Grouping List

June 1st, 7:40 AM.

The bulletin board on the first floor of the school building was already surrounded by three layers of students. It was even more crowded than when the inter-class groups were announced last semester, because this list didn't just concern study assignments; it involved class points, personal points, and the extent to which everyone could control their own fate over the next two weeks. By the time Kanzaki Toru arrived, Sudo and Ike Kanji were already squeezed into the front. Sudo's finger jabbed at the board, tracing down the names while he read them aloud, his voice loud enough to be heard down the entire hallway. Ike stood on his tiptoes beside him to help verify the student IDs. For once, the two weren't shoving each other, though the distance between their shoulders was barely half an inch.

Kanzaki did not push his way in. He stood on the periphery, using his phone to photograph the list page by page, then retreated from the crowd to lean against a hallway windowsill to zoom in and examine the details.

The groups were arranged by cross-class distribution, with six students per group. Students from Classes D, C, B, and A were mixed together, ensuring as much as possible that each group contained members from different classes. A small note in the remarks column read: "Grouping criteria: Collaborative records during this semester's inter-class group tasks, cooperation levels during Disciplinary Committee hearings, and collaborative tendency scores from personal behavior files." He saw his name in Group 12. His group members were: Shiina Hiyori, Hamaguchi Tetsuya, and three less familiar names—a girl from Class A named Morishita Ran, a boy from Class B named Nomura Takuya, and a boy from Class C named Ishizaki Daichi.

Ishizaki Daichi. Not Kondo, not Ryuen, but Ishizaki. He zoomed in on the page to confirm the student ID was correct. Ishizaki's name appeared in a collaborative group led by Class D, rather than being left to fend for himself in some marginalized, mixed-bag group. This meant that when the school's system evaluated collaborative records, it had judged his act of recanting his testimony at the Disciplinary Committee hearing as a positive collaborative indicator. It also meant that someone else did not appear on any of the group lists. He continued flipping to the last page. Ryuen Kakeru's name was not in any collaborative group; instead, he was listed separately at the bottom under "Independent Task Group." The remark read: "Due to the suspension of the handler's qualifications during the Disciplinary Committee review, he is temporarily excluded from inter-class collaborative grouping. Independent task content to be notified separately." He had been isolated. Not expelled, not suspended, just extracted from all projects requiring trust and cooperation and placed in an observation room with transparent walls on all sides. For someone like Ryuen, this was likely harder to endure than any punishment.

"Sakura is in Group 8." Shiina Hiyori appeared beside him at some point, holding a steaming cup of black tea in one hand while tapping the group list on her phone with the other. "In her group are Karuizawa Kei, two girls from Class C, and a boy from Class B. That boy's name is Nomura Ta—wait, Nomura is in your group; she has someone else." She looked down to verify the student IDs, confirming that the two "Nomuras" shared a surname but were different people. Then, she raised her eyes and added a more critical piece of information: "Manabe Shiho was also assigned to the Independent Task Group. It's right next to Ryuen's remark."

Kanzaki followed the direction of her finger. Manabe Shiho, Independent Task Group, with the remark: "Temporarily excluded from inter-class collaborative grouping while undergoing counseling assessment." Two people stripped of their labels by the hearing were placed in the same category, yet they had no interaction with each other. This was the school's usual tactic—observing everyone individually, collecting data, and leaving it for the next special exam to calculate the results.

"Horikita is in Group 5. In her group are Sudo Ken, the Class C representative, and two academic students from Class A." Horikita Suzune's voice came from behind him. She held a copy of the list she had just retrieved from the printer, a can of black coffee tucked into the crook of her arm. "Sudo is in the same group as the Class C representative; this group's tasks during the confrontation phase will likely involve coordinating inter-class conflicts. If Sudo can learn to cooperate with the people from Class C instead of confronting them during this exam, the punch he endured at the old school building last semester will translate into a tangible bonus." Her tone remained flat as she spoke the final sentence, but her finger lingered for a beat longer than necessary next to Sudo's name as she scanned the list.

"What about Ryuen?" Sudo squeezed out of the crowd, drenched in sweat, clutching a crumpled list. He still had half a piece of bread in his mouth that Ike had handed him, and he stared at Kanzaki, asking with unusual volume. Kanzaki told him he was listed separately in the Independent Task Group. Sudo fell silent for a moment; he didn't punch a desk like he had last semester, but simply folded the list into his pocket and muttered, "He got off easy." He then turned toward the gym, only to stop after a few steps and look back. "Which group is Ishizaki in?" When Shiina told him he was in the same group as Kanzaki, he nodded and continued toward the gym.

Not long after, Ishizaki Daichi himself squeezed out of the crowd. He held his own confirmation sheet, and upon seeing Kanzaki standing by the windowsill, his footsteps faltered. He continued walking, stopping once he reached Kanzaki. "I'm in your group." As he spoke, he folded and unfolded his confirmation sheet. He didn't look Kanzaki in the eye, but his posture wasn't as taut as it had been that night at the old school building, nor was his head hung low as it had been during the hearing.

"I saw," Kanzaki said, tucking his phone into his pocket. "No need to climb walls to check files this time; the task content will be released to the group uniformly."

The corner of Ishizaki's mouth twitched ever so slightly—not a smile, but the final shedding of a weight he had been carrying. "I can play basketball, but collaborative tasks might not need jump shots. If there's anything I can do, just say it."

"First, go meet up with Hamaguchi and get a sense of the old Student Council communication experience from the Class B side," Kanzaki said.

Ishizaki nodded, folded his confirmation sheet into the inner pocket of his uniform, and headed toward the gym.

Karuizawa Kei emerged from the group of girls, holding two cans of red bean soup. She placed one on the windowsill and pushed it toward Sakura Airi. Sakura took it, holding it in her palm without opening it, her fingers gently tracing the condensation on the bottom of the can. "You're in Group 8," Karuizawa said, opening her own can and taking a sip. "The girl from Class C in your group was in your swimming class last semester; she spoke to you in the shallow end back then. She isn't like Manabe, so don't hide from her this time. If she says hello, just say 'thank you'—you promised me last time."

Sakura lowered her gaze, turning the red bean soup can in her palm before looking up. "Okay. Then you promise me too—if Kushida asks you to go singing, don't bring your jammer again."

"Why?"

"Because every time she asks someone out, she checks first to see if they're on guard. If you bring a jammer, you're telling her you're already defending yourself against her." Sakura spoke softly and slowly, but every word landed firmly in the air of the morning hallway. Karuizawa stared at her for a moment, then let out a laugh. It wasn't a proud, distant laugh, but one of genuine relief after having her weakness pointed out. "Fine. I promise."

Kanzaki leaned against the windowsill, watching them as the sunlight, filtered through the glass, moved slowly across the hallway floor. The black tea Shiina Hiyori held had already gone cold. She set the cup on the corner of the windowsill, opened her library lending board, and began sending the simplified clauses of the old system to all group contacts. Karuizawa finished her red bean soup, pausing before crushing the aluminum can. She looked back in the direction they had just come from—Sakura's comment about not being on guard reminded her of the anonymous photo she had received last night, signed with an "&." There were no threats or demands; it felt more like a card played face-down. She didn't intend to bring it up in the hallway, so she crushed the can, tossed it into the recycling bin, and hurried to catch up with Sakura.

Kanzaki watched her back disappear around the corner of the hallway. His terminal vibrated, and an encrypted message from Horikita Suzune popped up: "Ryuen's Independent Task Group outline has been retrieved. He must complete a symbolic repayment of unfulfilled obligations from the old system—drafted by Mr. Sakagami in his capacity as a retired faculty member. The specific task list cannot be verified for now, but the school's attitude toward him is not punishment, but 'calibration'."

Not punishment, but calibration. He chewed on the word repeatedly. There were similar programs in the White Room—individuals who made mistakes weren't physically punished or confined, but were assigned a series of precisely designed remedial lessons until all metrics returned to the expected range. Advanced Nurturing High School had stripped Ryuen from the collaborative network not to destroy him, but to recalibrate a variable that the old system deemed valuable enough to reactivate. Just as he was about to reply to Horikita, his terminal buzzed again. A photo, no sender signature, only a symbol—"&." The background of the photo was the exterior wall of the gym. A figure stood sideways at the entrance of the equipment room, holding the group list just torn from the bulletin board, back to the camera. The silhouette was highly recognizable—a buzz cut, the collar of his uniform open, the outline of his shoulder blades visible through the fabric. Ishizaki had been standing at the equipment room door for a long time, the edges of the group list in his hand creased by his grip.

Kanzaki zoomed in on the photo, archived it, and did not reply. He put his terminal away and picked up the unopened can of red bean soup from the windowsill—the condensation on the can slid between his fingers, cold and real. He tucked the soup into the side pocket of his bag and walked out of the school building.

The sun was intense on the playground. The freshly mowed lawn emitted a rich scent of grass, and several lower-grade students were moving supply boxes for the first phase of the inter-class collaboration into the gym storage. One of the boxes was stamped with the prefix for the Old School Building Archive Room—identical to the pencil marks Mr. Sakagami had left on the blank pages of the archives. A grey-feathered bird landed on the high wire fence, its row of breast feathers turning in unison toward the south playground in the backlight. There was no wind in June, and the bell had already rung.