Karuizawa Kei

The new week began, and nothing about Class D's atmosphere had changed.

Yoshida and Sudo were still loudly debating in the back of the classroom whether to go to karaoke or the movies that weekend. Horikita Suzune was still organizing her notes between every class, and Kushida Kikyo was still surrounded by a group of girls, laughing and chatting. The figure on the rooftop hadn't appeared again. Ishizaki still hovered around Sudo, occasionally sizing up the people around them with an unfriendly look.

Kanzaki Toru still sat in his usual spot in the back row by the window, maintaining all the outward signs of an inconspicuous, ordinary student.

But one thing was quietly changing—his place in the class.

He wasn't the one driving this change. The people around him were actively drawing closer. Sudo greeted him whenever they ran into each other at the gym, and sometimes even messaged to ask if he could help check his bench press form. Yoshida never said anything nice, but whenever they met in the hallway, he gave him a nod. There was an awkward understanding in that nod. When Horikita needed to verify something in class, she handed him her terminal directly instead of going to someone else first.

He had even started getting pulled into the class group chat. Kushida had made it and named it "Class D Mutual Aid Group." There were more than thirty people in it, and every day they discussed all sorts of things—from homework answers to restaurant recommendations, workout plans to karaoke booking times. Kanzaki Toru never sent a message, but his name sat quietly in the member list. Kushida was the one who'd added him. At the time, she'd written, "Kanzaki's joined, everyone make him feel welcome! Though I don't think he actually needs it (laughs)."

It was a clever way to bring someone in. It made him part of the group while preserving his dignity as an outsider with the words "I don't think he actually needs it." Kushida Kikyo's social instincts were so precise that it was hard to find fault with them.

At lunch on Wednesday, Kanzaki Toru was eating his usual boxed lunch in the classroom. Sakura Airi wasn't there today—Horikita had taken her to the library to help organize some materials from past exams. Lately, Horikita seemed to have noticed Sakura's potential for observation and information gathering, and had started deliberately assigning her tasks that didn't require much socializing. It was good news for Sakura. Being needed was one of the most effective ways to overcome social anxiety.

Kanzaki Toru had just packed away his lunchbox when a shadow fell across his desk from the window. He looked up and saw a girl standing in the hallway outside, watching him through the glass. Her long blond hair sparkled in the sunlight. Her school jacket hung open over a light-colored knit vest. She had delicate features and an air of confidence that seemed to come from deep within her. She wasn't from Class D.

He remembered her name—Karuizawa Kei, the queen bee of Class D.

They called her the queen bee not because she held any official position in the class, but because she was always surrounded by a group of girls, like bees around their queen. From the very first day of school, Karuizawa Kei had occupied a special place among the girls in Class D. She wasn't necessarily the prettiest girl in class, nor the best student, but she had a natural presence that made the other girls unconsciously center their social activities around her.

"You're Kanzaki Toru?" She came to the classroom door and spoke directly, as if confirming a fact she already knew.

"I am. You're Karuizawa."

"You know me?" The corners of Karuizawa's lips lifted slightly, with a hint of smugness that suggested she wasn't surprised.

"Everyone in class probably knows you." Kanzaki Toru's tone was even, neither flattering nor sarcastic. It was simply an objective statement.

Karuizawa leaned against the doorframe, folded her arms, and looked him up and down. "You're pretty close with Sakura Airi."

"More or less."

"What do you mean, 'more or less'? You either are or you aren't." Her tone was matter-of-factly blunt, as though she were scolding a junior who didn't know how to speak properly.

"Then I am," Kanzaki Toru said.

Karuizawa studied him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked in a voice quite unlike the one she'd used before, lowered and quiet: "How exactly did you get her to talk to you?"

She still sounded as matter-of-fact as before, but there was something else in her voice, difficult to pin down—like someone used to standing above others and giving orders, reluctantly lowering her head to ask for advice. Kanzaki Toru didn't answer right away.

"Why do you ask?"

"I want to talk to her, but she backs away every time. I brought her snacks twice, and she didn't accept them either time. If I wave to her from a distance, she turns and hurries off like a startled bird." Karuizawa frowned, looking confused rather than angry. "Do I really seem that scary?"

Kanzaki Toru looked at her. There was no malice or exclusion in Karuizawa Kei's voice as she spoke. She genuinely didn't understand why someone would be so afraid of a friendly approach. It didn't seem like an act. Her confusion was real. Someone who had always moved effortlessly among people and was used to being surrounded by them couldn't understand the inner logic of someone accustomed to hiding from others.

"You're not scary," Kanzaki Toru said. "It's just that the way you approach her feels oppressive to her."

Karuizawa blinked. "Oppressive? I just smiled at her and waved—"

"To her, other people's expectations are oppressive. If she accepts your snacks, she has to think about how to repay you. If you wave at her and she responds, then you have to talk, interact, and maintain a social relationship in the classroom. Those things take a huge amount of energy for her. Asking her to enter into a social relationship is like asking a cat to jump into a pool of its own accord. You don't mean any harm, but when you stand on the other side of the pool clapping and calling to it, the whole scene feels like a nightmare to the cat."

Karuizawa fell silent for two seconds. "What about you? How did you approach her?"

"I didn't approach her. I just stayed where she could see me, without moving closer or asking her to do anything. When there was something to say, I said it. When there wasn't, I stayed quiet. I let her get used to my presence first, then slowly accept me coming closer."

Karuizawa stayed silent for quite a while after hearing that.

"That's too slow. Is there no more efficient way?" she asked.

"You don't need efficiency to build a relationship with her. You need patience. If you really want to help her, don't talk to her in front of a crowd. In private, one sentence is enough. Say it and leave; don't wait for her to respond. She'll slowly let her guard down once she feels that talking to you doesn't come at a cost."

Karuizawa's expression changed. She wasn't angry or hurt; it was something more complicated—like a girl who'd always been indulged by everyone, hearing for the first time what she was doing wrong, and finding herself unable to argue against it. Criticism annoyed anyone, but Kanzaki's words carried no malice, and what he said was genuinely useful.

"...You sound a lot like Horikita Suzune." She paused and looked him up and down. "But when Horikita says things like that, she really gets on my nerves. You don't have that effect." She gave a soft laugh, then added, "You're better at dealing with people than Horikita."

Her tone returned to its usual arrogance. Then she picked up the unopened bottle of mineral water on his desk, twisted off the cap before he could stop her, and took a drink. She raised the bottle, more than half of its contents still inside, and gave it a little shake. "This'll be my consultation fee. Thanks." She turned around, her blond hair sweeping in an arc as her crisp footsteps receded down the hallway.

Kanzaki Toru looked at the bottle she'd commandeered, then raised his eyes toward the direction she'd gone. Karuizawa Kei. One of the social centers of Class D. What she'd done today confirmed several things: she wasn't bad by nature, but she dealt with changes in the social circles around her from a position of superiority; she wasn't an enemy of Horikita Suzune, but their completely opposite personalities created an awkward tension; her information network was extensive, and Sakura Airi's unusual social behavior had been discussed among the girls, so she'd come to investigate what made him special.

That meant Karuizawa Kei was a potential ally worth winning over. But if they ever disagreed, she might also become an unexpectedly formidable opponent. And his foremost principle when arranging relationships was to make sure no one became an enemy.

He packed up his things and headed toward the library.

In his mind, the Illustrated Guide turned its pages quietly. In a corner of the book that had lain dormant, it was as if a beam of light had swept across it, gradually drawing its outline out of the background: Karuizawa Kei, initial favorability: 18, title field temporarily blank. Three words floated in the status field—"Under observation."

She was the fourth. The page hadn't fully taken shape yet, but its outline was already there. And her favorability wasn't zero—18 points meant their conversation had affected her more than he'd expected. He didn't linger on the Illustrated Guide for long. Karuizawa's page still needed time to fill in. But one thing was certain: she would keep making an effort to appear in front of him. Given her social standing, she wouldn't tolerate having someone in the class she knew nothing about.

After school on Thursday, Kanzaki Toru received a message from Horikita Suzune on his terminal. Its contents were exactly what he'd expected: "You've gotten in touch with Karuizawa? Her initial impression of you is somewhat positive. Her social reach is vital to gathering information from the Class D girls. Assessment approved."

It seemed Horikita had been keeping an eye on him too. Her goal was to consolidate every force in Class D that could be consolidated. Karuizawa Kei's social network, his and Sakura's information channel, Kushida Kikyo's ability to unite the class—Horikita was trying, move by move, to bring these scattered pieces of influence under her control. But Karuizawa wasn't Sakura. She wasn't the type to cooperate just because someone said it was "for the good of the class." She needed her own interests to be acknowledged and to gain something of her own from any cooperation. Without that, she could walk away at any time.

One small detail at lunch on Friday.

Only a few people were left in the classroom. Karuizawa and her best friends sat at a desk in the middle of the room, discussing which dessert shop to visit that weekend. Kushida Kikyo was among them, smiling as warmly as ever. The two seemed to get along well: one was the center of the conversation, the other kept it flowing. But after the conversation naturally came to an end, Kushida got up to go to the vending machine. Karuizawa's gaze lingered on her back for less than a second—not cold, exactly, but appraising. She quickly withdrew it, but the glance was clear to someone watching from the sidelines.

Karuizawa didn't completely trust Kushida. That didn't mean the two of them were on opposing sides; rather, the different active forces in Class D weren't as harmonious as they appeared.

That afternoon, while Sakura Airi was sorting through a week's worth of photos, she handed him her camera. The picture was one she'd taken beside the sports field after school two days earlier: Karuizawa standing alone on the grass, with none of her usual entourage around her. She was looking down at her phone, her blond hair covering half her face. The way she stood alone was completely different from how she looked when surrounded by girls.

"Nice composition," he said.

Sakura glanced at him. "...You know her?"

"We spoke for a little while yesterday." He handed the camera back to her. "What do you think of her?"

Sakura was silent for a moment, her fingers gently tapping the edge of the camera. "She's always in the middle of a crowd. But once, I ran into her in the Shopping Center restroom. She stood alone in front of the mirror for a long time. When she saw me come in, she immediately put on her usual proud expression again. The change was so sudden that I remember it clearly."

"Just trust your own judgment," Kanzaki Toru said. The image of the blond girl standing alone on the sports field surfaced in his mind. Karuizawa Kei. The queen bee of Class D. But even queen bees had moments alone after the swarm dispersed. And she clearly didn't want anyone to see that side of her—except Sakura, who had happened to stumble upon it.

"But she probably isn't a bad person," Sakura suddenly added in a quiet voice. "That day in the restroom, after she realized it was me, she didn't pretend not to see me like everyone else. She hesitated, then handed me a tissue."

"She gave you a tissue? Were you crying?"

"...No. She just said, 'There's something on your face.'" Sakura adjusted her glasses, a hint of puzzlement in her voice. "There wasn't anything on my face."

Kanzaki Toru looked up toward the window. Karuizawa Kei. Someone who knew that Sakura Airi was crying inside. She'd offered her a tissue using an excuse that left no room for embarrassment—that was probably just her way. She wouldn't say, "I understand you," or "Do you want me to stay with you?" She'd simply draw an invisible line with a remark that didn't expose the truth, allowing the person on the receiving end to keep their dignity.

The sports field in the distance was dyed gold by the setting sun. Karuizawa wasn't in his line of sight now, but the page devoted to her in the Illustrated Guide was slowly, unmistakably, lighting up. One more word had quietly appeared in the status field: "Subtle kindness."

He looked away.

One by one, the side plots were unfolding. The observer on the rooftop, the undercurrent between Ishizaki and Sudo, the subtle tension between Karuizawa Kei and Kushida Kikyo, and the hidden image captured by Sakura Airi's camera. For now, these clues were scattered in different corners of the board, with nothing connecting them. But sooner or later, a single thread would tie them together. And that day would probably be when Class D truly had to face a Special Exam.