Karuizawa Kei

The atmosphere in Class D remained unchanged as the new week began.

Yoshida and Sudo were still loudly debating whether to go to karaoke or the movies over the 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 had not appeared again, and Ishizaki was still hovering around Sudo, occasionally casting unfriendly glances at those nearby.

Kanzaki Toru remained in his usual seat in the back row by the window, maintaining the outward appearance of an unremarkable, ordinary student.

However, one thing was quietly changing—his position within the class.

This change was not driven by him, but by the people around him actively gravitating toward him. Sudo would greet him when they met at the gym and occasionally send messages asking for help with his bench press form. Although Yoshida never said anything nice, he would nod whenever they passed in the hallway, a nod that carried a sense of awkward, unspoken understanding. When Horikita needed to verify information in the classroom, she would hand her terminal directly to him instead of seeking out others first.

He had even been pulled into the class group chat. The group had been created by Kushida and was named "Class D Mutual Aid Group." With over thirty members, they discussed everything from homework answers to restaurant recommendations, and from fitness plans to karaoke reservations. Kanzaki Toru never sent messages in the group, but his name sat quietly in the member list. The person who added him was Kushida, who had sent a message at the time: "Kanzaki-kun is here now, everyone please take care of him—though I don't think he actually needs taking care of (laughs)."

This method of adding him was clever. It integrated him into the group while preserving his dignity as an outsider with the remark that he "didn't actually need taking care of." Kushida Kikyo's social precision made it difficult to find any fault.

During the Wednesday lunch break, Kanzaki Toru was eating his bento in the classroom as usual. Sakura Airi was not there today—Horikita had dragged her to the library, saying she needed help organizing materials from past exams. Horikita seemed to have discovered Sakura's potential for observation and information gathering, and had begun consciously assigning her tasks that required little social interaction. This was good news for Sakura. Being needed was one of the most effective ways to overcome social anxiety.

Just as Kanzaki Toru finished packing away his bento box, a shadow fell across the desk in front of him. He looked up to see a girl standing in the hallway outside the window, watching him through the glass. Her long, golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her school blazer was open, revealing a light-colored knit vest underneath. She was exquisitely beautiful, her expression carrying a confidence that seemed to radiate from her very bones. She was not from Class D.

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

She was called 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 circling a queen. From the first day of school, Karuizawa Kei had occupied a special place among the girls of Class D. She was not necessarily the prettiest or the best student, but she possessed an innate aura that made other girls instinctively organize their social activities around her.

"Are you Kanzaki Toru?" She walked to the classroom door and spoke directly, her tone like someone confirming a known fact.

"Yes. And you are Karuizawa-san."

"You know me?" Karuizawa's lips curled slightly, carrying a hint of unsurprised smugness.

"Everyone in the class should know you," Kanzaki Toru said, his tone flat. It was neither complimentary nor sarcastic; it was merely an objective statement.

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

"I suppose so."

"What do you mean 'suppose so'? Either you are or you aren't." Her tone was naturally direct, like a senior reprimanding a junior who didn't know how to speak properly.

"Then 'I am'," Kanzaki Toru said.

Karuizawa stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly asked in a lowered voice, the complete opposite of her previous tone: "What exactly did you do to make her willing to talk to you?"

Her tone still held that sense of entitlement, but there was an extra layer to her voice that was hard to pin down—like someone accustomed to being in a position of command who was forced to reluctantly lower her head to ask for advice. Kanzaki Toru did not answer immediately.

"Why do you ask?"

"I want to talk to her, but she always shrinks away. I've brought her snacks twice, and she never accepted them. If I wave at her from a distance, she turns and runs like a startled bird." Karuizawa frowned, her expression one of confusion rather than anger. "Do I look that scary?"

Kanzaki Toru watched her. When Karuizawa Kei said these things, there was no malice or exclusion in her tone. She seemed genuinely unable to understand why someone would be so terrified of a friendly approach. This didn't look like an act. Her confusion was real; someone who was naturally at home in a crowd and accustomed to being surrounded could not comprehend the internal logic of someone accustomed to hiding.

"You aren't scary," Kanzaki Toru said. "It's just that the way you approach her feels like pressure."

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

"To her, other people's expectations are pressure. If you give her snacks and she accepts them, she has to worry about how to return the favor. If you wave at her and she responds, you then have to talk, interact, and maintain a social relationship in the classroom. These things are extremely draining for her. Asking her to enter a social relationship is like asking a cat to jump into a pool—it's not malicious, but if you stand on the other side of the pool clapping and calling it, the whole situation is a nightmare to that cat."

Karuizawa was silent for two seconds. "And you? How did you approach her?"

"I didn't. I just stood at a distance where she could see me, without actively approaching or demanding anything of her. I say a word when it's time to speak, and stay quiet when it isn't. I let her get used to my presence before slowly accepting my proximity."

After hearing this, Karuizawa remained silent for a long while.

"That's too slow. Isn't there a more efficient way?" she asked.

"Building a relationship with her doesn't require efficiency. It requires habit. If you really want to help her, don't talk to her in crowded places. In private, one sentence is enough. Say it and leave; don't wait for her to respond. You have to make her feel that interacting with you has no cost, and only then will she slowly lower her guard."

Karuizawa's expression changed. It wasn't anger or resentment, but something more complex—like a girl who had always been pampered by everyone being pointed out for her flaws for the first time, yet finding the words impossible to refute. Being criticized usually felt unpleasant, but to Karuizawa, there was no malice in this person's tone, and what he said—was actually useful.

"...What you said sounds a lot like Horikita Suzune." She paused, looking him up and down. "Though Horikita makes me furious when she talks, you don't give me that feeling." She chuckled softly and added, "You're better at dealing with people than Horikita."

Her tone returned to its usual pride. She then picked up the unopened bottle of mineral water from his desk, twisted off the cap, and took a sip before he could stop her. She shook the bottle, which was still more than half full, at him. "Consider this a consultation fee. Thanks." She turned around, her long golden hair whipping in an arc, and her footsteps faded crisply down the hallway.

Kanzaki Toru looked at the commandeered bottle of water, then lifted his eyes toward the direction she had left. Karuizawa Kei. One of the social cores of Class D. Her behavior today confirmed several judgments: she was not inherently bad, and she handled changes in her social circle with a condescending attitude; she and Horikita Suzune were not enemies, but rather suffered from a magnetic incompatibility due to their opposing types; her information network was vast, and Sakura Airi's abnormal social behavior had been discussed among the girls, so she had been tasked with probing exactly what made him special.

This meant that Karuizawa Kei was a potential partner who could be won over. But if a disagreement arose between them in the future, she could also very likely become an unexpected antagonist. And his primary principle in navigating interpersonal relationships was to never let anyone become an enemy.

He packed his things and headed toward the library.

In his mind, the catalog flipped quietly. That silent corner of the pages seemed to be swept by a light source, and the outline gradually emerged from the background: Karuizawa Kei, initial favorability 18, title column currently blank. The status bar floated with three words—"Observing."

This was the fourth one. It hadn't fully taken shape yet, but the outline was there. And the favorability was not zero—18 points meant that the conversation just now had a greater impact on her than he had anticipated. He didn't linger on the catalog for too long. Karuizawa's page still needed time to be drawn. But one thing was certain: she would continue to appear before him of her own accord. Her social status dictated that she would not allow someone in the class to exist whom she did not fully understand.

After school on Thursday, Kanzaki Toru's terminal received a message from Horikita Suzune. The content was exactly as he had expected: "You contacted Karuizawa? Her initial impression of you is leaning positive. Her social coverage is crucial for obtaining information on the Class D girls' group. Evaluation passed."

It seemed Horikita was also observing. Her goal was to integrate all the forces in Class D that could be integrated. Karuizawa Kei's social network, his own intelligence channel with Sakura, Kushida Kikyo's class cohesion—Horikita was trying to incorporate these fragments of power scattered throughout the class into her own chessboard, one move at a time. But Karuizawa was not Sakura; she was not the type to cooperate just because of a "for the good of the class" appeal. She needed her own interests to be recognized and required exclusive leverage in any cooperation. If she didn't have it, she would walk away at any moment.

On Friday lunch break, a detail.

Only a few people remained in the classroom. Karuizawa and her close friends were sitting at a table in the center of the room, discussing which dessert shop to go to over the weekend. Kushida Kikyo was also in that group, smiling as gently as always. Their interaction looked harmonious, one the center of the topic, the other providing the cues. But after the topic naturally ended and Kushida got up to go to the vending machine, Karuizawa's gaze lingered on her back for less than a second—the look wasn't cold, just scrutinizing. That scrutiny was quickly withdrawn, but it had clearly fallen under the gaze of a certain bystander.

Karuizawa did not fully trust Kushida. This did not mean that the two people standing on the same side were at odds, but rather that the various active forces in Class D were not as coordinated as they appeared on the surface.

That afternoon, when Sakura Airi was organizing her photos for the week, she handed him her camera. The image showed a photo she had taken near the playground after school the day before: on the playground grass, Karuizawa stood alone, with none of her followers around. She was looking down at her phone, her long golden hair obscuring half her face. The expression of her standing alone was completely different from how she looked when surrounded by the girls.

"The composition of this shot is good," he said.

Sakura glanced at him. "...Do you know her?"

"I spoke to her a few times yesterday." He returned the camera to her. "What's your impression of her?"

Sakura was silent for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the camera. "She's always standing in the middle of a crowd. But one time, I ran into her in the restroom at the shopping mall, and she stood in front of the mirror alone for a long time. When she saw me walk in, she immediately returned to that proud expression she always wears. That transition was so sudden at the time, I remember it very clearly."

"As long as you have your own judgment, that's fine." Kanzaki Toru said, the image of the blonde girl standing alone on the playground from the photo he had just seen flashing through his mind. Karuizawa Kei. The queen bee of Class D. But even a queen bee has moments of solitude once the swarm disperses. And she clearly didn't want anyone to see that side of her—except for Sakura, who had stumbled upon it by accident.

"But I don't think she's a bad person," Sakura suddenly added, her voice very soft. "That day in the restroom, after she realized it was me, she didn't pretend not to see me like the others would have. She hesitated for a moment, then handed me a tissue."

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

"...No. She just said, 'You have something on your face'." Sakura adjusted her glasses, her tone tinged with confusion. "Actually, there was nothing on my face at all."

Kanzaki Toru looked up toward the window. Karuizawa Kei. Someone who knew that Sakura Airi was crying on the inside. She had offered a tissue with a flawless excuse—that was likely her way. She wouldn't say "I understand you," or "Do you need me to stay with you?" She would only use a remark that didn't expose the truth to draw a line invisible to others, allowing the recipient to maintain their dignity.

The far end of the playground was bathed in the golden hue of the setting sun. Karuizawa was not in his line of sight at the moment, but the page belonging to her in his mental catalog was slowly, clearly lighting up. A new phrase quietly appeared on the status line: "Subtle goodwill."

He withdrew his gaze.

The side quests were unfolding one by one. The observer on the rooftop, the undercurrents between Ishizaki and Sudo, the subtle tension between Karuizawa Kei and Kushida Kikyo, and the hidden images captured by Sakura Airi's camera. These clues were currently scattered across different corners of the chessboard, disconnected from one another. But sooner or later, they would be strung together by a single thread. And that day would likely be when Class D truly had to face a special exam.