Explosion

Matsushita Chiaki felt as though her perception of reality had been brutally refreshed.

In her limited experience, the upper limit of classroom mischief was nothing more than passing notes or exchanging glances.

But that scene just now... from writing on backs earlier, to developing into "interacting" with their feet, and finally even... taking off socks? Rubbing the soles of feet? It had left Kiyona almost sprawled across the desk... The sheer volume of information was enough to cause her brain to overload; everything was simply too far beyond the pale!

Especially... Matsushita recalled that last seemingly casual gesture from Hoshino Kanade—as he withdrew his hand, his fingertips had brushed past his nose with such natural, lightning speed? And that fleeting look on his face... was it lingering aftertaste? Or some kind of unspeakable enjoyment? Matsushita was startled by her own thought.

"...This... this isn't just ordinary fooling around anymore, is it?" She stared blankly at her desk, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the smooth wooden barrel of her pencil, her mind in chaos. "How far has their relationship actually progressed? This is definitely already..." She racked her brains and came up with a word, "...perverted-level interaction, right?!"

As a girl whose romantic life had yet to bloom and whose understanding was still stuck at the stage of pure-love manga, these scenes were nothing short of a nuclear-level shock to her.

She needed time to slow down and properly digest this "heart-shaking" daily life in Class D.

Matsushita took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. The chirping of cicadas outside the window drilled noisily into her ears.

But once she calmed down and recalled the details, both of them were acting strange.

Hoshino Kanade's reflexes were far beyond the level of a high school student—the movement of grabbing the ankle had been so fast it left only an afterimage, like a trained combat technique.

Kiyona's endurance was even more baffling: with that level of stimulation, an ordinary person would have screamed out loud long ago... Are they really just ordinary students?

After the class points hit zero, even the group around Karuizawa had reined in their desire to shop, yet these two could play such taboo games during class?

The more Matsushita Chiaki thought about it, the more her spine chilled.

Is Class D a gathering place for "defective products"? But these two, no matter how you looked at them, seemed like outliers.

She subconsciously disguised herself as someone taking notes diligently, but her gaze pierced through the gaps in her falling hair, wanting to look again, wanting to confirm Kiyona's state, or catch more abnormalities from Hoshino Kanade.

However, the moment her gaze swept over, it collided with Hoshino Kanade's line of sight.

Those eyes were calm and waveless, yet like a deep pool, they precisely captured her prying gaze.

Matsushita Chiaki's breath hitched; she felt as if her heart had been gripped by a cold hand.

Sure enough, looking again would lead to an explosion.

"Is Matsushita-san interested in history?" Hoshino Kanade suddenly spoke, breaking the silence around them. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached Matsushita clearly. His finger tapped casually on the history book resting under his physics textbook on his desk, the title on the cover partially visible.

Matsushita snapped back to reality, the pencil in her fingertips nearly slipping.

She gripped the barrel tightly, forcing herself to pull off a harmless, slightly confused smile: "...I was just curious why Hoshino-kun is always reading extracurricular books."

She tried hard to make her voice sound natural, but the cold sweat that instantly broke out on her back betrayed her nervousness—when did he notice me watching? From the very first time?

Hoshino Kanade looked at her, the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly, though the smile held no warmth.

His gaze swept seemingly unintentionally over the slightly deformed pencil in Matsushita's hand: "Because some knowledge—"

Matsushita blurted out, with a hint of probing: "—is outside the textbooks?" She met his gaze, trying to discern something from those bottomless eyes.

The moment their gazes crossed in the air, a desperate wail suddenly came from the back of the classroom from Ike Kanji: "It's over! This point is going to be on the final exam, and I didn't understand a single thing!"

This wail was like a drop of water hitting a pan of hot oil, instantly igniting the long-suppressed anxiety in Class D.

Whispers, the sound of flipping pages, and sighs rose one after another; the anxiety of Class D spread like a tide, drowning out all hidden games.

Hoshino Kanade's gaze shifted away from Matsushita Chiaki's face, as if that brief confrontation had never happened.

He calmly tore a corner off his notebook, quickly wrote a line of text, and then passed the note with his contact information to Matsushita Chiaki's desk.

"Perhaps we should talk," his voice was calm, but carried an unquestionable weight, "about your 'neither high nor low' true level."

After saying this, he didn't look at Matsushita Chiaki again, stood up, and left his seat.

Matsushita Chiaki froze in place, her eyes fixed on the small slip of paper on the desk, her fingertips trembling slightly. The cicadas outside the window were deafening, and the sound now felt particularly harsh, as if mocking her panic.

In the cracks between the pressure of survival and the desires of youth, Matsushita Chiaki suddenly realized clearly that what she had glimpsed just now might truly be only the tip of the iceberg.

And that last look Hoshino Kanade had cast at her pencil, recalled now, was so cold it chilled her to the marrow.

He had known all along! Since the first time she peeked through the gaps in her hair? Or even earlier? That slip of paper with the email address lay quietly on the desk, like a silent invitation, and also like a dangerous trap.

Matsushita Chiaki stared at the newly added contact on her terminal screen—the three characters "Hoshino Kanade" seemed to carry some kind of magic, making her fingertips burn slightly.

She subconsciously rubbed the cold casing of the terminal, trying to dispel that inexplicable palpitation.

How would he treat her? The image of Kiyona's snow-white, bare foot, slightly curled and held in Hoshino's palm during class, floated up uncontrollably—that movement carried a sense of control, yet it was also strangely... gentle? No, what is she thinking! Directly demanding she take off her shoes and hand her feet to him? This thought made her earlobes burn, her heartbeat suddenly losing its rhythm.

The feeling of Hoshino's handsome yet unfathomable face being right in front of her... just imagining it made her breathing tight.

She would end up worse than Kiyona, right? Kiyona seemed... not to resist? But what about her? She only had chaos, the panic of having her secrets seen through, and... a trace of indescribable shyness.

That kind of thing... absolutely not! She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress her chaotic thoughts with the pain.

However, the coldness of reality quickly extinguished that bit of unrealistic fantasy.

He must have discovered her true colors.

Her fingertips unconsciously swiped across the terminal screen—the deliberately lowered test scores, the maneuvering within Karuizawa's small group, the probing of her classmates... any one of these handles being held by someone else would be fatal, let alone someone like Hoshino Kanade who saw through everything.

If he were to expose her, it would be even more unacceptable.

In Class D, where survival points were zero and everyone was in danger, a "pretender" who was exposed would instantly fall into the abyss.

Karuizawa's retaliation, Hirata's disappointment, the alienation from Sato and the others... she would probably be isolated, right?

She would instantly become the bottom of the class, and in a class like Class D, at that.

That was more terrifying to her than any "punishment."

Although her thoughts were like a ball of yarn tangled by a cat, she had no other choice.

The light from the terminal screen reflected off her slightly flushed cheeks and flickering blue eyes.

With a heart threatening to leap out of her chest and fingertips trembling imperceptibly, she slowly and clearly entered the string of numbers Hoshino Kanade had given her into the contact search bar.

The moment she pressed "send," she slumped back against her chair as if drained of all strength; the cicadas outside the window seemed to turn into Hoshino Kanade's low, soft chuckle, lingering in her ears and refusing to fade.

Matsushita Chiaki felt her perception of reality had been ruthlessly rewritten.

In her limited experience, the limit of classroom mischief was nothing more than passing notes or exchanging glances.

But that scene just now... from writing on her back earlier, to evolving into "interacting" with his feet, and finally even... taking off her socks? Rubbing the soles of her feet? It had left Kiyona almost sprawled across the desk... The sheer volume of information caused her brain to overload; everything was simply too far beyond the pale!

Especially... Matsushita recalled Hoshino Kanade's final, seemingly casual movement—when he withdrew his hand, his fingertips had brushed against the tip of his nose with such extreme naturalness? And that flash on his face... was it lingering aftertaste? Or some kind of indescribable enjoyment? Matsushita was startled by her own thought.

"...This... this isn't just some ordinary horseplay anymore, is it?" She stared blankly at her desk, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the smooth wooden barrel of her pencil, her mind in total chaos. "How far has their relationship actually progressed? This is definitely already..." She racked her brain and found a word, "...perverted-level interaction, right?!"

As a girl whose romantic life had yet to bloom and whose understanding was still stuck at the stage of pure-love manga, these scenes were nothing short of a nuclear-level shock to her.

She needed time to slow down and properly digest this "mind-blowing" daily life of Class D.

Matsushita took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. The cicadas outside the window drilled noisily into her ears.

But once she calmed down and recalled the details, both of them were acting strange.

Hoshino Kanade's reflexes were far beyond the level of a high school student—the movement of grabbing the ankle was so fast it left only an afterimage, like a trained martial art.

Kiyona's endurance was even more baffling: under that level of stimulation, an ordinary person would have screamed out loud long ago... Are they really just ordinary students?

After the class points hit zero, even the group around Karuizawa had reined in their desire to shop, yet these two were playing such taboo games in class?

The more Matsushita Chiaki thought about it, the more her spine chilled.

Is Class D a gathering place for "defective products"? But these two, no matter how you looked at them, seemed like outliers.

She subconsciously feigned the appearance of taking notes diligently, but her gaze, through the gaps in her falling hair, sought to take another look, to confirm Kiyona's state again, or to catch more abnormalities from Hoshino Kanade.

However, the moment her gaze swept over, it locked onto Hoshino Kanade's eyes.

Those eyes were calm and waveless, yet like a deep pool, they precisely captured her prying gaze.

Matsushita Chiaki's breath hitched; she felt as if her heart had been gripped by a cold hand.

Sure enough, looking again would only lead to an explosion.

"Is Matsushita-san interested in history?" Hoshino Kanade suddenly spoke, breaking the surrounding silence. His voice was not loud, but it reached Matsushita clearly. His finger tapped casually on the history book pressed under his physics textbook on his desk, the title on the cover partially visible.

Matsushita snapped back to reality, the pencil in her fingertips nearly slipping.

She gripped the barrel tightly, forcing herself to pull off a harmless, slightly confused smile: "...I was just curious why Hoshino-kun is always reading extracurricular books."

She tried to make her voice sound natural, but the cold sweat that instantly broke out on her back betrayed her nervousness—when did he notice me watching? From the very first time?

Hoshino Kanade looked at her, the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly, though the smile lacked any warmth.

His gaze swept seemingly unintentionally over the slightly deformed pencil in Matsushita's hand: "Because some knowledge—"

Matsushita blurted out, with a hint of probing: "—is outside the textbooks?" She met his gaze, trying to discern something from those bottomless eyes.

The moment their gazes crossed in the air, a desperate howl suddenly erupted from Ike Kanji in the back of the classroom: "It's over! This point is going to be on the final exam, and I didn't understand a word of it!"

This howl was like a drop of water hitting a pan of hot oil, instantly detonating the long-suppressed anxiety in Class D.

Whispers, the sound of flipping pages, and sighs rose one after another; the anxiety of Class D spread like a tide, drowning out all hidden games.

Hoshino Kanade's gaze shifted away from Matsushita Chiaki's face, as if that brief confrontation had never happened.

He leisurely tore a corner off his notebook, quickly wrote a line, and then passed the slip of paper with his contact information to Matsushita Chiaki's desk.

"Perhaps we should talk," his voice was calm, yet carried an unquestionable weight, "about your 'neither here nor there' true level."

Having said that, he didn't look at Matsushita Chiaki again and rose from his seat.

Matsushita Chiaki froze in place, her eyes fixed on that small slip of paper on the desk, her fingertips trembling slightly. The cicadas outside the window were deafening, and the sound now felt particularly harsh, as if mocking her panic.

In the rift torn between the pressure of survival and the desires of youth, Matsushita Chiaki suddenly realized clearly that what she had glimpsed just now might truly be only the tip of the iceberg.

And that final look Hoshino Kanade had cast at her pencil, recalled now, was so cold it chilled her to the bone.

He had known all along! Since the first time she peeked through the gaps in her hair? Or even earlier? That slip of paper with his email address lay quietly on the desk, like a silent invitation, and also like a dangerous trap.

Matsushita Chiaki stared at the newly added contact on her terminal screen—the three characters "Hoshino Kanade" seemed to carry some kind of magic, making her fingertips burn slightly.

She subconsciously rubbed the cold shell of the terminal, trying to dispel that inexplicable flutter.

How would he treat her? The image of Kiyona's snow-white, bare foot, slightly curled and held in Hoshino's palm during class, surfaced uncontrollably—the movement carried a sense of control, yet it was also strangely... gentle? No, what is she thinking! Directly asking her to take off her shoes and hand her feet to him? This thought made her earlobes burn and her heartbeat suddenly go out of rhythm.

The feeling of Hoshino's handsome yet unfathomable face being right in front of her... just imagining it made her breathing tight.

She would probably have it worse than Kiyona, right? Kiyona seemed... not to resist? But her? She only had chaos, the panic of having her secrets seen through, and... a trace of indescribable shyness.

That kind of thing... absolutely not! She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress her chaotic thoughts with the pain.

However, the coldness of reality quickly extinguished that bit of unrealistic fantasy.

He must have discovered her true colors.

Her fingertips traced the terminal screen unconsciously—the deliberately suppressed scores, the maneuvering within the Karuizawa clique, the probing observations of her classmates... Any single piece of leverage held by another would be fatal, let alone when held by someone like Hoshino Kanade, who saw through everything.

If he were to expose her, it would be even more unacceptable.

In Class D, where private points had hit zero and everyone was looking out for themselves, a "pretender" who had been unmasked would instantly plummet into the abyss.

Karuizawa's retaliation, Hirata's disappointment, the alienation from Sato and the others... She would surely be isolated, wouldn't she?

She would become the bottom of the class in an instant, and in a class like Class D, no less.

That terrified her more than any "punishment."

Though her thoughts were a tangled ball of yarn clawed by a cat, she had no other choice.

The light from the terminal screen reflected off her slightly flushed cheeks and flickering blue eyes.

With her heart threatening to leap out of her chest, her fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly, she slowly and clearly typed the string of numbers Hoshino Kanade had given her into the contact search bar.

The moment she pressed the "send" button, she slumped back against her chair as if all her strength had been drained, the cicadas outside the window sounding as if they had transformed into Hoshino Kanade's low, soft chuckle, refusing to fade from her ears.