Points

The final bell had barely faded when Uesugi Hara shoved his terminal into his uniform pocket, grabbed his bag, and strode out of the classroom. Behind him, Class A was still buzzing with fragmented discussions—Katsuragi Kohei was busy verifying the fine print of the daily conduct code with a few classmates, the soft scratching of pen on paper weaving through the noise. But none of this concerned him for now; he had only one goal: private points.

Crossing the corridor of the school building, the sound of a basketball thumping against the ground drifted from the open space behind the sports warehouse. Uesugi Hara stood in the shade of a tree, his gaze fixed on the third-year student on the court—the explosive muscle power in the boy's dribble and the stability of his wrist during shots clearly marked him as a starter for the basketball club.

This was the target he had screened from the anonymous forum on his terminal: Sato Ken, the vice-captain of the third-year basketball club. Someone on the forum had mentioned that Sato had points deducted by the captain last month for unauthorized use of club equipment and was currently desperate to fill the deficit.

Uesugi Hara walked onto the court just as the basketball rolled to his feet. He bent down to pick it up, his fingertips spinning the ball. "Senior Sato, nice touch."

Sato turned, sweat dripping from his jawline onto his collarbone, his eyes filled with a hint of scrutiny. "First-year?" He swept a glance over Uesugi Hara's uniform, his tone tinged with indifference.

"Uesugi Hara." Uesugi Hara tossed the ball back, and the other caught it steadily. "I heard you're the ace of the basketball club. Want to play a match? Let's bet something."

Sato scoffed, dribbling the ball back behind the three-point line. "Play against me? Do you know I was the top scorer in the national tournament last year?"

"So, how about a bet of 50,000 points?" Uesugi Hara's tone was flat, as if he were discussing the weather. "A three-point shootout, ten shots to decide the winner. If I win, you give me 50,000; otherwise, I pay you 50,000."

Sato's movements froze. 50,000 points were enough to cover his deficit and leave him with a profit. He scanned Uesugi Hara up and down—the boy was lean, looked somewhat gloomy, and his fingers lacked the thick calluses of an athlete; he didn't look like a basketball player at all.

"Are you sure?" Sato raised an eyebrow. "First-years are this bold with bets?"

"Just want to try and see the gap between me and a senior," Uesugi Hara said, half-truthfully, already opening the transfer interface on his terminal. "Do you need a teacher to witness?"

"No need." Sato agreed instantly, refusing to believe he could lose to a frail-looking first-year. "Right here. Don't go back on your word if you lose."

Ten minutes later, Sato stared at the basketball rolling to his feet, his face stiffened as if scorched by the setting sun. 6 to 4, Uesugi Hara had won. The final winning shot had even grazed the rim, spinning for half a circle before dropping through—the angle as precise as if it had been calculated.

"Points." Uesugi Hara shook his terminal.

Sato gritted his teeth and transferred the 50,000 points, his eyes filled with reluctance. "Who exactly are you? Have you played basketball before?"

"Just play occasionally." Uesugi Hara put away his terminal and suddenly added, "Actually, I'm also good at long-distance running. I heard Watanabe from the third-year track club is currently challenging the 10,000-meter record?"

Sato looked up sharply, as if he had realized something. Uesugi Hara had already turned to leave, leaving only one sentence behind: "I hope you keep today's events confidential, Senior. After all, losing to a first-year doesn't sound very good."

The words struck exactly at Sato's weak point. He watched Uesugi Hara's back disappear around the corner of the corridor, eventually just slamming the basketball against the backboard in frustration, saying nothing more.

For the rest of the time, Uesugi Hara moved through the campus like a precise hunter.

On the tennis court, he defeated a girl from the second-year tennis club with a set of seemingly casual slices, winning 30,000 points with the added condition of "don't let anyone else know I won"—the girl clearly didn't want her crush, a senior, to know she had lost to a first-year.

At the swimming pool, he beat a third-year breaststroke expert by 0.8 seconds, with a stake of 40,000 points. The opponent was a prideful guy who, before leaving, voluntarily promised to "keep this buried in his stomach."

Every match was controlled within the range of a "narrow victory," with stakes ranging from 30,000 to 70,000—not so easy as to arouse suspicion, nor so high as to make the opponent hesitate. More importantly, he could always find the opponent's "motive for secrecy"—be it pride or a small piece of dirt hidden on the forum. He couldn't help but sigh; the school forum was truly a great thing, which also reminded him of Kushida Kikyo, who was said to hold black material on many people.

At 5:30 PM, Uesugi Hara sat in the shade of a tree to count his points. The terminal showed a balance of 530,000, a full 460,000 more than yesterday. This figure was far more than one-tenth of the total private points currently held by Class A, but he stared at the screen for a few seconds and still felt it wasn't enough—after all, when it came to points, the more the better.

As he got up to head to the cafeteria, he ran into Sakayanagi Arisu and Hashimoto Masayoshi at a fork in the road.

"Yo, Uesugi, just finished exercising?" Hashimoto Masayoshi spoke first, his tone carrying an exaggerated warmth, his gaze sweeping over the grass clippings on Uesugi's pant cuffs.

Sakayanagi Arisu's cane tapped the ground lightly, her ice-blue eyes looking in his direction. "Uesugi-san seems very busy this afternoon; I didn't see you in the classroom after school."

"Just practiced a bit on the field." Uesugi Hara lied without changing his expression, his peripheral vision catching the folder in Hashimoto's hand behind Sakayanagi, on which the title "Class Code of Conduct" was vaguely visible.

"Is that so?" Sakayanagi chuckled, her voice laced with a hint of chill. "Then you should replenish some sugar. The strawberry cake at Palette is quite good, though a bit expensive—it costs 8,000 points."

Uesugi Hara felt a slight stir. An 8,000-point cake? This rich girl was indeed well-off. He tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll try it next time."

As they brushed past each other, he heard Sakayanagi Arisu whisper to Hashimoto: "Check the usage records for all sports venues today, especially those used by the upperclassmen."

Uesugi Hara did not stop his pace, nor did he care; after all, even if he kept hiding it, everyone would know in a while. A curve appeared at the corner of his mouth; it seemed Sakayanagi Arisu had already brought Hashimoto into her fold.

After finishing his meal and returning to the dormitory, Uesugi Hara's terminal vibrated again. This time it was a message from Yamada Naoki—the track club senior who had been defeated by Uesugi Hara—the tone testing the waters: "I heard you're looking for someone good at sprinting? I know a guy who might be willing to bet a match with you."

Uesugi Hara raised an eyebrow. It seemed his "hunting" had spread, and some were even trying to act as intermediaries. He replied: "Tell him to come to the field tomorrow afternoon. The stake is 70,000."

Closing the terminal, he watched the sky darken outside the window. The lights of Class A lit up one by one; Katsuragi was still discussing training plans with his classmates, and Sakayanagi had already left the classroom.

500,000 was just the beginning for him; he wanted to scrape together as many points as possible before it was prohibited.