"Huh?!"
Maybe he was genuinely too shocked—because even a loudmouth like Housen visibly jumped when Yukio's class suddenly emerged all around him.
Horikita and Matsushita were even more confused now. What… exactly was going on?
Ayanokoji didn't show anything on his face, but inside, even he was quietly astonished. When did Yukio set this up? There hadn't been the slightest sign.
From Ayanokoji's perspective, Yukio should've only noticed something by chance back on the third day of school, when Housen came looking for trouble—picked up on a few clues, followed the thread, then learned what was going on and set up this ambush.
Even Ayanokoji himself had only realized the first-years' plan after his knife was stolen by Amasawa.
So when had Yukio already known everything?
He couldn't figure it out.
Housen was dazed for a split second, then whipped his head around and barked, furious:
"Nanase! What the hell is this?! You leaked it?!"
With so many people surrounding him, it was obvious they'd been waiting here for a while. If it wasn't a leak, Housen couldn't imagine any other reason.
Everyone had brains. No one was truly stupid. Housen wasn't going to believe Yukio's "what a coincidence, we were playing hide-and-seek" nonsense for even a second.
Nanase stayed calm and answered plainly, "I didn't."
The problem definitely wasn't her.
Thinking back, when Housen was getting brutally beaten by Yukio, Yukio already seemed to know everything—so the only possible weak point was on Amasawa's side.
But Nanase needed Yukio to train her every day now. There was no way she could explain it that clearly. Saying she hadn't leaked was already enough.
Housen's expression shifted as he considered it. He looked at Nanase's serious face. She didn't seem like she was lying.
So that meant… Amasawa?!
Back when the plan was proposed, the first-years summoned by Tsukishiro from Class B and Class C hadn't participated at all.
It had only been the three of them who plotted this messy, flaw-filled plan.
Damn it. He really shouldn't have worked with people he'd only met once—people he barely even knew. He'd been sold out.
Yukio's class tightened the circle, step by step, leaving Housen no time to think further.
His face turned colors like an old dyehouse—green, then black—so vivid you could practically see it even in this grove where moonlight barely reached. It said everything about how violently his emotions were churning.
When Yukio stepped closer again, Housen's nose bridge started throbbing with that familiar phantom pain.
That pain helped him accept reality.
He didn't dare run his mouth in front of Yukio anymore.
"W-Wait…!" he blurted.
"This time—this time I'll take the loss, Yukio, you—"
"Oh?" Yukio responded lightly—then said nothing else, continuing to press forward.
The pressure on Housen was like a mountain crushing down on his chest. His heart felt like it couldn't even beat properly.
That helpless suffocation made him want to go berserk on the spot.
When had he ever spoken this meekly? When had he ever openly admitted defeat like this?
But his rationality was like a breakwater, always blocking the fury that wanted to burst out of the cage.
And Housen—who'd lived on the streets for years—understood the truth of when you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head.
So he clenched his fists with all his strength, lowered his head as far as he could, and forced the words out through his teeth. "Yukio… senpai. This time, I admit it. Whatever you arrange, I'll listen."
After saying something that close to begging, Housen could practically hear a faint grinding inside his skull—like he was about to bite his own teeth to pieces.
His palms hurt from his own grip. His temples throbbed with rising blood pressure.
But he had no choice.
If it were someone else—if it were someone like Ryuuen—he wouldn't surrender. He'd still fight like a cornered beast.
But against Yukio, who could crush him effortlessly, Housen couldn't summon any will to struggle.
"Good." Yukio finally looked a little satisfied. "Two things. For this special exam, you're teaming up with Second-year Class D. And there's another thing—I'll tell you when the time is right."
"Yukio-kun?" Matsushita was still there. Hearing Yukio say that so casually—like he was taking care of them—her voice came out with a faintly intimate edge.
Yukio turned back and waved it off, signaling her not to overthink it.
"I knew about this for a while, but I didn't tell you. Consider it a small compensation."
"You can go back now."
Matsushita nodded shyly. She didn't blame him for not telling them earlier—if anything, she understood.
Horikita parted her lips as if she wanted to ask something, but seeing Yukio still had things to handle, she suppressed it, nodded as well, and left with Matsushita—bringing Ayanokoji with them.
Seeing them go, a small thought surfaced in Housen's mind.
He only wants me to team up with Second-year Class D? The other thing can wait?
Then wouldn't he still be able to team up with Ayanokoji, turn in a blank paper and score zero, get him expelled, and grab the twenty million from the acting chairman?
And as for later… once he got out of this encirclement tonight, did he really have to listen to Yukio in the future?
Did Yukio really think that just because Housen called him senpai once, it meant Housen was treating him like some kind of big brother?
What a joke. If you're that naïve, you'd have been found face-down in some alley ages ago.
"You thinking about something?" Yukio looked at him with amusement, noticing Housen's eyes spinning like little wheels. Then he casually pointed to Ishizaki—whose phone screen was still lit.
"We recorded you holding the knife."
"If Second-year Class D doesn't clear this special exam… or if you don't listen when I tell you to do something later, you know what happens."
"!" That killed Housen's little scheme completely.
They had footage of him holding the knife. Where did he even have room to struggle now?
Under Yukio's gaze, boxed in by Yukio's class, Housen could only nod—half smiling, half angry—and choke out his agreement.
The humiliation in his chest was almost unbearable.
This time, Housen truly felt it. Yukio was his natural-born nemesis.
Inside, he kept cursing. Damn it! If I'd known, I would've never come to Advanced Nurturing High School!
Who the hell knew a school campus could have a monster senpai like this?
If he could switch to some other high school, he'd already be king of the hill somewhere.
Instead, here he was—lowering his head and playing the grandson.
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. The more he thought about it, the more suffocating it became.
But deep down, even Housen knew the truth:
A high school with ANHS's reputation—across all of Japan—wasn't something students could easily reject.
Anyone with even a little common sense, anyone who understood the benefits of attending ANHS, would come running.
Once that thought settled in, Housen felt even more bitter—like some invisible fate had already decided that at ANHS, he was destined to keep smashing into walls over and over.