Morning sunlight passes through the windows of the special building.
The light that filters in illuminates the floor, casting shadows.
The shadows line up in perfect rhythm, shrinking as they recede into the distance.
Naturally, such an artistic arrangement creates a unique scene.
A magnificent view. From an artistic perspective, there's no doubt this scenery holds value.
A space untouched by contradiction.
That's precisely why it's boring.
Beauty born of perfect predictability—such things can be found anywhere.
I could create them myself.
Still, even if it's boring, I capture it in a photograph.
Photographing a crime scene is only natural.
Unlike paintings or novels, photographs fix the phenomena that occurred right before your eyes.
They capture even the faintest stains left behind or the precise dents in the walls, without omission.
They permit no alteration, much less addition.
Why do I do this?
Anyone with decent intuition has probably already realized.
Because this place is the scene of the violent incident caused by Ryuuen.
What I'm doing now is casually cleaning up the aftermath. I have no intention of interfering myself.
I have almost no interest in the incident itself—only enough to lay a small piece on the board for the sake of its conclusion, the one part that slightly intrigues me.
How will Class D, the one-sided victims, seize acquittal? Or will they abandon the injured students?
I'm curious whether the outcome will differ from what I currently predict. No—I'd prefer if it did.
How can Class D guide this incident to an acquittal?
How can they resolve an event steeped in violence and lies?
"Boring."
Suppose someone manages to steer this incident toward a good conclusion.
Even then, it would surely be an analyzable, perfectly predictable outcome—just like this scenery.
…
"I'll explain the flow of the Kamakura period once more. This flow connects to the Muromachi period in that—"
About three months have passed since I began attending classes at this school.
Every subject has gradually grown more difficult compared to the beginning, and scattered throughout Class C are students already struggling to keep up.
For example, English. At first it was mostly middle-school review and basics, but now we're being taught proper foundational grammar.
For example, Japanese. The passages in modern literature have become relatively harder, demanding higher-quality reading comprehension.
On top of that, classical Japanese and classical Chinese have been added, simply increasing the amount of preview and review required.
Yet that doesn't mean the quality of the lessons has declined.
On the contrary, every class is steadily improving, revealing the high caliber of the teachers.
This is especially evident in the history class I'm currently taking.
As eras progress, the units grow more complex, but the teacher in charge uses materials and explanations carefully crafted to make them easy for students to understand.
"—That's all for today's lesson. Review by repeatedly reading the handout I distributed."
When the end-of-class chime rings, the teacher—clipboard and several colored pens in hand, clearly favorites—prepares to leave.
But noticing a student approaching, the teacher stops.
The student's purpose is to ask a question about the lesson. Watching the exchange, the student looks both serious and genuinely enjoying it.
The history teacher—Chabashira Sae, homeroom teacher of Class 1-D—seems to find it rewarding; a faint smile escapes her usual poker face.
Their relationship appears good.
Yet I feel a slight sense of incongruity.
There are unfavorable rumors about Chabashira-sensei: that she's indifferent toward her own class, Class D.
Those rumors don't align with the personality I observe in her, creating an irregularity that, though temporary, sparks mild interest.
Even with the ongoing incident between Class C and Class D, she teaches without mixing personal and professional matters.
She draws clear lines there, and from her strict demeanor during lessons, she seems harsh on both herself and others.
The way she handled that question just now also shows she's attentive and caring.
That's precisely why I can't imagine her as someone who would mishandle midterm announcements or spew venomous remarks at Class D students like harassment.
I try to infer flaws, but with too little information, I stop there.
She's slightly intriguing, so perhaps I'll disguise it as a question and ask her sometime.
"Haaa… so boring."
As I pack up after class, Ibuki-san—her voice far too low for a flower of high school girlhood—turns toward me and props her elbow on my desk.
"No need to face me specifically to say that."
"What? 'Boring' is just your version of 'tedious.' I don't want to hear that from someone whose mouth only ever says 'boring, boring.'"
"That doesn't explain why you're facing me."
I loosen my stiffened body from sitting, finish packing, and stand from my chair.
I don't forget to take my phone from my school bag.
"You going shopping or something?"
In this school, the equivalent of cash is private points.
They aren't paper bills or coins but invisible money stored on the phone.
Students have been thoroughly taught what points are over these three months, so carrying a phone instead of a wallet now triggers the association of going to buy something.
It really drives home how cashless things have become.
"I forgot to make lunch. So I'm heading to the cafeteria."
"Huh~ Unexpected. Even you mess up like that."
As she says, forgetting a habituated task is a first for me too.
Yesterday, after thinking a bit about romance, I fell asleep quite early. As a result, I neglected nearly all my routine tasks.
When I woke again, I'd slept so deeply the clock hands had gone full circle.
Thus, this morning was spent dealing with the oversights.
But making a bento was impossible—I'd just run out of ingredients.
The mall doesn't open in the morning, so no bento.
Having to buy breakfast at the convenience store is a fresh memory, and my own mistake is slightly amusing.
"I'm human too. I make mistakes."
"Ugh… that really doesn't suit you."
Ignoring her heartless remark, I start walking.
As a lone wolf, eating alone poses no problem for her.
"Rare to see you heading to the cafeteria."
I exit through the back door toward the cafeteria.
Just then, Ryuuen-kun and Yamada-kun emerge from the front door.
Spotting me, the imposing duo heads my way.
"You noticed quickly. I forgot to make my bento today."
"Kuku, didn't expect that. Even you screw up sometimes."
I literally just heard that.
I've thought this for a while, but Ryuuen-kun and Ibuki-san actually share some surprising similarities.
Ibuki-san, who hates Ryuuen, would never admit it, but searching reveals common points.
For example, their aggressive personalities and preference for solitude.
Thus, their thinking overlaps a bit. One reason she harbors ill will toward him is likely kindred aversion.
"You basically always eat at the cafeteria."
"Do I look like someone who can cook?"
"It'd be interesting if I was wrong."
"Sadly, what you see is what you get."
Engaging in pointless small talk, I head to the cafeteria with them.
Incidentally, Ishizaki-kun is currently being ostracized.
He was central to that incident. Getting too close would be troublesome, so Ryuuen is keeping distance.
"Kuku, the path's extra clear today."
Right now, Ryuuen and I walk side by side, with Yamada-kun guarding our rear.
Walking down the very center of the hallway in this formation, we draw stares from those around us as though we're something contagious.
Ryuuen-kun, one of the top two problem children among first-years; Yamada-kun, around 190 cm with a physique unthinkable for a high schooler; and me, with my somewhat unusual appearance.
The reaction is only natural—a boring confirmation of fact.
"Second boss, what would you like to be called?"
Uncharacteristically, the quiet Yamada speaks to me.
We've been around each other for about two months, but we've never called each other by name.
Like Ishizaki-kun, he seems to view me as Ryuuen's equal.
But calling us both "boss" would be confusing, so he wants a designation.
"Whatever is easier for you to say."
I don't care what I'm called, so I leave it to him.
He crosses his arms, thinking.
Surprisingly serious about it—I'll need to refine my analysis of him further.
"Kuku, no need to think. Damn kelp works fine."
Ryuuen butts in.
"You understood the English."
"Guessed from context and gestures."
"Hmm. You don't plan to learn it properly?"
"Waste of time."
As ever, studying means nothing to him.
How will he handle the upcoming finals?
There won't be a shortcut like the midterms, so next time his genuine academic ability will be measured.
I'm mildly curious what he'll do, but he'll manage somehow. No need to think too deeply.
Later, the name settled on Izuru.
From him directly—calling him Yamada-kun felt awkward, so it became Albert.
...
"It's more crowded than usual today."
While chatting with Albert, we somehow arrived at the cafeteria.
Not just first-years, but second- and third-years use it too, so calling this place a "mass of people" isn't a metaphor—it's objective fact.
"I'll go grab seats. Albert, get the usual."
Albert nodded silently in acknowledgment.
I followed him toward the meal ticket machines.
They're not particularly complicated: press the button for the dish you want, then tap your phone on the payment terminal. A ticket prints out.
This time, I ordered the slightly pricier Japanese Special.
There's no deep reason—just that I was curious how something with "special" slapped on it so bluntly would exceed expectations.
"Do you usually eat here?"
"Yes. I either bring my own lunch or buy it here and eat it."
While waiting for the food, I killed time chatting with Albert.
Despite his imposing build, his hands are surprisingly deft.
After a few minutes of small talk, the meals were nearly ready, so I scanned for Ryuuen.
There he was—impossible to miss.
He stands out. He has no particularly striking physical features, yet he stands out.
Because even in a place this packed, there's one guy monopolizing an entire table.
He sat there boldly, as if it were his throne.
"Here you go, umm..."
"I'm a guy."
When I turned back, an older woman was placing a luxurious spread in front of me.
I handed over my ticket, received the tray, and smoothly moved away from the pickup area.
It's lunchtime; lingering would only cause trouble.
Spotting Albert with two trays, I led him to the spot Ryuuen had secured.
"Good work."
Albert responded with another nod and took his seat.
"Even dessert, huh?"
Ryuuen eyed my set meal with mild curiosity.
For the record, the dessert was off-season kusamochi.
"Do you want it?"
"I'm not big on sweets."
Not exactly surprising. Thinking back, when he ate snacks in my room, he always went for chips or spicy stuff.
Anyway, I was genuinely hungry, so I dug in.
"So, Kamukura—any progress on that info?"
Once the other two finished, Ryuuen turned to me.
I'd have preferred to enjoy someone else's cooking in peace, but he wasn't the type to care, so I answered.
"No change since the last email."
"You're not slacking just 'cause it's boring, right?"
"Who knows."
"Kuku, you're a real pain. Always keeps me on edge wondering when you'll stab me in the back."
"Even if I did betray you, you'd probably enjoy it."
"Yeah, you're right."
The conversation died quickly. He pulled out his phone and started fiddling with it.
I'd tossed out a topic to kill time, but he clearly wasn't interested.
Whatever. I'd finally reached the kusamochi that came with the Japanese Special.
It looked genuinely delicious. The fact that it was handmade rather than store-bought was a plus.
Even with my patissier talent, I could tell this was high quality.
I had high hopes.
I picked it up for that momentous first bite—but right then, a voice came from behind.
"Excuse me, if you've finished eating, could you please give up the seats?"
Ryuuen and Albert reacted.
I didn't bother turning around.
I hadn't even started the post-meal dessert, let alone finished it.
But judging by the pitch, the speaker was definitely female. It took guts to approach a weird trio like us.
A flicker of interest sparked, so I shifted my gaze from the kusamochi.
There stood two familiar faces escorting someone I'd seen before.
A group of three—male-to-female ratio one-to-two.
One was a tall, slender girl with distinctive violet-indigo hair, like a fashion model.
One was a blond guy with slicked-back hair, delinquent vibes but with visible intelligence.
And the last was the girl who'd spoken to us with a cane in her hand.
"Kuku, sorry. My buddy's still eating—can't give it up yet."
"Fufu, is that so? Then shall we chat a little until he finishes? —Ryuuen Kakeru-kun."
"Sure thing. I was getting bored anyway. Plus, I don't know much about you—perfect timing, Sakayanagi."
The girl in white—Sakayanagi—wore a manufactured smile that could captivate anyone.
For a moment, as she appraised the three of us, our eyes met.
"You possess excellent talent."
"...Fufu, thank you."
From those analyzing eyes, I knew instantly.
She could see layers ahead, landscapes ordinary people couldn't perceive.
In other words, she possessed it too—super analytical ability.
I felt a faint admiration that someone besides me and Junko Enoshima had it.
But more importantly: the kusamochi.
"You truly are similar to me, aren't you?"
"Save the sleep-talk for bed."
Sakayanagi shifted her focus to Ryuuen.
She'd called it "chatting," but the atmosphere was nothing like friendly banter between close friends.
The cafeteria was packed and slightly warm, yet the air around Ryuuen and Sakayanagi seemed to drop degree by degree.
Amid their exchange, the violet-haired girl standing like a retainer sighed and waited boredly for time to pass.
In contrast, the blond guy watched the two "kings" with obvious amusement.
"Are those two your pawns?"
"Yes, they're quite excellent."
"I see. Looks like you're an opponent I can't underestimate."
"Can't you even distinguish between people worth making enemies of and those you shouldn't?"
"Bad upbringing, sadly. Never learned words like 'distinction.' Anyone who doesn't follow me is equally an enemy."
Both were smiling, yet nothing about it felt peaceful.
Two aggressive, prideful people refusing to yield an inch—both clearly enjoying the situation.
But they seemed to forget this was a cafeteria.
One sitting, one standing, locked in confrontation.
Objectively, the scene was bizarre beyond words.
People around us were starting to notice the atmosphere.
If left alone, things could get complicated.
Yet this time, I had no intention of mediating.
Because more importantly—kusamochi.
I decided to completely ignore their showdown.
"As rumored, a textbook tyrant. Relieved."
"And you're exactly the rumored pretentious queen. Relieved."
I brought the kusamochi to my mouth, chewed thoroughly, savored it, then swallowed.
Delicious.
I felt like I could eat any number of them.
Even though talents deemed unnecessary had been stripped away, my taste buds were rejoicing.
"That said, you aren't using the rumored violence. I thought you'd immediately punish anyone you disliked, regardless of class."
"Kuku, if you want a show I can give one right now—but I don't make a hobby of hurting people with bad legs."
"It's not because of the onlookers or surveillance cameras... you're concerned for my body? You have an unexpectedly kind side. But please don't worry about this body. I don't consider it a weakness at all."
...Things removed could still be added anew.
For me, kusamochi was something newly added—a preference of that sort. That explanation worked.
Though it felt a little forced.
"I don't hate strong-willed women. Smart and aggressive too. How about it, Sakayanagi—want to be mine? Then you could erase the future where you lose to me."
"Fufu, you're quite unique. But the answer is no. It was a flattering invitation, but I must decline. Because you and I aren't looking at the same future."
If I recall correctly, Hajime Hinata's favorite food was also kusamochi.
He and I are the same person yet different. If preferences remained unchanged, does that mean this tongue is still my original?
The answer is no. My sense of taste has been elevated to the ultimate level—there's no doubt.
"Ha ha ha ha! Fine, I'll admit it. Yeah, you and I are similar."
"Oh my, you accept it so easily."
"Yeah, I'll say you got one over on me with that analytical skill."
"...Fufu, that's unexpected."
"—That's enough."
Even though the body was remade, perhaps it still craved what it originally desired?
Or maybe something as minor as favorite foods wasn't touched because it wasn't talent-related.
"Both of you, stand down. If you don't, I'll have to report this to the school."
If it was the latter, would eating sakura mochi—Hajime Hinata's disliked food—make me dislike it too?
That interests me.
The possibility that even I could have something I dislike is genuinely fascinating.
"Hey, hey—we were just 'chatting.' No need for you to step in, right?"
"I had to, to end it quickly."
"Kuku, fair enough."
Some weekend would be best for making both kinds.
Including shopping for ingredients.
The biggest concern is whether decorations for presentation, or even yomogi powder or domyoji powder, are available.
Even on these overly extravagant grounds, I doubt they're stocked.
...If not, no big deal. I can order them with points.
This school allows online shopping. It might be expensive, but if it's good entertainment, it's worth it.
This time, the patissier talent—confectioner—will take center stage over chef.
I'll prepare the equipment and create a world-class piece.
"This year's first-years are really... Ryuuen, it's crowded—give up the seats already."
"I'll do it for your sake this time. Let's go, Albert, Kamukura... you still haven't finished?"
Being called out finally made me realize.
I'd been planning my weekend while eating, so naturally I took my time.
"You could have said something sooner. I haven't fully savored this yet."
At my words, Albert quickly gathered the three trays.
After appreciating his thoughtfulness, the two left the area.
As if trading places, the mediator—Student Council President Horikita—appeared.
"Kamukura, you could have stopped those two. Why didn't you?"
"Their conversation held nothing unknown to me."
I finished the last bite.
Checked for forgotten items, then stood.
"Hmph. Typical of you."
With just that, he turned back toward where he'd originally been sitting.
I could see Tachibana-senpai in that direction too.
Still chasing after that stubborn guy. She really has it rough.
I turned my back on Sakayanagi and her group to leave as well.
But the next moment, words I never predicted reached me.
"Ah... as I thought, you really are a true... genius."
Curious about the girl who said them, I turned around.
Her atmosphere was completely different from before.
No intimidating smile. It was as if front and back had flipped.
Her expression remained a smile—yet it carried something bewitching, almost mad.
Her voice was different too.
Cheeks flushed, it wasn't the cold, appraising arrogance from earlier; it was young, sweet—the voice of a girl who'd found something she desperately wanted.
Hearing it, her two retainers looked shocked.
Understandable. Even I hadn't seen this coming.
I'd heard rumors about Arisu Sakayanagi.
Leader of one of the two major factions in Class A. Supposedly extremely aggressive and capable of cruelty.
Watching her exchange with Ryuuen earlier only confirmed those rumors as truth.
Which made it impossible to imagine her using a fawning, coaxing voice.
"...Sakayanagi, what the hell's wrong with you all of a sudden?"
When the violet-haired girl pointed out the strangeness, Sakayanagi immediately donned her ice mask again. She returned seamlessly to the smile she'd shown at first, but her retainer's behavior remained startled.
"...My apologies. I showed you an unsightly side of me."
Whether those words were for me, her retainers, or both—I couldn't tell.
Without breaking eye contact with me, she sat in the seats we'd just vacated.
Her super analytical ability isn't a threat. Neither is her intelligence nor her cruelty.
But that smile she showed earlier—that was close to animal instinct.
If she followed that desire, stood before me, and threw everything she had into trying to surpass me—
Arisu Sakayanagi would unquestionably become an exceedingly interesting existence.
For the first time in a long while, heat coursed through my body.
I needed to revise my evaluation of her.
What I'd thought boring had now etched itself clearly, unmistakably, into my memory.
...
"Kamukura Izuru-kun."
The name of the long-haired young man who had slowly left the scene moments ago—still lingering in my sight—slipped from my lips.
Since childhood, accompanying my father on his work had exposed me to people with all manner of talents.
Those blessed with exceptional bodies and gifted in a particular sport.
Those around my current age who had already entered the adult world and fully blossomed their extraordinary abilities.
Slightly old-fashioned types who never attended school, inheriting techniques from their parents and honing artisanal skills from a young age.
I had seen many other kinds of talent as well.
All of it had undoubtedly sharpened my analytical ability.
To the point where I could gauge a person's talents to a reasonable degree simply by looking at them.
That's why I understood.
That's precisely why I couldn't help but understand.
I first saw him a few days after enrollment. Back then, I had dismissed him as boring—but that no longer mattered.
He possessed an aura more alien, more overwhelming than anyone I had ever encountered.
I was captivated by the sheer "talent" radiating from him, something he didn't even bother to conceal.
I remember it vividly, as if it happened yesterday—the jolt that ran through my entire body, akin to falling in love for the first time.
"Who is greater... him, or..."
A barely audible murmur to myself.
My thoughts turned to him—the one raised in that white room, the place that rejected my very ideals.
What is he doing now?
Is he still confined in that white room?
Or has he left it behind and begun attending school, just like the rest of us?
"It'll get cold."
"...Ah, right—it's lunchtime, after all."
Masumi-san said as she brought food to her mouth, then continued with a puzzled expression.
"You're acting really strange today. What's wrong?"
"Oh my, are you worried about me?"
"...Now I regret asking."
She immediately pulled a sour face.
Seeing that only made me feel she was even more fun to tease.
"But Sakayanagi, like Kamuro said, something's definitely off with you today. Especially after seeing that long-haired guy. Did he get to you somehow?"
Hashimoto-kun cut straight to the heart of it.
I had always prided myself on my poker face, but today it was failing me completely.
Resigned, I gave them my answer.
"...It might be love."
That was the closest word for the feeling currently surging in my heart.
Though in the end, it was only speculation—I couldn't say for certain if it was accurate.
But one thing I knew without doubt: the urge to compete with him was threatening to spill over.
To rival him, to defeat him, to make my existence shine in those seemingly hollow eyes.
Could something like this truly be called love?
"Fufu... it seems things won't be boring anymore."
At my words, the two of them gaped in stunned silence, like pigeons struck by a peashooter.
Masumi-san was so shocked she even dropped her chopsticks.
"You two, your food is going to get cold."
Finally, I began eating my own meal, which had long since cooled.
***
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