In the Class 1-D classroom, the air still vibrated with the aftershocks of despair and anger, the chilling 0 seared into every student's consciousness like a brand.
Just a corridor away, the atmosphere in Class 1-A was a study in stark, triumphant contrast.
Their homeroom teacher, Mashima Tomoya—a man typically defined by a stern, unflappable calm—stood on the podium with an expression of unconcealed, fervent pride. He had just finished writing a series of figures on the blackboard in bold, clean strokes:
As of May 1st – Class Point Rankings
Class 1-A: 1000 points
Class 1-C: 910 points
Class 1-B: 820 points
Class 1-D: 0 points
He turned, his finger coming to rest emphatically on the 1000 beside their class designation. His eyes, bright with excitement, swept over the room.
"Students," he began, his voice resonant with emotion, "you have made history. Unprecedented history. Since the founding of Koudo Ikusei High School, no class has ever achieved a one-hundred-percent evaluation in the inaugural monthly assessment. Not a single point deducted. A perfect score. This is a monumental achievement."
The students received his words not with raucous cheers, but with a quiet, collective exhalation of satisfaction. Reserved smiles touched their lips; their eyes shone with a pride that was confident, not celebratory. For them, this was not a surprise but a validation. Having deciphered the core rules within days, they had operated for a month with the precision of a Swiss watch, meticulously avoiding every pitfall. The perfect score was the logical, expected output of their systemic diligence.
Katsuragi Kōhei allowed a steady, solid smile to settle on his face. Totsuka Yahiko's eyes gleamed with quiet vindication. Kamuro Masumi's purple gaze flickered, instinctively seeking a certain figure by the window.
That figure, Sakamoto, was the sole island of absolute stillness amidst the sea of quiet triumph. He sat with his characteristic erect posture, his gaze lifting only briefly to the rankings on the board before returning to a point of serene focus. The "earth-shattering" perfect score and the teacher's effusive praise seemed to pass over him like a breeze, leaving no impression.
Mashima's admiring gaze traveled the room before landing, with particular warmth, on Sakayanagi Arisu in the back row. The silver-haired girl sat with perfect composure, a faint, appropriate smile gracing her features. In Mashima's understanding, it was Sakayanagi who, in the critical first days, had proactively sought him and Sakasuke-sensei of Class C to negotiate and secure crucial intelligence regarding "class points." Her keen initiative and decisive action were, in his view, pivotal to this flawless victory.
"A special mention must be made," Mashima announced, his voice carrying, "for Sakayanagi Arisu. From the very beginning, she demonstrated exceptional foresight in pursuing rule clarification, laying the informational groundwork that gave our class a significant strategic advantage. Her leadership in this regard is commendable and worthy of emulation."
Sakayanagi, named directly, allowed only the briefest pause to register. Her smile didn't waver, but behind her eyes, calculations spun. Under the collective gaze of the class, she rose with elegant grace.
She did not accept the praise directly. Instead, she offered a slight, respectful bow.
"Mashima-sensei flatters me," she said, her voice clear and melodious, filling the silent room. "The acquisition of intelligence and the mastery of rules are never the miracles of a single individual."
Her eyes performed a slow, inclusive sweep of her classmates, her tone imbued with sincere gravity.
"This perfect score is the fruit of a collective endeavor. It was achieved because every member of Class 1-A exercised strict discipline, guarded their words and actions, and upheld our shared standards for an entire month. I merely fulfilled a small, necessary role within that collective effort."
Her words were a masterful performance of humble leadership—redirecting credit to the group while subtly reinforcing her own position at its strategic center. It was the perfect note to strike in a room of elites: acknowledging the system while reminding everyone of the architect.
Her words—a masterful deflection of credit to the collective—were met with warmer glances and nods of approval. The class understood the origins of their advantage, but Sakayanagi's display of humility and a broader perspective perfectly embodied the elite leadership they respected.
Mashima Tomoya nodded, readily accepting her correction. "Sakayanagi-san is absolutely right. My apologies. This glory belongs to every member of Class 1-A! It is your collective discipline that forged this perfect start. I urge you to maintain this momentum, to avoid complacency, and to strive for even greater achievements."
A wave of applause filled the room—not raucous, but firm, confident, and self-affirming.
Sakayanagi took her seat, her gaze subtly drifting to the impassive figure by the window. She felt no surprise that Sakamoto did not rise to claim any credit as the original "source." That was his nature. He was like a deep, silent mountain, drawing all eyes yet remaining untouched by the transient clouds of praise and recognition. This very act of "accomplishing the deed and fading away, his name and merits hidden deep" only served to accentuate his otherness, his quiet transcendence.
She withdrew her gaze, the path forward solidifying in her mind.
The so-called "alliance" with Ryūen had cooled to embers, a tenuous connection ready to be extinguished with a breath. That pact, built on mutual exploitation and deceit, had outlived its usefulness.
Her original strategy—to besiege Sakamoto through external pressure and internal division, to seize the leadership of Class A—had been utterly dismantled. The sequence of that fateful day—the failed surveillance, the humiliating stumble, his calm rescue, and the revelatory text exchange—had catalyzed a profound shift in her perspective.
A new clarity had settled upon her. The true challenge likely did not lie in petty internal power struggles. Sakamoto displayed no interest in vying for dominance; his vision seemed to have already expanded beyond the confines of Class A, toward a wider horizon and more formidable, unknown adversaries. To fixate on him as the opponent was to mistake a distant star for a nearby rival.
Know yourself and know your enemy, and you can fight a hundred battles without peril. To navigate this hyper-competitive school, and perhaps a future on a larger stage, understanding Sakamoto—grasping the architecture of his mind—might be far more valuable than any simplistic notion of "defeating" him. To approach, to observe, to learn at his side… this seemed the only viable path to potentially decipher his core logic, and perhaps, one day, to earn his genuine acknowledgment.
Yet, in this month of constant, subtle interaction—a surface calm over hidden currents—Sakayanagi Arisu found herself in a state of unprecedented internal conflict.
A dangerous, gravitational truth was dawning on her: the more time she spent in Sakamoto's orbit, the more powerfully his particular gravity pulled. His unshakeable composure, the profound stillness he maintained amidst chaos, his capability that manifested with flawless timing, and the pure, goal-oriented focus that stripped away all pretense… these qualities acted like water on stone, silently eroding the proud, certain foundations of her former self.
To subdue Sakamoto.
The objective that had once burned so clearly in her mind now seemed shrouded in a disorienting fog. With a start of chilling self-awareness, she realized the thought now coiled at the heart of her being was not of conquest, but of a quiet, impending capitulation.
The hunter, in studying her prey, had found herself ensnared.