Defect

The afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows of Classroom D-301, warmly spilling across the desks. The bell had rung some time ago, but quite a few students still lingered in the room. Easy laughter and the soft clatter of stationery filled the air.

Kazama In sat in the second-to-last row by the window, resting his chin on one hand. His gaze seemed to drift idly over the swaying shadows of the trees outside, but in truth, he was like an invisible radar, taking in the flow of information from the entire classroom.

After a few days, thanks to a skill list that was impractically hardcore yet useful, which he had casually demonstrated during a few group discussions and gym classes, the natural warmth people felt toward him because of their misunderstanding about his "tragic past," and the pure image of someone "longing for a normal life" that the book Love Song of Green Seasons had inadvertently given him, he had somehow managed to fit into the chaotic collective that was Class D.

The boys' group, led by Kanji Ike and Haruki Yamauchi, would pull him into conversations about games or complaints about points. The girls' group, including Kei Karuizawa and Chiaki Matsushita, would naturally set aside snacks for him or include him in conversations about clubs. They seemed to like his unusual hair color and the quiet composure he occasionally revealed. He was like a perfectly placed lubricant, quietly present at the edges of each social circle without getting too close or being excluded.

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka sat in front of him. Horikita Suzune sat in front of Ayanokoji.

At that moment, Kazama's keen ears caught a faint but distinctly heated exchange from the row ahead.

"...Your very existence is an obstacle to class unity. You can't understand others, and they can't understand you. All you do is hold back Class D's progress." Horikita Suzune's cool voice was like ice beads striking the floor, her criticism undisguised and aimed directly at Ayanokoji Kiyotaka behind her. She didn't turn around, her back perfectly straight.

A brief silence followed. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's voice rose, flat and devoid of emotion. "Horikita, that's an overly subjective claim. Existence is justified by its very nature. Besides, I don't seem to be the only one who can't fit into the group." His retort was precise and even, like a comment on the weather.

Horikita's shoulders and back seemed to stiffen further. He had clearly hit a sore spot. "That's my choice! Unlike certain people, whose inevitable failure is caused by their lack of ability!" A chill of offense entered her voice.

"Lack of ability?" Ayanokoji's voice remained perfectly level. "You seem to have an inflated opinion of your own 'abilities,' Horikita. For example, when it comes to interacting with people, the only 'ability' you've demonstrated is creating distance."

"You...!" Horikita whipped around. A spark of fury had ignited in her usually cold eyes as she glared at Ayanokoji. He simply met her gaze calmly, his eyes like two bottomless wells.

Just as the tension threatened to escalate—

A faint chuckle, almost too soft to hear, came from behind them.

Horikita and Ayanokoji both froze, then turned toward the sound.

Kazama had turned around at some point, one elbow resting casually on the edge of Ayanokoji's desk. Beneath his black hair, parted seven-three, his dark eyes held a rare, almost teasing glimmer. It was as if a crack had opened in a frozen lake, reflecting the sunlight outside and making him seem... strangely alive.

He looked at the pair of "socially awkward people" accusing each other of being "class cancers," and the faint, wry curve of his lips deepened.

"Looks like," Kazama said, breaking the deadlock with an oddly calm air, "both of you are facing quite a challenge when it comes to the art of making friends?"

The anger on Horikita's face was instantly replaced by embarrassed indignation at having been seen through. She gave a cold snort and turned back around, leaving only a stiff, icy back. The tips of her ears seemed a little red, though.

Ayanokoji continued to watch Kazama calmly, with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Kazama's "spectator" expression, so different from his usual quiet reserve, surprised him.

Ignoring Horikita's "silent treatment," Kazama looked at Ayanokoji with the knowing air of someone who had been through it all. He reached into his desk, felt around, and pulled out a familiar-looking paperback—the very copy of Love Song of Green Seasons.

He gently set the book on Ayanokoji's desk and pushed it toward him. The gesture was as casual as if he were handing over a regular textbook.

"Don't lose heart." Kazama's tone was perfectly serious, and paired with his composed face, it was strangely persuasive. "I learned how to make friends from this book, too. Maybe it'll give you two some ideas?"

Ayanokoji Kiyotaka: "..."

He looked at the paperback pushed in front of him, its cover showing a shy boy and girl gazing at each other beneath a cherry tree. His otherwise expressionless eyes finally showed the faintest crack. His gaze lingered on the title, Love Song of Green Seasons, for a full three seconds.

A romance novel? An enormous, silent complaint scrolled through his mind. Kazama In... read this? And was recommending it to him? As a guide to making friends?

Horikita hadn't turned around, but she had clearly heard Kazama. Her shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly, as if she were trying hard to suppress something. At last, she whipped around. Her cool face held a complicated mix of disbelief, disdain, and barely restrained amusement as she fixed Kazama with a sharp look.

"Kazama, are you serious? Using this kind of... childish romance guide to..." Her voice was taut with the effort of keeping herself in check. She stopped halfway through, as if suddenly remembering something. The image of Kazama calmly explaining that he had never truly experienced school life came to mind. Thinking of the "tragic past" she had misinterpreted, she forced herself to swallow the more cutting part of her remark.

She took a deep breath. Her tone softened slightly, tinged with an almost pitying resignation. "...Never mind. Your situation is unusual. Still, I'd suggest focusing your energy on more practical things, like your studies and raising our Class Points." With that, she turned away again, as though even glancing at the book any longer would insult her intelligence.

Ayanokoji lifted his eyes from the book and looked back at Kazama. He tried to detect a hint of mockery or malice in the other boy's composed expression, but found nothing. Kazama looked serious, as if he genuinely believed the romance guide was a handbook for making friends. More importantly, Ayanokoji's near-instinctive intuition told him that Kazama didn't have Kushida Kikyo's carefully cultivated, sickeningly sweet "fake nice" vibe. His recommendation was wildly off the mark in both its subject and its contents, but it seemed to come from a clumsy kindness based on his own experience.

No malice... Maybe he's even a little naïve? Ayanokoji analyzed. He could be useful. The thought surfaced clearly. Kazama was well-liked in class, and he seemed capable, even if his skills were oddly specialized. If Ayanokoji could build a connection with him, Kazama might make a useful "tool." Ayanokoji automatically ignored the question of whether this "use" involved anything else. He didn't understand complicated emotions.

"Thank you, Kazama." Ayanokoji calmly picked up the book and flipped through it at random, his tone as flat as ever. "I'll... take a look." He put it away in his desk.

Kazama nodded in satisfaction, as if he had just done a good deed.

Just then, Ayanokoji's stomach let out an extremely faint growl, but in the relatively quiet classroom, it was still clearly audible.

Ayanokoji's expression didn't change at all, as though the sound hadn't come from him.

"I'm going to the cafeteria," he said, standing up and stating it as a fact.

Kazama looked at Ayanokoji. "Building a bond"—a phrase he had learned from a romance novel—surfaced again. Since he had decided to "make friends" (or, rather, develop a useful resource), sharing a meal seemed like a good step.

"I'll come, too." Kazama also stood, moving briskly.

Ayanokoji glanced at him without comment, then simply nodded. "Sure." They left the classroom one after the other.

They had barely gone a few steps beyond the classroom door when a bright, lively voice rang out like spring sunshine.

"Ah! Ayanokoji! Kazama! What a coincidence!"

Kushida Kikyo approached with a dazzling smile, as if she had been waiting there all along. Her uniform fit her perfectly, and her short chestnut hair looked especially smooth in the sunlight. Her round, almond-shaped eyes curved into crescents, filled with unreserved warmth and friendliness.

"Are you two going to the cafeteria together?" She slipped naturally between them, subtly drawing closer, her gaze moving back and forth between Ayanokoji and Kazama with just the right amount of curiosity. "This is perfect. There's something I wanted to ask you!"

Kazama and Ayanokoji stopped at the same time. Kazama's gaze settled calmly on Kushida's flawless smile, like a precision scanner. Ayanokoji wore his usual expressionless look.

"What is it?" Kazama asked, his voice even.

"Well," Kushida said, clasping her hands together in a cute pleading gesture as her smile grew even sweeter, "I was wondering—you two seem to get along pretty well with Horikita, don't you? I often see you talking together!" Her tone carried just the right mix of envy and curiosity.

Kazama said nothing. Ayanokoji replied, "We just sit in front of and behind her."

"Oh, I see..." Kushida seemed a little disappointed, but she quickly perked up again, her eyes filled with sincere concern. "Actually, I'm worried about Horikita. She's always alone and doesn't seem very willing to talk to everyone. That can't be good for her or for Class D's unity, right?" She looked from Kazama to Ayanokoji, seeking their agreement.

"I think Horikita is a very decisive person," Kazama said evenly, without following Kushida's lead.

"Mm, that's true! She does seem really capable!" Kushida immediately nodded in agreement, then changed tack, her tone turning pleading. "But being alone all the time is so lonely! Since you're fairly close to her"—she deliberately emphasized the words—"could you do me a favor? Maybe invite her to a class activity sometime? Or... even just ask her to have a meal and chat? I really want to become friends with Horikita!" She clasped her hands together and looked at them with shining eyes, full of expectation and "goodwill."

Neither Kazama nor Ayanokoji answered right away. The air was filled with the faint, sweet scent of Kushida's perfume and her almost overpowering "goodwill."

A brief silence followed.

"I'll think about it," Kazama said, giving a deliberately vague answer.

"If there's an opportunity," Ayanokoji replied, just as noncommittally.

"That's wonderful! Thank you!" Kushida seemed satisfied with their answers, her smile brightening like a sunflower in the sun. "I won't keep you from lunch, then! Bye!" She waved cheerfully and skipped away, leaving behind a lively figure.

Only after she disappeared around the corner did Kazama and Ayanokoji turn their gazes back to each other.

"She's enthusiastic," Kazama observed evenly.

"Mm," Ayanokoji replied.

They said nothing more and continued toward the cafeteria in unspoken agreement. Beneath Kushida's flawless warmth and friendliness, there seemed to be a calculated, overdone air of performance. Her eagerness to fit in and be liked by everyone—even going so far as to "help" others, especially someone like Horikita, who clearly resisted her—might be the key "flaw" behind why she had ended up in Class D despite trying so hard.

The cafeteria was bustling, filled with the mingled smells of food and the sound of conversation. Kazama and Ayanokoji carried their trays to a relatively quiet corner and sat down.

Their trays held simple pork cutlet rice bowls. Kazama ate briskly, occasionally glancing at the noisy crowd. Ayanokoji continued eating with his usual almost mechanical, standardized motions.

"Class D," Kazama said, setting down his chopsticks and taking a sip of water. His calm gaze settled on Ayanokoji as he broke the silence. "It seems to have the lowest starting point. It's a complete mess and appears inferior to the other classes in every way."

Ayanokoji paused in the middle of chewing and raised his calm eyes to Kazama, waiting for him to continue.

"But after observing the class for a few days," Kazama went on, sounding as if he were analyzing a report, "I don't think its students are truly weak or stupid. Ken Sudō's athletic ability is far beyond the norm, and his explosive power is amazing. Kanji Ike and Haruki Yamauchi are frivolous, but they're good at gathering information and livening up the atmosphere. Hirata Yosuke has a natural gift for leadership and coordination. Kushida Kikyo's friendliness and social skills are top-notch, though..." He paused, choosing not to mention what he had just observed. "...And Horikita Suzune is a quick learner with clear goals."

He paused, then looked straight into Ayanokoji's deep, unfathomable eyes. "They each have areas where they excel, as well as... equally obvious flaws. Under Advanced Nurturing's cold point system, those flaws are magnified without limit, leading to Class D's current state. It's like a gear assembly: every part has its function, but either the sizes don't match, the parts are misaligned, or... they refuse to mesh with the others at all."

His gaze lingered pointedly on Ayanokoji's face, and his voice dropped, carrying an almost blunt insight. "And you, Ayanokoji, may have a 'flaw' of your own... You seem to lack something."

"What?" Ayanokoji asked calmly, as if the question had nothing to do with him.

"Emotion." Kazama clearly uttered the word, as if stating an observation. "Or, more precisely, the drive to form deep connections with others through emotional resonance. Everything you do looks like you're following a preset program: precise, efficient, but lacking warmth. You observe everyone and analyze everything as if they were specimens. That absolute rationality and detachment becomes a powerful... barrier in an environment that needs unity and human warmth."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. The cafeteria's din felt as if it had been shut out.

Ayanokoji looked at Kazama calmly. Deep in his unruffled eyes, something flickered faintly, too quickly to catch. He fell silent for a few seconds. Then the corners of his mouth lifted by the slightest amount, forming a curve that barely qualified as a smile.

"That's a sharp observation, Kazama." His voice remained flat. "Emotion... may be an obstacle to efficiency. Still, I can't deny that it can serve as an effective adhesive in certain situations." He picked up his spoon and took a bite of rice, his movements still as precise as ever. "I'll... consider your advice."

Kazama said no more and picked up his chopsticks to continue eating. He had said enough. He could see that something about Ayanokoji was unusual. That inhuman calm and absolute rationality were anything but ordinary. Combined with the clues he had picked up before... one name surfaced in his mind: the White Room. The inhumane "perfect human" breeding ground created by his father, Ayanokoji Atsuomi.

He knew Ayanokoji Atsuomi. That man was like the core of a precisely running machine: cold, powerful, and driven by a clear purpose. His "creation" showing up here could not be a coincidence.

The two ate in silence, without delving further into the subject. When they paid, Kazama covered the cost with points. They stopped in agreement at the fork in the path leading to their separate dorm areas.

"See you," Ayanokoji said flatly.

"Yeah." Kazama nodded.

They went their separate ways.