May 1st.
'For any high school student, the first month of school is essentially a trial version of their new life.
You spend all of April trying to act like someone you're not. You laugh at jokes that aren't even funny and try way too hard to fit into a social circle that hasn't even fully formed yet. It's a bit of a group effort where everyone pretends to be a little cooler, a little smarter, or more outgoing than they actually are just to stay on the safe side.
But once May hits, the act usually starts to get old. The "May Blues" kick in, the initial energy of the honeymoon phase dies down, and you're left with the standard, boring reality of the next three years, especially for those like us who failed to become part of this entire thing.
Yet, in spite of that gloomy outlook, this specific morning usually feels pretty good for most people, including me. After all, Golden Week is right around the corner. It's basically a glorious string of national holidays lined up back-to-back, turning an ordinary week into several days off where students can cast aside their academic shackles and indulge in the hedonism of youth. Because of that in any normal school, you would hear people talking about their plans to hang out with the new friends they have made over the past month, arguing over where to go, who to invite, and how to make the most of their bright, youthful holidays.
All in all, it's supposed to be that one day where everyone, from the most elite of elite normies to the king of loners like me, tends to be in a good mood.'
----0----
That's how it's supposed to go, at least.
But inside Class 1-D, the atmosphere right now was anything but peaceful, or what anyone would call a good mood.
"H-Hey! What's going on?!"
"Wait, let me see yours! Seriously?"
"Yeah, mine is same too."
"Why is it the same? That doesn't make any sense!"
Voices erupted from all around the classroom. Students were huddled in small groups, staring at their phones with expressions ranging from bewilderment to suspicion.
"Hirata! Do you know what's happening?" a girl named Sato-something from the front row called out, her voice pitched high with confusion. "It's not like what you told us, that day I mean—"
"I know, Sato-san. I'm just as surprised as you are," Hirata replied immediately his usual calm smile looking a little strained. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Everyone, please, calm down. There must be… a logical explanation. I'm sure Chabashira-sensei will clarify everything when she arrives."
Hirata's attempt at reassurance did little to slow things down.
"If there's an explanation, then say it already," someone muttered from the back.
"Yeah, this isn't funny," another voice chimed in. "Why do we all have the same number?"
Hirata hesitated. For a split second, his eyes darted toward the back of the room, locking onto a certain student slouched in his chair near the window.
Hikigaya felt the gaze without needing to look up.
'Hey, hey… no need to look at me like that,' he thought, chin resting heavily in his palm. His half-lidded eyes drifted lazily across the room, watching the chaos unfold like it was someone else's problem. Which, technically, it wasn't anymore.
He exhaled through his nose, barely audible. "…Guess we're finally here," he muttered under his breath.
A moment later, the door slid open and Ike walked in. He looked around the noisy classroom before his eyes landed on Hikigaya. The moment their gazes met, Ike visibly flinched and quickly averted his eyes, scurrying toward his seat without a word.
After a short gap, more students filtered in, their chatter filling the room. Among them was Yamauchi. Like Ike, he instinctively glanced toward the back corner. When he saw Hikigaya staring back at him with those same dead-fish eyes, he also gave a small flinch and hurried past, looking anywhere but at the window seat.
Another pause followed before the door opened again. This time, it was Sudo. He also glanced toward Hikigaya on instinct, but he didn't look too intimidated. Instead, he caught Hikigaya's eye and gave a brief, firm nod. Hikigaya returned it with a small nod of his own.
Watching them all take their places, Hikigaya leaned back slightly. "Well, they're all on time as always," he remarked to himself.
The classroom door opened once more after a final gap, and Ayanokouji stepped quietly into the room. Carrying the same quiet neutrality he always did, he walked straight to his seat on the last row by the window, sitting down beside Horikita.
"Good morning, Horikita," he greeted calmly.
Horikita gave a small nod without looking up from the book she was reading. "Good morning."
Then, Ayanokouji turned his head slightly toward the aisle end of the bench. "Good morning, Hikigaya."
"Morning," Hikigaya replied.
Ayanokouji's gaze drifted down to the yellow can already in Hikigaya's hand—half-drunk, with drops of water sliding down the side. Then he noticed his own can of MAX Coffee, still unopened in his grip. He paused for half a second, as if weighing the sheer absurdity of the coincidence, then lifted it in a small almost imperceptible salute across the bench.
Hikigaya caught the motion from the corner of his eye. His head lifted slightly, eyes widening for a split second with sudden understanding. 'Ah. So that's how today was going to be.'
A corner of his mouth twitched as the meaning settled in. Without a word, he lifted his own can in response, mirroring the angle almost lazily, like this was a ritual they had performed often enough that it didn't need commentary.
Because Horikita was the physical barrier between them, sitting like an unmovable fortress in the middle of the bench, they couldn't just toast normally. They had to invade her personal airspace. Hikigaya leaned far to his left, and Ayanokouji leaned far to his right, their arms stretching and crossing directly behind Horikita's head like a railway gate closing.
"To the glorious death of April's illusions," Hikigaya muttered dryly, "May the May sickness treat only me—no ahem us kindly."
Ayanokouji gave a nod on that.
Clink.
"Cheers," they both said at exactly the same time, flat and perfectly matched.
The cans clinked softly behind Horikita's head. Horikita froze and her fingers stopped halfway through turning a page.
Slowly very slowly she turned her head to the left, eyes landing on Hikigaya, who was already pulling back with a faintly satisfied look, as if he had just paid his respects at a grave only, he could see.
Then she turned to the right.
Ayanokouji was retracting his arm with the same calm indifference he used for everything else, already taking a sip as though nothing unusual had occurred.
For a brief moment, Horikita's expression flickered. Surprise flashed across her face, then disgust, then a quick creeped-out shiver, before it snapped back to her usual aloof mask.
"…Birds of a feather really do flock together," she muttered. "Or perhaps it's just two odd ducks in the same murky pond."
Hikigaya took a slow sip of his MAX Coffee, letting the silence stretch for a second before he replied without looking at her. "Yeah… you're probably right. Two odd ducks. Guess that makes you the elegant swan forced to share the same dirty water. Must be rough. My condolences."
Horikita's brow twitched. She didn't look particularly comforted by the apology. If anything, the "condolences" from a guy currently vibrating from a sugar rush seemed to insult her more than the actual coffee toast.
"Your condolences are as empty as those aluminum cans," she retorted, turning her gaze back to the front of the room. "And twice as unwanted."
For a short while after that, none of them said anything. Horikita's eyes flicked around the room, then toward the front, where Hirata was still trying to settle the confusion, his voice strained but steady as he urged everyone to take their seats, promising that Chabashira-sensei would explain everything shortly.
Then she turned her sharp gaze fully onto Hikigaya, ignoring Ayanokoji for the moment. "It seems things have gone… strangely well. Don't you think?"
"Well? I dunno. People seem pretty confused to me."
"But isn't that the point?" she countered, "And aren't you the primary reason behind all this confusion among everyone right now?"
"If you already know that," he replied, "what's the point of trying to make me say it out loud?"
Horikita didn't push back right away. She only gave a quiet huff, more acknowledgment than disagreement, and let her gaze drift forward again.
"I suppose you're right. There isn't." she said simply.
A heavy silence settled over their row. Hikigaya leaned back, the chill of the MAX coffee can seeping into his palm as he finished it entirely. But then Horikita broke the silence once again without looking at him.
"So then," she asked, "how does it feel, then?"
"Feel about what?"
"Being the reason behind all this confusion everyone's whispering about right now."
Hikigaya let out a small sigh, "You're giving me too much credit, Horikita. Making me sound like some kind of mastermind or something."
"Oh, really?" Horikita's voice dripped with skepticism. "The sudden transformation of the class's three worst troublemakers Ike, Yamauchi, Sudo into these oddly model students right after the pool incident and their conflict with you? It seems like quite the coincidence."
Hikigaya let out a small, amused huff. "Why can't you just believe in the goodness of their hearts, Horikita? Maybe what happened at the pool and our little conflict made them reflect. Maybe they went to the washroom, stared at themselves in the mirror, and as they looked deep inside, their hearts were moved by the passionate spirit of youth to become better men."
"Do you really expect me to believe that nonsense?" She asked flatly, giving him an unimpressed look. "Those three? Reflecting? You have a better chance of convincing me that the earth is flat."
"Well, I kind of wanted you to believe it. It's a nice story, right? Redemption and all that. But… I guess that might not be the case. Well, at least I tried hmm."
"You…" Horikita started, looking visibly annoyed by his slippery attitude.
But she couldn't finish it when the bell rang indicating the start of the first period. Almost immediately after the bell, the classroom door slid open and Chabashira-sensei entered the room.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Before anyone else could react, Hirata stood up immediately.
"Stand up," he called out in a loud, clear voice, enough to reach everyone in the class.
Every student rose to their feet at once, chairs scraping softly against the floor. Everyone, that is, except Koenji, who remained seated as usual, proudly playing the role of the odd one out.
"Good morning, sensei," the whole class said together.
"Good morning, everyone," Chabashira-sensei replied, her gaze sweeping calmly across the room. "Please be seated."
The class sat down, but the tension in the air lingered heavily. Chabashira-sensei seemed to sense the collective unease radiating from them immediately.
Then she looked around and felt everyone's confused gaze. "All right, your morning homeroom is about to begin. Before we get started, does anyone have any questions? If so, now is the time to speak."
There was a brief pause before Kushida raised her hand, hesitating slightly.
"Um… sensei. It's about our points."
Chabashira-sensei raised an eyebrow. "The points?"
"Yes," Kushida nodded. "More specifically… the amount we all received, today."
"Oh?" Chabashira-sensei said calmly. "Is everyone here confused about the amount that has been transferred to their accounts, right?"
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Several students nodded, others exchanged glances.
"I see," she continued after a short pause. "Then I suppose you're all wondering why the number you received is… lower than last month's."
Her gaze sharpened slightly. "More specifically, why it is 47,500 points, instead of the usual 100,000. Is that correct?"
She said it like an obvious statement, expecting that to be the end of it. But Kushida shook her head.
"No, sensei. It's not about that. All of us here already knew that none of us would receive 100,000."
That earned a faint flicker of surprise from Chabashira-sensei. It wasn't that she hadn't expected it, but it was still surprising to hear.
"Oh?" she said. "You kids already knew?"
Then Hirata spoke up to clarify. "Yes, sensei. We didn't just know about the reduced points. We were also aware that the school was evaluating us through a hidden assessment last month."
"I see. So that explains the sudden change in attitude lately," she said, looking around the room with a new level of interest. "But if you had already figured out the Class Points and their implications for private points, then what exactly are you confused about?"
Hirata looked puzzled and muttered, "Class points and Private points?"
"It's about the distribution, Sensei!" Kushida continued, pressing on despite the confusion. "We're confused as to why every single one of us has received the exact same amount of Points."
Before Chabashira could answer, another student stood up. It was Yukimura. He adjusted his glasses, his expression no more than mildly displeased.
"Exactly, Sensei!" he blurted out. "Why do we all have the exact same amount? My merit points should be higher than the people who were slacking off! That's why Some of our points should have been more."
"Merit… points?" Chabashira-sensei repeated, her tone thoughtful. "I'm afraid I'm not following."
She looked from Yukimura to Hirata, and then her gaze drifted briefly to the back of the room.
"I think," she said slowly, "that we are on completely different wavelengths here."
Before she could continue, Koenji let out a loud, booming laugh that filled the room.
"Ha ha ha! I see! So, it's like that then, Teacher? I think I've solved the mystery!"
He propped his feet up on his desk and crossed his ankles as he pointed a finger smugly toward Yukimura.
"It's simple, really. We all have the same amount because all of you had the wrong impression regarding this assessment from the very start."
Yukimura turned on him, "Huh? Wrong impression. What are you talking about, Koenji?"
"Didn't you hear her just now?" Koenji asked, smoothing back his hair. "Teacher mentioned 'class points' and 'private points' just now, while what you were all thinking about this assessment had no mention of anything like 'class points.' In fact, it had only individual merit points."
"Which means—" he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, "—all of you were operating under a completely different set of rules from the very beginning."
He gave a lazy shrug, lips curling into a self-satisfied smile. "I could go on and explain the entire thing myself, but honestly? That would be pointless. I'll leave the honor to you, Teacher. It's far more entertaining that way."
Chabashira-sensei gave a small, slow nod. "While he certainly has an attitude problem, Koenji is right. It seems everyone here has the wrong impression of this assessment."
"Wrong?" Yukimura muttered, "What do you mean, sensei? We observed the patterns. We saw how behavior linked to the points. How could that be wrong?"
"Before I clarify the reality of the situation," she said, "I'd like to hear it from you. I'm curious, really. How did a class like this manage to figure out the hidden assessment within the first month? And more importantly, what exactly is this 'version' of the rules you've all been following?"
Yukimura hesitated, lips parting as if to protest further. His fingers tightened briefly around the edge of his desk, and he adjusted his glasses once more.
"It started in the second week of April, Sensei" he began, his voice steadying as he recalled the memory. "We realized something was wrong, and Hirata gathered us all to explain the logic he had found—"
----0----
Mid-April.
It was a morning just like any other, or so it seemed. The classroom was buzzing with the usual noise of students chatting before homeroom began. However, there was one small anomaly: Ike and Yamauchi had actually started arriving at their seats on time for the past few days, and today, even Sudo was already in class. Usually, they were the last to arrive, sliding in seconds before the bell, but this time, they were seated early.
Then, without warning, Hirata stood up from his seat and walked to the front of the classroom. He stopped behind the teacher's podium.
Suddenly, the sound of a hand slamming onto the podium silenced the room.
"Everyone, can I have your attention for a moment?" he called out loud enough to cut through the chatter.
The students stopped talking and turned to look at him.
"What's the matter, Hirata-kun?" Karuizawa asked from her seat, "You look super serious. Did something happen?"
"Yeah, loosen up, man," someone else added.
"I have something very important to tell everyone," he said, looking at each section of the room. "And it concerns every single one of us."
The room went quiet. Seeing that he had their attention, Hirata continued.
"Let me ask you all a question. What do you think about the 100,000 points we received from the school?"
The students looked at each other, confused by the sudden question.
"What do we think? I mean… it's awesome, right?" a boy named Hondou said, scratching the back of his head. "We literally get a hundred thousand points just for being here."
A few people laughed in agreement.
"Yeah," someone else chimed in. "I've never even had that much money before."
Hirata nodded. "And what do you think about the school itself? About the teachers and the rules?"
"What's with all these questions today, Hirata?" Shinohara asked, resting her elbow on her desk. "You're being kinda serious."
A brief silence followed and few exchanged glances, unsure why he was digging so deeply into something that seemed obvious.
"Sorry," he said. "But this is important. I really want to hear what you think."
Shinohara blinked, surprised by his tone. "Geez… well, since it's you asking… fine."
She tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. "They are great! The teachers are so chill. They don't scold us for being late, they don't yell at us for talking in class… they just let us have fun. Honestly, it's way better than junior high."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. That was the consensus. To them, this freedom was a gift.
"I see," Hirata said quietly.
Then, he took a deep breath and raised his voice, shattering the relaxed atmosphere.
"But that is exactly where you are wrong! None of this is true. Haven't you found the entire thing… too good to be true?" Hirata declared "Think about it. Did none of you find the entire thing… too good to be true? A high school that pays teenagers that much money just to exist? A school that lets you sleep in class without consequences? Does that sound like reality to you?"
"Too good to be true?" Ike frowned, "What are you talking about, Hirata? The points are in our phones, and the teachers aren't saying a word. Didn't sensei tell us we'd get 100,000 points?"
"Did she?" Hirata cut him off sharply. "Think back to exactly what Chabashira-sensei said on the first day."
He looked directly at Ike.
"She said the school would transfer points to us every month. But she never once said that it would be 100,000 points every month, did she?"
Many students frowned, replaying the memory of the entrance ceremony in their heads.
"Wait…" Yukimura muttered, pushing up his glasses. "You're right. She said points are distributed on the first of the month, but she never actually said the amount was fixed."
A wave of unease began to spread.
"So what? Just get to the point, Hirata-boy" Koenji called out while he was casually examining his fingernails, looking completely detached from the tension.
Hirata nodded. "Right. I'm going to tell you the real reason behind everything. Please, just listen carefully."
He took a step closer to the class, his expression grave.
"Right now," Hirata said slowly, "all of us are in the middle of an exam."
"—Huh?"
"Exam?"
"What do you mean?"
A low wave of murmurs spread instantly, the earlier laughter completely gone.
"An exam?" Kushida muttered, brows knitting together. "But… we haven't taken any tests yet, Hirata-kun."
"That's because this isn't a written exam," Hirata replied.
Hirata turned to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk. The screech of the chalk against the slate felt like a wake-up call to the students who were still half-convinced this was some elaborate prank.
"More specifically, the school's hidden assessment. From the very first moment we received those 100,000 points, every single one of us has been under constant evaluation."
He wrote a '100' at the middle of the board, underlining it twice for emphasis.
"Every single student in this class has been assigned 100 Individual Merit Points," Hirata said, his voice echoing in the silent room.
Beneath it, he wrote another line.
100 Merit Points
1 Merit Point = 1,000 Points / Yen
"At the start of April, each of us had 100 merit points. 100 x 1000 = 100,000. That explains our initial balance. But next month? Next month's points deposit won't be a guaranteed 100,000. It will be based on how many of these merit points out of 100 you have left at the end of April. And because everyone's performance as a student is different, the amount each of us receives will be different."
"Wait, wait!" Hondou shouted, "Hirata, tell me you're joking! 1,000 yen for a single merit point? That's insane! Does that mean if we lose points, we're actually losing money?"
"That's exactly what it means," Hirata replied.
Kushida leaned forward and asked again, "Wait, Hirata-kun… if that's true, what exactly are they using to cut those points? Is it just grades?"
"No," Yukimura added. "If it were just grades, they wouldn't need a hidden assessment. They could just conduct a written exam. But there hasn't been any exam so far. And yet, you're saying we're already being evaluated. So, what are the exact criteria here, Hirata?"
Hirata set the chalk down and faced the class.
"They're measuring our worth as students," he said calmly. "I can't claim to know every detail yet. But based on what we've seen, the most likely core of it is a behavioural assessment."
His gaze moved slowly across the room.
"Every time you slack off, every time you talk while a teacher is speaking, every time you fall asleep, every time you show poor attitude toward the teachers or staff, or even how seriously you take your homework it all counts. The more you break class discipline, the more your merit points are deducted."
He paused, letting the weight of the next sentence settle.
"And the most important part? No one else's actions affect yours. It's entirely on you. If you lose your Merits points, you're the only one who suffers."
Then, after a brief hesitation, he added, "And… I wouldn't be surprised if written exams are introduced later as well. To evaluate our academic ability."
"No way…" A boy named Sotomura whispered, "I've been… I've been talking almost every day. And I played games on my phone during English class yesterday. You're saying I've been burning through thousands of yen this whole time?"
"That's why the teachers are so 'chill,' Shinohara-san," Hirata said, looking directly at her. "It's more like... they're giving us the space to show our true selves. They want to see if we can manage our own lives without someone constantly breathing down our necks."
He looked around the room, his expression pained, as if he felt responsible for the anxiety building in the air.
"It's a harsh system, and I'm sorry to be the one saying this. But I think this explains the free points… and the way the teachers have been acting."
"No, fucking way man."
"This is absolute bull—!" Sudo started to roar, but just as the curse was about to fly, he slammed a hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence as his eyes flicked toward the back of the middle row.
"Tell us you're joking, Hirata!" someone yelled from the back. "Why would the school do this? It doesn't make sense!"
Kushida raised her hand slightly, "Um… Hirata-kun? If that's really the case… how is one teacher supposed to notice everything going on in the class? Every little thing we do? I mean… it's impossible, right? Maybe it's not as serious as you're saying."
A few voices immediately rose in agreement.
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"Kushida-chan is right. They can't watch all of us at once."
Hirata shook his head slowly.
"I wish that were true," he said. He turned and pointed toward the corners of the classroom first one, then another, then the ceiling above the podium.
Everyone followed his finger.
Small, dark surveillance cameras were mounted in every corner, lenses glinting faintly under the fluorescent lights. Most students had never really noticed them before or had assumed they were just for security.
"I think… they're monitoring us with these," Hirata said quietly.
A stunned silence fell.
"Wait…" Hondou muttered, staring up at the nearest camera. "Aren't those just to make sure no one does anything harmful? Like fights or stealing?"
Hirata shook his head again. "I don't think so. Not anymore."
The room filled with low, uneasy voices.
"They're watching us all the time…?"
"That's... that's actually terrifying,"
"Yeah totally messed up…"
"It's not just messed up, it's so creepy!" Karuizawa snapped.
Hirata didn't answer immediately. He set the chalk down, He looked out at the class, his expression softening but remaining serious.
"I know it's a lot to take in. And I'm sorry for dropping this on everyone so suddenly. My intention wasn't to cause unrest or panic. I just… felt it was necessary to tell you all the truth. What you decide to do with this information is up to you now. Because in this system, the only person your choices affect… is you."
He stepped back from the podium slightly.
"That's all I wanted to say."
----0----
"—And that's what Hirata told us that day," Yukimura finished. "That's the logic we've been following ever since."
The classroom was dead silent at the moment.
Chabashira-sensei stood motionless at the front, arms still crossed, her expression calm and unreadable, though a glimmer of genuine interest flickered in her eyes.
"So that's what you believed," she said softly, almost to herself. "Individual merit points. Personal worth. No class-wide consequences. Just… you."
She let the words hang, letting the silence stretch until it felt heavy.
"Interesting," she said. "Very interesting. And I take it, just as Yukimura said, you were the one who pieced this together, Hirata?"
"Um… yeah, to some extent," Hirata replied, his hand moving to the back of his neck in a bashful, uncertain gesture. He looked up at Chabashira-sensei, his expression clouded with doubt. "But based on the points we received today, it seems I wasn't right about it, was I, sensei?"
Chabashira-sensei didn't laugh or mock him. Instead, she gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head.
"You weren't wrong completely, Hirata. In fact, in any normal high school, your explanation would have made perfect sense. After all, that is how students are traditionally graded each individually, based on their own merits and faults."
She paused, letting that settle.
"But it appears you have severely underestimated this institution. Advanced Nurturing High School is not a 'normal' school. It is an institution designed to 'nurture' the brightest individuals to become the next generation of elites. Our curriculum is built to prepare you for the real society, not just to help you pass exams or enter a university."
She gestured lightly toward the class.
"And just like in real society, the individual is rarely the only one held accountable. Do not misunderstand, your individual merit is important. Your personal growth and your own abilities are the foundation of your future. But while the individual is important, the group is just as important, if not more so. After all, society operates on the strength of the group, and this school is designed to reflect that reality."
Her eyes moved slowly across the room.
"You focused on the individual, and missed the bigger picture. This school evaluates the class. This entire evaluation wasn't just watching you as forty separate people. It was watching Class D as a single unit."
"Wait, Sensei" Kushida said "So you're saying... the reason we all have 47,500 points is because... that's the value of our entire class?"
"Exactly," Chabashira-sensei said, a thin smirk appearing on her lips. "The school assigns Class Points (CP). At the start of April, every class was given 1,000 Class Points. 1 Class Point is worth 100 Private Points per person. 1,000 times 100 equals the 100,000 you received last month."
Hirata muttered, "So… our entire class has 475 Class points."
As the words left his lips, his gaze drifted toward the back of the room, lingering on Hikigaya with an unreadable expression.
He felt the weight of the stare pressing against him, but he didn't look back. He simply let out a long, quiet exhale, the kind that came when things had gone exactly as expected and yet still managed to be annoying.
'475 Class points. huh'
To be honest, it was lower than he had hoped. Based on the way everyone had scrambled to fix their act after Hirata's little "Individual Merit" speech, Hikigaya had been banking on the class hitting somewhere around 550.
He was fairly certain that most of the students had actually put in some effort for the written exams as well. He had seen even the usual troublemaker looking at their papers, making some effort to take the task seriously. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, those test scores would act as a buffer to make up for the absolute disaster of their first two weeks.
But looking at that 475… the reality was clear. The school hadn't factored the written exams into the Class Points at all. If they had, the number would've been much higher.
'So, what the heck was the 'future reference' Chabashira-sensei mentioned when we took those tests? ' He wondered. 'If they didn't count toward the points, then what were they for?'
But oh well. Whatever.
Still, considering the dumpster fire this class had been in early April a group that treated high school like a paid vacation it was still a thousand times better than it could have been. Hitting rock bottom had felt like a very real possibility back then.
Compared to that, surviving with nearly half the starting points intact was almost something to be proud of. Almost.
His gaze shifted sideways. Horikita was staring straight ahead, as if none of this surprised her. Unlike others in the class.
"It's exactly what you deduced back then, isn't it?" Hikigaya muttered to her while keeping his voice low.
Horikita didn't even look at him. She simply gave a small, restrained nod.
"Of course," she said. "It becomes self-evident the moment you recall that one crucial detail about our starting points the number that set the ceiling for everything."
As he heard her say that, he couldn't help but remember that day after the whole pool fiasco, when they had finally figured out the metric structure of this evaluation.
----0----
"This evaluation isn't as complicated as it looks," she said with confidence. "Everything becomes clear once you focus on that number… 100,000."
Horikita shifted her notebook, revealing a series of neat, calculated rows. She didn't look at Hikigaya; she looked at the numbers as if they were a confession signed by the school itself.
"100,000?"
She finally turned her head toward him, her eyes sharp with focus rather than curiosity.
"Have you ever wondered why the school chose that number specifically?" she asked. "Why 100,000 points? Why not a more arbitrary number like 90,000 or 95,500?"
Hikigaya shrugged, his mind sifting through the possibilities. "I don't know. Maybe because it's a clean, round number? It makes the paperwork easier for the accounting department?"
"It's more than just a 'clean' number," she countered, "It's a perfect composite. In any Japanese academic setting, Hikigaya-kun, what is the most common 'perfect' score for a high-level assessment?"
"Well, most of the time it's 100," he answered.
"Exactly. While we can't be certain of the school's specific metrics yet, if we treat this as a standard assessment, a score out of 100 is the most logical baseline to work from."
She drew a line under the number, her pen moving with calculated precision.
"It's a safe assumption. In any academic environment, 100 represents the ceiling of perfection. If we use that as our starting point, the rest of the math becomes inevitable." She then divided the total on her paper.
"Now look at this," she said, writing quickly.
(100,000 Points) ÷ (100 marks) = 1,000 Points/Yen per unit
"If what you're saying about a collective evaluation is true, then the entire class was likely assigned—let's call it a 'Class Merit Score'—of 100 the moment we arrived. If 1 CMS equals 1,000 points, that would explain the 100,000 points we received."
Hikigaya suddenly raised a hand slightly, stopping her.
"Wait. Wait, wait," he said, looking genuinely puzzled now. "Hold on a second."
She paused, unimpressed.
"What you're saying is… we were already given the full score?"
"Yes."
"And instead of earning our points, for next month" he continued, "We're actually just trying to not lose them?"
"You're remarkably slow for someone who managed to drop so many hints," Horikita sighed, giving him a look that suggested she was talking to a particularly dense toddler.
"Hey, I'm just trying to keep up with your 'genius' math here. But what makes you think we're supposed to prevent losing Class Merit Score instead of earning it from the start, like we do in normal exams?"
"You were the first one to point it out, so how can you not see something so obvious now?" Horikita replied, her gaze sharpening slightly. "Think back to what Chabashira-sensei said when she handed us those 100,000 points."
She continued evenly, without looking at him.
"She said: 'The amount you've received reflects the evaluation of your worth as a student.' She didn't say it was a gift or a starting bonus. She said it was an evaluation. If every first-year student received 100,000 points, then the school evaluated our potential as a perfect hundred-point class the moment we stepped through those gates."
"So... the 100,000 is the maximum ceiling," Hikigaya murmured, finally catching the weight of her words.
"Exactly. It's our maximum worth. The points we received this month were based on the assumption that we are elite students. But next month? Next month's points won't be based on potential. They will be the actual result of our worth after they've seen how well we do as a student both at class and individual level."
Hikigaya leaned back, the logic clicking into place like a heavy iron bolt. "So, we haven't been 'earning' anything this month. We've just been proving how much of that 100,000 we don't actually deserve."
It made sense, and now that he thinks about it properly, if the goal was to make students earn points, the school would have provided a manual, a list of 'bounties,' or clear incentives. You don't incentivize behaviour by keeping the rewards a secret. You only keep secrets when you want to see how someone acts when they think no one is watching. In that context, a subtractive system was the only thing that felt authentically cruel enough for this school.
That explains why the result won't just be based on a simple average like he's been thinking all along. It's not about adding up every student's final scores, finding the average, and then using that number to hand out points for next month.
Hikigaya frowned again, thinking more deeply about it.
"Still, Horikita" he added, "there's one thing that doesn't sit right with this."
Horikita looked at him expectantly.
"If the class only has 100 'Class Merit Score' total," he said, "and there are forty students… then one person screwing up could tank the score ridiculously fast. A few late arrivals, a couple of idiots acting out, and boom zero. No room to recover. That would be absurdly unfair for everyone."
Horikita shifted her gaze back to her notebook, her eyes narrowing as she considered his point. "…I can't believe I overlooked something that obvious."
She looked almost annoyed not at him, but at herself for overlooking such a basic flaw in the margin of error.
"It's true," she admitted, her voice tight. "A hundred-point scale is too fragile for a group of forty students in each First-year class."
Hikigaya stared at the ceiling for a moment, mentally reconfiguring the digits of the 100,000-point total.
"Wait," he muttered, leaning over her notebook. "What if we just shift the decimal? 100,000... if we assume the scale isn't 100, but 1,000?"
He took the pen and scribbled a new equation beneath hers.
(1,000 Class Merit Score) × (100 Points/Yen per unit) = 100,000 Points
"Think about it," he said. "If the class starts with 1,000 CMS, then a single CMS is only worth 100 yen. It's a much more survivable scale. A single person being late doesn't bankrupt the class; it just shaves off a tiny fraction. It allows the school to be incredibly precise with their deductions without the whole thing falling apart in a week."
"1,000 Class Merit Score," she whispered. "It's a far more sustainable ceiling for a collective evaluation."
Hikigaya leaned back, a small, internal sigh of relief escaping him.
'Damn, it actually worked.'
He hadn't expected her to get this far, this quickly. He had assumed she'd notice the structure eventually, sure but not pin it down so cleanly just from the starting amount alone.
Looks like betting on her wasn't a mistake after all.
"That's pretty amazing, Horikita," Hikigaya said, his tone dry but genuine. "Figuring all that out just from the number 100,000.
"A starting value is never 'just' a number," she replied.
"…Figures," Hikigaya muttered. "So now that you've mapped out the cage, what's the plan? What do you intend to do with this information?"
She paused. For the first time since the discussion started, Horikita hesitated.
"I haven't decided yet," she admitted. "But the most straightforward option would be to inform everyone. If the entire class understands the system properly, we can prevent unnecessary losses."
Hikigaya exhaled slowly. "…That won't work."
Horikita turned toward him, her brows knitting slightly. "Why? Even if they're fools, I doubt anyone would willingly lose money they could keep."
"…It won't work. Even if you tell the entire class everything." Hikigaya said again, quieter this time.
Horikita narrowed her eyes. "You're certain of that?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" she pressed. "If the entire class understands the system, at the very least—"
"I don't really feel like explaining it right now," he cut in, turning his gaze toward the front of the room.
That made her pause.
For a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue further but then she stopped herself, lips pressing into a thin line.
"…Fine," she said curtly. "Then tell me this instead. If informing everyone won't work, what exactly do you intend to do with this information?"
She glanced at him sidelong. "Or are you just going to keep acting like a clown in class and hope that somehow stops the bleeding?"
Hikigaya let out a small sigh.
"You've got a pretty strange image of me, Horikita" he said. "I'm not really that altruistic."
He didn't bother correcting her further. Instead, his eyes drifted toward the front of the room, settling on Yosuke Hirata, who was talking with some girls.
"Don't, worry there is a way" Hikigaya muttered. "A way to make it all work."
"A way?" Horikita asked. "And what might that be?"
"You'll see it soon enough," he said, almost gently. "It's better to show than tell."
He quickly shifted the conversation before she could interrogate him further.
"Besides, didn't you want to know how I figured out this was a collective evaluation instead of an individual one?"
Horikita paused, caught off-guard by the redirection. Then she gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
"Well, I just asked the right person," Hikigaya said simply. "I asked the Student Council president about the school's purpose. He gave me some hints. From there… I pieced it together."
Horikita's eyes widened, her usual stoic mask shattering for a fraction of a second. She leaned in, her breath hitching. "You... you talked to Brot—no, the President?"
Hikigaya didn't miss the slip-up. The word 'Brother' had almost escaped her lips, and for a brief moment, her gaze softened with something unmistakably admiring almost reverent before she caught herself and snapped back to her usual composure.
'She really admires him, huh?' he thought, a bit humoured by the discovery. He felt a twinge of envy, wishing Komachi would look at her big brother with even half that much reverence instead of treating him like a defective household appliance that occasionally questionable wisdom.
"Yeah," Hikigaya said, fighting back a smirk. "He was a pretty approachable guy. Very… intense. But easy to talk to."
Horikita stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, then slowly looked away.
"…I see," she said quietly.
Hikigaya drummed his fingers idly against the desk, a specific thought flickering through his mind. He shifted in his seat, his mouth opening as if to voice it.
"Hey, Horikita. Have you—"
He stopped abruptly, the words dying in his throat. He held his breath for a second, then simply shook his head.
'No… on second thought, let's leave it for now.'
"Have I what?" she prompted, her eyes narrowing as she turned back toward him.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything," he replied, slumping back into his usual posture.
Horikita gave him a lingering look of suspicion, but eventually, she turned her attention back to the front of the room.
----0----
The memory of that afternoon faded, replaced by the heavy silence of the current classroom as the "475" remained on everyone's mind.
"So… both of you already knew about this," Ayanokoji said.
He sat in his usual slouched posture, gaze drifting between Horikita and Hikigaya with the same unreadable expression he always wore. After overhearing their exchange, he couldn't help but speak up.
"Well," Horikita replied, "Everything was exactly as we deduced, with only a slight difference in terminology. What we called 'Class Merit Score' is officially 'Class Points,' and the currency is 'Private Points.' The logic, however, remains unchanged."
"I see," Ayanokōji said. "That's still impressive. I didn't realize the system worked like this aside from what Hirata explained."
Hikigaya glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 'Liar', he thought. 'There's no way you didn't notice.'
"Maybe it's just because you never wanted to know," Hikigaya said aloud, keeping his tone casual. "You didn't have a reason to dig, so you didn't. You look like the type of guy who just wants to chill all day and avoid trouble. If you had seriously wanted to figure it out, you probably would have."
"You think too highly of me. Hikigaya." Ayanokoji replied.
"And you play too dumb, Ayanokoji." Hikigaya muttered, though he didn't press it.
Before any of them could continue their discussion, Chabashira-sensei's sharp voice cut through the murmurs again.
"A total of 47 absences and late arrivals. 98 incidences of talking or using a cell phone in class."
The room went dead silent.
"That is quite a few infractions over one month," she continued mercilessly. "In this school, your class's results are reflected in the points that you receive. As a result, you wasted 52,500 private points out of the 100,000 that you should have received."
Hikigaya heard the scratching of a pen against paper. He glanced over to see Horikita tallying the numbers in her notebook—absences, tardiness, chatter—likely trying to calculate the exact weight of each sin.
"I think... we didn't do too bad," Hirata spoke up, his voice straining to maintain some level of positivity.
Chabashira-sensei looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"You are partially correct," she admitted. "You managed to retain some Class Points and survive the initial assessment. Given how recklessly you behaved at the beginning of April, avoiding a complete collapse could be called a minor miracle."
Her gaze hardened.
"But do not misunderstand. You only survived because everyone acted out of self-interest. If that mindset persists, you may not be so fortunate next time."
Some of the students looked down, guilty expressions crossing their faces. Hirata, however, shook his head. "That's not true, Sensei. Even if we knew the truth accurately, I believe everyone would have worked together to make it through."
Chabashira-sensei didn't even bother to argue. She just let out a cold, dismissive snort.
The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom.
"It looks like we spent too much time yammering. I hope that you understood the gist of it. Well, it's about time that we switch to our main topic."
She removed a white rolled-up poster and spread it out, sticking it to the blackboard with magnets. The still-confused students stared blankly at the poster.
"Are these…the results for each class?" Horikita tentatively took a guess. She was probably right.
She was right. Class A through Class D were listed clearly.
Class A: 940(CP)
Class B: 650(CP)
Class C: 490(CP)
Class D: 475(CP)
For a second, there was silence. Then, the dam broke.
"WHAT?! Class A still has nine hundred forty?!"
"That's insane!"
"How the hell did they barely lose anything?!"
"So, we're really dead last?!"
"This is bullshit!"
Throughout the noise, Hikigaya noticed Ike and Yamauchi sitting in absolute silence. They were usually the loudest in the room, the first to shout and the last to listen, but right now, they were staring at their desks, mouths clamped shut like they'd been welded.
"I lost more than half my points because of other people?!"
"It must be because of those idiots."
They looked like they wanted to jump in and defend themselves against the fingers being pointed at them, but they knew better. The resentment of their classmates was one thing, but the fear of "Demon Lord Hikigaya" was far greater. They had to keep doing what they had been doing for weeks, keep their mouths shut no matter how much the others mocked them.
They understood that if they started running their mouths now, shouting back, throwing insults, or trying to justify themselves, it would be the same as directly going against his instructions.
And if they did that, Hikigaya would undoubtedly find a way to throw them into the deepest pit of hell.
Hirata moved quickly, raising his voice. "Everyone, please calm down! This isn't helping—!"
"That's easy for you to say!" Hondo snapped. "You were the one who told us the wrong rules in the first place!"
Hikigaya frowned. 'Unbelievable. They're blaming the guy who saved them.'
He felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Hirata. The guy was taking the heat for a lie that had actually saved them. If these idiots truly understood how disastrous things would have been without Hirata's intervention, if they realized they had been heading straight for zero, they would be bowing there heads in gratitude.
But oh well. As they say, ignorance truly is bliss.
Hirata looked distressed, trying to calm everyone down with waving hands, but his voice was drowned out.
"Enough," Chabashira-sensei said sharply. "If you want to continue this peaceful discussion, you can do it after I'm finished."
The room fell silent almost immediately. The complaints didn't fade gradually; they were cut off mid-breath, as if someone had slammed a lid shut.
Hirata, spoke up again. "Sensei… why is there such a difference in our point values? Class A barely lost anything compared to us."
"Do you finally understand now?" Chabashira-sensei asked, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Do you see why you were placed in Class D?"
"The reason why we were placed in Class D? Weren't we simply accepted into this school?"
"Huh? But classes are normally divided up randomly, right?"
Students exchanged confused glances.
"In this school, students are sorted by their level of excellence. The superior students are sorted into Class A, the least capable in Class D. It's the same system you'd find in the major cram schools. In other words, Class D is akin to the last bastion for failures. You are the worst of the worst. You're defective. This is just the price of your defectiveness."
Horikita's face stiffened.
The color drained from her cheeks. She appeared genuinely shocked by this line of reasoning. To her, logic dictated that superior students should be with superior students, and failures with failures. If you mixed rotten oranges with good ones, the rotten would quickly spoil the good.
Inevitably, the superior Horikita found the idea of being categorized as "rotten" absolutely revolting.
However, on the other hand, I—Hikigaya Hachiman—after getting confirmation of this decision, welcomed the decision wholeheartedly to be considered as the bottom of the barrel.
As "defective." To be honest, it was a relief.
If he were placed in Class A or B, it would have been suffocating under the weight of high expectations. He would be forced to match everyone else's pace just to avoid dragging them down, surrounded by people obsessed with success and competition.
In short, in those classes he would have been nothing but dead weight, because the way he is now, he definitely wouldn't have put in the effort required to keep up with them. But here, in Class D, everyone is defective. Everyone is trash, just like him. Because of that, he could remain himself as much as he wanted, since everyone here was the same in the end.
'For a solitary creature like me, this place is the perfect habitat to belong.'
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note
Hey everyone,
So, this chapter is finally done, and I hope it turned out alright. I decided to split it here since it was getting way too long. Ending it at this point felt like the best choice for now, but don't worry the next chapter won't take nearly as long. It will be the second part of the revelation, focusing more on what Hikigaya actually did and why.
From this chapter, you probably already have a rough idea of what his plan was to some extent, but there are still a few important things that will be revealed in the next chapter. I'll try to upload it within the next three days.
Also, if anyone was confused about the Horikita flashback, it's a direct continuation of the same conversation from Chapter 28, where I originally cut the scene right after she said that line. I hope their deductions felt natural and earned. In a lot of COTE crossover stories I've read, characters usually figure out the Class Points system very easily, and honestly, I was tempted to take the easy route too like having Hikigaya notice the second-year Class Points board or stumble onto the truth through coincidence. But that felt a bit cheap to me, so I went with this approach instead.
I really hope it worked.
Sorry it took so many days to upload this chapter. I was a bit busy working on the Evangelion crossover as well, and I only started writing this after finishing that. Still, the next chapter will definitely come sooner, and I'll also try to pick up the pacing a bit as this arc moves forward.
As always, if anything feels off pacing, structure, characterization, or anything else please let me know. Your feedback genuinely helps me improve.
Thank you for giving this story a chance. Your comments and encouragement mean a lot to me and honestly keep me motivated to keep writing.
If you feel like supporting my work, a small tip here would really mean a lot.
ko-fi.com/raijinmaru_k2
Stay tuned for more.
—Raijinmaru_K2