The Freshman Assembly and the Prelude to Undercurrents

Leaving the connecting corridor where his brief exchange with Horikita Suzune had taken place, Fūki Ran followed the signs to the auditorium where the freshman assembly was about to be held. The vast hall was solemn and dignified—the high vaulted ceiling, the soft lights, and the neatly arranged seats all spoke to the school's immense financial power and status. The new students took their seats by class section, and the air buzzed with a mixture of excitement and nervous tension.

Fūki chose a seat by the aisle in the Class D section, a position that gave him a clear view of the podium while also allowing him to observe his classmates' reactions.

His gaze swept the area. Diagonally ahead, Horikita Suzune was already seated, her back ramrod straight, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, the sharp lines of her profile cold and aloof—as if she were wrapped in an invisible force field that shut out the surrounding noise, utterly out of place amid the restless hum of the auditorium. She seemed completely unaffected by their earlier exchange, or rather, she had already classified Fūki's meaningful words as "irrelevant information" and blocked them out entirely.

Not far away, Kushida Kikyo was wearing her flawless, radiant smile, chatting quietly with a few girls nearby, apparently integrating into a small group with ease. Her social skills were indeed remarkable. Sudo Ken, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat with a look of impatience, tapping his fingers absently on the armrest, showing little interest in the upcoming assembly. Yukimura Teruhiko adjusted his glasses, his gaze somewhat unsettled, as if anxious about the unknown campus life ahead.

"All new students, please remain quiet."

A gentle yet authoritative voice spread through every corner of the auditorium via the high-quality sound system, instantly silencing all murmurs. A middle-aged man in a crisp suit, with a refined and composed demeanor, stepped up to the podium. A delicate badge representing the School Administration was pinned to his chest.

"I am the chairman of Kōtō Ikusei High School." His voice was steady, carrying a persuasive power. "On behalf of the entire faculty and student body, I welcome all of you outstanding new students to join our family."

The opening remarks were standard official rhetoric, introducing the school's glorious history, top-tier teaching staff, excellent facilities, and the promise of a one-hundred-percent advancement rate to higher education or employment. Many students in the audience, especially those in Class D, wore expressions of hope and relief.

However, Fūki's sharp perception caught an unusual detail. When the chairman mentioned the school's resources and future guarantees, his gaze seemed to sweep over the Class D area multiple times, not quite casually. The look in his eyes wasn't simply encouragement—it was more like... scrutiny and assessment. His choice of words was also worth noting; he frequently used terms like "competition," "ability," "prove your worth," and "earn your future," which stood in stark contrast to the typical high school emphasis on "well-rounded development" and "happy growth."

"Finally, I want to emphasize one point," the chairman said, his tone growing heavier and more serious. "Kōtō Ikusei High School is a true meritocracy. Here, everything you obtain—whether resources, respect, or your future path—must be earned and protected through your own ability. I hope you will all deeply understand this and demonstrate your unique value here."

"Meritocracy..."

A faint ripple of murmurs and discussion spread through the audience. The word was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring layer after layer of ripples. Most students in Class A and Class B wore expressions of understanding or confidence, while those in Class C and Class D showed more confusion, bewilderment, and even a hint of unease.

Fūki noticed that when Horikita Suzune heard that word, a sharp light suddenly flared in her purple eyes—a mix of strong recognition and unwilling fighting spirit. Her hands, resting on her knees, tightened slightly. Clearly, the concept of "meritocracy" resonated deeply with her personal creed, but being placed in Class D made that creed carry a sting of humiliation.

Kushida Kikyo's smile remained perfect, but she subtly adjusted her posture, her eyes quickly scanning the faces of the students around her, as if assessing the impact of those words on the class atmosphere.

The chairman offered no further explanation, and the speech ended in a delicate atmosphere. The rest of the freshman assembly proceeded according to routine, and soon it was dismissed.

The students filed out in class order. Stepping out of the auditorium, the sunlight was a bit harsh, and the surrounding chatter grew louder.

"Meritocracy? What does that mean? Didn't they guarantee advancement and employment?"

"Anyway, we have Ten Thousand Points, so life should be fine, right?"

"I don't know... it feels a bit unsettling. The Class A students all look so impressive..."

Fūki listened to these comments, laced with both naivety and anxiety, his expression blank. His gaze locked once more onto the solitary black figure walking ahead, seemingly out of sync with everyone around her.

Horikita Suzune walked quickly, her direction clear—she seemed to be heading straight for the library or a study room. She was demonstrating, through her actions, what it meant to "rely on one's own ability."

Fūki did not immediately follow. He knew that too hasty an approach would only provoke stronger resistance. Some seeds needed time to sprout.

He slowed his pace, blending into the loose flow of people, but his mind was already racing. The chairman's speech had all but laid out the core rules of this school. So-called "ability" certainly wasn't limited to academic performance; it had to encompass a much broader scope. And the true meaning of those Ten Thousand Points, as well as the reason Class D was called the "defective" class, were all hidden within this framework of meritocracy.

Next came the waiting. Waiting for the rules to become clear, waiting for contradictions to surface on their own, waiting for the "targets" he had his eye on to hit a wall in their respective paths.

He looked up at the clear blue sky, a faint, almost imperceptible curve forming at the corner of his mouth. This game was getting more and more interesting.