His gaze cut straight through the wall, taking in the brief exchange between Karuizawa Kei and Amase Kazuna in full — and Chris couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
He hadn't expected Karuizawa to crack so quickly. She was already on her way to come cling to someone's coattails.
Then again, thinking about it, he had Matsushita Chiaki's well-timed nudge to thank for that.
Worthy of the girl they called the "female Ayanokoji" — she'd actually managed to push the newly insecure Karuizawa into making her move ahead of schedule.
Not that she'd guessed wrong, of course.
The midterms were still far too distant to get everyone properly invested. And since he had no intention of spoiling the anticipation building toward the upcoming uninhabited island battle royale, the only lever he had to pull right now was the Preliminary Test.
Use generous rewards as bait. Accelerate everyone's adjustment to the Black Sphere's rhythm. Lay the groundwork for the large-scale battles ahead. A flawless design, truly.
Creaaak——
The scrape of the rooftop's iron door being pushed open cut clean through his thoughts.
Ichinose Honami stepped onto the roof, slightly winded, two wooden training swords in hand. When she came to a stop and her gaze settled on Chris, a look of puzzlement crossed her face.
"Chris-kun, aren't you going to put on your Combat Suit?"
Chris was still in his regular clothes — not a trace of the black material bands at his neck and wrists that marked Black Sphere technology. He stepped forward, took one of the wooden swords from her, and answered:
"My baseline physical abilities are already higher than yours. If I put the Combat Suit on top of that, it'd be a completely one-sided stomp — zero actual training value for you."
"If we're doing live sparring, there needs to be real back-and-forth."
He traced a brief flourish with the blade, expression turning serious.
"This way, it's a challenge for both of us. Once you can fully suppress me in my baseline state — that'll be the time I put the Combat Suit back on. Not a moment sooner."
Hearing that explanation, Ichinose could only nod in agreement.
"I understand. But please be careful — I heard from some upperclassmen that these solid wooden swords are quite hard. If I accidentally hurt you, make sure to tell me right away!"
"Don't worry."
Chris gripped the hilt and settled into a stance, one foot forward.
"I didn't learn a whole lot of kendo at a summer camp in Hawaii, but one style I picked up was Shintō-ryū — supposedly the most combat-focused school in Japanese kendo. That's what I'll teach you.
"According to the teacher who taught me back then, getting started properly involves dojo etiquette, formal seated posture, the whole ritual. We don't have time for any of that. We keep it simple. If you're willing, just call me 'senpai' and consider the formalities done."
Ichinose Honami didn't hesitate for even a second.
She pressed her legs together, hands flat against her sides, and gave Chris a deep, formal bow.
"Yes, senpai! I look forward to your guidance!"
Chris continued:
"First, you need to learn meditation. It sounds abstract, but in practice it's straightforward — sharpen your focus, clear your mind of distractions, and become aware of everything around you.
"Then I'll teach you a set of techniques for facing an opponent. You need to learn to find openings within their attacks, and strike at their weak points — one decisive blow."
He tapped the wooden sword against his own ankle.
"If I recall correctly, the Combat Suit has a number of blue metal rings on it, right?"
"During sparring, I'm going to specifically target those rings on you. Your job is to stop me — and find a way to push me back. Understood?"
At those words, the tip of Ichinose's nose turned faintly pink. She bit down on her lower lip and couldn't quite bring herself to look at Chris directly.
To let him target those rings meant... she'd have to take off her outer track jacket and spar in nothing but that mortifyingly form-fitting bodysuit.
But whatever internal struggle arose, the moment a decision was made, it hardened into resolve.
She knew it clearly — the safety of the entire class, and the innocents who'd been dragged into all of this, rested on her shoulders.
Ichinose took a deep breath and forced the embarrassment back down.
Zzzip——
The zipper opened.
She peeled off her dark track jacket, folded it neatly to one side, and revealed the black Combat Suit beneath — like a second skin, tracing every line of her figure with startling precision.
In the sunlight, the blue metal rings at her neck, wrists, and ankles caught the light, giving off a faint, quiet gleam.
Chris gave a satisfied nod. "I'll start slow and walk you through it once."
His gaze was clear and undisturbed — no discomfort, no inappropriate edge. Clean and still as water.
Ichinose let out a long, quiet breath of relief.
She'd been overthinking it. Chris-senpai was a true gentleman after all!
She tightened her grip on the hilt of her wooden sword, steadied her breathing, and her eyes sharpened.
"I'm ready!"
"Watch carefully and learn well."
Chris said it in a measured, level tone — not a hint of teasing in his voice.
This time, he was genuinely planning to teach Ichinose swordsmanship properly.
After all — he was counting on stacking up Heart of Steel charges off her.
According to Heart of Steel's passive mechanic, every solid hit on a target increased his maximum HP — but with a thirty-second cooldown per individual target.
The arrangement was elegant in its simplicity:
Ichinose would gain combat technique through taking hits. He would time the thirty-second cooldown windows just right and quietly stack a few layers of steel.
Mutually beneficial. A true win-win.
And as a bonus — this was the perfect opportunity to alert Ichinose, in a live context, to the Combat Suit's critical weakness: if those rings were struck and broken through, the fluid inside would drain and the suit would cease to function entirely.
Three birds, one stone.
Where would you ever find a training partner as dedicated and considerate as me?
Chris mentally gave himself a thumbs-up.
Truly, he was a man of impeccable virtue.
...
Meanwhile.
First-floor lobby of the main building.
Karuizawa Kei moved against the tide of students pouring out after class, making quick progress toward the other stairwell of the building.
Her original plan had been simple — station herself on the main path with a direct line of sight to the building's exit, and wait for Chris to come downstairs.
But she'd barely taken her position before she abandoned the idea entirely.
No. This is too obvious.
If any of her classmates spotted her standing there like some lovesick statue waiting for a man, rumors would travel fast — and that would put a crack straight through the "proud, untouchable queen bee" image she'd spent so long building in Class D.
Admittedly, obsessing over something as intangible as an image when death could come knocking at any moment was a little frivolous. Even laughable.
But Karuizawa Kei understood better than anyone: people ranked each other by perceived value.
Two parasites seeking shelter could be entirely different things.
If it was a popular, untouchable queen bee choosing to come to him — the contrast, the sense of conquest, the sheer thrill of that reversal —
Would be worlds apart from some desperate, hollow girl with nothing to her name, groveling on her knees and begging for mercy.
To command a better price. To be a more valuable parasite.
She had to keep her high-value image intact.
So when she reached the stairwell, Karuizawa didn't pause for a single second. She turned and headed straight upstairs.
The whole way up, she kept her peripheral vision alert, scanning around her. The moment she spotted anyone she recognized, she'd slip on a mildly irritated expression and brush them off with: "I'm not feeling great — just heading up to the roof for some fresh air."
One close call after another, she finally reached the top floor.
This level was mostly school support facilities — an astronomy observation room, a geology lab, rows of shelves lined with specimens and equipment.
Even on ordinary days it was quiet. Without a lab session scheduled, it was virtually deserted.
At the far end of the empty corridor.
Through the heavy iron door leading to the rooftop, she could just barely make out the sharp, crisp cracking of wooden swords striking against each other — and a girl's exerted cries, punctuated by stifled gasps of pain.
Karuizawa slowed her steps. Silent as a cat, she crept closer without a sound.
After glancing back to confirm no one was following her, she found a corner tucked between some stored supplies — right in the blind spot of the nearest security camera — and slowly sank down to sit against the wall.
"...Haah."
Karuizawa pressed both hands to her faintly flushed cheeks, eyes wide.
She could barely believe herself. After leaving the classroom, every move she'd made had flowed so naturally — and yet somehow, each one had been bolder than the last.
She could feel it with terrible clarity: she was stripping away her own armor, layer by layer, with her own hands. About to lay bare the weakness and inadequacy buried deepest inside her — and put it all in front of Chris.
This unfamiliar sense of exposure kept her in a state of raw, heightened tension.
Anxious.
Afraid.
Unsettled.
She knew it wasn't right. She knew putting her fate entirely in the hands of someone she barely knew was a massive gamble.
But Karuizawa knew just as clearly: she needed protection to survive.
If the so-called Preliminary Test — or worse, the Black Sphere exam itself — ever landed on her, a creature like herself who could only bluff and posture wouldn't last a single second.
She had to become a parasite. Even if the price was everything she had.
And yet.
Just as she was cycling through it all again — talking herself out of it, then steeling herself back up, waiting for the training session inside to finish so she could catch him alone and make her move —
Tap... tap.
A series of clean, measured footsteps rang out — not too loud, not too soft.
Karuizawa's heart seized.
She shot to her feet, already scanning for somewhere else to hide —
Only to find, just ahead at the corner of the wall, a head of vivid red twin-tails already peeking around the edge.
Amase Kazuna tilted her head, wearing the sweet, self-satisfied smile of someone who had just pulled off a perfect prank.
She raised one finger to her lips in a slow, deliberate hushing gesture.
Then, in a teasing, honeyed voice pitched at exactly the volume only Karuizawa could hear, her words drifted over:
"Oh my~"
"Senpai, you wouldn't want... this little habit of yours — sneaking up here to crouch outside a door and stalk a boy through his practice session — to get broadcast to the whole school, would you?"
Karuizawa's expression went cold and ugly.
She glared daggers at the little imp in front of her, fists clenching so hard her nails nearly bit into her palms — and forced every furious word rising in her throat all the way back down.
She didn't dare make a sound.
Because parasitism was an extraordinarily fragile arrangement.
She didn't dare gamble. If she stood out here in the hallway shrieking like a fishwife and brawling with this girl — letting this carefully packaged "product" of herself get tarnished before it was even sold...
Whether she'd still be able to catch that man's eye at all.
Before the arrangement was established.
As the weaker party, for now, she had no choice but to endure.
____
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