The fragile rooftop alliance did not yield immediate action. The seeds of suspicion were sown, but the soil of cooperation was thin as gossamer.
Hashimoto Masayoshi returned to Class A, his cynical smile firmly in place. The "alliance" was, for him, a matter of pure convenience—a way to ride the current. He alone could observe Sakamoto up close and conduct a direct probe. As a classmate, he held the initiative in how to interpret—and potentially manipulate—the final "investigative results." He felt no urgency. Instead, he watched with a voyeur's anticipation, curious to see how Sakamoto would react to the insidious frame-up closing in. A part of him even relished the thought of withholding the warning, hoping to witness a more dramatic unraveling.
For now, Sakamoto continued his routine: attending class, reading, practicing his bewildering "secret techniques," appearing, at least to Hashimoto's eyes, utterly oblivious to the conspiracy bearing his name.
Kanzaki Ryūji of Class C maintained his characteristic caution. He was wary of Hashimoto's overtures and regarded Ryūen with the highest degree of suspicion. More concerning than some vague second-year plot was the risk that Ryūen would twist the situation to implicate Class C. His primary objective remained stabilizing his own class and navigating the immediate academic pressures. Joint investigation was acceptable—but only if it didn't compromise his position.
Ryuuen Kakeru was perhaps the most "invested" of the three. He had set himself two clear objectives. First, to verify the authenticity of the exam papers. If they were genuine past tests and question recycling was a real pattern, then this "poisoned bait" might be refined into a weapon—provided it could be monopolized, not shared with every class. Second, to identify the puppeteer. This wasn't out of any desire to aid Sakamoto, but from a fierce, proprietary displeasure. He was the one who would break Sakamoto. He would not tolerate some interloper from the upper years employing cheap tricks against his designated rival.
Yet, all covert scheming was temporarily sidelined by a more pressing, universal concern: an important quiz for each class.
The results, when announced, painted a telling picture.
Class A's performance was predictably stellar, its collective scores a wide gulf above the rest. Sakamoto, unsurprisingly, achieved perfect marks across the board—a silent, towering benchmark that both inspired and intimidated his classmates. Hashimoto glanced from the dazzling scores to Sakamoto's impassive face, noting the utter lack of awareness—or concern—regarding the shadow moving against him.
Class B's results showed marked, collective improvement. While no individual scores rivaled Class A's monsters, the average and median had risen significantly, and the failure rate had plummeted. It was the first tangible fruit of Ryūen's iron-fisted study mandates. Surveying the report, Ryūen allowed himself a grunt of satisfaction. His formula—authoritarian discipline coupled with pragmatic incentive—was proving effective.
Even Class D registered minor progress. The "idiot trio"—Yamauchi, Ike, and Sudō—saw their scores, while still languishing near the pass/fail line, climb from the catastrophic depths of before. It was a relative victory.
"See! The study thing actually worked!" Ike exclaimed, a rare flicker of excitement on his face as he regarded his still-modest score. "Kushida-san's way of explaining is way better than Horikita's!" His gaze drifted appreciatively toward Kushida, who was laughing with a group of girls nearby.
Yamauchi said nothing, but the relief on his face was palpable—he was no longer dead last.
Horikita Suzune observed their results with complex emotions. Her strategy of "persistent pressure" and "leveraging Kushida" had technically succeeded. Yet the credit seemed to belong wholly to Kushida's personal magnetism, not her own efforts. A quiet sense of powerlessness, tinged with faint resentment, settled within her.
This tentative atmosphere of relief and minor triumph, however, was abruptly shattered.
Homeroom teacher Chabashira Sae stepped onto the podium, her expression one of detached severity. Without preamble, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote four heavy, decisive characters on the blackboard:
*First-Year Midterm Examination.*
"The quiz was merely a preliminary assessment." Chabashira Sae's voice cut through the lingering relief like a blade, cold and devoid of inflection. "The upcoming First-Year Midterm Examination is the true focal point. A point I have previously emphasized. Do you recall?"
She paused deliberately, her gaze a slow, merciless sweep across the room, lingering on the faces of those whose scores still skirted the edge of failure.
"Any student who receives a failing grade in any subject on the midterm examination will be subject to mandatory expulsion. This consequence is independent of class points or private points."
A collective, sharp inhalation tore through the classroom.
"E-expulsion?!"
"Fail one subject and you're out?!"
"That's insane!"
The fragile smiles on the faces of Yamauchi, Ike, and Sudō shattered, replaced by a bloodless, gut-churning terror. Their moment of relief over scraping a pass evaporated instantly, supplanted by the visceral threat of being cast out. Expulsion. The word carried a finality that dwarfed the previous month's class-point reset to zero. They had heard the warning, but its reality had never felt so imminent, so personal.
Horikita's gaze instinctively flicked to Ayanokōji beside her. His expression was a placid mask, as if this development were a foregone conclusion, a variable already factored into his calculations.
Then, a thought struck Horikita Suzune with the force of a physical blow.
The exam papers.
Those papers—sold by a second-year senior, purportedly from Sakamoto, purchased for 10,000 private points, and alleged to be last year's actual midterm questions.
Previously, she had viewed them with a mix of suspicion towards Sakamoto's motives and personal humiliation, setting them aside in a haze of conflicted rejection.
But under the brutal, looming shadow of "expulsion," their entire valuation shifted. Catastrophically.
If those papers were authentic… they were no longer a questionable "favor" or a potential "frame-up." They were a lifeline. The only tangible advantage in a suddenly life-or-death academic gauntlet.
Chabashira ignored the rising panic, delivering her final, icy admonition. "Therefore, apply yourselves. Luck is no longer a viable currency."
Around her, students with precarious grades erupted into fresh complaints and fearful murmurs.
But Horikita Suzune's hand clenched into a tight fist on her desk, her knuckles white.
The objective crystallized with brutal clarity. Motive was now irrelevant. Suspicion was a luxury she could not afford.
No matter the source, no matter the intent behind them, she had to leverage every possible tool. She would prevent any expulsions from Class D. And to do that, she would use whatever means were available—including the potentially tainted gift now burning a hole in her conscience.
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