a single deviation.
And yet, my calculations keep hitting a snag at the desk in the middle row.
Makoto Yuki.
He is a statistical impossibility. On paper, he is the ultimate asset—a student who produces perfect scores with the same casual indifference most people use to blink. But in practice, he is a ghost in the machine. He doesn't seek influence, he doesn't disrupt the peace, and he doesn't offer a single word more than what is strictly necessary for social survival.
Today, after Hoshinomiya-sensei laid out the brutal reality of our point deductions and the looming threat of expulsion, the classroom was a storm of panic. But Yuki? He just closed his book and stared out the window, his expression as unreadable as a blank ledger. It wasn't just calmness. It was a complete and total detachment.
I stayed behind after the final bell, watching him pack his bag. No wasted movements. He moved like a man who was already halfway home before his body even left the chair. I caught up to him in the hallway, near the stairwell where the sunset cast long, jagged shadows across the linoleum.
"Yuki," I called out.
He stopped. He didn't look annoyed. He simply turned his head, those deep, blue eyes meeting mine with a neutral clarity that made me feel like I was standing in front of a mirror.
"Kanzaki-kun," he said. Just my name.
"I wanted to talk to you about the first month," I said, stepping closer. I kept my voice level. "Your question to Sensei on the first day... the one about the 'price' of skipping class. It saved us. Ichinose thinks it was a lucky coincidence. I think you knew. You understood the system was designed to bait us into failure, and yet, you didn't say anything to the class. You let us bleed 280 points."
The silence that followed was heavy. I expected a denial.
Instead, he just looked at me. "I asked the question," Yuki said quietly. "The answer was provided in front of everyone. If the class chose to interpret it as a joke... that isn't a failure of logic on my part."
"That's a cynical way to look at it," I snapped, my composure slipping just a fraction. "If you had stood up and explained the stakes, we would be have more than 720cp today. Why did you stay silent?"
Yuki's mouth opened slightly, as if he were about to say something, perhaps a defense, perhaps a secret, but then it closed just as quickly.
He looked down at his hands, and for a fleeting second, I saw it. It wasn't arrogance. It was a look of profound disappointment. Not necessarily in me, but in the situation itself. As if he had hoped, just for a moment, that things would be different here.
"I am here to attend school, Kanzaki" he said, his voice softer now. "Not to manage the lives of forty strangers. You and Ichinose want to lead? Then lead. But don't expect the person in the back of the room to do the work for you."
Part 2
I felt a surge of frustration, but looking at him now, the anger felt hollow. He looked tired. Not the tired of someone who stayed up late studying, but the tired of someone who had carried something heavy for a long time.
I realized then that I was being too pushy. I was treating him like a tool to be utilized rather than a classmate.
"I... I apologize," I said, taking a step back. "I'm being too aggressive. It's just... this school is different. It's competitive in a way that feels predatory. We need everyone to pull their weight if we're going to survive. I don't need you to be a leader, Yuki. But we need your help. The midterms are coming. There are students who won't survive without a tutor who actually understands the material."
Yuki looked at me again. The disappointment was gone, replaced by a dull, quiet acceptance.
"Nothing," he murmured, almost to himself.
"What?"
"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. He looked out at the fading sunset. "I understand... I'm sorry if my passivity caused unnecessary trouble for the class. It wasn't my intention to be a hindrance."
I blinked. I hadn't expected an apology. "You weren't a hindrance, Yuki. You just weren't... present."
"I'll try to change that," he said, and for the first time, he sounded genuine. "I'll help with the tutoring. I'll provide whatever 'variables' you think I'm holding back. If it helps the class stay together, then I suppose it's worth the effort."
"Really?"
He nodded once, a slow, deliberate movement. "I made a promise to myself once—to protect what's important. I suppose, for now, that includes this class."
I didn't know what he meant by that, and I didn't ask. I felt a strange sense of relief, but also a lingering guilt for cornering him. "Thank you, Yuki. And again, I'm sorry for the way I approached this."
"Don't be," he said, turning back toward the exit. "You're doing what you think is right. That's more than most people can say."
Part 3
I walked away from Kanzaki, the sound of my own footsteps feeling unusually loud in the empty hallway.
Protect what's important.
I had said it before, but the words felt like a weight in my chest. As I walked, I couldn't help but compare the sterile, competitive air of ANHS to the memories of Gekkoukan High. Back then, there was a sense of purpose that had nothing to do with points or rankings.
There is something more... But, here? I don't feel the same like in the past.
I had looked at Kanzaki and felt that familiar pang of disappointment. I had hoped that maybe, in this new life, I could gain something similar...
But Kanzaki was reasonable. He was doing his best to keep forty people from falling apart. And in his eyes, I saw a flicker of the same desperation I had seen in my friends' in the past.
I couldn't say no. Not when someone asked with that much sincerity.
I reached into my bag and touched the notebook. Tomorrow, I would start drawing again. Maybe I'd draw some bread. Or a tart. Something simple.
I had promised Kanzaki I would be more cooperative. I would tutor the others. I would play the role of the "perfect student" that my scores suggested I was.
But as the deep violet of the night sky took over, I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn't doing this for Class A. I was doing it because...