Sudo's Limit

The cross-class group assignment entered its final week. That heavy report on the old system now rested securely in Shiina Hiyori's drawer. On the other side, Sudo Ken continued to carry his own ticking time bomb, inching toward the breaking point with every second of the countdown Ryuen Kakeru had set.

Kanzaki Toru noticed that Sudo's posture had changed.

In the past, Sudo would sprawl in his chair in the classroom, legs stretched out long, back pressed against the seat, radiating an "I don't care about anything" attitude. These past few days, he sat bolt upright, hands clenched into fists on his knees, shoulders taut, the muscles along his neck straining against his uniform collar. He was desperately suppressing his emotions, but every passing second saw him chipping away at his already limited patience. The "quiet reflection" countdown Ryuen had given him had run out, and the ticking of that time bomb grew louder in the silence.

After school, Sudo remained alone in the empty classroom. When the last student finally left, Sudo slammed his fist onto his desk with a violent thud. The desk board let out a harsh, jarring sound, and his stationery scattered across the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up, merely gasping for air like a beast trapped in a cage.

A single punch to the desk wasn't enough to dissipate his pent-up rage. That evening, Kanzaki Toru received a brief message from Horikita: "Sudo has gone to the Class C dormitory area."

At the same time, the roar of a motorcycle engine echoed from below the dormitory—in this fully enclosed school, the sound of any motor vehicle was an emergency signal. The boys Ryuen had stationed in the Class C dormitory area were standing by the window at the end of the hallway, one of them spinning his phone, seemingly waiting for an order.

By the time Kanzaki Toru reached the clearing behind the Class C dormitory, Sudo was already surrounded by six boys. The streetlights were dim, and a broken mercury lamp at each end of the clearing cast ghostly, flickering shadows over the group.

Ishizaki stood in the back row of the circle, arms crossed, just as he had at the old school building. But it wasn't him calling the shots this time; it was a Class C boy in the center of the crowd, similar in build to Sudo, with white bandages wrapped around his knuckles. His tone was airy: "Sudo, you were pretty fierce when you hit Ishizaki last time, weren't you? Ishizaki is standing right here now. Why don't you try touching him again?"

Sudo didn't move. He stood there, his chest heaving, his knuckles white. The explosive muscle definition Kanzaki Toru had observed in the gym now bulged in his arms; he could throw a devastating punch at any moment—but he didn't.

"What, too scared?" The bandaged boy tilted his head and took a step forward. "Sudo Ken of Class D, aren't you supposed to be tough? Is that all you've got?"

Sudo's arm twitched, clenching tightly—but his feet remained planted. He gritted his teeth, staring fixedly into the other boy's eyes, and said, word by word, "I'm not fighting."

"...Huh?"

"I said, I'm not fighting." Sudo kept his voice extremely low, as if squeezing the words from the depths of his throat. "You want me to throw a punch so I get expelled. I know."

The air went quiet for a beat.

Then, the bandaged boy burst into a laugh and glanced back at Ishizaki. Ishizaki didn't laugh; he merely narrowed his eyes at Sudo, his expression one of surprise. The others surrounding him exchanged glances, clearly not having anticipated this turn of events—everyone knew Sudo Ken was a powder keg ready to blow, and he had initiated almost every conflict since the start of the term. Yet tonight, standing in the center of a six-man circle, provoked to such an extent, his clenched fists never rose.

"Boring." The bandaged boy shrugged and tilted his head toward Ishizaki. "Your intel was wrong, Ishizaki. Isn't this guy just a coward?"

Sudo didn't retort. His body was still trembling, his breathing heavy, his fists still clenched tight. But he stood his ground, not moving a single step forward. He knew that if he took one step, even if it was just to shove the other boy's shoulder, it would confirm an assault. Then, Ryuen would harvest him like a crop, posting his expulsion notice on the class point deduction board.

Just then, a lazy voice drifted from the shadows—

"Had enough yet?"

Everyone's gaze shifted to the corner of the dormitory building. Ryuen Kakeru emerged from the shadows, wearing his uniform jacket loosely, hands in his pockets, his gait as casual as if he were out for a stroll. He walked up to Sudo, stopped about an arm's length away, tilted his head slightly, and looked at him with that signature smirk.

"Didn't fight. Not bad. Horikita has been taking good care of you."

Sudo's face turned bright red, the veins on his temples throbbing.

Ryuen didn't continue speaking to him. He turned around and waved at the bandaged boy and Ishizaki. "Break it up. You aren't embarrassed, blocking someone here?"

The group exchanged glances, but with Ryuen having spoken, no one dared to defy him. They broke the circle and vanished one by one into the shadows of the dormitory. Ishizaki was the last to leave, casting one final look at Sudo. There was no triumphant mockery in his eyes, but rather a complex expression—as if he were weighing something in secret, or perhaps realizing he, too, was a piece in one of Ryuen's shadows.

Ryuen prepared to leave as well. But as he turned, his gaze swept across the edge of the parking lot, locking onto Kanzaki Toru's eyes, which were watching from the darkness. Ryuen paused for a moment, his lips twitched, and then he continued toward the dormitory. He said nothing.

The clearing emptied quickly, leaving Sudo alone. His fists finally relaxed, hanging at his sides, his palms marked with deep red indentations from his nails.

Kanzaki Toru stepped out from the shadows. When Sudo saw it was him, he didn't speak, just stood there straight.

"...I didn't fight," Sudo said.

"I know."

"He called me a coward. Said Class D was keeping a guard dog named Sudo Ken."

"Did you believe him?"

Sudo was silent for a few seconds. "...I almost did. But he reminded me of something. A couple of days ago, Chabashira-sensei called me over in the hallway. I thought she was going to lecture me again. Instead, she just looked at me—and said, 'The scar on your face from fighting outside is enough; there shouldn't be any new ones in this school.'"

Sudo rubbed the old scar on the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. "She walked away right after. As if she knew I wouldn't be able to hold back tonight."

Kanzaki Toru didn't answer. He simply stood there, letting Sudo slowly exhale the emotions he had been bottling up for days. The distant streetlights cast a dim glow, illuminating Sudo's sharp-featured face in a mix of light and shadow. This face, targeted and used as a weapon, now bore the marks of struggle rather than submission.

"I have a question," Sudo said suddenly. "Did you see this coming?"

"See what?"

"That these guys weren't just trying to beat me up, but to take down Class D."

Kanzaki Toru met his gaze. "You don't trust what Horikita says, and you wouldn't believe anyone else's reasoning. You only believe in the process of taking a punch and giving one back." He paused. "But you didn't give that punch back today. You held back not because you're a coward, but because you finally saw who your opponent was."

Sudo looked down at his open palms. They were covered in sweat and red nail marks; the heat of his temper still burned on his skin, but these hands hadn't struck anyone tonight.

"Damn it," he said, his voice raspy. "First time I've felt that holding back hurts more than fighting."

"...Thanks," Sudo finally said. "Not for coming tonight. Thanks for never telling me to 'calm down' from the very beginning."

Kanzaki Toru nodded, not continuing the topic, and stood beside Sudo just as he would when spotting a barbell in the gym. "Let's go. I'll buy you a sports drink at the vending machine. Go pick up your stationery early tomorrow morning."

Sudo was taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone, then threw his jacket over his shoulder and followed, his tense spine relaxing slightly under the streetlights.

Kanzaki Toru focused on his interface. A new annotation appeared on Horikita Suzune's page: "Preliminary effective control over specific student achieved," Favorability: 55. Between that note and the violence averted tonight lay Horikita's unseen contingency plans and her warnings—stiff and infuriating, yet ultimately effective. Beside Horikita's name, a small, flickering line of text appeared: "Key Class C figure—Ishizaki Daichi, stance showing slight wavering."

He closed the interface and caught up to Sudo. The vending machine at the dormitory entrance hummed with the sound of its cooling system, its white fluorescent light illuminating a small circle of ground. Sudo crouched in front of the machine, torn between a sports drink and a soda, eventually pressing both and tossing one to Kanzaki. He caught the chilled soda; the can was icy, and beads of condensation slid through his fingers. This wasn't over yet—Ishizaki's wavering was just a crack, and the cracks that test one's heart could become his own. The most solid iron plate in Ryuen's hand had, for the first time, developed a gap that could be pried open.