Horikita Suzune

Saturday afternoon, Keyaki Mall.

Kanzaki Toru arrived at the café on the third floor ten minutes early. It was a simply decorated place, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the mall's atrium, where he could see students coming and going below. He chose a seat by the wall, ordered the cheapest black coffee, and started waiting.

When the coffee arrived, he noticed the price printed on the coaster—300 points. By this school's standards, that was on the low side of average. With 100,000 points a month, even drinking a cup every day would only cost 9,000 points. It wasn't expensive. But if Class Points fell and the personal points everyone received shrank with them, this coffee could become a luxury.

He turned the coaster over. The back was blank.

At 1:58, the café door opened.

When Horikita Suzune walked in, her presence made the students at several nearby tables fall quiet for half a second. She wore her uniform neatly, her long black hair falling over her shoulders. Her steps were brisk and decisive, and her purple eyes swept over the café before quickly locating Kanzaki Toru. She came over and sat across from him. She didn't order anything or exchange pleasantries.

"Thank you for coming," she said, polite but without a hint of warmth.

"You asked me to meet you, so of course I came." Kanzaki lifted his coffee and took a sip. "What is it?"

Horikita Suzune didn't answer right away. She studied him, as if making some kind of assessment. Her gaze was different from Sakura Airi's. Sakura's eyes carefully gathered information, while Horikita's delivered judgments without hesitation.

"On the first day of school," she finally said, "you stepped in when that boy tried to hit on Sakura."

Kanzaki set down his coffee cup. "You have a good memory."

"I'm keeping track," Horikita said. "There are forty people in Class D. I observed all of them on the first day. Most are either too noisy, too quiet, or obviously afraid of something. You're the last kind—but not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"You're too perfectly ordinary," Horikita said, her tone still flat. "Perfectly ordinary, perfectly low-key, perfectly good at drawing no one's attention. But a truly ordinary person wouldn't have spoken up in that situation on the bus. And they wouldn't have gone alone to face three second-years behind the gym yesterday at noon."

Kanzaki said nothing.

"I heard Sudo calling for people in the hallway," Horikita added. "I was going to go, but you got there first."

"So you asked to meet me because you think I'm not ordinary?"

"I asked to meet you because Class D needs someone who can get things done," Horikita Suzune said bluntly. "You've probably noticed the rules at this school by now. Class Points determine personal points, and changes in Class Points are tied to some kind of evaluation system. We haven't received an official notice yet, but one is bound to come. If we wait for the notice before preparing, it'll be too late."

She spoke as if delivering a report, without a single unnecessary flourish. Kanzaki assessed her in silence. Her judgment was sharp, and she wasn't lacking in initiative. Approaching someone to form an alliance on the third day of school meant she not only recognized the danger, but was also willing to act.

But her weakness was just as obvious. She was too conspicuous.

"You're right." Kanzaki leaned back in his chair. "So, did you ask to meet me because you want us to team up?"

"Not team up," Horikita corrected him. "Cooperate. I have some information, and you probably have some too. We exchange information, act independently, and help each other when necessary. We don't need to be friends. We just need to be useful partners."

"That's a pretty cold way to put it."

"It's the most efficient way."

Kanzaki looked into her eyes. There was no testing or hesitation in them, only a stubborn conviction. She wasn't good at pretending, and had no interest in doing so. She believed in strength, convinced that if she was strong enough, she could solve any problem—including Class D's.

But the rules of this school probably couldn't be overcome by one person being strong enough.

"Fine," he said. "I'll start with what I know. Yesterday, the third-years behind the gym said, 'The ones who talk tough now won't be here in a semester.' That suggests this school has some kind of elimination system, and that students are eliminated within the first semester."

Horikita nodded. "What I found is the last item in the appendices of the student handbook: 'A student's personal conduct record will be considered as one of the factors when determining the results of a Special Exam.' In other words, our everyday behavior will be included in the evaluation."

"And there's more." Kanzaki hesitated, but decided to tell her. "There are some old records in the Library. I looked through them. Last year, Class D started with 1,000 Class Points. After the first Special Exam, they fell to 600. Before the third Special Exam, twelve students were expelled."

For the first time, Horikita's expression changed. She didn't look surprised, but grave. "Twelve people... Are you sure about that number?"

"That's what the records said. But I can't guarantee the records are completely accurate. They didn't list the details of the Special Exams either, just the results."

"That's enough." Horikita took a deep breath. "So the elimination rate for Special Exams is high. And it affects the entire class—when Class Points go down, personal points go down with them."

As she spoke, she suddenly paused, her gaze lingering on Kanzaki's face for a moment.

"Are you watching my reaction?"

Kanzaki lifted his coffee. "Aren't you watching me too?"

They looked at each other for a second, then both turned away. It wasn't awkward; it was a silent acknowledgment that they respected each other's powers of observation and judgment.

"One more thing," Horikita said. "Do you know Kushida Kikyo from our class?"

"I've heard of her. Short hair, a sweet smile, and she added more than ten people's contact information on the first day."

"That's right. I suspect there's more to her than meets the eye."

"Why?"

"Intuition." Horikita didn't sound as if she were joking. "Someone who treats everyone with the same warmth is either a saint or hiding something. And at this school, I don't believe in saints."

Kanzaki didn't argue. At the moment, his Illustrated Guide only had one girl in it: Sakura Airi. But if Horikita Suzune's judgment was right, then Kushida Kikyo—or the other girls in Class D—would eventually come under his scrutiny too.

But first, he needed to have some kind of connection with them.

"About the Special Exams," he said, finishing his coffee and setting down the cup, "I have a theory. The school won't announce the specific rules in advance. It's more likely they've hidden them in different places and are waiting for the students to discover them. So I suggest we spend the next few days gathering information separately. Old records in the Library, every appendix in the student handbook, casual conversations with upperclassmen—anything useful. Then we pool what we've found."

"Agreed." Horikita stood up. "I'll handle the student handbook and school regulations. You take care of the old records in the Library. Sakura—"

She paused.

"She's helping me gather information too. But she isn't very good at talking to people, so I'll coordinate with her."

Horikita glanced at him. The corner of her mouth seemed to twitch, but she quickly returned to her usual cool expression. "Fine. Let's stay in touch."

She turned and left the café, her steps as brisk and decisive as when she'd arrived. Soon, she disappeared by the escalator.

Kanzaki remained in his seat, gazing out at the bustling students in the atrium. They were laughing, shopping, and enjoying a weekend at a school that looked unbelievably wonderful. Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the café, an alliance for survival had just been formed.

He closed his eyes and focused on the depths of his consciousness, opening the Illustrated Guide. Ever since Horikita Suzune had sat down, there had been a faint stir among the blank pages at the back. Now, when he opened it, just as he'd expected, a new page was beginning to appear after Sakura Airi's. But unlike Sakura's page, the details here were still blurry. Only the name was clear: "Horikita Suzune." The Favorability section didn't have a number yet. It flickered slowly, showing that the value was still taking shape. The Title and Status sections were empty.

But her name had appeared in the Illustrated Guide. That meant it had judged her a girl "worth adding." He would just need more contact with her before her page could fully appear.

Kanzaki opened his eyes, paid for his coffee, and stood up.

As he left the café, his gaze happened to drift across the atrium to the corridor on the third floor opposite him. A short-haired girl was standing by the railing, talking on the phone with a gentle smile on her face. Several students passing by greeted her, and she responded to each of them, her smile never wavering.

Kushida Kikyo.

Kanzaki didn't stare for long. He turned and headed toward the escalator.

Her smile really was perfect. But the more perfect something was at this school, the more suspicious it was.

Maybe Horikita's intuition was right.