Might Makes Right

The hem of his deep blue uniform brushed against the doorframe of classroom D-301 as Koenji Rokusuke stepped into his "battlefield."

The space was a bit more spacious than he had anticipated. The neatly arranged desks basked in the crisp morning sunlight, their wooden surfaces glowing with a warm luster. His gaze, like the most precise scanner, instantly captured a key piece of information—twenty-six desks. No more, no less, exactly twenty-six single desks.

Just moments ago, as he passed through the third-floor corridor of the main teaching building, Block A, his eyes had briefly swept over a few other classrooms with open doors, as if skimming a landscape. Class A, Class B, Class C... without exception, they all had twenty-five desks. Neat and uniform, as if measured with a ruler.

Class D had one extra.

This subtle difference, like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, stirred a barely perceptible ripple in his calm mind. The school's resource allocation, or rather, its "special attention" to Class D, was evident from the very start. This extra desk, like a silent brand, proclaimed an unspoken disparity in starting points.

His seat was in the second-to-last row by the window. A position with a broad view, allowing him to observe the whole while not being too easily noticed. He walked straight over, pulled out the chair, and sat down. The movement was clean and fluid, without any unnecessary noise. The fabric of his new uniform rustled faintly against the back of the chair.

A scattering of people had already taken their seats in the classroom. The air was thick with the peculiar restraint of a new environment, tentative probing, and a barely suppressed undercurrent of excited whispers.

"Hey, did you hear? Apparently this school..."

"I wonder what our homeroom teacher will be like..."

"Hey, where were you in middle school?..."

The chatter floated like tiny bubbles in the relatively open space. Koenji Rokusuke gently placed his black backpack on the floor beside him, showing no intention of joining any conversation. His back was straight, his gaze calm as he looked out the window. Outside, between the teaching buildings, were meticulously planned green belts, with a few early-blooming cherry blossoms dotting the landscape with pale pink, swaying gently in the breeze. Sunlight streamed through the huge glass windows, casting bright patches on the floor and illuminating even the finest dust particles in the air.

The noise was right in his ears, yet it felt as if separated by an invisible barrier.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping the classroom discreetly. A few boys gathered together, talking loudly. One with red hair, a sturdy build, and a clearly arrogant expression (Sudo Ken) was waving his arms and pontificating; another, tall and handsome with a gentle smile (Hirata Yosuke), seemed to be trying to mediate the atmosphere. A few girls were huddled together; one with short chestnut hair and a highly approachable smile (Kushida Kikyo) was chatting animatedly with those around her. Her gaze briefly paused as it swept past Koenji Rokusuke's direction, then she flashed an even brighter smile.

Koenji Rokusuke's gaze calmly shifted away without acknowledgment. He spotted the boy with the calm eyes from the bus (Ayanokoji Kiyotaka), sitting alone in a back seat, also silently staring out the window, like a sculpture blending into the background. He also saw a girl with long black hair and an exceptionally cold expression (Horikita Suzune). She sat alone in the front row, her back ramrod straight, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance, as if the surrounding noise had nothing to do with her.

The various faces of Class D were beginning to reveal themselves in this brief observation. Warmth, coldness, attempts to fit in, standing out... like a pot of mixed ingredients just beginning to heat up.

An indescribable weariness, like tiny vines, quietly crept up on him. It wasn't physical fatigue, but a mental exhaustion from long-term tension. The warm sunlight outside the window carried a hypnotic warmth. Koenji Rokusuke withdrew his gaze, rested his forehead lightly on his folded arms, and closed his eyes.

His consciousness didn't fully sink into darkness. The killer's ingrained instinct kept his hearing on high alert even in this seemingly relaxed state. Footsteps approached from afar, each with a different rhythm and weight—light, dragging, hesitant, confident... The door was repeatedly opened and closed, each time bringing a brief disturbance of air and new sources of sound. Whispers, the creak of desks being moved, the dull thud of bags hitting the floor... these subtle noises, like a background track, were unconsciously received, sorted, and filed away by him.

He was like a beast basking in the sun, seemingly lazy, yet its sensory feelers covered the entire space.

Time flowed silently in the river of perception.

After an unknown period, when the last slightly hurried footsteps entered the classroom, accompanied by the soft click of the door being carefully closed and a faint sigh of relief, Koenji Rokusuke's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

The volume of the background noise seemed to reach a critical point, then began to stabilize. A subtle atmosphere of "everyone is here," like an invisible tide, permeated the entire classroom.

At that moment, Koenji Rokusuke lifted his head.

The movement wasn't abrupt, carrying a natural fluidity as if waking from sleep. There was no trace of confusion in his eyes; they were as clear as if he had never closed them. His deep, ink-black pupils, illuminated by the light from the window, appeared exceptionally calm and sharp. He sat up straight, his gaze calmly sweeping across the entire classroom.

Twenty-six desks, all occupied. Every face bore the freshness of a newcomer and a hint of barely perceptible tension. The characteristics he had observed earlier were even more pronounced against the backdrop of "everyone present."

Kushida Kikyo was smiling brightly, greeting classmates around her, diligently weaving her social network; Sudo Ken sat with his arms crossed, an impatient look on his face; Hirata Yosuke still wore a gentle smile, trying to soothe those around him; Horikita Suzune remained expressionless, as if in another dimension; Ayanokoji Kiyotaka... his gaze happened to briefly meet Koenji Rokusuke's in the air, still that deep-pool calm, before they both looked away.

The air was thick with an invisible tension. A prototype of something called a "class" was struggling to take shape amidst the chaos.

Just then, the front door of the classroom opened. A young woman in a dark gray professional suit, with a stern expression, walked in. Her steps were steady, she held a folder in her hand, and her sharp gaze swept across the class. The noise in the classroom stopped instantly, as if a mute button had been pressed.

"I am your homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae." Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable penetrating power, clearly reaching everyone's ears. "Now, everyone, follow me to the auditorium for the opening ceremony. Stay quiet and mind your manners."

No pleasantries, just clear and direct instructions.

Leaving the relatively enclosed classroom and stepping into the wide corridor connecting the teaching building to the auditorium, the afternoon sun became more generous, pouring down and flowing across the polished floor tiles. The stream of new students moved forward like a winding river under the teacher's guidance, their deep blue uniforms merging into a surging ocean.

Koenji Rokusuke walked near the back of the line, his pace unhurried. The surrounding air was filled with the unique restlessness and excitement of youth, hushed conversations buzzing like countless bees.

"Aha! Isn't this our esteemed 'Arbiter'? What a small world we live in!"

A deliberately raised voice, dripping with exaggerated theatricality, pierced through the surrounding noise and landed precisely on Koenji Rokusuke's ears.

Koenji Rokusuke's steps didn't falter in the slightest. He didn't even fully turn his head, only catching a glimpse of a flashy light gold in his peripheral vision.

Koenji Rindo.

He was like a peacock displaying its feathers, having somehow squeezed through the crowd beside him and naturally falling into step with Koenji Rokusuke. He was slightly taller, with a slender build. The same deep blue uniform, on him, somehow looked like it was straight off a runway model's back. His collar was casually open, revealing the elegant lines of his collarbone. His light gold hair shimmered with an almost blinding radiance in the sunlight. His handsome, almost bewitchingly beautiful face wore a cynical smile, and his peach-blossom eyes appraised Koenji Rokusuke with keen interest.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Koenji Rindo shook his head, his tone exaggerated. "Look at this getup, Arbiter Boy. It's hard to imagine you condescending to put on this 'mediocre' uniform and mingle among us 'common folk'." He deliberately emphasized the word "Arbiter," carrying a knowing, teasing implication.

Koenji Rokusuke's gaze remained fixed ahead, his face devoid of any expression. Only his thin lips parted slightly to utter two words: "Rindo." His voice was low and calm, revealing neither joy nor anger.

"Don't be so cold, little Roku." Koenji Rindo was completely unfazed by his attitude, instead moving closer and casually draping an arm over Koenji Rokusuke's shoulder. This overly familiar gesture caused Koenji Rokusuke's brow to furrow almost imperceptibly, but he didn't immediately shake it off. "I'm really surprised! The old man mysteriously said there would be an 'old acquaintance' at the same school. I was wondering who it could be, never thought it would be you, this big shot!" He leaned close to Koenji Rokusuke's ear, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. "What's the matter? Tired of the life on the edge, want to experience the innocent romance of a pure high schooler?"

Koenji Rokusuke finally turned his head, his ink-black pupils calmly meeting Koenji Rindo's handsome face, so close and full of mockery. The gaze was calm and unruffled, yet it made the fingers on his shoulder involuntarily curl inward.

"Just changing the environment." Koenji Rokusuke's voice remained flat, betraying no emotion.

"Changing the environment?" Koenji Rindo raised an eyebrow dramatically, then, as if thinking of something, his smile faded slightly, and a flicker of an elusive light passed through his peach-blossom eyes. "Oh... I see. It's the 'Ladder,' right?" He deliberately enunciated the word, his gaze sweeping over the Class D badge on Koenji Rokusuke's chest, a meaningful curve forming at the corner of his mouth. "It seems our esteemed Arbiter's starting point is... hmm, quite 'challenging'?"

Koenji Rokusuke didn't answer, simply turning his gaze back to the front of the line. The massive, solemn outline of the auditorium was already clearly visible.

"But that's fine!" Koenji Rindo reverted to his cynical demeanor, patting Koenji Rokusuke's shoulder forcefully. Koenji Rokusuke's body tensed almost imperceptibly at the contact, then relaxed. The shadow buried deep in his heart would still be erased from his mind.

The friend who had been killed before his eyes, at that party where only he had witnessed it all. Koenji Rindo hadn't been at that party, but as a friend, he couldn't help but think of it.

'A friend... yeah.'

"With you here, this boring school life might get a little more interesting. At least," he winked, "we won't have to worry about some blind fool disturbing the peace, right, Arbiter?"

That last title carried a weight only the two of them understood. Koenji Rokusuke remained silent, neither confirming nor denying. A peculiar atmosphere flowed between them, a blend of old acquaintances' familiarity, the barrier of their identities, and an unspoken understanding based on their mutual recognition of each other's abilities.

The line slowly merged into the grand entrance of the auditorium.

Inside the massive hall, the light was bright and solemn. Rows of deep red seats stretched like neat piano keys, extending all the way to the towering dome. A huge crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the dome cast a soft, brilliant light. The air smelled of new carpet and wooden seats, along with the warm vitality radiating from the thousands of people gathered there.

Following the class indicators, the new students were guided to their seats in order. Class A sat in front, Class B next, Class C after that, and Class D was placed at the rear of the auditorium near the exit.

Kazama In sat down in his seat. His field of vision was wider due to the position at the back. He calmly swept his gaze over the sea of dark heads in front of him, his eyes passing over them like a breeze through a silent forest. His gaze didn't linger on anyone for long—until—

The front row of the Class A section.

A figure entered his field of vision.

Small, slender. A head of soft, silver-white hair like the finest silk, flowing with a cool luster under the bright lights of the auditorium. She sat there quietly, wearing the same red uniform as everyone else, her back straight as a rod, her posture as elegant as a carefully arranged doll. Her profile was exquisitely flawless, her skin pale to the point of translucence, her long eyelashes lowered, casting faint shadows beneath her eyes. In her hands, she seemed to hold a hardcover book, her fingertips gently turning a page, her movements unhurried, carrying a stillness and... detachment that set her apart from the surrounding noise.

Sakayanagi Arisu.

Kazama In's gaze lingered on her for a few seconds. Deep within his jet-black pupils, like a tiny pebble dropped into a calm lake, a faint ripple stirred. Then, the ripple quickly subsided, returning to the stillness of a deep pool. He looked away, as if merely confirming a known fact.

At that moment, the lights on the high podium at the front of the auditorium suddenly focused.

A figure stepped onto the stage with steady strides. He too wore the teacher's uniform of Advanced Nurturing High School, but the insignia on his shoulders and chest indicated a higher rank. Tall and upright, his face cold and stern, his features sharp as if carved by a knife. Beneath his short, jet-black hair were eyes as sharp as a hawk's, and when his gaze swept the room behind his glasses, it carried an invisible, breathless pressure.

The entire auditorium fell silent instantly, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"I am the student council president, Horikita Manabu."

His voice, low and steady, carried clearly through the microphone to every corner of the auditorium, with a metallic quality and an unquestionable authority.

"First, welcome all new students to Advanced Nurturing High School." Horikita Manabu's gaze, as if tangible, swept across the thousands of young faces below. His words were concise and forceful, with no unnecessary pleasantries. "You have passed a rigorous selection and stand here now. But this is only the beginning."

He paused briefly, his powerful aura making the entire space feel frozen.

"At Advanced Nurturing High School, everything you possess is built on 'points.'" Horikita Manabu's voice was clear and cold, as if reciting a legal code. "Each month, the school distributes varying amounts of 'private points' based on the class's overall performance. These points are the only currency for living at this school. Food, clothing, entertainment, and even the recommendation resources you'll need for future advancement... everything is tied to points."

A suppressed murmur of gasps and whispers rippled through the audience. This rule, like a cold iron curtain, instantly enveloped the hearts of all the new students.

Horikita Manabu seemed not to hear the commotion below and continued in his unemotional tone: "Class rankings, from A to D, determine your initial treatment and the ease of earning points. Class A enjoys the most favorable resources, while Class D is at the very bottom." His words, like ice picks, precisely struck the students in the Class D area at the rear of the auditorium, and many faces instantly lost color.

Kazama In sat in the back row, his face expressionless. His father's "ladder theory" was now being coldly confirmed by reality.

"However," Horikita Manabu shifted his tone, his gaze behind his glasses seeming even sharper, like a searchlight sweeping the room, "this is not set in stone. Advanced Nurturing High School advocates a meritocracy. Class rankings are not eternal. With enough strength and wisdom, Class D can rise, and Class A... can also fall."

"Strength, strategy, unity, leadership... use everything you have to fight, to struggle, to climb!" His voice suddenly rose, carrying a strong, almost coldly provocative energy. "Points are the only measure of your worth! Here, no one will offer you mercy! The only one you can rely on is yourself!"

"Remember, where you start only determines your position now, not your destination! The ladder is before you. Whether you can climb it step by step depends entirely on your own 'ability'!"

"Meritocracy—this is the absolute law upheld by Advanced Nurturing High School!"

"That is all."

Horikita Manabu gave a slight nod, ending his speech, which, though brief, struck like a heavy hammer on everyone's hearts. He didn't look at any face in the audience again, turned, and walked off the stage with steady steps. His back was straight as a pine, carrying a rock-solid coldness.

The entire auditorium fell into a deathly silence. Thousands of new students, regardless of their class, wore expressions of shock, confusion, excitement, or heavy contemplation. Horikita Manabu's words, like cold brands, were deeply etched into everyone's consciousness.

Meritocracy. Points supremacy. Class mobility. Climbing the ladder...

Kazama In sat in the Class D area. Under the slightly dimmer light at the back, his dark blue uniform seemed to take on an even deeper hue. He lifted his head slightly, looking past the bobbing heads in front, and once again fixed his gaze on that silver-white, elegant, and quiet back in the front row of Class A—Sakayanagi Arisu. She remained in her posture of reading her book, as if the declaration that had shaken the hearts of all the new students was nothing more than irrelevant background noise to her.

The ladder had been laid out. The starting point had been set.

No smoke of gunpowder, yet the lines were clearly drawn.

The opening ceremony wound down in an indescribably heavy atmosphere. When the announcement to disperse rang out, the massive auditorium, as if released from a silencing spell, instantly erupted in a huge wave of sound. The new students stood up, each with their own complex feelings, and surged toward the exits, talking among themselves.

Kazama In rose with the flow of people. The afternoon sunlight of late autumn, slanting through the tall stained-glass windows of the auditorium, cast alternating light and shadow on his calm profile. He took one last look at the podium, now empty, leaving only the lingering echoes of Horikita Manabu's words, like cold metal fragments scattered across the vast space.

He took a step, merging with the Class D crowd into the torrent flowing toward the exit, which symbolized the starting point. The sunlight was a bit harsh, falling on the shoulder insignia of his dark blue uniform. The emblem representing Class D reflected a faint, yet undeniable, glimmer of light.