A tense, focused energy had replaced the usual lethargy of Class 2-B. The week of tests was finally over. On this final afternoon, with the last exam booklet collected, the classroom exhaled a collective sigh of exhaustion and frayed nerves.
At the front of the room, Riko Aoyama closed her pen with a soft, definitive click. A serene confidence radiated from her. Beside her, Kaito Sato was already placing his own writing instruments back into their designated case, his movements as precise and untroubled as ever. The tests had been challenging for most, but for these two, they were merely procedural confirmations of known outcomes.
Their focus, however, was on the third point of their triangle. Hikari Tanaka, usually a slumped monument to disengagement, sat upright at her desk, her brow slightly furrowed in rare, post-exam thought. She looked drained, but there was a sharp clarity in her eyes that hadn't been there weeks ago.
As students began to pack up, murmuring about impossible questions, Riko turned in her seat, offering Hikari a smile that held genuine warmth for the first time. "You did well, Tanaka-san. I reviewed the material we covered. You were more than prepared."
Hikari gave a small, tired nod. "Yeah. Thanks."
Kaito, without turning fully, spoke in his usual calm, level tone. "The probability of passing, based on your performance in our sessions, was calculated at 98.7%. The remaining 1.3% was unpredictable variables. They appear to have been negligible." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "We would like to attend your concert. If you pass."
It wasn't effusive praise. It was a statement of fact and a conditional offer. But coming from Kaito, it carried the weight of a solemn promise.
Hikari looked at the back of his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "I'll do my best," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
The following days were an agony of waiting for most. When the results were finally posted on the bulletin board, a crowd gathered, buzzing with anxiety.
At the very top, as immutable as a law of physics: 1. Sato Kaito. A perfect score.
Just below: 2. Aoyama Riko. A near-perfect score.
The expected order. The whispers of admiration for the two pillars began.
But then, as eyes scanned down the list, they snagged on a name far higher than anyone anticipated.
47. Tanaka Hikari.
A stunned silence fell over the cluster of students, followed by a wave of disbelieving murmurs.
"Tanaka-san? In the top 50?"
"That's impossible…"
"Did she… actually study?"
From the edge of the crowd, Riko observed the reactions with a deep, quiet satisfaction. The proof was there, in stark print. Their project had succeeded. She caught Kaito's eye as he turned away from the board, his own task of confirming the data complete.
"Looks like our hard work was worth it, isn't it, Sato-senpai?" Riko said, a note of genuine accomplishment in her voice.
Kaito met her gaze. For a fleeting moment, his icy neutrality seemed to thaw by a single, measured degree. "Yeah," he said. "It was worth it. We even got VIP seat tickets for her concert."
Riko's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I thought you would be too busy with Council work and your own schedule."
Kaito adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, his eyes drifting toward where Hikari was already walking away from the crowd, oblivious to the stir she'd caused. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter. "I can manage my schedule for friends." He gave Riko a slight, almost indiscernible nod. "See you at the concert, Aoyama."
He walked away, leaving Riko standing by the bulletin board.
The word echoed in his wake, joining the one Hikari had given her in the library. Friends.
He had said it so casually, so logically—scheduling for friends—as if it were a simple matter of priority allocation.
But to Riko, it felt like a door, long held shut, clicking open just an inch. She had sought to understand the loners, to map their territory. She hadn't expected to be given a key, and she certainly hadn't expected to be named, so matter-of-factly, within the walls.
She looked from Kaito's retreating back to Hikari's distant figure, and then at the results on the board that bound the three of them together. The unseen results were not just numbers on a page. They were the first visible, undeniable proof of the connection she had only guessed at—and now, somehow, found herself a part of.
(End of Chapter 43)