One point costs a hundred thousand.
Five points would be five hundred thousand.
Naturally, Ayanokōji alone couldn't possibly afford that. So, he quietly passed the information on to Yōsuke Hirata.
The moment Hirata heard there was still a way to save Sudo, his face lit up as if he'd just found hope itself.
"Everyone, listen up!" he announced, standing tall.
"There's a way to keep Sudo from being expelled!"
"If we use private points to buy him those missing marks in English and math, he can pass!"
Hirata's voice brimmed with excitement.
"For real?"
"That's great!"
"How many points do we need?"
Sudo's eyes gleamed, like a drowning man clutching at his final lifeline.
"Five…" Hirata hesitated.
"Five thousand?!" Sudo blurted. "That's a lot, but maybe if I borrow from a few guys—"
He turned hopefully toward Yamauchi and the others.
"Uh…" Yamauchi and Ike exchanged looks, their faces caught between pity and reluctance. They clearly didn't want to help, but rejecting him outright would have looked bad.
"It's not five thousand," Hirata finally sighed.
"It's five hundred thousand."
"What?!"
"That much?!"
The classroom exploded into chaos. Students muttered among themselves, eyes darting around as they all arrived at the same uncomfortable thought. Their expressions darkened.
Heh.
Now they're thinking, huh?
Hikigaya took in everyone's reactions with a mix of amusement and cynicism. Even the so-called "model students" get sharp when their own wallets are on the line.
"Yeah… five hundred thousand is a lot," Hirata admitted. "But if everyone chips in—say, a little over ten thousand points each—we could make it."
The room fell silent. Deathly silent.
"…Hey," Sudo said weakly. "Why isn't anyone saying anything?"
"Don't tell me—our whole class can't even scrape together five hundred thousand?!"
He slammed his palm on the desk in frustration—an excellent way to make everyone like him even less.
"Come on, Sudo," Hirata tried to calm him, "I know you're upset, but please don't panic. We're all thinking of ways to—"
"It's easy for you to say! You're not the one getting expelled!" Sudo snapped. "You're standing there talking like it's not your problem!"
Then, he turned desperately toward Kushida.
"Kushida! You'll help me, right?"
This bastard…!
Kushida cursed him eight hundred times in her head, but for the sake of maintaining her "sweet angel" image, she forced a gentle smile.
"Of course. I'll do everything I can to help."
"As expected of Angel Kushida!" Sudo cheered, beaming.
Then he turned to his "bros."
"Yamauchi, Ike, Ayanokōji—how many points do you guys have left? Hand them over first!"
He clearly wanted them to lead by example—to donate first and pressure the rest into following.
Unfortunately for him, that plan hit a wall immediately.
"Come on, Sudo, you know I bought a console last month," Yamauchi whined. "I'm broke."
"Yeah! I've been eating the cheap salad set for two weeks just to save points!" Ike added.
"..."
Ayanokōji hadn't even opened his mouth yet before Sudo exploded again.
"You two call yourselves my friends?! You won't even help me out when I'm desperate?!"
Yamauchi straightened his neck, glaring back. "I want to help you, but I literally don't have the points!"
"Then sell your console!" Sudo roared. "And Ike, you bought all that imported chocolate for girls who didn't even want it—sell that too!"
Honestly, that might've been the smartest thing Sudo had ever said in his life.
"I—uh…"
Yamauchi flushed bright red, realizing he'd been cornered.
"Why the hell should we?" Ike shouted, equally humiliated. "Why should we sacrifice our stuff just to save you?"
"What did you say?!" Sudo's eyes bulged, veins throbbing.
Seeing him on the verge of violence, the rest of the class recoiled, disgust plain on their faces. But no one dared speak up.
"…Pathetic."
The cold voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"Red-haired boy," Kouenji said, flicking his hair disdainfully, "your pathetic wailing is ruining the aesthetics of this room. Even the air feels polluted by your presence. Do us all a favor and drop out already."
"Screw you, Kouenji!!"
Sudo roared and lunged.
"Stop!"
"Sudo, if you start a fight now, it's over!"
Hirata grabbed him from behind, trying desperately to hold him back.
"Let me go, damn it! I'll hit you too if you don't!" Sudo shouted, thrashing wildly.
Despite Hirata's athletic build, the sheer size and rage of Sudo made it impossible to restrain him completely. Books and stationery went flying off nearby desks as he flailed.
Unfortunately, one of those desks belonged to Airi Sakura, who yelped and dodged as his arm swung dangerously close.
Bang!
Without a word, Hikigaya stepped forward—and punched Sudo square in the face.
"You son of a—"
Bang!
Another punch.
"Bast—"
Bang!
Three clean hits in quick succession. Sudo's brain practically rattled inside his skull.
"Hikigaya! Please don't use violence!" Hirata cried out.
Hikigaya gave him a flat look. Really?
He glanced at Hirata's own clenched fists and twitching forehead vein.
"This isn't violence," he said calmly. "It's called preventing violence by violent means."
"There are some people you just can't talk to. You have to knock sense into them first."
"Damn you, Hikigaya! I'll remember this!" Sudo shouted, rubbing his face.
"Don't bother remembering," Hikigaya replied coolly. "You're about to get expelled anyway."
"Oh, and with your academic record? No other high school's gonna take you."
"At best, you'll end up in a vocational school. Plenty of fights there—you'll fit right in."
Cruel? Maybe. But it was the truth that hurt the most.
The words hit harder than his fists.
And then—
Sudo broke down.
"Uuugh… I don't wanna go to a vocational school!" he sobbed. "I'd rather die than go there!"
The class froze in awkward silence as he cried like a kid.
Between hiccups, he started rambling about his tragic life story—how he was literally born in the bathroom of a vocational school, his mom ran away, his dad didn't care… the works.
So that's why he hated vocational schools.
Apparently, he'd barely gotten into Advanced Nurturing High thanks to their invitation program—no other school wanted him.
Hikigaya sighed. Pitiful, sure. But pitiful people always have themselves to blame.
Didn't want to get expelled?
Then study.
Wanted help?
Then stop throwing punches.
He had no one to blame but himself.
***
Author's Note:
In Japan, "vocational high schools" (専門高校) serve a similar role to technical or trade schools. They generally have much lower academic standards than regular high schools. And yes—the occasional "born in the bathroom" stories in tabloid news often come from those institutions.
***
Wtf is japan even about 😭🙏