Class 2-B hummed with the subdued energy of a free period before lunch. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting warm rectangles on the floor.
At the front, Kaito Sato was a portrait of self-contained focus. His textbook was open, but his eyes were distant, reviewing the previous day's library session in his mind. Quadratic equations. Visual translation was effective. Resistance decreased by approximately 40% over the session. Next session: reinforce vertex formula applications. His internal log was calm, analytical.
Directly behind him, Hikari Tanaka lived up to her reputation. Her head was pillowed on her arms, turned toward the window, her breathing slow and even. The struggles of parabolas and vertices were momentarily forgotten in sleep.
In stark contrast, Riko Aoyama's desk was a small hub of activity. She was surrounded by a carefully curated group of classmates who had gravitated toward her polished confidence. Among them were:
· Yumi, the earnest and talkative one who always had the latest harmless gossip.
· Sora, a quiet but observant boy from the literature club.
· Ami, who spoke with dramatic flair and was easily impressed.
· Takumi, a pragmatic boy who respected efficiency.
It was Ami, her eyes wide with theatrical concern, who leaned in and asked, "Aoyama-san, is it really okay? Having to… literaturate the rebel?" She whispered the last part, casting a glance at the sleeping Hikari. "She fights logic itself. Doesn't it give you a headache?"
Riko offered a practiced, graceful smile, about to give a diplomatic answer about duty and challenge.
But Takumi interrupted with a snort. "I'd die of pain if I were you. Just thinking about it stresses me out. You must be superhuman to survive that hell."
Riko's smile softened into something more thoughtful. She gave a slight shake of her head. "It is not as bad as you think. She is… learning. In her own way." She paused, her gaze flickering to Kaito's back, then to Hikari. "I will admit, I cannot fully control my frustration when she deliberately fights against basic logic. I do not know how Sato-senpai handles it with such… neutrality."
It was Yumi who chirped up, eager to share. "Oh, but he can handle it! He's actually really patient with her. Last year, they were in a group project for Modern Japanese. He managed it, got the group an A-plus, and he helped her pass the finals, people said!"
Riko's perfectly composed expression fractured for a second. Her eyes widened slightly. This was new data. Critical data. "A group project?" she asked, her voice carefully measured to hide her shock. "And he helped her pass? I did not think they were… close."
Yumi nodded, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "The rumor was that Tanaka-san's little brother went and asked Sato-senpai for help directly. So he didn't refuse. That's what everyone was saying, anyway."
Riko's mind raced, cross-referencing this with Hoshino Shizuka's words about a 'mistake' and 'trust.' A brother asking for help… that implied a layer of connection, of familiarity beyond the classroom.
"Why did you use 'was saying'?" Riko pressed, her curiosity sharpening. "Are those rumors not current?"
Yumi's expression turned slightly sheepish. "Well… no. Not really. All the big rumors about them—what happened during the festival, the group project stuff—got kind of… closed off? Shizuka-senpai and the Student Council stepped in last year. They said a lot of it was misleading and caused misinformation. They didn't exactly forbid talking, but they made it clear it wasn't appropriate. So people just… stopped. It's all old news now."
Closed off by the Council. Misleading. The pieces clicked together with a silent, profound snap. Hoshino wasn't just guarding a personal secret; she was actively managing a narrative. She had sanitized the public record of Kaito and Hikari's past intersection.
Riko's gaze drifted back to the front of the room. To the solitary king reviewing his notes, and the rebel sleeping soundly behind him, unaware of the conversation. A curated silence surrounded them, enforced by the highest student authority. What was so important that it needed to be hidden behind a wall of official 'misinformation' warnings?
"I see," Riko said finally, her voice returning to its smooth, controlled tone. "Thank you for telling me. It's helpful to understand the… history."
The bell for lunch rang. As the group around her dispersed and Kaito stood to leave for his rooftop sanctuary, Riko remained seated for a moment longer.
The unseen data had just been delivered. Not through official channels or direct observation, but through the faded echoes of old rumors that a princess had tried to erase. And it made the mystery of the two loners, and the fortress of silence protecting them, infinitely more compelling.
(End of Chapter 39)