—It hurts.
The source is my cheek, swollen red-purple.
A bruise so large it would make anyone double-take—I gently stroke it.
A stinging pain shoots through the heated area.
"That bastard really slapped me hard."
I picture the perpetrator's smirk and spit the grudge from deep in my gut.
But without this, I couldn't truly hate him.
This wound is to elicit sympathy—and genuine hatred to avoid being seen through as a lie.
All necessary pieces are in place. The disguise is solid.
I'm currently heading toward Class D's base, carrying daily necessities like towels, spare clothes, and underwear, plus the digital camera and radio Ryuuen gave me, and a flashlight.
"I should've stolen a bottle of water."
The sun is still high, mercilessly sapping moisture from my body in the stifling heat.
My throat feels a little dry. But I can endure it.
I resolve myself and quicken my pace.
"…This spot should do."
I find a large tree suitable as a landmark and sit at its base.
Then I quickly dig a hole deep enough for a 500ml plastic bottle.
No rain recently, but the soil is soft and easy to work.
No insects emerge, and the hole is done—I wrap the radio and flashlight in a plastic bag and bury them, covering with soil.
The excess dirt I scatter into the bushes.
Tired, I lean against the tree. In this heat, even this small task brings a light sweat, which I wipe with my jersey sleeve.
"I want to wash my hands."
Not a germaphobe, but dirt on my hands bothers me all the same.
As I start to stand in search of water, multiple voices reach me from the side.
I immediately suppress the naive thought and focus for the mission.
Seconds later, three figures enter my view. I track them with my eyes alone.
An idiot-looking one, a plain one, a big-breasted one.
I send them a disinterested gaze, and the idiot-looking one steps toward me first.
But the plain one grabs his shoulder firmly, stopping him.
"What the hell?"
"Uh, no… sorry. Never mind."
From their behavior, I assess who's most dangerous.
The plain one. He stopped the idiot to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Meaning he was wary of me. Cautious type, perhaps.
But when the idiot glares a little, he shrinks back meekly.
Not a confident guy, then.
Overall, none of the three seem highly dangerous, but I'll stay wary of the plain one at least.
"Hey. What happened? You okay?"
The idiot takes the lead in speaking to me.
"…Leave me alone. It's nothing."
"Nothing? Doesn't look that way. Who did it? Want me to call a teacher?"
No signs of guilt so far—he seems genuinely concerned.
What a softie. Well, looking at this cheek, anyone would.
Having settled on my approach, I continue with the prepared lines.
"Just a fight in my class. Don't worry about it."
I give a self-mocking smile and refuse his offer.
Even slight movement stings sharply, so I can't raise my voice.
Naturally, my volume stays low, making me seem drained.
"…What do we do? Can't just leave her, right?"
The idiot turns to the other two for opinions.
They hesitate without answering.
Seeing the vague reactions, he faces me again and seeks agreement.
"We're from Class D. If you want, come to our base camp."
"Hah? What are you saying? That's impossible."
"When someone's in trouble, you help—that's how it works, right?"
I look away to hide my near-smirk.
Idiots. Inviting an enemy class member so easily, without suspicion.
"…I'm from Class C. Meaning your enemy—you get that, right?"
"But… we can't leave you alone out here. Yeah?"
He turns to the others again for nods, and this time both agree.
I ignore the bleeding-heart fools.
As planned, they notice my silence and decide to wait me out.
Now it's a battle of patience.
While waiting for me to give in, the three start chatting casually.
The idiot acts on his obvious desires, stirring disgust—but I endure.
"…You're all idiots. Really."
After some time, I break the silence.
"Just can't leave a girl in trouble."
The idiot flashes a cool thumbs-up.
Cheesy, but sincere.
"Then let's head back."
He raises a hand high, eagerly leading.
Watching him, I ask the one I'm most wary of in the group.
"…Just checking—does Class D openly share your camp location? Is it okay for me to go?"
"It's fine. No problem."
The plain one answers with unchanged expression and tone.
"Unbelievable softies. Don't you see the downside?"
Showing the camp reveals how you plan to survive the exam—yet he hasn't realized or considered it.
"…If you're from Class C, you probably already know our location, right?"
"…No, I don't."
I meet his eyes and say it.
He was trying to intimidate, implying he knows our side—but my reply seems unexpected, easing the tension.
I react similarly but quickly shift to listening.
"Earlier, a long-haired guy from Class C showed up at our base. You didn't hear anything from him?"
…I get it all now.
That bastard—wasn't he hiding and watching? My actions are completely exposed!!!
I inwardly curse the one reflecting on his own mistake.
"…I heard about the guy you mentioned scouting. But he didn't say the location."
"…I see."
The plain one replies curtly, but his gaze holds sympathy.
Seems it worked out anyway. Even that seaweed-head probably didn't predict this far.
"Ah, forgot introductions! I'm Haruki Yamauchi. What's your name?"
"I'm Ibuki."
"Ibuki-chan! Nice to meet you!"
"Yeah."
"Hey, at least let me carry your bag. Okay? Okay?"
"It's got underwear and stuff—stop."
"R-right. Sorry about that."
This time I looked away while saying it… because it was a casual lie.
Not that I mind him carrying underwear—it's the camera inside I don't want touched.
…Habits are hard to break, I grudgingly recall his comment and agree.
After that, the three from Class D led me back to their base.
Ryuuen's plan has cleared the first stage.
...
Around when the wristwatches passed 6:00, Kushida's group returned from foraging food.
Hirata's exploration team came back too, so over half the class gathered at the base.
Their hands held small strawberry-like berries and oval fruits resembling grapes or kiwis.
The foraging yielded solid results.
As for me, I was gathering branches with Sudou, Ike, Yamauchi, and others to secure firewood.
Plus monitoring the Class C student, Ibuki.
When she approached us, I detected two lies.
The patterns differed, but she definitely lied.
Why so wary of her? Why the lies?
Because she could be a spy for Class D.
She's currently a bit away from the camp center—claiming she doesn't want to bother other classes—but within sight.
She's quiet for now, but could move anytime, so I never drop my guard.
She's from the same class as him. Not that I follow Chabashira's words blindly, but I suspect some motive.
No more openings.
In this reactive position, I must make the best moves possible now—or no once-in-a-lifetime chance will arise.
…The situation is tough. We have the handicap of a key member's poor health. Plus an unpredictable free spirit.
Like shogi with rook and bishop dropped. With our pieces, winning this exam is questionable.
"Looks like the fire's going well. Thanks, Ayanokouji-kun."
"…Thank Ike, not me."
Deep in thought about victory, Hirata thanks me.
I reply a beat late.
Fact is, Ike got the fire going well and suggested the signal smoke—so name the one deserving praise.
Reacting to his name, Ike heads over.
With camping experience, he's currently everyone's go-to.
Meaning people gather. Before getting swept in, I slip away toward Ibuki.
She notices me approaching and turns.
"Sorry, hang on a bit longer. I'll consult about you."
"You don't have to force it. I feel bad for intruding."
Ibuki says it apologetically and continues.
"I'll get kicked out soon anyway. Right?"
"Who knows. That Hirata guy's an extreme softie."
He judges everyone equally—I doubt he'd kick her out.
"We skipped introductions earlier. I'm Ayanokouji."
"Should I reintroduce myself?"
"No need. Class C's Ibuki. I remember."
We face each other after the proper introduction, but Ibuki still avoids eye contact.
Around then, Class D's discussion shifts to river water and points.
"…You don't have to join them?"
"It's fine. Actually, hearing more about your situation before they call me will speed things up."
Ibuki looked at me with an expression of understanding.
The tension eased a little, so I took a step closer.
"So, what happened?"
"…I got into a fight with a guy in my class. He slapped me and kicked me out—that's all."
"A guy. Was it that long-haired one?"
"No, not him."
Ibuki stated it firmly, her expression unchanged.
If not Kamukura, then it's the other one I suspected earlier.
The student who rules through fear—not just the three involved in the violence incident, but from Ibuki's situation, likely the entire class.
No doubt that's the culprit.
"Could it be that guy Ryuuen?"
"…As expected, his bad reputation has spread to the other classes."
By pretending to recall the name casually, I successfully drew some information from her about someone I only knew by name.
—Information gathering. That's the best move I can make right now.
"I've heard he's pretty reckless."
"Pretty? It's way beyond that. Everything he does is insane.
Even this cheek of mine…"
She spills it irritably, as if talking about a mortal enemy.
"So you rebelled against him, got hit, and were thrown out?"
I summarize the details so far and confirm briefly.
"That's right. He forces anyone who doesn't obey into submission with violence like this."
She points to her own cheek, full of disgust.
"What a horrible guy… Has he hit anyone else?"
"There were some. But most shut up the moment he threatened violence."
Ibuki looked me in the eyes as she spoke…
That gesture raises a question.
…She should look people in the eyes when she really wants to deceive them. That's what my earlier analysis showed.
But her current tone doesn't sound like a lie at all.
—Is she deliberately switching it? …No, definitely.
That's the inconsistency I felt for a split second.
Class C's Ibuki. Impressive—she's quite skilled as a spy.
I almost fell for it momentarily, but I saw through her still-imperfect technique and reached that conclusion.
"Then that long-haired guy was threatened by Ryuuen into scouting us?"
"No, that's a little different."
Ibuki, now talking more freely, immediately denies my words.
She probably thinks spilling their internal affairs openly will earn trust.
But my analysis is already complete. At this point, it only sounds like "believe me because I'm telling the truth."
"He's the exception. The only one on equal footing with Ryuuen."
"Is that so?"
"Even Ryuuen can't touch Kamukura. Because he's—a 'real' genius."
"…'Real'? What do you—"
My brain catches the word like an electric shock, and I instinctively start to ask.
But the interruption comes from someone else joining the conversation.
"—Ayanokouji-kun, Ibuki-san. Mind if I join?"
The timing couldn't be worse—the talk cuts off.
I turn my gaze to the newcomer.
It's Hirata, Class D's de facto leader.
But he smiles kindly, considerate of me, waiting.
From his demeanor, I grasp why he's here and begin explaining the situation.
"Hirata, she got into a fight in her class and was hit. Apparently Class C is run by a guy named Ryuuen, and she can't go back."
"Hey, I didn't say that much—"
"Got it, Ayanokouji-kun. Thanks for the concise explanation.
…Ibuki-san, I understand your situation. But could you wait just a bit longer?
I'm going to explain to the others now and ask if we can look after you."
Hirata somewhat forcefully ends the talk, signals me to watch Ibuki, and returns to the class circle.
"…The embodiment of a softie. Doesn't even listen to my side."
"People are mostly like that, more or less. Isn't your class similar?"
"Not at all… Class C barely has any softies like that."
Finishing that, she switches to sitting with knees drawn up, head down.
No more information extraction possible. Later, then.
I conclude that and retreat from the gathering crowd once more.
The discussion results in Class D deciding to care for Ibuki.
Hirata's persuasion plays a big role, and the girls provide thorough protection.
For example, sharing their emergency food and water with her.
Once everyone finishes giving Ibuki provisions, it's Class D's mealtime.
Hirata divides the foraged food equally among everyone.
Then he notices something.
"Huh? Come to think of it, where's Kouenji-kun?"
We thought all Class D students were gathered, but only the free spirit is missing.
"Sensei, have you seen Kouenji-kun?"
"…Now that you mention it, no. But don't worry—there's still time until roll call.
Knowing him, he'll be back any moment."
Chabashira-sensei doesn't know his whereabouts either.
But I'm relieved. After all, it's not the worst-case scenario.
"Seriously! We need to do something about his freelancing!"
One student shouts, and everyone nods in sympathy.
Even Hirata can only give a wry smile.
"Everyone, calm down. I'll talk to Kouenji-kun about it.
So for now, let's have dinner—"
"—Did someone call for me, Hirata Boy?"
Rokusuke Kouenji's voice echoes from nowhere.
Everyone looks around frantically but can't spot the overwhelmingly presence-heavy guy.
"Hahaha, up in the tree—splendid. You can grasp every situation from there."
At "tree," everyone reacts and looks up.
Kouenji descends with a full rotation.
His movement—is identical to the one I saw from Kamukura around noon.
"Hey, schoolmates. Long time no see."
—Everyone present widens their eyes in shock.
Not because he came down from a tree. Or his boundless freelancing.
Or the bag seemingly woven from grass and the distributed plastic sheets for the temporary toilet.
Or his outrageous outfit, swim trunks emphasizing the crotch, plus regular shoes…
None of that.
Everyone is shocked by what he brought—the food.
"K-Kouenji-kun, those ingredients…"
"Hahaha, what faces you're making, Hirata Boy. Though I suppose it's fitting for ordinary people."
While everyone gapes, Kouenji alone laughs heartily as usual.
The makeshift bag tied from his shirt holds massive amounts of corn.
His pants treated the same, filled with fruits and vegetables. The grass-plastic bag contains numerous fish.
"It's nothing much—I simply decided to participate a little in this exam."
He sets them down and declares grandly.
"O-ohooooooooooh!!!"
Cheers of joy erupt from all directions.
"Then, schoolmates—let us celebrate our youth tonight."
Kouenji's clear voice rings across the class, met by another wave of joyful shouts.
Afterward, he yields the spotlight to Hirata and elegantly exits the scene.
—This is Rokusuke Kouenji's true ability.
Proof that he's not just a cringeworthy narcissist—but someone who believes only in his hidden strength.
Some girls even call him "Kouenji-sama," practically worshipping him like a deity.
"…If he lends his strength to this exam, he'd literally be worth a hundred men."
Horikita says it beside me. And at the same time, I think—she's still naive.
Kouenji embodies egoism and arrogance personified—yet he steps forward using his own power.
I don't know what prompted it, but in the end, it's a whim.
Looks like we got lucky this time.
That night, thanks to Kouenji's haul, our frugal life transformed into a lavish feast!!
...
The vast sea, seeming infinitely expansive, swallows the blazing sun overflowing with light.
The sun, more than half sunken, still asserts its presence, as if resisting the coming night.
On the beach offering such poetic scenery, numerous shadows move slowly but in great numbers.
Multiple adults in work clothes, aided by uniformed children with still-youthful faces.
The beach holds stacked wood for what looks like a campfire set; among the children's loads are fireworks and luxurious ingredients unthinkable on a deserted island.
"Put the ingredients here!"
A delinquent-looking boy barks orders.
Sweat streams down his forehead, fatigue unmistakable.
Yet he constantly scans around, updating the situation.
His frantic movements have plenty of waste, but show clear earnestness.
"Ishizaki-kun, where should I put these?"
"Sparkler fireworks? Over with the set. It's that way."
The one called Ishizaki directs the beautiful girl with glossy light-blue hair.
She nods slightly at the instruction and trots off to the indicated spot.
"Whew, feels like forever since I was in charge."
Ishizaki mutters to himself.
What he says—being in charge—is true.
Normally, he's the one waiting for orders.
But now, with the one who uses him absent, he's commanding instead.
"You lot! Move faster! The promised time's almost here!"
After rallying the others, he heads to the group carrying heavy loads himself.
Acting on what he considers his role.
Some start viewing the proactive leader favorably.
"Kuku, not bad at all, Ishizaki."
"R-Ryuuen-san! …Whoa!"
Finishing a heavy load and wiping sweat, Ishizaki catches a cold water bottle abruptly tossed by the boy called Ryuuen.
He juggles it once, twice, and catches it properly on the third.
"Now, my plan's finally complete."
Ryuuen claps twice, drawing attention, then begins.
As he speaks, everyone stops working, faces him, and listens.
Before anyone notices, the sun has sunk into the sea, the campfire flames now the light source.
Near the fire, they fan the king. The king and the one man equal to him stand expressionless a bit away from the flames.
Various gazes fly toward the pair; respect, loathing, envy, indifference.
"You lot—now we're really gonna party."
The flickering emotions vanish at the king's declaration, replaced by roars of joy dominating the space.
They distribute prepared food and drinks to everyone; someone starts a toast.
The moment it ends, everyone dives into the food.
Laughter-filled chatter rises everywhere.
Guys discussing favorite girls or preferences.
Girls buzzing about crushes.
Mixed groups affectionately gossiping about couples.
Pairs with close distance, atmosphere teetering on crossing the line.
Of course, some talk unrelated to romance—but everyone revels noisily.
"This is an investment in the future. She… grows stronger with every adversity overcome. Let us look forward to an unpredictable future."
***
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