Special Exam 1

Just as Etsuka and the others were feeling puzzled, Sakayanagi swung her cane forward, blocking Hashimoto Masayoshi's path.

"Hashimoto, go over to Ichinose."

"Huh? Me?"

Sakayanagi nodded. "I've suddenly decided I'd like to have a chat with Horikita-kun."

Ichinose, who had been listening to their conversation from the side, finally understood the situation and let out a sigh of relief.

It turned out the other party had simply changed her mind; the seat next to Horikita Etsuka, originally intended for Hashimoto Masayoshi, was now to be occupied by Sakayanagi Arisu.

Just like that, Hashimoto Masayoshi sat down next to Ichinose. As soon as he sat, he waved his hand in greeting. "Hello, Ichinose-san. We meet again."

Ichinose waved back. "Hello, Hashimoto-kun."

Kamuro Masumi sat down next to Kanzaki. She held herself with perfect posture, seemingly having no intention of chatting with him.

Finally, Sakayanagi slowly took the seat next to Etsuka.

Horikita Etsuka caught a scent of leather, something like...

Is this the smell of someone who spends too much time in an office?

The scent was by no means unpleasant; rather, it carried a sense of authority. Strangely, it was also laced with the faint, fresh fragrance of a young girl.

Hmm... how curious.

Sakayanagi's lips curled into a smile as she gave a slight nod.

Etsuka responded in kind.

Just then, Hoshinomiya walked in through the main door, dressed in professional attire. She stood tall and poised, holding an art textbook in her hand.

This appearance was something the students of Class B had never seen before, and her entrance immediately drew gasps of surprise from them.

Hoshinomiya smiled and greeted the students. Waving her hand, she introduced herself: "Hello everyone from Class A and B. I am Hoshinomiya Chie, your teacher for this art class."

Hearing the gasps from Class B, Sakayanagi spoke as if they were just chatting about daily life:

"Your homeroom teacher is quite beautiful, isn't she? But has she never shown you this side of herself before?"

"Well, no, she hasn't. That's why our class is so surprised. Hoshinomiya-sensei really knows how to keep a secret."

"Having a homeroom teacher like that is quite interesting, isn't it? You get a hidden surprise every day." Sakayanagi said this lightly while watching Hoshinomiya teach at the podium.

"That's true," Horikita Etsuka replied.

Sakayanagi let out a small sigh.

"Sigh, unlike our homeroom teacher. He's quite the stick-in-the-mud."

"Being sufficiently excellent should be enough, right? After all, Class A is Class A, no matter how you look at it." Etsuka said, his words carrying a hidden meaning.

"Oh? Is that so? Does Horikita-kun think so too?" Sakayanagi brought her feet together, rested her arms on her legs, and cupped her small face in her hands as she continued:

"Just like this special exam—being sufficiently excellent is enough, isn't it?"

Having said that, she scrutinized Horikita Etsuka with an intriguing gaze.

Horikita Etsuka showed no signs of panic. He responded with his own gaze: "I suppose so?" With that, he pretended to be cold and rubbed his arms:

"By the way, are we in Class B going to be completely crushed by you lot in Class A? Just thinking about it is terrifying. If you in Class A were to use even a little bit of your methods..."

In an instant, Horikita Etsuka had knocked the topic Sakayanagi was building right out of the park.

Horikita Etsuka observed that the little girl before him loved to keep the rhythm in her own hands, and her expression was one of absolute confidence in her victory.

Seeing Horikita Etsuka say this, Sakayanagi's expression didn't change in the slightest. She picked up the test paper on the desk and said:

"Hoshinomiya-sensei just asked for each pair of seatmates to create a handicraft. Are you interested?"

"Of course. Perhaps we can try to make something truly stunning."

On the sports field, Class C and D were having their physical education class.

The boys of Class C and D were sprinting across the basketball court.

"Hirata, go for it!"

"Hirata, be careful, don't get hurt!" The small group led by Karuizawa Kei cheered loudly, encouraging Hirata.

"Go! Sudo!" Ike Kanji shouted, refusing to be outdone as he supported his best friend.

Damn it! My voice is going to be drowned out by those girls, bastards!

Off to the side, Yamauchi Haruki sat eating potato chips, watching the game with boredom, muttering to himself:

"Seriously, why do we have to have a basketball game for a joint PE class? Wouldn't it be more fun to play some interesting games with the girls from Class C?"

Sweat poured off the people on the court like rain.

"Quick, quick, pass it to me!" Sudo clapped his hands, signaling for Miyake Akito, who had grabbed the ball in the distance, to pass.

Miyake Akito looked at the Class C players closing in from his left, right, and rear. Gritting his teeth, he jumped into the air and threw the ball toward Sudo with all his might.

"Sudo! Catch it!"

"Don't worry! I'll..." Sudo didn't finish his sentence before he suddenly felt a sharp, intense pain in his foot.

With a sharp swish, the basketball brushed past Sudo, caught by Ishizaki Daichi in the backcourt, who then smoothly sank a jump shot into the hoop.

He stood with his hands on his hips, a mocking expression on his face as he spoke:

"Heh, I guess you're not much, Sudo. I thought you were just a fool with well-developed limbs, but it turns out you're a fool with a simple mind and underdeveloped limbs to boot."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sudo pointed at his own foot and roared, "Someone stepped on my foot just now! That's a foul!"

"Teacher! I'm reporting a foul!" Sudo shouted at the gym teacher, as if he had suddenly become clever.

"What's going on here?" The gym teacher walked over with a stern expression.

Sudo pointed at his foot as if he had just seen a savior and said, "Just now, when the ball was passed, someone stepped on my foot on purpose."

"Is that so?" The gym teacher looked troubled.

Because just as he was watching the court, someone had suddenly walked over to get a drink, blocking his line of sight, so he hadn't seen a thing.

Ryuen waved his hand dismissively: "Teacher, look at Sudo's shoes. They're completely clean. Honestly, he'll say anything to frame us. It's unbelievable that someone like this is even allowed in this school."

At this, the gym teacher instinctively looked at Sudo's shoes, and Sudo felt a surge of joy, quickly lowering his head to check his footwear.

Yes, as long as there was a footprint on the shoe, Class C would definitely be warned, right?

But suddenly, Sudo froze.

To his surprise, the shoes were spotless; at the very least, there were no footprints on the surface.

"This... how is this possible? But I clearly felt someone step on my foot just now!" Sudo felt deeply wronged and shouted in his own defense.

There is a saying: only the person who frames you knows how wronged you truly are.

But Ryuen didn't care about that:

"Teacher, you saw it yourself. There isn't a single footprint on his shoes, and since all of us were on the court, we couldn't have left one. This just proves that he's jealous because we scored, so he's making up excuses to report us."

"Hmph." The gym teacher's expression shifted. He hated students who spouted nonsense, and since Sudo looked like a delinquent, he disliked him even more.

"Stop with this useless talk. If you keep spouting nonsense here, you're done playing."

After saying that, the gym teacher walked back outside the court with his hands behind his back to continue drinking his water.

"Damn it!" Sudo clenched his fists, looking as if he were about to explode at any second.

At that moment, a hand suddenly rested on Sudo's shoulder. Sudo turned around to find Ayanokoji standing there with a calm expression.

Ayanokoji whispered a few words into Sudo's ear.

Sudo's expression turned puzzled at first, but then, as if he had realized something, he seemed to forget his earlier grievance and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, though he still shook his head like a rattle, seemingly in strong refusal.

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