Mirror and Reflection

After taking on the task of observing Horikita Suzune, Kushida Kikyo felt as if she had put on a special filter. Her gaze began to involuntarily chase that solitary black figure, like a hunter sizing up an elusive prey, or like someone standing before a mirror, perplexedly studying a reflection that was completely opposite to herself.

The early stages of observation were tedious and unpleasant. Horikita Suzune's life was as regular as an atomic clock. Classroom, library, cafeteria, eating alone in a corner, quickly finishing a Mountain Vegetable Set Meal, girls' dormitory—a four-point, single line. She barely exchanged any communication beyond what was necessary, and when approached, she always responded with the briefest, coldest words, or even outright ignored them.

When Kushida reported to Feng Qi in Dorm 129, her tone was full of impatience and disdain: "...That's it, like a robot running a preset program. I really don't see the point in observing her. What else could be in her head besides studying and her 'get stronger alone' theory?"

Feng Qi didn't mind her complaints, only pressed for details: "What books does she read in the library? Besides textbooks and reference books."

Kushida tried to recall: "...There were some pretty advanced ones, Principles of Economics? And some... hmm, maybe Introductory Law Books?"

Feng Qi nodded, jotting notes. This fit Horikita's personality; she was consciously broadening her knowledge base, preparing for the future, but her direction leaned toward theory and rules.

"Does she observe others when eating in the cafeteria?"

"Observe?" Kushida scoffed. "She can't even be bothered to lift her eyelids, as if taking one more look at us would taint her eyes."

However, a turning point came during a lunch break. That day, Hirata Yousuke and Karuizawa Kei had a minor dispute over a trivial matter—whether the Public Fund should be used first to buy Sports Equipment or to improve the Meals. Hirata insisted sports gear would benefit more people, while Karuizawa argued morale was low and better food was more practical. Their voices weren't loud, and their attitudes were restrained, but it still drew some attention in the quiet classroom.

Kushida instinctively prepared to step in and mediate—a conditioned reflex from her "Angel" persona. But just as she stood up, the corner of her eye caught Horikita Suzune.

Horikita wasn't reading or resting as usual, detached from the situation. She remained seated upright, but her gaze was fixed on Hirata and Karuizawa. Though her face still showed no expression, Kushida clearly saw her slender fingers unconsciously stroking the edge of an open book page, once, then again. Her eyes were no longer completely indifferent, but carried an extremely subtle... focus, like observing an experimental phenomenon, and even a trace of barely perceptible... confusion? As if she couldn't understand why anyone would argue over such "pointless" things.

This discovery made Kushida's heart tighten. She immediately sat back down, pretending to organize her bag, and secretly snapped a photo of Horikita's subtle movement and expression with her phone. Feng Qi's task included leaving as much visual evidence as possible, if it was safe.

That night, in Dorm 129, when Kushida showed Feng Qi the photo on her phone and reported her observations, a glimmer of understanding flashed in his eyes.

"Confusion..." he repeated Kushida's description, his fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop. "She's starting to not understand the 'group dynamics' she despises. This is a signal. It means she's not completely insulated; subconsciously, she's trying to understand, just hasn't found a way to fit in yet, or rather, disdains using methods she considers 'low-class.'"

He looked at Kushida: "You did well. This detail is very valuable."

Kushida felt a slight pleasure at the praise, but still said, "It was just luck... But, seeing her like that, even if she's a bit confused, it probably won't change anything, right? Someone like her..."

"Change is gradual, especially for someone like her," Feng Qi interrupted. "Like a glacier moving—imperceptible to the naked eye, but it's happening. Your task is to keep capturing these signs of 'movement.'"

He paused, then issued a new directive: "Next, pay attention to whether she shows this 'observing' or 'confused' expression toward specific people. For example... Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."

"Ayanokoji?" Kushida was even more puzzled. "That guy with zero presence? Why would Horikita notice him?"

"Intuition." Feng Qi didn't elaborate. He had a feeling that Ayanokoji's abnormal "ordinariness" might unconsciously attract the attention of someone like Horikita, who pursued "extremes"—like the only flaw on a smooth surface.

Though full of doubts, Kushida agreed. As the observation deepened, she found her feelings toward Horikita subtly shifting. The initial pure disgust and disdain were mixed with an indescribable... curiosity? She began unconsciously comparing herself to Horikita.

She, Kushida Kikyo, maintained a vast web of relationships with perfect disguise and diligent performance, craving to be liked and needed by everyone, yet her heart was filled with hatred and exhaustion. Meanwhile, Horikita Suzune completely abandoned interpersonal relationships, stood alone, and pursued pure self-empowerment. It seemed easy, but she might also bear unknown loneliness and pressure.

Two extreme ways of survival, like two sides of a mirror. Which was more pitiful? Which was more real? Kushida found she couldn't answer. This comparison irritated her, yet she couldn't stop.

During a Mathematics Class, the teacher posed a difficult problem. Horikita almost instantly provided a clear and accurate solution. At that moment, Kushida looked at Horikita's calm profile, so full of natural confidence, and for the first time, a feeling that didn't stem from hatred flickered in her heart—an extremely faint, even self-denied... envy. Envy that the other could rely so purely on her own abilities, without having to struggle in the muddy quagmire of complex relationships like she did.

She reported this complex emotion, along with her observation that Horikita seemed to show no special interest in Ayanokoji, to Feng Qi.

As Feng Qi listened to her report and saw the unconscious confusion and struggle on her face, he knew the task of observing Horikita was beginning to affect Kushida herself. This was within his expectations, even something he welcomed. Only when Kushida began to doubt her own inherent Way of Survival would she become more dependent on him, her sole "guide" and "acceptor."

"Continue observing," he said, still the same words, but his gaze seemed to pierce through Kushida's soul. "Not just her, but also yourself. Figure out what you really want, Kikyo."

Kushida's whole body trembled. She jerked her head up to look at him. What did she want? She wanted to be loved, to be needed, to stand at the top, to trample everyone she hated... But were these really what she wanted? Or were they desires she had gradually lost sight of, blurred by countless fake smiles?

Feng Qi's question, like a seed, was planted in the loosened soil of her heart, stirred by observing Horikita. And he himself, through this special "mirror" that was Kushida, gained a clearer grasp of the undercurrents beneath Horikita Suzune's iceberg. The timing for the next step of contact was slowly maturing.