In the days after the hearing, a strange calm settled over the campus. Ryuen Kakeru no longer showed up in his usual seat at the back of the Class C classroom. Some said he had shut himself away in his dorm, while others claimed they had seen him standing alone on the roof of the Old School Building. Ishizaki Daichi returned to his usual Basketball Club training. The evening the hearing ended, he had quietly rearranged every dumbbell in the Equipment Room by weight without telling anyone. Kondo changed seats, moving from behind Ryuen to the front row by the window. Whenever anyone asked why, he only said, "The light's better over there." Manabe Shiho accepted mediation from the Student Counseling Group. During a group discussion, she wrote Sakura Airi a note containing just two words—"I'm sorry." The writing was so forceful it had nearly pierced the paper.
That evening, after the hearing, Ken Sudō handed Ishizaki a sports drink in front of a vending machine without a word. Ishizaki hesitated for a few seconds, then took it and twisted off the cap for a sip. They never looked at each other, but neither walked away.
Karuizawa Kei's Perception Resonance had been unusually quiet these past few days. Her social network no longer picked up hostile signals; instead, she used it to mend the rifts in relationships that had been torn apart. Shiina Hiyori still organized old records in the Library every day, but she had moved the materials on Ryuen Kakeru's perjury from the "Pending Submission" drawer to "Completed and Filed." The label noted, "Formal correction procedure by the Disciplinary Committee in progress." Horikita Suzune began revising the class's cooperation plans, setting aside at least three versions of group simulations for early June.
And Sakura Airi—on the evening the hearing ended, she went up to the roof alone, set up her tripod, aimed at the same gray wall, and pressed the shutter. After the photo was developed, she placed it beside the old seal Sakagami-sensei had left behind on the first page of her album.
Then she opened her terminal and sent Kanzaki Toru a message: "The signature box on the last page of your cross-class report is blank. June 1, 3rd-floor Library discussion room by the window. I've already booked it for you."
June 1, 9:45 a.m. Kanzaki Toru pushed open the door to the discussion room on the third floor of the Library. Shiina Hiyori was already seated inside, the cross-class group report that the Academic Affairs Office had returned spread out in front of her. She gently tapped the signature box at the bottom of the last page. "You have fifteen minutes. Once you sign this, the Old System reference will be formally activated. The authorization's retroactive reach won't just apply to this report; it'll cover every rule file you consult while you're enrolled here. After you sign, if someone like Ryuen tries to corner you with a confidentiality loophole again, the file will automatically be classified as public."
Kanzaki Toru looked at her. Her light chestnut hair was loose today, falling smoothly over her shoulders. Sunlight touched her profile, and even the shadows cast by her eyelashes seemed especially serene. "Will you stay with me while I sign?"
"I'm the librarian." Shiina pushed a fountain pen toward him, the faintest curve appearing at the corner of her mouth. "Of course I'll watch you sign your full name in the checkout log."
He picked up the pen. As he reached the third character of his name, Sakura Airi quietly pushed open the door and came in. She wasn't wearing a hat today, and her red, thick-rimmed glasses sat firmly on her nose. She carried two cups of hot cocoa from a vending machine, setting one beside him and the other beside Shiina. Then she stepped back to the window and leaned against the sill, her purple eyes reflecting the late-morning sunlight behind her lenses.
Karuizawa Kei was the fourth to enter. She wore a pale blue cardigan today, her blond hair loosely tied back with a ribbon, and held an envelope in her hand. She placed it on the report cover, stepped back to the doorway, and folded her arms. "Sakura booked this discussion room for you. The draft of the letter I sent Manabe is in there, too. Take a look while you're signing."
The fifth person leaned against the doorframe almost without a sound—Horikita Suzune. She had no papers or coffee with her. After reading the receipt confirming that the "simulation route had been revised to version 4.2," she simply pushed open the discussion room door. She didn't sign anything, just leaned against the frame, a few strands of her black hair lifted by the breeze in the hallway. In her usual cool but no longer cutting tone, she said, "Signing is your business. But after you do, I've already revised the simulation route. The team cooperation weighting has been raised by fifteen percent. This is the final parameter adjustment before the June Special Exam."
Kanzaki Toru looked at everyone before him, at the pen in his hand, and at the May sunlight brightening the entire discussion room with warmth. Then he lowered his head and signed his name. Shiina Hiyori scanned the signed report and filed it, then handed it to Sakura to save to an encrypted drive. Afterward, as if she were organizing returned books, she added a short line to the filing label: "June 1, 10:00 a.m. Everyone present."
Chabashira-sensei passed the discussion room doorway. She had been on her way to the return desk to pick up a reserved document, but when she saw the door open to a room that should have been empty, she took two steps back. Her gaze swept over the report spread across the table, the still-wet ink in the signature box, the cups of steaming hot cocoa, and the students gathered around the table. She said nothing, pausing at the doorway for a moment before adjusting her glasses and turning toward the return desk. Before she turned away, Horikita looked up and met her eyes for a second. Chabashira didn't smile, but her steps were at least a quarter beat lighter than usual.
Almost at the same moment, Horikita's tablet vibrated. It wasn't a scheduled reminder but an automatic message from the academic system. The title was unmistakable: "June Special Exam Theme Announcement—LD-B1-0401: Comprehensive Assessment of Cross-Class Cooperation and Opposition (Partial Activation of Frozen Clauses Under the Old System Framework)."
She looked up. Kanzaki Toru was looking at her from the discussion room doorway. The report he had just signed bore the same "0401" suffix in its reference number.
"One of the conditions for activating the Old System's frozen clauses is that the results of cross-class cooperation within the school year be formally cited and filed." Shiina Hiyori turned the activity recorder toward the Library's main screen. The reserved document Chabashira had returned moments ago was refreshing line by line on the notice board: "Advanced Nurturing High School June Special Exam Plan: Preliminary briefing to be announced at each class meeting today at 3:00 p.m."
In the final fifteen minutes of the morning, Kanzaki Toru climbed up to the roof once more. The traces of rain from a few days ago had dried, and the hair clip he had carefully put away still rested quietly deep inside the metal cabinet. Under the midday sun, the distant gray wall had become a faint silhouette. A few small gray-feathered birds perched on the barbed wire atop it. No one climbed over the wall, and no shadows moved outside the windows. But someone had drawn an arrow in white chalk on the gravel path, pointing toward the newly marked starting line at the far end of the field.
The warning bell for the first class rang. As its echoes faded, he turned his gaze away and reached for the rooftop door. Beneath the railing, in the shadows, a box of unopened wasabi-flavored crackers leaned against the bottom corner of the metal cabinet. Shiina hadn't left it there. A fresh balloon flower lay atop the box, beside a line of handwriting so delicate the sunlight nearly swallowed it: "Please pass this along. Thank you."
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