The sun had yet to rise high and the soft early winter light filtered through rows of trees, slipping into the windows of Class 1-D. Inside, rows of light-colored wooden desks and chairs stood in neat lines, each one perfectly aligned like obedient soldiers awaiting the call to march.
The air smelled faintly of wood, of paper, and of the chill radiating from the windowpanes. It was a perfectly ordinary school morning, like countless others except for Gotou Hitori.
The moment the school gate came into view, her legs began to stiffen. She gripped the strap of her backpack tightly, lips pressed together, eyes wide and glistening as if she were about to walk into a televised drama audition, where every line could be a matter of life and death.
"Today... I'm going to do it."
She whispered to herself with such seriousness that even a nearby group of sparrows stopped chirping.
She had prepared all evening physically and mentally. She'd stood in front of the mirror for thirty minutes, practicing expressions she believed looked "natural": a small smile with no teeth, nodding at a moderate pace and especially a quick glance that wasn't evasive. She even memorized a few basic conversation phrases, as if preparing for an English speaking test: "Good morning!" and "It's so cold today!"
Since that first performance at Starry and the drama-like scene from last night Gotou Hitori, also known as Bocchi, was entering the new school day with a completely foreign energy. Determined not to be a shadow anymore. Determined to interact with others like a normal person. Determined... not to die from embarrassment.
"I survived that disastrous performance. A boy bandaged my knee. This is clearly the start of a romance anime...!"
She told herself that as she stepped into Class 1-D, eyes sparkling with resolve. But the moment she saw the familiar rows of desks, that resolve crumbled like a paper tower in the wind.
The scene before her was too familiar: her seat in the back row by the window, where soft sunlight caught the floating dust like shimmering glitter. And right behind her desk... was the desk of Sakamaki Izayoi.
Fate really had a sense of humor.
Hitori lowered her head and tiptoed to her seat as if trying not to disturb even the molecules in the air. Her footsteps were so light that a cat might have mistaken them for a breeze. She sat down, carefully pulling out her chair one inch at a time, holding her breath like she was defusing a bomb. Done. Success. No one noticed. She had blended in just as planned...
"You're up early, Hitori."
A voice behind her, calm and tinged with gentle teasing.
She froze. Her back went ramrod straight. Her hands, halfway through unzipping her bag, stopped midair as if frozen in time. Slowly, very slowly she turned around.
Izayoi was setting down his bag, his hair slightly messy like he had just woken up. A faint smile played on his lips, as if he was perfectly familiar with everything including her awkwardness. The soft morning light brushed his face, making his hair glow subtly. His eyes, sharp and bright... looked more terrifying than a midterm exam.
"Uh... I... couldn't sleep".
Hitori stammered, eyes drifting upward as if searching for an emergency exit in the ceiling. Her bangs hung over one side of her face like a life-saving curtain.
"Did you have an interesting dream?"
Izayoi tilted his head curiously.
"N...Not exactly... I dreamt my guitar turned into a giant octopus... and it made me solo at its birthday party. But every time I messed up, it threw cake in my face..."
Izayoi was silent for a few seconds before nodding like a professor analyzing a senior thesis.
"Sounds like a textbook case of social pressure and stage fright. Pretty accurate. Want to try shock therapy?"
"...Shock therapy?" Hitori echoed, as if he had just whispered an ancient incantation.
"Yeah. Like... performing in front of the whole school during the morning assembly."
Hitori turned to stone. Her eyes went wide, mouth open like a goldfish that forgot how to breathe.
"Just kidding."
Izayoi grinned and shrugged.
"You did great. Yesterday I could see how hard you tried. Even if... you were inside a cardboard box."
"Don't bring that up..."
Hitori groaned and slumped onto the desk, her voice like a lost spirit.
"I still feel like that cardboard box is my only safe place..."
"Could be worse. Maybe next performance, you'll step out of the box and become the star?"
"A-Are you trying to pressure me...?"
"No. Just saying. I get the feeling... Guitar Heroes aren't meant to stay inside boxes forever."
Hitori looked up slightly. Through her curtain of hair, she saw him. In the daylight, as the soft chime of the school bell rang, he was the strange friend who teased her in all the right ways—but also the first to ever bandage her knee. And he was still smiling. Not a big laugh, not mocking, just a small smile. Gentle. Casual. But it made her chest tighten.
She smiled back. Just a little. But it was real.
And for Gotou Hitori, that was a victory. A small step out of the invisible box she'd been hiding in all this time.
The first period hadn't started yet but the atmosphere in Class 1-D was gradually coming alive with everyday sounds: the soft rustling of ballpoint pens gliding across paper, the faint scrape of wooden chairs shifting, a quiet giggle echoing from the back of the classroom before fading into the gentle hum of morning like dew on grass.
Early winter sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains, scattering dapples of light across the desks a pale golden dusting, as if chalk powder had been sprinkled onto memories that hadn't yet formed. The light morning chill turned every breath into mist, yet somehow made the mind startlingly clear.
And then, amid that peaceful backdrop, a voice rose not loud, not sharp but clear and resolute, like a wooden stick dropped onto the surface of a still lake.
"Izayoi. Can I talk to you for a moment?"
The air in the classroom didn't exactly change, but something shifted a subtle ripple swept across the rows of seats. A few eyes lifted from notebooks. Some curious. Some slightly frowning. A hint of surprise flickered in the unfinished smile of a group of girls sitting near the windows.
Izayoi didn't turn around. His head was tilted, eyes fixed on the horizon beyond the classroom window. The morning light caught in his hair, casting a pale golden hue across him, as if silence itself had settled onto his frame. He didn't turn his head, but it was clear he had heard.
The one who had spoken was Hasebe Haruka.
The girl with long blue hair and a slender figure not fragile but quietly firm. A gentle beauty cloaked in resolve. Her hands were clasped together, as if trying to hold on to a calm that was slipping through her fingers. Every step she took toward Izayoi's desk carried a hesitation hidden behind the veil of bravery.
"Can you give me an explanation? About why you left the study group."
Her voice wasn't sharp, not angry but strong enough to make the space between them feel heavier than usual. Haruka raised her head, her eyes unwavering, as if hoping that sincerity alone could draw out something from his gaze.
Izayoi let out a quiet breath, barely visible in the cold air. It was impossible to tell whether the sigh was for the question, the questioner, or the storm of thoughts swirling inside him.
His eyes drifted toward the back of the classroom... to where Kiyotaka Ayanokoji sat, one hand propped against his cheek, eyes fixed on the pages of a book. As always, the boy didn't partake in the ebb and flow of the room still, detached, like a tree's shadow without roots, floating among the crowd.
"...You're still asking that now?"
Izayoi murmured, just loud enough for no one but Hitori to hear.
He turned back. Sat upright. Crossed his arms across his chest a simple gesture, yet it seemed to set him apart from the rest of the class. He looked at Haruka for the first time without avoiding her eyes. His gaze wasn't harsh, nor evasive. It was the look of someone who had already chosen to walk away, but carried a quiet guilt for doing so.
"You don't need to know, Haruka. You'll understand in time."
The words floated like a breeze brushing past a sleeve, yet carried a chill that crept coldly down the spine. Haruka hesitated. She didn't retreat, but her feet seemed rooted to the floor. She searched his eyes for a crack, an opening, a chance but found only a flat, unmoving surface.
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"You think we don't deserve to know?"
She asked, her voice quieter now, as if even she feared the answer.
Izayoi shook his head slowly, heavily as though the question itself had exhausted him.
"It's not that. It's just... if I told you, things would never be the same again. And I'm not sure you'd want that."
Once more, his gaze drifted toward Ayanokoji. Haruka didn't notice. She didn't look. No one else in the class spared a second glance at the quiet boy reading in the corner.
But Izayoi knew. He knew there were those who could command a room without ever speaking. Minds sharp enough to dissect trust, analyze it, then reassemble it into a tool for their own purposes.
"Haruka... You haven't seen anything yet. That's what keeps you safe. But that's also what will hurt you later."
He lowered his head not to avoid her but as if shielding a truth too heavy to voice.
Ayanokoji Kiyotaka... Behind that indifference is a mind cold as steel. A strategist who moves others like pieces on a board, arranging the battlefield like a game. And all of you... are nothing more than fragments on a map you don't even know exists. He'll never step out of the shadows because he intends to control the light itself.
Haruka still stood there, shoulders seeming to sag beneath the weight of some invisible fatigue. She didn't know. And Izayoi didn't intend to let her.
"...If you ever change your mind, we'll still be there, okay?"
She asked not looking for an answer but leaving a door slightly ajar.
Izayoi didn't reply. He just gave a small nod not acceptance, not rejection, just a sign that the conversation had ended.
Haruka turned back to her seat, her steps heavier than before. Her figure dissolved into the pale morning light, blending into a classroom that had returned to a calm but one now rippled with undercurrents.
Meanwhile, Hitori, seated in front of Izayoi, tilted her head slightly to glance back. She hadn't heard the entire conversation, but the unusual atmosphere made her uneasy.
She peeked at Izayoi... who now sat still, his eyes no longer looking at anyone. That figure suddenly felt distant. Not because he was cold, but because she realized something he no longer felt entirely like a student in this classroom. It was as if... a part of his mind was drifting somewhere far away, to a place she had never been. A place she hadn't even known could exist.
A chill silently crept down her back.
It felt as if... behind those seemingly lighthearted school stories, something vast, deep and dangerous was beginning to stir.
The bell signaling the first period rang out, echoing with a long chime like a thread being pulled between dreams and reality, forcing all students back into the present. Every whisper, the rustling of pens and paper, the quiet giggles in the corners of the classroom... all fell silent at once.
In that moment, the sound of the bell seemed to carry an invisible wave, sweeping away the heavy atmosphere that lingered from the conversation between Haruka and Izayoi.
Haruka had returned to her seat. She said nothing, just opened her notebook, flipped to a blank page at random, and stared at it as if she could somehow write down an answer she had never received.
As for Izayoi... he leaned back in his chair, which let out a faint creak. His arms folded across his chest, his head tilted slightly upward, and his gaze was half-apathetic, half-distant, as if the entire exchange earlier had never happened. That air of nonchalance only made the observing students more uncomfortable, yet none dared to say a word.
Just then, the classroom door swung open with a sharp sound, like an unspoken command.
The rhythmic click of high heels echoed on the tiled floor each step firm, deliberate, unmistakable. The whole class turned their heads in unison.
Chabashira Sae, homeroom teacher of Class 1-D, entered as usual. Her black hair was neatly tied at the nape of her neck, her eyes cold and sharp, her entire demeanor exuding a stern authority.
Her left hand clutched the familiar thick clipboard tightly, while her right hand gently pushed the door shut behind her. No morning greeting, no pleasantries. Just a quick, precise and purposeful glance around the room.
"Take your seats. Quiet down."
The short, clipped sentence wasn't harsh but it struck with the weight of a hammer. Chairs shifted slightly, notebooks were opened, pens picked up... Even as everyone resumed their tasks, no one dared relax under her gaze.
Chabashira walked to the podium, placed her clipboard down, and folded her arms. A brief silence passed.
"Before we begin today's lesson" she said, her voice calm and steady.
"I have an important announcement for all of you."
Students subtly adjusted their postures. A few lifted their heads. A pen paused mid-air. Breath caught in a few chests.
"The Paper Shuffle exam ended not long ago, and of course, the results have already been thoroughly analyzed" she continued, her tone unwavering, not a single unnecessary pause.
"However, at this moment, under direct instruction from Pope Akihito, he wishes to conduct a special exam before the Christmas holiday."
The room seemed to compress. A few heads snapped up, a soft "huh?" escaped from the back row, only to be stifled before anyone could react. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the classroom. Another exam?
"This exam will be for all first-year students" Chabashira went on, her voice unchanged, but her gaze now sweeping the room slowly.
"And the reward will be twenty million personal points, awarded to the individual who demonstrates the most outstanding ability and talent."
It was as if a wave shattered the silence. Murmurs and whispers started spreading across the class like faint sparks turning into thunder.
Gotou Hitori suddenly held her breath.
Twenty-million points. The numbers spun endlessly in her mind like twinkling specks of light. Converted to cash, how many guitar strings could that buy? How many mini portable amplifiers? How many concert tickets at Budokan? Or even... that dream Gibson Les Paul hanging behind the glass in the music store?
"No, no, I mustn't think like that..."
Hitori shook her head slightly, pinching her palm to snap herself back to reality.
Meanwhile, Izayoi remained still. He didn't show any obvious reaction only slightly raised one eyebrow. Twenty million personal points. Not quite enough to rouse his innate indifference, but enough to signal that this game was no longer just a game.
"Pope Akihito..."
He repeated the name in his mind, his gaze deepening. That name wasn't just a figure behind the scenes. He was someone who could rewrite the rules of the game at will. And this time, something was clearly different.
Suddenly, a hand was raised firmly and decisively.
It was Horikita Suzune.
"Excuse me, sensei" she spoke, her voice as sharp as ever,
"In this exam, will students be expelled if they fail?"
The question sliced through the air like a knife. The class froze for a beat.
Chabashira didn't respond immediately. She looked at Horikita for a few seconds, then nodded not in confirmation but as if acknowledging it was a fair question.
"No" she replied.
"This is not an elimination-based exam. No one will be expelled. This exam is designed to assess individual capabilities without affecting class points."
A few students sighed in relief. Some leaned back in their chairs as if narrowly escaping a ticking time bomb.
"However" Chabashira continued,
"This will be a significant challenge. Anyone unable to continue due to physical or mental limitations or both will receive immediate support from government staff. There's no need to worry about personal safety. But..."
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes growing more intense.
"I strongly advise you all to prepare yourselves. This is not a game."
Her gaze now pierced each student in the room, lingering briefly on Izayoi before drifting slowly to Horikita, and finally settling on Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, who sat silently at the back of the class as usual. His hand rested on his notebook, pen unmoving, his eyes fixed on some invisible point on the page.
Chabashira exhaled and picked up a piece of chalk, writing the date on the board. The dry, grating sound of chalk scraping against the surface echoed through the room long and shrill but it was a sound no one paid attention to anymore.
Because at this moment, no one in the classroom had enough focus left to care about the lesson.
At her desk, Gotou Hitori kept her head down, pen still in hand, though her fingers were trembling so much that the lines in her notebook swayed like ocean waves. Her heart was pounding faster than usual not from fear but because she could sense that something... was about to change.
Meanwhile, Sakamaki Izayoi sat perfectly still, but in his mind, the first strategic pieces had already begun to move. A faint smirk played on his lips, so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
"I wasn't planning to get involved in these silly exams..." he thought, blinking slowly.
"...But if a game's been laid out with a reward like that..."
"...Then participating and winning might just be worth considering."
Chabashira-sensei drew a line beneath the lecture title, then suddenly turned around as if she had just remembered something important. She tapped the tip of her pen against her clipboard, her sharp gaze sweeping across the classroom.
"There's one more thing."
For the second time that morning, the classroom fell completely silent.
"Since this exam will take place outside of school grounds, a trip is being arranged."
Izayoi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, as if he had just caught the scent of a grand scheme.
"For those of you who do not live in the dormitories..." Chabashira continued.
"...I expect you to notify your families beforehand and make necessary preparations. The trip will commence in three days."
A few murmurs rose from the back of the classroom clearly, some students had already made weekend plans. But none dared to complain aloud under the cold, steel gaze of their homeroom teacher.
"Details regarding the location and means of transportation will be distributed to each of you by tomorrow afternoon" Chabashira said, concluding in a firm tone.
"The exam will end before Christmas Eve. You're free to enjoy your break... if you still have the energy and spirit left to do so."
With that, she turned back to the board and resumed the lecture as if she had just announced a simple seating rearrangement.
Gotou Hitori still shaken, accidentally wrote the title of her notes as "Christmas travel failing grade." Izayoi sat back in his chair with arms crossed, gazing out the sunlit window as invisible chess pieces began aligning in his mind.
Horikita bent over her notebook with a serious expression, frowning slightly she disliked being passive and a vague, unexplained trip made her wary.
At the back of the class, Ayanokoji maintained his usual indifferent posture, one hand resting loosely on the desk, eyes half-closed as if dozing... yet no one could tell how long he had been calculating the unfolding moves.
The history period ended with a long chime but Chabashira Sae-sensei did not leave the podium as she normally would. She set her pen down and scanned the room once more, as if checking each student's expression. Then, without warning, she stepped toward the cabinet behind the lectern.
The casual murmur of students preparing to leave suddenly froze.
"Before we wrap up today's lesson..." she said, her voice calm but slightly slower than usual.
"...I have something to carry out under direct orders from the school administration."
From the cabinet, she retrieved a small black wooden box an intricately crafted cube, the kind used only to store valuable items along with a sealed envelope, closed with red wax bearing the emblem of Koudo Ikusei Academy.
The room's atmosphere seemed to slow by a beat.
"Sakamaki Izayoi" she called out, addressing the blond-haired student seated quietly near the window.
"I've been instructed to deliver these two items directly to you."
All of Class 1-D was pulled into a wave of stunned silence.
Horikita Suzune slightly furrowed her brow, pausing her motion to pack her books. Gotou Hitori was frozen in place, her pen hovering midair, wide-eyed as if watching a scene from a detective film. Even Ayanokoji Kiyotaka briefly looked up from his book an action rare for him.
Izayoi tilted his head slightly, eyes showing no hint of surprise. He stood and walked to the front with an air of calm, receiving both the box and letter from Chabashira-sensei with both hands, as if it were part of some ceremonial rite.
She said nothing more. After handing them over, she added dryly:
"Don't ask me anything. I don't know what's inside either."
Then she turned and walked straight out of the classroom, as if she had not just handed over something classified.
When the door shut behind her, a long silence blanketed the room. All eyes remained fixed on Izayoi, who calmly returned to his seat and placed the box on his desk as if it were just a nicely wrapped dessert.
He picked up the letter, tilting the sealed side toward the light. He didn't open it.
Horikita silently jotted something down in the corner of her notebook.
Hitori had begun trembling again not out of fear, but because her heart was beating wildly, her instincts screaming that something big was about to happen.
Ayanokoji no longer looked over, but those paying attention might have noticed... he was now holding his pen in his left hand something he hadn't done all semester.
Izayoi remained composed, but the gears in his mind had already begun to spin. He set the envelope beside the box and rested his elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced in front of his mouth, as though pondering his next move in a newly opened game. The box bore no markings or labels just a gleaming bronze container, far too refined to be an ordinary student's possession.
"Clearly not a child's toy..."
He neither opened it nor read the letter right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and closed his eyes lightly in thought, ignoring the many glances still lingering on him. Hitori glanced at him again but immediately turned away when their eyes met. She screamed internally:
"What the heck is going on?! Is this some kind of special trial? How can a student be handed something that looks like... a top-secret transmission?!"
At another row, Kei Karuizawa whispered to her friend, still staring at the box:
"Who even is that guy? A student who gets a confidential letter directly from sensei? That's insane."
The murmurs grew louder. A spiky-haired boy nodded solemnly:
"I bet that box has some kind of secret exam inside. Like a 'death mission' or a 'chosen one' trial!"
Every student, in some way or another, was forming the same question in their mind:
"Who is Sakamaki Izayoi?"
And only one person, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka remained completely composed. He turned the page and returned to his reading, though his eyes no longer truly saw the text. In his mind, a web of connections had begun to form:
A letter sealed by the school. A mysterious box handed over publicly. No warnings yet enough to shake the entire class.