Hidden Restraint

Her fingertip hovered over the call button for several seconds before Horikita Suzune finally pressed it.

The gesture exhausted some stubborn resolve, and her knuckles turned faintly white from the pressure.

"Hello? Oh, Horikita? What a surprise! What is it?" Kushida Kikyo's voice came through the receiver, sweet and just the right amount of surprised.

"..." After a brief silence, Horikita's voice emerged as if squeezed from a dry throat, deliberately flat. "About Hirata's study group. Sudō, Ike, and Yamauchi didn't attend." She skipped all the pleasantries and went straight to the point, as though every extra word were a waste.

"Oh, that," Kushida said, her tone instantly shifting to one of concerned understanding. "That really is a headache. Are you worried they'll drag down the class's exam results?" She had pinpointed Horikita's unspoken "concern" with unsettling accuracy.

"...Their grades will affect the Class Points," Horikita corrected stiffly, as though reading from an objective report.

Admitting to "caring" still felt like tearing at her own flesh, but she forced herself to continue. "I..." The words caught between her teeth for a moment. "Need your help." Those final three words fell heavily, like the terms of an unequal treaty.

"You want me to help?!" Kushida's voice shot up, delighted and theatrically exuberant. "Really? You're asking me, Horikita? That's wonderful! Leave it to me!" Her enthusiasm was so thick it almost seemed to take physical form. "You want them to join the study group, right? I'll make sure they do! Oh, and—" She smoothly changed the subject. "Let's exchange LINE IDs! It'll be easier to stay in touch that way!"

The excitement in the receiver tightened Horikita's jaw. Rather than easing her humiliation, that excessive enthusiasm shone a spotlight on the shame of having been forced to lower herself, leaving it nowhere to hide.

She could almost picture the flawless friendly smile Kushida wore, and wonder what thoughts might be lurking behind it.

"...Fine." Horikita's reply was mechanical and cold. She gave her ID, each syllable like an icicle striking stone.

When the call ended with a busy tone, Horikita leaned against the cold dormitory door and slowly slid to the floor.

At last, the breath she had been holding in her chest escaped in a long, silent exhale, leaving her utterly drained.

Asking Kushida Kikyo for help—a girl she instinctively disliked and sensed was "suspicious"—tasted even more bitter than she had expected. It felt like betraying herself.

But her brother's cold mockery and the glaring reality of Class D's "zero" points were like two heavy shackles, leaving her no choice.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palm against the cold floor.

This wasn't surrender. It was strategy. For a solitary glacier to move, it first had to learn to endure the murk of meltwater.

The air in a corner of the library hung heavy and still.

Kushida Kikyo's social skills were indeed impressive. A few well-aimed "compliments"—"Sudō, with your basketball talent, you must have great judgment. I'm sure you can make progress in your studies, too," and "Ike, Yamauchi, you're such loyal friends. You wouldn't leave a friend to struggle alone, would you?"—had finally bound the three reluctant boys to the chairs opposite Horikita Suzune.

Ken Sudō sat with his arms crossed, the chair's back legs rocking off the floor as he stubbornly stared out the window. Kanji Ike and Yamauchi Haruki, meanwhile, fidgeted in their seats and tapped their fingers against the table. The creases on their workbooks betrayed their lack of focus.

"Okay, let's get started!" Kushida clasped her hands, her smile as unwaveringly bright as a carefully adjusted light, trying to thaw the frozen atmosphere. "Horikita's one of the top students in the year. If you follow her lead, you'll pass for sure!"

Horikita didn't respond to the deliberate attempt at friendliness.

She silently opened her workbook. The rustle of paper sounded especially clear in the quiet.

"We'll start with the basic formulas." Her voice was so even it was almost mechanical as she tapped the math section with her pen. "Solving linear equations in one variable, for example—"

"Wait!" Yamauchi jerked his head up and scratched at his hair in confusion. "L-linear equations in one variable? What does that mean?"

Horikita's explanation came to an abrupt halt.

She closed her eyes for half a second. When she opened them again, her gaze was calm. "An equation with one unknown, whose highest exponent is one." Her pen marked the scrap paper. "2x + 3 = 7. Solve for x."

Kanji Ike stared at the equation, gripping his pen so tightly it nearly bent. "x is... 3.5? No, that can't be right... Two times 3.5 is 7, then you add 3 and get 10... But the right side is only 7?"

He clearly hadn't even grasped the basic logic of moving terms across the equals sign.

Horikita's knuckles turned faintly white as she looked toward Sudō. He had buried his face in his arms, and his muffled voice came from beneath them. "Don't look at me... I can't even recognize all the letters in the alphabet."

A sense of absurdity washed over her like ice water, but it stirred no visible reaction.

The three boys' crumbling fundamentals clashed violently with her grand ambition of reaching Class A. Her brother Horikita Manabu's sneer about their being a "zero-point class" echoed in her mind, while the humiliation of having bowed to Kushida still burned in her throat.

The words "What makes you think you deserve to be here?" almost burst past her lips—but she merely pressed her pale lips together.

This was necessary for the strategy, not an outlet for her emotions. That thought bound her surging disgust like a steel cable.

Her nails pressed silently into her palm, the pain anchoring her reason.

When she looked up again, only the glacial clarity remained in her eyes. "My assessment was wrong." Turning to Kushida, who looked slightly taken aback, she spoke with unmistakable authority. "Find a few first-year middle school math textbooks. Given the current situation..." Her gaze swept over the three boys. "We'll need to completely rebuild the lesson plan."

Her pen pressed into a blank page and scored a deep line. It divided more than just the study plan; it cut through the "solitary principles" she had once held sacred.

For the sake of reaching Class A, she was willing to stoop and gather up the pieces—even if she had to start putting them together again from "one plus one."

The air grew stifling. Kanji Ike's Adam's apple bobbed silently, Sudō's nails dug deep into his palms, and Yamauchi Haruki instinctively hunched his shoulders. The oppressive presence radiating from Horikita Suzune wasn't anger, but a cold pressure infused with the iron rule of "expulsion." Like the final blow of a gavel before the court, it crushed the last shred of hope the three had clung to.

They exchanged glances and read the same answer in one another's eyes: the price of resisting was far greater than the price of enduring.

In silence, the three lowered their heads and opened their first-year middle school textbooks.