The impact of the Sudo Incident spread like ripples across the water, gradually fading beneath the calm surface of everyday life. The students in Class D seemed accustomed to these intermittent disturbances, and thanks to Hirata and Kushida's efforts, order was maintained on the surface. But Fūki Ran knew the currents beneath had never stopped churning.
Through Kushida Kikyo, he began steering the class's opinions with greater precision. Rather than relying on a simple call for "unity," he began subtly feeding them more targeted information.
"Kikyo, when you're chatting with the other girls, you can casually mention that Class C seems to be paying special 'attention' to us lately, especially during sports activities and some group competitions." Fūki gave Kushida her new instructions in Dorm 129. "Sound a little concerned, but don't exaggerate."
Kushida understood at once. Before long, a vague worry began circulating in the girls' cliques: "It seems like Class C is always trying to pick a fight with us." Harder to pin down than a direct report of a confrontation, this worry could nevertheless shape a collective sense of "being targeted" on a subconscious level, encouraging a defensive kind of unity within the class.
At the same time, Fūki asked Kushida to keep an eye on students who were dissatisfied with the status quo but had some ability of their own. For instance, there was Yukimura Teruhiko, who often criticized the class's management despite his excellent grades, as well as a few boys on decent terms with Sudo who felt the outcome of the Sudo Incident had been unfair. Fūki needed to understand what these "potential variables" truly thought, so he could prepare for the possibility of bringing them together in the future.
Kushida faithfully carried out her tasks. She enjoyed the sense of control that came with influencing others from the shadows, and it eased her unease about Fūki approaching Horikita to some extent. She began to feel that she was Fūki's most trusted and indispensable partner.
However, a chance encounter disrupted Fūki's plans for observation.
It happened one afternoon at a convenience store. Fūki was browsing the shelves for stationery when the corner of his eye caught a familiar figure—Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, standing in front of the drinks cooler, expressionless as he surveyed the array of beverages, apparently struggling to choose. His posture was utterly ordinary, indistinguishable from that of any other student.
Fūki hadn't intended to bother him, but just as he was about to turn and leave, Ayanokoji seemed to sense something and slowly turned his head. His calm, unreadable eyes met Fūki's.
There was no surprise, no attempt to look away, not even the slightest flicker of emotion. Ayanokoji simply stared at him, as though he were a piece of furniture.
The air seemed to freeze for several seconds. The noisy sounds of the convenience store seemed to fade away.
Fūki broke the silence first. He picked up a can of black coffee and headed for the register. As he passed Ayanokoji, he spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear, as if talking to himself:
"When there are too many choices, sometimes it's hard to know what you really need, isn't it?"
It sounded like an ordinary remark, but it was full of probing intent. It asked about choice while hinting at the meaning of "need."
Ayanokoji's expression remained unchanged. He stayed silent, and just as Fūki thought he wouldn't respond and prepared to leave, an utterly flat voice, devoid of emotion, came from behind him:
"Knowing what you don't need is enough."
Fūki's step faltered slightly.
Knowing what you don't need is enough.
The words sounded simple, even a little pessimistic. But on closer thought, they held remarkable insight and resolve. In a complicated world, clearly defining what you don't need and shutting out distractions was a powerful skill in itself. It was far more efficient than blindly pursuing everything you did need—and much more... dangerous.
Fūki didn't look back. He went straight to the register and paid. But he knew that this brief exchange had meant a great deal. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, the "pretender" he'd been observing all along, had revealed a glimpse of what lay beneath the surface with one seemingly casual remark. He wasn't thoughtless. On the contrary, he might have goals and boundaries far clearer than most. His "ordinariness" was a deliberate choice—a complete rejection of the things he didn't need.
He was someone who needed to be reevaluated. In his mind, Fūki raised both Ayanokoji's threat level and his potential value by one tier.
Meanwhile, Horikita Suzune responded in her own way.
Not through a verbal message, but during a group discussion in Modern Literature class. The students had been assigned to groups at random by student number, and the two of them happened to end up together. While the other group members argued aimlessly over a literary image, Horikita suddenly turned to Fūki and discussed the text in her usual cool tone. Yet her ideas cleverly incorporated some of Fūki's earlier thoughts about "rules" and "system loopholes."
She wasn't merely agreeing with him. In her own way, she was demonstrating her understanding and analytical abilities, while also testing whether Fūki could keep up with her reasoning.
Fūki immediately understood her intention. After giving it some thought, she had offered an initial response: she recognized the value of exchanging information and thinking independently, and was willing to engage in this kind of cooperation, free of emotional entanglements and based purely on reason, when the circumstances were "right."
Fūki didn't call attention to it. Instead, he picked up her thread naturally and used the same calm, logical language to guide the discussion toward a deeper analysis of social structures. The two of them exchanged points back and forth as if engaged in a high-level academic debate, leaving the other group members completely sidelined and wide-eyed.
To those in the know, this seemingly ordinary classroom discussion marked the successful, silent conclusion of an agreement.
After class, Horikita didn't look at Fūki again. She left the classroom without a word. But Fūki knew that they had laid the first stone in the bridge between them, which had until then been frozen over.
The situation was quietly changing. Kushida's information network, Ayanokoji's unexpected response, Horikita's tentative cooperation... Fūki's hand was gaining cards one by one. Although Class D as a whole remained a scattered mess, beneath its seemingly chaotic surface, a force he was secretly guiding was slowly gathering.
The Special Exam was drawing closer, and Fūki Ran was already prepared to hunt in the heart of the storm.
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