Office

Twenty minutes after the dismissal bell, Kiryu Yume pushed open the door to the faculty office.

Mashima Tomoya sat at the desk by the window, with grade reports spread before him, two stacks of documents to his left, and a dark blue thermos to his right.

When he saw Kiryu Yume, he tipped his chin toward the folding chair opposite him. Kiryu Yume pulled it out and sat down, its legs scraping softly against the wooden floor.

"You failed history."

Mashima turned the grade report around and tapped the column circled in red. English, math, Japanese, and science all hovered around the average, but history alone had fallen far below it. "Sakayanagi has tutored you before, I know. But that tutoring was meant to push you further. Your foundations are empty."

Kiryu Yume looked at the red circle. "I can't match the eras to the names. Even if I memorize them, they get mixed up."

"Then don't force yourself to memorize them."

Mashima opened a drawer and took out a dark blue soft-cover notebook. Nothing was printed on the cover. The first page contained a handwritten timeline beginning with the Onin War, each entry marked with a pencil-written keyword. The writing was square and neat, though a size smaller than Katsuragi's.

"Draw a timeline and hang the events on it. Fill in the blank space on the right yourself. If you can't fill it in, you haven't remembered it." He unscrewed the thermos and took a sip, then twisted the lid back on with a click.

Kiryu Yume stuffed the notebook into his schoolbag, rose to his feet, and nodded once. Mashima had already lowered his head to turn to the next document. The conversation was over.

At Chabashira Sae's desk diagonally across the office, another conversation was underway.

Chabashira reclined in her chair with her long legs crossed, idly twirling a pen in her hand. Spread before her was a handwritten class point chart. Class D's column read: 0.

A girl sat across from her. Her long black hair fell straight from her shoulders to her waist. Beneath the fluorescent lights, its dark strands held the faintest icy blue sheen. A tightly braided plait at her left temple hung beside her collarbone, its white ribbon ending precisely at the height of the second button on her collar.

Her purple eyes were cold as shards of ice. There was no excess emotion in her gaze toward Chabashira, only pure expectation—waiting for an answer she had already decided would not satisfy her.

She sat perfectly straight, her uniform skirt just covering her knees. Below it, her calves were sheathed in thin black stockings. As she subtly shifted her posture, the small patch of sheen stretched over the bend of her knee flickered before sinking into the openings of her dark brown leather shoes.

"What exactly are the criteria for class placement?" Horikita Suzune's voice was quiet, but every word was pronounced clearly.

Chabashira set down her pen and leaned back slightly. The chair creaked softly. "A combined evaluation of the entrance exam and interview. Your written exam score was not low, but your interview score pulled you down. That's all."

"What are the interview evaluation criteria?"

"The school does not disclose them. Each student's interview evaluation sheet can only be viewed by the school and the interviewer."

Horikita fell silent for two seconds. Her fingers rested unmoving on her knees, but her knuckles had faintly whitened. "Then there is no verifiable basis for the placement result."

"You can understand it that way." Chabashira's tone never changed, neither warm nor cold, as if she were reading an instruction manual unrelated to herself. "But the result will not change because of how you understand it. You are in Class D. Next month, your personal points will be zero. That has already been decided."

Kiryu Yume tugged his schoolbag strap up his shoulder and turned toward the door.

As he passed Chabashira's desk, he glanced at the point chart. Its ink was identical to the table Mashima had projected during the class meeting, except for the handwritten Class D: 0 added by Chabashira.

Mashima added, "I'll check the notebook in two weeks," to Kiryu Yume's retreating back, then rose as well to pack his briefcase. The thermos made a dull thud as he put it inside.

Kiryu Yume pulled the door open and walked out. When it had closed halfway, Horikita's voice sounded again, lower than before. But the corridor was too quiet, and every word slipped clearly through the gap.

"If the interview score cannot be verified, then the placement itself lacks legitimacy. I demand to view my interview evaluation record."

There was a pause from Chabashira's side, followed by the creak of her chair, as though she had leaned forward. Then came a light, crisp tap as the tip of her pen was planted against the desk.

"It is your right to request the record. But what will you do even if you see it? No matter how high your written score was, Class D is still Class D. If you want to change that result, what you lack isn't an interview evaluation sheet."

Horikita did not answer.

"You haven't even dealt with Class D's problems yet, have you? How many of your classmates' names can you call?"

Horikita still did not answer.

Kiryu Yume stood outside the door for a moment, then headed toward the stairwell. The setting sun flooded the corridor, turning the glass of the bulletin board into a dark golden rectangle. A student council event notice was posted there, stamped with the student council seal.

Rapid footsteps in sneakers came from the stairwell, thumping down from above. Sudo Ken burst around the corner with a training bag slung over his back and nearly crashed into him. He shouted, "Sorry!" without slowing down and ran off. Downstairs, the vending machine clattered as it dispensed a drink. Someone cheered, only to be shushed immediately by someone beside them.

His phone buzzed in his side pocket. A message from Morishita Ran contained four characters: "Office?"

Leaning against the stair railing, he looked down and replied with two: "History."

As he pressed send, two footsteps sounded on the top floor of the stairwell. Someone opened the door toward the rooftop, and wind rushed down from above, tearing a gap through the stale air that had lingered in the building all afternoon. The coolness rolled down the steps to his feet.

From the direction of the athletic field came the metallic crack of the baseball club hitting a ball. It was distant, a muffled sound as if rising from underwater.

His phone buzzed again. Sakayanagi: "Bring me a black coffee on your way back, please, little cat."

He slipped the phone back into his side pocket and turned toward the vending machine in the first-floor lobby. There was only one can of black coffee left. The inventory number on the screen flickered, then changed to 0. The can clattered down, its chilled aluminum covered in fine beads of condensation that stung his palm slightly with their coldness.

Sakayanagi Arisu sat by the window on one of the lobby sofas, an open book on her lap and her cane leaning diagonally against the armrest. Her silver-white hair was tinged warm orange in the sunset. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. Her purple eyes first examined his face, then drifted down to the coffee can in his hand. "Exactly one can."

"Exactly the last can." Kiryu Yume handed it to her.

Sakayanagi accepted it and turned it twice in her palm without opening it. The chill made her fingertips faintly pink. "What did Mashima say to you?"

"I failed history. He gave me a handwritten timeline and told me to make one myself. He'll check it in two weeks."

"I've seen that timeline." Sakayanagi pulled open the can tab, and the hiss of carbonation filled the silence between them. "It's enough for a beginner. First, make sure you remember the key events. I won't start from the beginning during Saturday's tutoring session."

Kiryu Yume sat on the sofa beside her. "He even knows about your tutoring."

"Mashima-sensei knows what the students in his class are doing." Sakayanagi took a small sip of coffee. Her brows drew together faintly, then relaxed. "Too bitter."

"Black coffee is supposed to be bitter."

"That's why I asked you to bring it." She set the can on the armrest, picked up the book from her lap again, and opened it to the page marked by a bookmark. "Who else did you see in the office?"

"Horikita Suzune from Class D. She was talking to Chabashira-sensei about class placement."

Sakayanagi's hand paused as she turned the page, then continued. Her voice was soft, as though she were merely asking in passing. "Did she get an answer?"

"Chabashira told her to find a way herself."

"Chabashira-sensei has always been rather direct." Sakayanagi closed the book and rested it on her lap. Tilting her head toward him, she looked at him with the faintest hint of amusement in her purple eyes. "Little cat, do you know why Mashima gave you a notebook instead of tutoring you directly?"

Kiryu Yume shook his head.

"Because tutoring you directly is Sakayanagi Arisu's job." She said it as though it were only natural, as if it had long been written on some schedule. "Memorize the timeline by Friday. I'll test you on Saturday."

Kiryu Yume stood and headed toward the elevator. At the elevator doors, he looked back once. Sakayanagi had set down her book and was leaning against the sofa back, gazing out the window. Her cane rested diagonally beside her knees, while the coffee can on the armrest released a faint stream of white vapor. The ends of her silver-white hair swayed gently in the breeze slipping through the window gap.

The elevator chimed and opened. He stepped inside and pressed his floor. Horikita Suzune's straight back before Chabashira and Sakayanagi's shoulders sunk into the sofa floated through his mind at the same time—two images that would not overlap, yet would not disperse.

As the elevator rose, he glanced down at the corner of the dark blue notebook cover peeking through the gap in his schoolbag zipper and pushed it farther inside.