"That concludes my speech," Katsuragi Kohei said, his voice a steady, rhythmic bass that seemed to anchor the room. He adjusted his posture, standing with a rigidity that commanded a certain brand of traditional respect.
A round of applause followed—stolid, respectful, and wide-reaching. It was the kind of applause one gave to a reliable general. His popularity in Class 1-A was clearly rooted in a desire for stability. In a school designed as a meritocratic pressure cooker, Katsuragi Kohei represented a safe harbor.
Then, the male student acting as the moderator—a boy named Totsuka Yahiko who seemed clearly aligned with the Katsuragi faction—cleared his throat.
"Next, Sakayanagi-san."
The atmosphere didn't just change; it ignited.
"Ooohh!"
"Sakayanagi-san, you got this!"
"Good luck, Sakayanagi!"
The shift in energy was visceral. While Katsuragi Kohei had the respect of the class, Sakayanagi Arisu possessed their fascination. The enthusiasm skyrocketed, a fever pitch of support that seemed at odds with the girl now rising from her seat.
She was a delicate, almost ephemeral figure. Her lilac-coloured short hair framed a face of porcelain perfection, her fair skin radiant under the harsh fluorescent classroom lights.
Her features were ethereal, almost otherworldly, as if she had stepped out of a Victorian painting and into the cutthroat environment of Advanced Nurturing High School.
But what stood out the most—what grounded her ethereal beauty in a harsh reality—was the black cane gripped in her right hand.
With every step she took toward the podium, she leaned slightly on the wood, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of the rubber tip against the floor providing a sharp contrast to the cheering.
She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, making no effort to hide her physical frailty. In fact, she seemed to wear it as a badge of quiet defiance.
"...Does she have a medical condition?"
Ichinose Honami rubbed her chin, her lavender eyes narrowed in focus. As a girl who lived her life with an open heart, her first instinct was empathy, but her second was the sharp intuition that had placed her at the helm of Class 1-B.
Then, something clicked inside her head.
According to school rules, Class 1-A was supposed to be the "Elite"—the most well-rounded students the nation had to offer. Excellence in academics, social contribution, and physical ability were the benchmarks.
Yet Sakayanagi Arisu had a clear, undeniable physical disadvantage. If she needed a cane just to walk, physical education exams and outdoor special tests would be a logistical nightmare for her.
And yet—there she stood, at the pinnacle of the school's hierarchy.
That could only mean one thing, Ichinose Honami thought, a slight shiver running down her spine. Her intellect, analytical skills, or sheer strategic ruthlessness must be so overwhelming that the school deemed her physical zeros irrelevant compared to her mental hundreds.
As Ichinose Honami contemplated this, a soft yet commanding voice sliced through the murmurs of the room.
"You two standing outside the window—would you mind explaining what you're doing?"
Sakayanagi Arisu hadn't even looked toward the hallway until that moment, yet she had sensed them. Her gaze, sharp and glittering with amusement, locked onto theirs.
Jin and Ichinose Honami exchanged looks. The "stealth" approach was officially a bust.
"Apologies. We didn't mean to eavesdrop on your election—we simply have something to discuss with you." Taking on her role as Class 1-B's leader, Ichinose stepped forward first, her voice regaining its characteristic warmth and professional polish.
"And what might that be?"
The response came from Katsuragi Kohei. His expression remained unreadable, but his body language shifted. He stepped forward to intercept them, his presence like a wall of stone. He was clearly the gatekeeper, the one who handled the "messy" outside world while the class handled its internal business.
"It's regarding the hidden school rules," Ichinose Honami stated, skipping the pleasantries to signal the importance of their visit.
"I am Ichinose Honami from Class 1-B, and this is my classmate, Arima Andras Jin."
Jin, however, wasn't interested in the stiff formalities. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes wandering toward the girl with the cane.
"We meet again, Sakayanagi-san. And as you can see, I kept my promise." Jin playfully winked at the lilac-haired girl.
"That you have, Arima-san," Sakayanagi Arisu nodded, her smile widening just a fraction. It wasn't a smile of friendship; it was the smile of a grandmaster seeing a familiar piece return to the board. "I admire punctuality."
"You two know each other?" Ichinose Honami was caught off guard. She knew Jin was resourceful, but seeing him on speaking terms with the shadow queen of Class A was a new development.
"It's nothing major," Jin said, waving a hand dismissively as he stepped further into the lion's den.
"We played a round at the Chess Club. I walked away with 800,000 private points from a little wager we had. During the game, she asked if I knew anything about the inner workings of this place. I told her I'd sell her the 'Hidden Rules' once I'd verified them. I'm just here to collect my next payment."
Ichinose Honami felt a headache forming. 800,000 points? Betting? Selling rules? She looked at Jin, her expression a mix of awe and exasperation.
He was treating the most prestigious school in Japan like a high-stakes casino.
"Let's have a serious discussion about your gambling habits later, Arima-kun!" Ichinose hissed under her breath before turning back to the Class A leaders. "The matter regarding the school's hidden mechanics is vital for everyone. Please, take a look at this."
She extended the contract—the same one they had used to secure Class B's cooperation—toward Katsuragi Kohei.
The bald student reached out, his fingers inches from the paper. He saw the strategic value immediately. If Class A could monopolize this information, their lead would become insurmountable.
"Katsuragi-kun, please wait a moment."
The voice was soft, but it stopped Katsuragi's hand as effectively as a physical barrier.
"Hm? Is something wrong, Sakayanagi-san?" Katsuragi Kohei asked, his voice tensing.
"Before anything else—" Sakayanagi Arisu's lips curved into a gentle, knowing smile. She didn't look at the contract. She looked at Katsuragi Kohei, her eyes brimming with a quiet, terrifying authority. "Wouldn't it be more appropriate for us to conclude our election first?"
She turned toward Ichinose Honami and Jin, her gaze playful yet firm. "After all, shouldn't it be the official representative of Class 1-A who negotiates with other classes? To sign a contract now would be... premature. We wouldn't want to commit the class to a path before the leader has been truly anointed, would we?"
The subtext was clear: If Katsuragi Kohei signs this now, he's acting as leader. If I stop him, I'm showing the class he isn't in charge yet.
Jin watched the exchange with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He could see the cracks in Class A. They weren't a monolith; they were a kingdom divided between a cautious King and a brilliant, bored Queen.
"Arima-kun, what do we do?" Ichinose Honami whispered, sensing the sudden drop in temperature. "The atmosphere... it's like a powder keg."
"No rush. Let's wait," Jin smirked, crossing his arms. "After all, the best opportunities arise when the waters are muddied."
"...That's a saying? I've never heard it before," Ichinose Honami whispered back, her brow furrowed.
"Uh… Let's just say I invented it. Or maybe I heard it in a dream. Either way, it fits," Jin bluffed shamelessly.
Katsuragi Kohei's hand hovered in mid-air for a second too long before he slowly retracted it. His face was a mask of stoicism, but the vein pulsing in his temple betrayed his frustration.
He was a man of logic, and Sakayanagi Arisu's logic—that the leader should be the one to sign—was technically flawless. To argue would make him look desperate.
"You make a fair point, Sakayanagi-san," Katsuragi Kohei said, his voice stiff. "Go ahead and continue your speech. We shall resolve the leadership first."
He stepped aside, standing near Jin and Ichinose Honami. The three of them became an impromptu gallery for the performance that followed.
Sakayanagi Arisu moved to the center of the podium. She didn't stand behind it like Katsuragi Kohei had; she stood in front of it, leaning on her cane, making herself vulnerable and visible to everyone.
Her speech was, on the surface, entirely predictable. She spoke of unity, of the "noblesse oblige" expected of Class A, and her desire to ensure that everyone—regardless of their starting point—would reach the finish line of Graduation at Class A.
But it was the way she said it. Her voice was like silk over gravel. She didn't bark orders; she made suggestions that felt like inevitable truths.
Her doll-like appearance and her physical frailty created a psychological "protective" instinct in the boys, while her poise and elegance commanded the respect of the girls.
As she spoke, Jin scanned the room. He wasn't listening to the words; he was watching the faces.
Calculated, Jin thought. She's playing the 'tragic but brilliant leader' card perfectly. Katsuragi Kohei offers them a shield, but she offers them a crown.
When she finished, the classroom erupted again. The applause for Katsuragi Kohei had been loud, but this was warm. It was the difference between a salute and a cheer.
"Now," the moderator announced, his voice slightly shaking. "We will proceed to the secret ballot. Please write the name of your chosen representative on the slips provided."
The next ten minutes were a blur of hushed whispers and the scratching of pens. Ichinose Honami watched with bated breath. For Class B, the outcome was crucial.
Katsuragi Kohei was someone they could negotiate with—he was honorable, if stubborn.
Sakayanagi Arisu, however, was a wildcard. She was a predator who treated the world like a chessboard.
"Who do you think will win, Arima-kun?" Ichinose Honami asked, her voice barely audible.
"The result will surprise everyone," Jin replied, his eyes fixed on the whiteboard where the tallying was beginning. "But if I were a betting man—and we both know I am—I'd say this class is more fractured than they realize."
The tally began.
Katsuragi Kohei: I I I I
Sakayanagi Arisu: I I I I
The strokes of chalk mirrored each other with haunting precision. Every time Katsuragi Kohei gained a lead, the next slip pulled from the box would bear Sakayanagi Arisu's name.
The tension in the room became suffocating. The students of Class A, who had previously been cheering, were now silent, realizing that their class was split exactly down the middle. It was a civil war in real-time.
As the final slips were pulled, the moderator's hand began to tremble. He looked at the last piece of paper, then at the board, then back at the two candidates.
"The count... is finished," he stammered.
The board told the story:
• Katsuragi Kohei: 20
• Sakayanagi Arisu: 20
A perfect tie.
The silence that followed was absolute. In a class of forty students, the division was total.
Jin leaned back, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "A stalemate. How poetic."
Sakayanagi Arisu turned her head slightly, her lilac hair swaying. She didn't look disappointed. In fact, she looked delighted. She locked eyes with Jin and then Ichinose Honami, her smile turning razor-sharp.
"That means… it's a tie!"
The announcement from the front of the room hung in the air like a physical weight, thick with an irony that none of the elite students of Class 1-A were prepared to swallow.
"What the hell? A tie?!"
"Seriously?! After all that, and it's even?!"
The tension in the classroom, which had been a taut, vibrating wire moments ago, immediately snapped into a chaotic murmur. The air was charged with disbelief.
In a school designed to rank and separate, a perfect deadlock between two polar opposites was the one outcome nobody had factored into their calculations.
Even Katsuragi Kohei, the stoic, bald-headed pillar of stability standing beside Jin, fell into a deep, brooding silence. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed as he stared at the blackboard where the tally marks sat in mocking symmetry.
"Should we… redo the vote?" Someone hesitantly suggested from the back, their voice cracking under the pressure of the room's atmosphere.
But another voice—sharper, jagged with irritation—quickly shut that down. "And what if it's the same result again? Are we just going to waste even more time? We've been at this for an hour!"
"I-I didn't mean—"
"Then what did you mean?" The student—clearly frustrated with the deadlock—snapped back, leaning over his desk.
The room was a powder keg of teenage egos and high-stakes anxiety. Just as the argument was about to escalate into a shouting match that would further fracture the class's unity, a deep, resonant voice calmly interrupted.
"Totsuka, sit down." Katsuragi Kohei words were firm, absolute, and carried the weight of a commander who had already earned his stripes.
The authority wasn't just in his volume, but in the unwavering certainty of his tone. "...Got it, Katsuragi-kun."
The short-haired male student—Totsuka Yahiko—immediately shut his mouth. He didn't just stop talking; he retreated, sitting down with a level of deference that spoke volumes of his loyalty to Katsuragi Kohei.