A Talk with Katsuragi

After sending Kushida Kikyo away, the expression on Uesugi Hara's face finally relaxed. He turned and collapsed onto the bed behind him, draping an arm over his forehead. The calm, scrutinizing gaze he had maintained while facing Kushida receded like a tide, revealing a rare trace of exhaustion.

What a difficult cat to tame. He chuckled softly, his fingertips tracing patterns on the bedsheet. Part of the reason he had mentioned "caring about Sakura" was to gauge Kushida's reaction—he hadn't expected that, despite her obvious repulsion, she would still obediently accept the task. It seemed that Horikita's weight in her heart was indeed far more important than her own pride.

"I hope Kushida doesn't mess this up." He rose and walked to his desk, opening the chat window with Sakura. Their last conversation had stalled three days ago; he had asked, "Did you take the cherry blossom photos?" and she had replied with a shy emoji and, "I did! But I haven't edited them yet."

He typed a line: "The weather is nice today, perfect for photography." After sending it, he felt it was too deliberate and wanted to retract it, but she had already replied—a sticker of a kitten holding a camera, followed by: "Yeah! I just bought breakfast with a classmate and am getting ready to go shoot!"

Uesugi Hara looked at the word "classmate," his fingertips pausing on the screen before he suddenly smiled. He didn't reply, simply placing his terminal on the corner of the desk and pulling back the curtains to let the sunlight flood in.

The Sunday breeze carried the scent of grass and trees, causing the pages of his mystery novel to flutter gently. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the occasional birdcall outside the window, and suddenly felt that this school game might be worth playing a little more slowly.

Uesugi Hara raised a hand to rub his brow; the earlier sense of relaxation receded like a tide. "Relaxation is merely a gap for the brain to catch its breath," he muttered to himself, tapping his fingertips on the desk. "It's time to handle matters within the class."

He took out his terminal, found the contact labeled "Katsuragi," and swiped his finger across the screen to send a message: "Two o'clock this afternoon, Palette cafe. Let's talk about class affairs. Just the two of us."

As soon as the "message sent" notification lit up, the reply popped up, consisting of only four concise characters: "Fine, see you this afternoon." Not a single punctuation mark more or less—typical Katsuragi style.

At 1:30 PM, half an hour before the agreed time, two figures had already arrived at Palette.

Uesugi Hara sat in a corner by the window with an untouched iced coffee in front of him. Katsuragi liked punctuality but hated "being waited for even more." This tacit understanding of arriving early had become a default rule in their few previous interactions.

When the door creaked open, he looked up. Katsuragi was wearing his uniform neatly, walking with a steady gait before sitting down opposite him.

"Five minutes earlier than expected," Katsuragi spoke first, his voice steady, his gaze sweeping over the coffee. "It seems what you have to say is more urgent than I thought."

Uesugi Hara tapped his fingertips against the side of the cup, beads of condensation from the melting ice sliding down the glass. "Urgent isn't the word, but it does require a 'private talk'." He looked up at him. "After all, it's easy for irrelevant people to overhear this in the classroom."

"Oh?" Katsuragi leaned back. "Then what kind of matter is worth choosing a Sunday afternoon cafe?" He picked up a hot cocoa, the steam from the rim blurring his face.

Uesugi Hara didn't rush to answer, his fingers tapping the glass. "Before we talk business, I have a question—after observing her these days, what is your take on Sakayanagi Arisu? I want the truth."

Katsuragi's brow furrowed, his expression growing complex. After two seconds of silence, he set down his cup. "A highly threatening person with aggressive methods. She stops at nothing to achieve her goals and excels at manipulating rules and human hearts..." He paused. "I have nothing but high vigilance and hostility toward her."

Uesugi Hara stared into his eyes, his tone as flat as a mathematical formula. "Then do you think you can beat her?"

The question was like a sharp blade, piercing straight into Katsuragi's silence. He lowered his eyes to the wood grain of the table, his Adam's apple bobbing several times, but he didn't utter a word.

Uesugi Hara leaned forward, the coffee spoon turning gently in the bottom of the cup with a crisp sound. "Katsuragi, I want you to give up the fight for the position of class leader."

Katsuragi didn't speak, only frowning at Uesugi Hara, hoping for a reasonable explanation.

Uesugi Hara rested his fingertips on the rim of the cup, his tone calm but carrying a crushing analytical weight. "Sakayanagi Arisu could never be content as a subordinate. To secure the leadership, she will take 'stopping at nothing' to the extreme. If you go head-to-head with her, your chances of winning are almost zero."

"I might as well give you some key information in advance—next month, the school will launch a class competition based on class points to determine hierarchy. Only those who graduate from Class A are guaranteed 100% employment. More importantly, the school has 'expulsion exams.' While 20 million points can grant an exemption, who can guarantee that Sakayanagi won't use that to pull the rug out from under you?"

"Do you really think you can defend against the knife she hides in the shadows?"

After hearing Uesugi Hara's words, Katsuragi's pupils shrank in shock, his spine stiffening involuntarily. Yet, facing Uesugi Hara's unquestionable tone, he had to admit the authenticity of this intelligence.

After a few seconds of silence, he pulled at the corner of his mouth, his voice strained. "But I don't trust her..." The simple words were wrapped in his wariness of Sakayanagi and hidden struggles; after all, it wasn't easy to let go of a position he had fought for so long.

"I want you to take a step back and use the concession of the leadership position as a bargaining chip to become her deputy. That way, when Sakayanagi pushes for major plans, she will need your consent, creating a system of checks and balances," Uesugi Hara said calmly.

"But would Sakayanagi agree to appoint a deputy?" Katsuragi's brow remained furrowed, his tone filled with obvious doubt—given that woman's desire for control, how could she allow anyone to share her power?

Uesugi Hara tapped the bottom of his empty coffee cup, creating a light sound. "She will definitely agree." He looked at Katsuragi with certainty. "Sakayanagi's confidence borders on arrogance. To her, your voluntary 'submission' is merely proof that the 'outcome has been decided.' She will only see your request for a deputy as a 'dignified struggle after defeat.' Given her personality, she will likely accept it with a smile—after all, being able to keep an opponent 'well-behaved' under her nose is a pleasure for her."

"When the time comes, you can make it clear to the whole class—you are good at steady, defensive play to protect the class's foundation, while Sakayanagi is good at taking the initiative to seize external resources." Uesugi Hara drew an arc on the table, clearly defining the boundaries of offense and defense. "Once those words are out, the students will naturally accept your positioning. As for Sakayanagi, she won't even think about sidelining you—with her calculations, she can't fail to understand that 'only by being prepared for both offense and defense can one gain a firm foothold in this school.' You guard the interior, she expands outward; to her, that is actually the most labor-saving layout."

Katsuragi's fingers, which had been gripping the coffee cup, slowly relaxed. The warmth of the cup seeped into his palm, but it didn't dispel the hesitation in his eyes. "Why aren't you competing for class leader?"

Uesugi Hara laughed at the question, rubbing a water stain off the edge of the table. "It's too much trouble." He said it dismissively, as if commenting on the weather. "A leader has to deal with too many trivial matters—meetings, counting points, dealing with teachers... it's not nearly as interesting as hiding in the back and watching the situation unfold."

Katsuragi was stunned, clearly not expecting that answer. He had expected to hear "the time isn't right" or "I have other schemes," but he hadn't expected such a blunt reason.

Uesugi Hara raised his hand to check the time on his terminal and stood up. "That's about all that needs to be said." He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and draped it over his arm. "The rest is up to you—starting next month, remember to take the initiative to talk to Sakayanagi."

Katsuragi wanted to say something else, but Uesugi Hara had already turned toward the door. As he passed the counter, he signaled to the clerk, clearly having settled the bill.

The glass door was pushed open and then closed, bringing in a gust of wind that carried his parting words, "Remember to talk to Sakayanagi," back to him.

Katsuragi looked at the empty seat opposite him, the warmth of the coffee cup still lingering on his fingertips. He picked up his terminal, pulled up the class member list, and let his gaze rest on the name "Sakayanagi Arisu" for a long time, finally tapping the screen gently—as if confirming a resolution.