Ishizaki's Choice

The final week before the Old System report was due, the air on campus grew especially heavy.

When Kanzaki Toru opened Ishizaki Daichi's personal file in the Library, rain was falling outside. The May rain was light, pattering steadily against the glass and shrouding the entire campus in a gray haze. He had gotten the file from Horikita after some effort. She had requested it under the pretext of a "cross-class group collaboration assessment," bypassing the eyes Ryuen had planted in the Student Council and Disciplinary Committee. The file itself was thin. Ishizaki's entrance exam scores had been slightly below average, his physical assessment was good, and he had no disciplinary record during middle school. Only one note stood out: in his third year of middle school, he had charged into the coach's office and been suspended from competition, losing his starting position on the Basketball Club. He never returned to the team after the suspension ended.

He took a photo of the page and sent it to Horikita with a message: "He didn't play basketball during his last year of middle school. Joining the Basketball Club in high school was a fresh start." Horikita replied almost immediately: "That's why he's more afraid than anyone else of losing his starting position. Ryuen promised it to him, and now Ryuen has taken that promise back. That's a big enough fall." After reading it, Kanzaki Toru deleted the message, closed the file, and leaned back in his chair with his eyes shut for a moment. It still wasn't enough. Knowing what Ishizaki feared didn't mean he knew how to approach him. Ishizaki was wary of everyone from Class D now. After what happened with Sudo, he had clearly started avoiding the Class D students. He took detours when he ran into them in the hall, and when he spotted them in the cafeteria, he moved to another row of seats. He seemed less hostile than trapped. Ryuen had tied him to a sinking ship, but the risk of jumping overboard was too high. He didn't dare jump, yet he couldn't bear to go down with it. To get him to talk, Kanzaki needed a neutral setting, somewhere he and the Class D students could spend time together naturally without making him feel threatened.

The basketball court was the ideal choice. It was the only place where he could still focus on the game itself and forget about the divide between classes.

He sent Hamaguchi Tetsuya a message. Hamaguchi replied readily: the Basketball Club had an internal scrimmage that Friday afternoon. The coach wanted to split them into teams, but they were short on players. Did Kanzaki want to join? He replied, "Sure." Then he opened another chat window and sent a short message to Ishizaki Daichi's school email. No name, no small talk, just one line: "After Friday's scrimmage, by the vending machine outside Court B. Let's talk about the Basketball Club's starting position."

He knew Ishizaki would come. Ryuen wouldn't discuss the starting position with him. Neither would any of the Class C students around him. Only someone from Class D would—because the starting position was something Class D could offer, and Ryuen no longer had that bargaining chip.

Friday afternoon, the gym.

When Kanzaki Toru pushed open the door, the sharp squeak of shoes on the floor and the dull thud of basketballs striking the ground hit him all at once. Hamaguchi was stretching by the sidelines. He waved Kanzaki over and gestured toward the group on the opposite side. There weren't many people at the internal scrimmage, five to a side. Kanzaki was given a borrowed jersey and put on Hamaguchi's team. Ishizaki was on the opposing team. He wore the official Class C practice uniform, a wrist guard on his left hand, and stood quietly by the sidelines stretching his legs on his own. He wasn't going around slapping people on the shoulder during warm-ups like he used to.

Once the game started, Ishizaki was calmer than Kanzaki had expected. His reach was long on defense, his footwork was quick, and when he fought for position, his broad shoulders and strong lower body made him solid as a wall. But on offense, he was clearly playing alone—once the ball reached him, he almost never passed it, as if he were trying to prove something through one-on-one plays. Hamaguchi defended him several times, but Ishizaki shoved him aside with his body each time. On the last play, he drove past Hamaguchi from the side and went straight up for a layup.

"That guy's never this intense at practice." Hamaguchi wiped his sweat and came over to Kanzaki. "Looks like he's got something pent up today."

"Let him play," Kanzaki said. "Don't give him time to stop and think about anything else."

The quarter-long scrimmage ended quickly. Everyone, drenched in sweat, scattered along the sidelines to get a drink. Ishizaki sat alone near the far baseline, a towel covering his face, his chest heaving. Hamaguchi and a few teammates were chatting on the other side and didn't notice him. Kanzaki unscrewed a bottle of water and walked over, sitting on the floor one empty spot away from Ishizaki. Ishizaki lifted one corner of the towel and saw him. His expression changed, but he didn't get up and leave.

"Do you Class D guys have a group chat where you all plan how I'm going to die?" Ishizaki said. The moment the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how childish they sounded, and turned his face away.

"There's no group chat. But I have figured out how many more moves you can last on Ryuen's chessboard." Kanzaki took a sip of water. "In middle school, you charged into the coach's office over a starting position. In high school, you trusted another promise about a starting position. You fell into the same trap twice."

Ishizaki clenched the towel in his hands, his knuckles creaking. But he didn't throw a punch like Sudo had. He just clenched his jaw, relaxed it, then clenched it again.

Kanzaki noticed. Ishizaki and Sudo were different creatures—Sudo's anger was directed outward, and he needed someone to stop him from throwing a punch. Ishizaki's anger jabbed in both directions. Ryuen was the player who had driven the needle into his own heart. But Ishizaki wouldn't swing at the player. He would only go quiet, then try to swallow it all in silence. Someone like that didn't need to be held back. He needed a tool placed within reach, something he could use to pry open the cage trapping him.

"You didn't have to come today," Ishizaki said suddenly. "When I got your message, I knew it was you. Nobody in Class C would say, 'Let's talk about the starting position.' Ryuen wouldn't. Kondo wouldn't. Only someone from Class D—you, and you alone. But why did you think I'd come?"

"Because you still want to play basketball. If you didn't, you wouldn't have come. If you still want to start on this school's Basketball Club, you have to find someone outside of Ryuen who can help you. And Class D happens to be the only class that might be able to."

Ishizaki was silent for a long time. Another scrimmage had started on the court. The dull thud of basketballs echoed through the spacious gym, bouncing back and forth like a clock counting down.

"...He said the starting position would be mine after we finished dealing with Sudo. I lured Sudo in twice for him—once to the Old School Building and once to the Class C dorm area. The first time got ruined when you set off a whistle. The second time, Sudo held back and didn't throw a punch—he actually held back! If even Ken Sudo could do that, what does that make me?" He spoke faster and faster, until his voice was impossible to keep under control. "I did so much for him, and in the end, the coach still decides who starts. Ryuen can't influence the Basketball Club's selection at all. He was just using the starting position as bait—he's been lying to me the whole time!"

Kanzaki waited for him to stop, then spoke. "You have two choices now. The first: swallow your anger, stay on his ship, and wait for him to dangle another carrot the next time he needs you. The second—"

"Don't give me that crap about the side of justice." Ishizaki cut him off. "I don't believe in sides. I believe in whatever's useful to me."

"Then let's talk about what's useful. The cross-class group assignment is due next week. It carries a significant weight in the Class Points evaluation. If you can add a note to the group report saying that 'misunderstandings have occurred in communication between classes,' and help ease tensions between both classes, that could also benefit your individual evaluation." He took another sip of water. "This isn't about sides. It's about keeping an escape route open. If Ryuen ever decides to sacrifice a pawn, at least you'll have something in hand showing that you've settled your account with Class D."

Ishizaki didn't answer right away. He pulled the towel off his head. Sweat soaked him from head to toe, and his chest was still heaving. But the way he looked at the court had changed. He no longer looked like a lonely defender by the far baseline. He looked like someone reweighing the cards in his hand.

"...Do all you Class D guys talk in such a roundabout way?"

But as he said it, the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. It wasn't a sneer. It was the sort of expression someone might make after grabbing a vine at the edge of an abyss—still unsure whether it would hold, but having decided to grab on.

Kanzaki didn't continue the conversation. He set the half-full bottle of water beside Ishizaki and stood up. "The group presentation is next week in the discussion room on the first floor of the Library. I'll let you know the time."

Ishizaki didn't take the bottle, but he didn't reject it either. He just stared at the figures dribbling the ball on the other side of the court, as if he had pressed some kind of button deep inside himself, somewhere he couldn't even explain.

By the time Kanzaki left the gym, the rain had stopped. The May evening had been washed clean, and puddles on the field reflected the orange light of the setting sun. The air smelled of damp grass. He stopped at the vending machine and bought two cans of hot cocoa. He drank one himself and left the other on a nearby bench. He knew Karuizawa would pass this way later on her way to a dance club stretching session. Every time she walked by, she glanced at the bench, though she didn't always take it. That was fine. Some things worked better when you let them go than when you held on to them.

After returning to his dorm, he received a message from Hamaguchi Tetsuya: "After practice, Ishizaki stayed alone on the court and worked on his shots until dark. He was still there when I left. Usually, he disappears as soon as practice ends. It's strange seeing him do this today." He replied, "Got it."

Once night had fully fallen, Shiina Hiyori brought a cup of black tea up to the rooftop. She said the Library had closed early that day, and when she saw him heading up alone after passing the vending machine, she'd decided to brew him a cup. The aroma of Ceylon tea was especially crisp in the damp air after the rain. She handed it to him. Her fingertips touched the back of his hand and didn't immediately pull away. They lingered for a beat in a spot beyond the moonlight, then she drew back and straightened her book bag.

"There was an internal scrimmage at the gym this afternoon. Ryuen sent two people outside—not to watch the game. They were keeping an eye on Ishizaki." She lowered her head and gently blew on the steam rising from her cup. "But you kept just the right distance when you talked to him. They only caught footage of you and Ishizaki standing by the sidelines together. They didn't catch what you said."

"You can see the passage around the gym from the lending room window."

"Mm. So I lent a little help—I parked two book carts in the west passage, and they lost a few minutes going around." Shiina took a sip of tea. "Think of it as giving Ishizaki a moment out of sight of the people watching him." Her voice was as calm as ever, as if she were simply returning a book or tidying a shelf.

Holding his teacup, Kanzaki looked down at the campus. The streetlights came on one after another, painting the black paths in squares of warm yellow.

He opened the Illustrated Guide. Shiina Hiyori's latest status had quietly updated: "A Quiet Companion—Affection: 50." With it came the second reward: "Silent Archive." Description: When handling written information on a fixed medium, you can filter out irrelevant details more quickly and identify the core conflict.

He closed the Illustrated Guide and gently set his teacup on the railing. The Library goddess's gifts were always quiet. Like her tea, they didn't burn your tongue, but they could warm someone who had stood too long in the cold rain from their palms to their pulse. And the evidence chain he needed to organize next to prove Ishizaki's defection was buried in mountains of written material. This reward couldn't have come at a better time.