Palette (Part 2)

I gently swirled the glass in my hand, listening to Tetsuya and Shibata chattering noisily with the girls.

The coffee swayed with the motion of the cup, leaving plenty of residue clinging to the walls.

It then coalesced into droplets and gathered again at the bottom.

I took a light sip of the coffee in my hand and closed my eyes slightly.

The coffee enveloped my mouth, gently teasing my taste buds.

When I first came in, I was puzzled as to why this café was named Palette.

Perhaps only by tasting Palette's drinks can one understand the meaning behind it.

Take the latte in my hand, for example.

The first sip brings a faint bitterness from the coffee, followed by the richness of the milk pressing against the palate.

It's like holding a palette in your hands—colors you expect colliding, yet the proportions create a hue that strikes straight into my heart.

Like a painter freely sketching, each person has their own unique feeling about it.

Maybe this sensation suits my personality well.

Freely and lazily indulging in my own world.

Acting according to my own thoughts, purely unconcerned with others' opinions.

Does that make me seem a bit selfish and cold? But my existence is more about pleasing myself, isn't it?

For me, I am first myself, then a person.

I satisfy myself first, then fulfill my obligations as a human being.

This is just my own perspective; I don't ignore the emotions others bring me in this world.

But I prioritize things more clearly.

A refined egoist?

I don't think I'm that kind of existence, nor do I wish to become one.

People grow, and maybe one day I'll meet someone whose every move captures my attention.

I look forward to it, yet I can't help but feel a little afraid.

"Seisuke, you haven't joined our class chat room yet, have you?"

Tetsuya, who had been engaged in the conversation, suddenly leaned in and asked in a low voice.

"And you haven't even added me as a friend—it's really inconvenient to find you."

"I had some urgent business in the afternoon and left early. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. Adding me now works too."

I pulled out my mobile terminal from my pocket and exchanged contact info with Tetsuya.

"Ichinose."

"Huh!? What's up?"

"It seems we haven't exchanged contact info yet. Mind if I add you?"

I held out my mobile terminal.

"Sure."

Ichinose took the terminal, fiddled with the screen for a bit, and handed it back to me.

"Ichinose... do you really like dogs?"

"Why would Hajima-kun think that? If you mean puppies, I do like them quite a bit."

"I can tell."

I nodded in acknowledgment.

"You can tell? How can you tell?"

Ichinose seemed a bit curious.

"Using such a big Golden Retriever as your profile picture—it's pretty obvious you like dogs."

I pointed at the very conspicuous big dog head on the mobile terminal.

"That's not me!"

Ichinose wrinkled her small nose, putting on an angry expression.

"But your name is clearly in the chat box, right? Isn't that specifically to remind me to note it?"

Under the big Golden Retriever's profile picture was a self-introduction.

"I'm Ichinose Honami. Please take care of me from now on!"

"That's not me. The other one is."

Ichinose stared at the profile picture for a moment, then pulled out her own mobile terminal.

If it's not Ichinose, and I only added two people, then it can only be...

I glanced sideways at Tetsuya Hamaguchi, sitting stiffly upright.

Hey, the corners of his mouth were about to give in, yet he still held back, silently swiping on his mobile terminal without a sound.

This guy...

Really is quite lively.

Not joining in on everyone's conversation, I opened my mobile terminal on my own.

Tapping the avatar, I could see the basic info edited on the profile page—things like a simple personal introduction, and some details like zodiac sign or age.

Ichinose's birthday is July 20th.

Counting the time, it seems to fall right during summer break. I can already foresee it being a lively party.

How to spend the two-month summer vacation—just thinking about it feels long.

Maybe by then I won't be worrying about this kind of thing. It's not even something I need to be concerned about now, but once I get immersed, my mind starts wandering all over the place.

Earlier, Ichinose tried to drag me along for dinner with everyone, but I refused, saying I was full from the snacks at the afternoon tea party.

I lay on the bed. The dorm room was already tidied up by me.

I hadn't planned on buying so many things. Although a lot of what Ichinose picked up wasn't necessities, they were all quite practical items.

Though it's called a school dormitory, I guess it lives up to being backed by the state—a single-person room with a kitchen and a small living room.

So complete. It feels like every detail has been arranged.

I leaned against the headboard and picked up the "materials" I bought this afternoon.

These are clearly files for new student admissions. Why does the student council have the right to price and sell them?

I originally thought that the saying "there's nothing you can't buy on campus" leaned more toward things like demerits, disciplinary actions, enrollment, or other transactions between students and the school.

But getting information-like materials from Manabu Horikita gave me a completely different feeling.

Thinking back, this school has revealed all sorts of goodwill and peculiarities from the very beginning.

Every month, they provide Personal Points equivalent to 100,000 yen. The campus is completely sealed off during the term. The graduation and employment rates are nearly 100%. The facilities are absurdly well-equipped—a shopping center that could hold its own in Ginza, single-person dorms, and an unparalleled system of freedom.

Any one of these taken alone is a bit excessive. If I had to use the excuse of government support, I could accept it.

But it doesn't add up.

What I mean is:

If there were some restrictions added on top of getting all this, then I'd think it was normal.

I feel like there's a vast, all-encompassing net, ready to hunt the new students.

Why would Manabu Horikita make a move that goes against the school's will?

It's a bit hard to understand, but no matter what plan he has, if he wants to carry it out, there's no avoiding some ripples.

I spread out the materials and pulled out the one for Class 1-D.

Shibata-kun's words from today are still fresh in my mind.

It was that line from the Second-year Student, mocking the redhead from Class D—calling them defective goods or something.

So why is Class D called defective? If they're truly just defective, what's the point of them entering this school?

Are they purely stepping stones?

That thought was quickly dismissed by me.

What if there's a possibility like this...

What if we're the stepping stones?

If something is bottom-of-the-barrel from the start, who would expect it to shine?

I spread out the Class 1-D materials and skimmed through them roughly.

After thinking for a moment, I pulled out the Class A materials as well.

What they call the school's evaluation is based on many aspects.

Academic ability, intelligence, judgment, physical ability, and teamwork.

Plus an interview evaluation handled by the examiner.

Even though Class A students have stronger overall abilities, I didn't find anything unique in the interview section.

If anything, the Class D students stand out too much in this area.

Suzune Horikita—I admit I only noticed her because of her surname.

Is she related to Manabu Horikita? I tried to find some clues in the materials.

It can be said that aside from teamwork, she has no other weaknesses. She's clearly a girl who raises Class D's average.

(Academic Ability A, Intelligence A-, Judgment B-, Physical Ability B+, Teamwork E)

But it seems the shortcoming in the cask effect was too prominent, so for that reason alone she was assigned to Class D.

If she had any connection to Manabu Horikita, there's no way such a glaring flaw would exist.

My mind involuntarily conjured Manabu Horikita's face.

It seemed tinged with a bit of coldness and indifference.

But no one would ever doubt his teamwork was problematic; his stiff expression was merely a matter of personality.

Still, she served as strong evidence for me, proving that Class D wasn't purely a collection of defective goods and stepping stones.

A girl who earned the highest evaluation in teamwork and showed no obvious weaknesses in other areas.

"At first glance, a flawless outstanding student"—that line piqued my curiosity.

Interviewer's evaluation: Academic ability and physical capability both match Class B's standards. Possesses exceptionally strong social skills since middle school, a standout figure in any grade. However, based on certain facts recorded in other materials, the decision was made to assign her to Class D.

So what exactly happened to push a student who could have entered Class B into a problem class?

Kushida Kikyo.

I silently memorized that girl's name.

Class D was like a gathering of countless problem students. Whether they could transform was unknown, but for now, it was quite a hot potato.

I suddenly felt deep respect for Class D's homeroom teacher—if she put her heart into managing the class.

Maybe it wouldn't end up like the second-year situation, utterly powerless to fight back.

Though I didn't know the specifics of the upper grades, I couldn't ignore the star-like presence in the second-year section at the opening ceremony, nor the discrimination and mockery the lower-ranked classes faced from them.

How much more of this stuff did I have to read before I was done? I tossed the materials onto the bedside and buried my head under the covers.

Suddenly, I noticed a string of numbers on one page sandwiched in between.

Whose could it be?

I tried dialing, and the other end picked up quickly.

"Manabu Horikita speaking. Who is this?"

"This is Hajime Kashima."

Seeming a bit surprised by this, the voice on the other end paused for a moment without replying.

"This call came earlier than I expected. What do you want to discuss?"

He left the number himself, yet still acted as if nothing had happened.

"Sorry for disturbing you so late. There are some things I'd like to confirm with you."

I was about to get straight to the point, but he cut me off.

"Is that so? No need to rush... Have you heard of my exploits?"

Suddenly, I was pulled into casual conversation, even though I'd come to confirm certain matters.

"Frankly, aside from the few things Secretary Tachibana said today, I haven't had time to look into anything else."

Manabu Horikita let out a light sigh and spoke.

"Originally, I entered this school hoping to change some things, but now it seems nothing has gone the way I envisioned."

I listened in a fog, feeling that if it were President Horikita, he wouldn't be so vague.

Not yet the right time to reveal things?

I'd take it that way for now.

"The school isn't as simple as it seems. You've sensed that too, haven't you?"

"That's why I was thinking of wandering around to gather some intel. I just happened to run into Secretary Tachibana."

"So you're practically confessing on your own?"

"Can my words alter your judgment of events?"

I countered.

A soft laugh came from the other end of the receiver.

"So what do I need to do? Perhaps admission materials themselves aren't highly valuable, but at this point right after enrollment, the existence of the materials holds more worth than their content."

From them, I inferred or confirmed many conjectures, and even more ideas were born.

"A very pragmatic way of speaking. You clearly know what those in power want, so you seem to give plenty—whether in attitude or approach."

I didn't respond, quietly waiting for what came next.

"No hurry. Nothing has reached the most opportune time yet."

"Want to test my true strength? But you should understand—next time, you might not have the initiative in the conversation."

"That remains to be seen. But I need the right people to do the right things."

What exactly was he so concerned about? That second-year senior?

I said nothing, and the other end fell silent too.

(Manabu Horikita)

Two years apart. I had thought that as long as I kept my distance, Suzune wouldn't keep treating me as her role model like she did when we were kids, mimicking my every step like a puppet on strings.

When I grew cold toward her, she began learning to face everyone else the same way.

I admit it—I lied.

I said I liked long hair. And even now, when I see Suzune again, she still has it long.

Two years. The sister I had hoped would become independent hadn't changed at all.

I finally understood: running away doesn't solve anything.

If I want to change her personality, I first have to change my own attitude and mindset.

Because I am her elder brother.

All this time, failing to guide her properly was a dereliction of my duty.

No matter how much I try not to show it, I care about her.

But I don't even know how to face her anymore...