The Pocket Watch and the Staircase

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the wide glass windows of classroom D-301, casting bright patches on the new wooden desks. Fine dust floated in the air, along with the lingering scent of shock, bewilderment, and faint excitement that the new students had brought back from the auditorium.

Kazama In sat down in his seat by the window, second-to-last row. The noise in the classroom surged like waves receding and then rushing back in, louder than before they'd gone to the auditorium. Horikita Manabu's cold, impactful declaration of "meritocracy above all" was like a boulder thrown into a lake, its ripples still spreading.

The murmuring buzzed.

Kazama In didn't join any discussion. The expression on his face remained that same calm, almost indifferent look, as if the speech that could overturn anyone's understanding of the world was merely confirmation of a rule he already knew. He reached into his desk, pulled out a dark blue backpack, and unzipped it with unhurried movements.

He didn't take out textbooks or notes. Amid the surrounding chaos of excited discussions and nervous flipping through freshman handbooks, what he pulled out was a paperback novel with a soft-colored cover depicting silhouettes of a boy and a girl under a cherry blossom tree. The title was printed clearly on the spine: Love Song of Green Seasons.

A pure school youth romance novel.

It formed a stark contrast with the calm, even slightly aloof coldness he radiated. He placed the book gently on the desk, his long fingers turning the pages, his gaze settling quietly on the lines of text. The sunlight outside fell on his sharply defined profile, his long eyelashes casting faint fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyes.

He read with focus, his page-turning movements gentle and rhythmic. The surrounding noise—Sudo Ken's clearly irritated and dissatisfied muttering, Kushida Kikyo's sweet voice trying to soothe everyone and build a harmonious atmosphere, Hirata Yosuke's mild mediating words, and others' discussions about points, class rankings, and the future—all seemed isolated by an invisible barrier.

Yet this focus wasn't complete immersion. A killer's instinct was fused into his bones, making his hearing like the most precise radar, indiscriminately receiving all information around him. The direction of every sound source, the emotional state of each speaker, the hidden intentions behind their words... all were processed and filed simultaneously during his seemingly calm reading. This was a vigilance mode carved into his marrow, impossible to shut off. He was reading the "ordinary" youthful heartthrobs depicted in the book—almost foreign to him—while also "reading" this noisy, real group of freshmen called Class D.

The pages turned. The story entered a warm chapter. The heroine, in the school library after class, mustered the courage to hand a love letter to the senior she secretly admired. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, the air filled with the scent of old books and the girl's nervous sweetness. The text delicately described the trembling of her fingertips, the racing of her heart, and that pure, unadulterated longing.

Kazama In's gaze lingered for a moment on the words describing heartbeats and trembling fingers.

His fingertips unconsciously brushed the page, as if he could feel the emotions flowing beneath the fictional paper. A trace of an extremely subtle, indescribable stir, like a pebble dropped into a deep pool, rippled faintly across the calm surface of his heart. It was a sense of... unfamiliarity? Longing? For the "purity" and "ordinariness" depicted in the book? Even he couldn't clearly define it.

This faint ripple touched something deeper within him.

His other hand, as if beyond his control, reached into the inner pocket of his uniform. His fingertips touched a cold metal object, worn by time. He gently took it out.

It was an old-fashioned silver pocket watch. The edges of the case bore fine scratches, revealing the passage of time. The center of the lid was engraved with the intricate, elegant crest of the Kazama Clan—intertwining vines and a sword.

His thumb pressed lightly on the edge of the lid.

Click.

A soft sound, and the lid sprang open.

Beneath the watch face was set a small, slightly yellowed circular photo. In it were three people.

The background was the garden of the Kazama Clan's old mansion, the sunlight just right. The young father—Kazama Ryunosuke—handsome and refined, a gentle smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes bright and full of strength. His arm gently wrapped around the woman beside him. She had smooth, waterfall-like black hair, a gentle and beautiful face, eyes like lakes filled with starlight, curving slightly into a serene, happy smile. In her arms, she held a little boy who looked only three or four years old. The boy's hair was soft and black, his small face delicate, a pair of ink-black eyes looking curiously at the camera with a child's pure innocence. That was Kazama In.

The photo was small, but it clearly captured a long-lost, warm moment. It was one of the few complete images of "home" in his memory.

Kazama In's gaze lingered, almost greedily, on his mother's gentle smiling face. In the photo, her smile held no shadow, only pure peace and love for the people beside her. This smile overlapped with his final memory of her pale, weak face, still forcing a smile for him, bringing a belated, sharp pain.

His fingertips gently brushed his mother's cheek in the photo. The cold metal touch seemed to carry the warmth of old days.

Mother... A silent thought, like the lightest sigh, rippled in the deepest part of his heart. A life like this... one without darkness, without blood, only sunlight and books... an ordinary life... Can I really have it?

His mother's gently smiling eyes in the photo seemed to pierce through time, quietly watching him, with endless hope and... an indescribable sadness. That sadness, like a hidden brand, lay buried at the root of his becoming "The Arbiter."

Just then, a gentle yet penetrating voice sounded, perfectly breaking through the classroom's noise and interrupting Kazama In's descent into memory.

"Everyone, please quiet down!"

It was Hirata Yosuke. He stood by the podium, a highly approachable smile on his face, his voice not loud but clearly reaching every corner of the classroom. His natural leadership and gentle demeanor quickly silenced the buzzing discussions.

"We've all just arrived in a new environment and don't know each other well. I thought, why not take this opportunity for each of us to briefly introduce ourselves?" Hirata Yosuke's gaze swept across the class, encouraging. "That way, we can get to know each other faster and build understanding. It'll be good for Class D's unity. What does everyone think?"

The suggestion immediately received approval from most, especially Kushida Kikyo, who clapped in agreement: "Hirata-kun is right! Great idea! Let's all get to know each other!" Her smile was sweet and infectious.

Kazama In quietly closed the pocket watch with a soft click. The yellowed photo and his mother's gentle smile were hidden again beneath the cold silver shell. The last trace of subtle fluctuation on his face from the memory vanished, returning to his usual calm. He gently closed the Love Song of Green Seasons and placed it on the corner of his desk.

The self-introductions began. In order of seats, from front to back.

"I'm Ike Kanji! In middle school I was..."

"I'm Yamauchi Haruki! I love playing games and watching anime! My goal is..."

"I'm Karuizawa Kei! Nice to meet you all!"

"Kushida Kikyo! Very happy to meet everyone! I hope we can all become good friends!"

Voices rose and fell, full of youth's vitality, shyness or feigned composure. Some stammered nervously, some tried to clown around to liven the mood, others kept it brief. Kazama In listened quietly, his gaze calmly resting on each classmate who stood up, like observing samples.

Soon, it was the turn of the person in front of Kazama In. It was a tall, muscular boy with obvious impatience in his eyes—Sudo Ken. He stood up, his voice gruff: "Sudo Ken! Used to play basketball! Nothing else to say!" His tone was blunt, and he sat down heavily, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor.

Then, it was Kazama In's turn.

He stood up.

His movements were steady and crisp, without any hesitation. When he straightened up, his tall, well-built figure and calm aura instantly drew the attention of the entire classroom.

His black hair, parted 3:7, gleamed healthily in the sunlight. Most strikingly, near his left temple, a few strands were almost silver-white, mixed with extremely fine, dark red highlights like frozen blood trails. This unusual hair color, combined with his deep features and pale skin, created a striking contrast—both mysterious and carrying an unreal coldness.

"Kazama In." His voice rang out, not loud but exceptionally clear and steady, with a strange penetrating quality that instantly silenced the faint noises in the classroom. No extra titles, no polite opening.

He paused briefly, as if organizing his words. His ink-black pupils calmly swept across the class, his gaze deep, as if it could see through people's hearts.

"Areas of expertise: martial arts (multiple styles), use of cold and hot weapons, intelligence analysis, logical reasoning, multiple languages (including some dialects), computer technology (software, hardware, and network security), basic medical first aid, wilderness survival, disguise and infiltration, rapid memorization, precision mechanical operation (including lockpicking)..."

His tone was steady, as if reading a technical checklist, his articulation clear, without any hint of showing off—just stating facts. As each word left his mouth, the atmosphere in the classroom grew strange. The originally curious or probing gazes gradually turned to shock, disbelief, and even a trace of suspicion. Martial arts and weapons could be understood, but intelligence analysis? Disguise and infiltration? Lockpicking? This... didn't sound like the skill set of an ordinary high school student at all!

During his statement, Kazama In's gaze inadvertently swept across the cover of Love Song of Green Seasons on the corner of his desk. The "pure" friendship scene depicted in the book flashed through his mind, along with the so-called "theories" of interpersonal interaction from the underworld—full of deception, probing, and defense.

The declaration about friendship he had originally prepared, based on principles like "maintain distance," "observe and assess," and "avoid unnecessary contact"—more fitting for his identity as "The Arbiter"—turned on his tongue and was silently swallowed.

If I'm not going to make genuine friends, then don't put those self-righteous theories on display. This thought surfaced clearly.

Thus, he concluded that astonishing "skill list," and his tone shifted with seamless naturalness, his voice still calm and unruffled: "...That's all. Additionally, I have a genuine interest in ordinary high school life and studies. I hope to get along with everyone harmoniously." He spoke that last sentence with great sincerity, and though his tone still lacked warmth, his desire for "harmonious coexistence" was clearly conveyed.

Having said that, he prepared to sit down.

"Wait! Kazama-kun!" A girl in the front row couldn't help but speak up, pointing at his hair, her eyes wide as saucers. "You... your hair? Is it dyed? That white and red... it's so unique!"

Kazama In paused mid-motion, straightening back up. He raised a hand and casually brushed aside a few strands of those unusual-colored locks at his temple, the gesture natural.

"It's not dyed," he said, his voice still flat, betraying no emotion. "It's natural. Probably some... hereditary pigment abnormality." This explanation was half-true, half-false, enough to handle the situation.

"Natural? That's so cool!" Another boy exclaimed in admiration.

"Then... Kazama-kun, that book you're reading..." Another girl pointed curiously at the paperback on the corner of his desk. "A love story?"

Kazama In's gaze fell on the softly colored Love Song of Green Seasons, and he paused for a moment.

"Yeah," he admitted frankly. "I wanted to understand... what normal high school life is like." He lifted his eyes, meeting those curious and probing gazes with calm composure, and added, "Due to some personal reasons, I never really had the chance to experience campus life before."

His tone was very calm, merely stating an objective fact—his past as "The Arbiter" had indeed robbed him of the experience of being an ordinary student. However, when these words landed on his classmates' ears, combined with his earlier overly "hardcore" skill list, they were automatically interpreted as some kind of "tragic past"—perhaps a severe illness that forced him to take a leave of absence? Or a family upheaval that forced him to drop out? In any case, it must have been a very terrible experience that caused someone who seemed so outstanding (despite his skewed skill set) to miss out on the youth he should have had.

The classroom instantly fell silent. The earlier shock, suspicion, and curiosity were quickly replaced by sympathy and a hint of guilt. Even Sudo Ken, for once, didn't let out a snicker.

"I see..." Kushida Kikyo murmured softly, her gaze at Kazama In filled with genuine concern.

"Sorry, Kazama-kun, we shouldn't have asked so many questions..." Someone apologized in a low voice.

Hirata Yosuke also showed a smile of understanding. "It's okay, Kazama-kun. From now on in Class D, we're comrades. We can experience things together!"

Kazama In looked at the unfeigned sympathy and goodwill on the faces before him, and a faint, almost absurd feeling flickered through his heart. He didn't need sympathy, but... this kind of acceptance, born from being "misunderstood" yet laced with kindness, seemed a little better than the outcome of deliberately keeping his distance that he had originally planned?

He gave a slight nod, acknowledging everyone's goodwill, then calmly sat back down in his seat.

Next was Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.

His self-introduction was brief to the extreme: "Ayanokoji Kiyotaka." His voice was utterly plain, with no emotional fluctuation whatsoever, and he sat down after speaking. Compared to Kazama In's highly impactful speech, it was exceptionally bland, to the point that everyone hadn't even reacted before he was already done.

Sudo Ken was clearly very dissatisfied with such an overly simple self-introduction. Combined with his accumulated irritation from before, he suddenly kicked the leg of the desk in front of him!

"Bang!" A loud noise exploded in the quiet classroom.

"Hey! You bastard! Can't you take your self-introduction a little more seriously?!" Sudo Ken roared in the direction of Ayanokoji, his tone aggressive.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka merely turned his head calmly to glance at Sudo Ken, his eyes like a deep pool, utterly unruffled, then turned back as if nothing had happened.

The atmosphere in the classroom instantly became tense and awkward.

Just then, the front door of the classroom slid open. Their homeroom teacher, Chabashira Sae, walked in, still in her dark gray suit, her expression stern, holding a folder in her hand. Her sharp gaze swept across the entire class, instantly suppressing all commotion. Sudo Ken also withdrew his foot with a sulky expression.

"It seems you've all been communicating quite enthusiastically," Chabashira Sae said, her voice devoid of warmth. She walked to the podium, stood still, and placed the folder on the desk. "The self-introduction segment ends here. Now, I will formally explain the core rules of Advanced Nurturing High School."

Without any preamble, she cut straight to the point, her tone as if she were reading out a cold contract.

"I'm sure President Horikita emphasized the principle of 'meritocracy' during the opening ceremony. Here, the only yardstick to measure your worth is 'Private Points'." Chabashira Sae picked up a piece of chalk, turned around, and wrote the large characters "S Points" on the blackboard.

"Every month, the school will evaluate your class's overall performance and distribute points accordingly. These points will be directly deposited into the electronic accounts linked to your student IDs. The initial amount is 100,000." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the D-class students like a tangible force. "."

Her eyes finally settled on the D-class area, and her voice rang out clearly: "Class D: 100,000 points per month."

"Whoa—!"

"100,000?!"

"That much?"

Murmurs of discussion rose and fell. Chabashira Sae watched the restless crowd expressionlessly, not immediately stopping them. Only when the noise subsided a little did she add coldly:

"Quiet! Rules are rules. Class D's initial points are 100,000. Points are your currency here—food, clothing, housing, transportation, learning resources, club activities, and even future recommendations for higher education all require points to pay. If your points are insufficient, your quality of life will plummet, and you may even face the risk of expulsion."

Her words were like ice water, dousing the flames of anger in some, leaving only the cold reality and heavy pressure.

"Points are not fixed," Chabashira Sae shifted her tone. "Class rankings are not eternal. The school will conduct regular comprehensive evaluations. As long as your Class D can demonstrate sufficient strength, cohesion, and leadership, and achieve excellent results in exams, activities, discipline, and other areas, your class points will increase. Correspondingly, the monthly private points distributed will also increase! Conversely, if your performance is poor, points will be deducted, and your rank may even drop—though D-class is already the lowest."

She looked around at the faces below—some heavy, some confused, some kindling a spark of hope. "A low starting point doesn't mean a low ending point. Whether you can shed the label of Class D, earn more points, live a better life, and ultimately graduate as Class A... all of this depends on you. Remember, here, the only ones you can rely on are yourselves and the 'comrades' beside you."

"Meritocracy—that is the sole truth of Advanced Nurturing High School."

"Rule explanation complete. No other arrangements for today. Familiarize yourselves with the environment. Classes officially start tomorrow. Dismissed."

With that, Chabashira Sae picked up her folder crisply, turned around, and left the classroom, leaving behind a dead silence that was soon followed by an eruption of even more intense discussion, complaints, and worries.

Kazama In sat in his seat, not participating in any discussion. He quietly listened to the anxious chatter around him about insufficient points, cafeteria prices, and how to raise the class rank.

Points... currency... rank... He silently repeated these keywords in his mind. Chabashira Sae's explanation had clearly outlined the operating logic of this "new battlefield." Cold numbers, precise evaluations, naked interest-driven incentives, class mobility... It was less like a school and more like a miniature, more transparently ruled, cruel society.

The profound meaning of his father's words, "The staircase must be climbed personally," was now coldly confirmed. This staircase was built from bricks called "points." Class D was the starting point at the very bottom.

A faint, almost mocking curve flickered at the corner of his mouth. How similar were these rules to certain laws of the dark world he knew? Only here, points replaced blood, and class competition masked the more naked law of the jungle.

He reached out, his fingertips unconsciously touching the silver pocket watch in his pocket. The cold sensation of metal came through the fabric.

Mother... That silent call rose again, carrying deeper confusion. In this "ordinary" campus quantified by points, in this gilded cage called "meritocracy," did the "normal life" he sought truly exist? And how was he supposed to climb that staircase leading into the sunlight?

The sunlight outside the window was still bright, but it seemed to carry a hint of coldness. He sat silently in the noisy center of Class D, like an isolated island.