Dialogue in the Undercurrent

The impact of the Sudo Incident spread like ripples on water, slowly expanding, yet gradually fading beneath the calm surface of daily life. The students of Class D seemed accustomed to these intermittent disturbances, and with the efforts of Hirata and Kushida, superficial order was maintained. But Fūki Ran knew that the undercurrents beneath the water had never stopped surging.

Through Kushida Kikyo, he began to guide class public opinion with greater precision. No longer simple slogans of "unity," but more targeted information infiltration.

"Kikyo, when you're chatting with the other girls, you can 'accidentally' mention that Class C seems to be paying special 'attention' to our class lately, especially regarding sports activities and some group competitions," Fūki instructed Kushida in Dorm 129. "Your tone should carry a hint of worry, but don't overdo it."

Kushida understood perfectly. Soon, whispers of "Class C seems to be looking for trouble with us" began to circulate in the girls' social circles. This kind of worry was more elusive than direct conflict reports, yet it could subconsciously shape a collective perception of "we are being targeted," thereby promoting a defensive cohesion within the class to some extent.

At the same time, Fūki also had Kushida keep an eye on students who were dissatisfied with the current situation but possessed a certain ability, such as Yukimura Teruhiko, who had many criticisms about class management but excellent grades, or a few boys who felt the outcome of the Sudo Incident was unfair and had a decent relationship with Sudo. He needed to understand the true thoughts of these "potential variables" to prepare for possible future integration.

Kushida faithfully carried out her tasks. She enjoyed the sense of control that came from influencing others from the shadows, which to some extent eased her unease about Fūki's contact with Horikita. She began to feel that she was Fūki's most relied-upon, indispensable partner.

However, an accidental encounter disrupted Fūki's original observation plan.

It was at a convenience store one afternoon. Fūki was browsing the shelves for stationery when his peripheral vision caught a familiar figure—Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, standing in front of the beverage cooler, looking expressionlessly at the wide array of drinks, seemingly caught in some sort of decision paralysis. His posture was utterly ordinary, indistinguishable from the students around him.

Fūki had no intention of disturbing him, but just as he was about to turn away, Ayanokoji seemed to sense something and slowly turned his head. His calm, unperturbed eyes met Fūki's gaze.

There was no surprise, no avoidance, not even a flicker of emotion. Ayanokoji simply looked at him, as if he were looking at a piece of furniture.

The air seemed to freeze for several seconds. The noisy background sounds of the convenience store seemed to be blocked out at that moment.

Fūki broke the silence first. He picked up a can of black coffee, walked towards the cashier, and as he passed Ayanokoji, he said in a voice only they could hear, as if talking to himself:

"Too many choices, sometimes you don't know what you truly need, don't you?"

This was a seemingly ordinary, yet deeply probing remark. It inquired about choice and hinted at the definition of "need."

Ayanokoji's gaze remained steady. He remained silent. Just as Fūki thought he wouldn't respond and was about to leave, an extremely flat, emotionless voice sounded behind him:

"Knowing what you don't need is enough."

Fūki's steps faltered slightly.

Knowing what you don't need is enough.

This statement sounded simple, even somewhat negative, but upon careful consideration, it contained astonishing insight and composure. In a complex and chaotic environment, being able to clearly define what one "doesn't need" and thus eliminate distractions is itself a powerful ability. This is far more efficient, and perhaps more... dangerous, than blindly pursuing everything one "needs."

Fūki didn't look back and proceeded directly to the cashier to pay. But he knew this brief exchange was significant. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, the "imposter" he had been observing, had revealed a sliver of himself with a seemingly casual remark. He was not devoid of thought; on the contrary, he might possess exceptionally clear goals and boundaries. His "ordinariness" was a deliberate choice, a complete rejection of things he "didn't need."

This was an individual who needed to be re-evaluated. Fūki mentally raised Ayanokoji's threat level and potential value by one notch simultaneously.

Meanwhile, a response also came from Horikita Suzune's side.

It wasn't conveyed verbally. Instead, during a group discussion in a Modern Literature class (they were randomly assigned to the same group by student number), while other group members were aimlessly debating a literary metaphor, Horikita suddenly turned to Fūki. In her usual cool tone, she discussed the text, but the points she made cleverly incorporated some of Fūki's previous ideas about "rules" and "system loopholes."

She wasn't agreeing; she was, in her own way, demonstrating her understanding and analytical abilities, while also testing if Fūki could keep up with her train of thought.

Fūki immediately understood her intention. This was her initial response after careful consideration—she acknowledged the value of information exchange and independent analysis and was willing to engage in this kind of purely rational "cooperation" that didn't involve emotions, in "appropriate" situations.

Fūki didn't point it out but naturally picked up on her topic, using equally calm and logical language to steer the discussion toward a deeper analysis of social structures. They exchanged words, as if engaged in a high-level academic debate, leaving the other students in their group completely stunned and sidelined.

This seemingly ordinary classroom discussion, to those in the know, was a successful, silent agreement.

After class, Horikita didn't look at Fūki again and left the classroom directly. But Fūki knew that the first cornerstone of the frozen bridge between them had been laid.

The situation was subtly changing. Kushida's information network, Ayanokoji's unexpected response, Horikita's initial cooperation... the cards in Fūki's hand were increasing one by one. Although Class D as a whole remained like a pile of loose sand, beneath that seemingly chaotic surface, a force guided by him was slowly gathering.

The winds of the Special Exam were blowing closer, and Fūki Ran was ready to hunt in the storm.