What's the right thing to do on the day of an exam?
Cram everything you can into your brain right up to the last second.
Or spend the day as usual, calming your mind to avoid tension and prepare for the real thing.
Or give up entirely and pass out standing.
People naturally choose different approaches, and I'm not here to declare one correct.
But if I had to pick what's justified, wouldn't it be whatever leads to results?
In other words, as long as you score well, it doesn't matter what you did that day—just do what suits you.
Whether it's long-term or short-term memory, good results make everything right.
If you think in such pragmatic terms, you should all be able to accept it.
Of course, this mindset isn't limited to tests.
Modern society is a clear reflection of it.
But any further leap would be boring, so I'll stop here.
"Hmm, looks like there are no absences. Good—if anyone had skipped, the class points would've taken a decent hit."
Today is the day of the midterm. Sakagami-sensei stands at the front, explaining.
After finishing writing the exam schedule on the whiteboard, he scans each student one by one.
"Your first test as high schoolers. And one with extremely harsh penalties attached. The pressure and anxiety you're feeling are probably beyond anything ordinary high schoolers experience. But I believe in you. The fact that you were admitted to this school already proves you're outstanding students."
There's no lie in Sakagami-sensei's words. Even the tense students seem to relax bit by bit as they listen.
A world apart from that rabbit-bear hybrid of a teacher.[1]
"And I have good news for all of you. If you clear both the midterm and finals—"
Oooooooooooooohhhhh!!!
A sudden roar drowns out Sakagami-sensei's gracious words.
The noise startles everyone in the class, Ryuuen included.
The source is the neighboring classroom. Judging by the direction, it's Class D.
Not a scream—more like a primal bellow. Something worth celebrating right before midterms.
Which means it's likely tied to whatever Sakagami-sensei says next.
He briefly wears a slightly dumbfounded expression, then quickly returns to his usual stern face, deliberately clearing his throat before continuing.
"…If you overcome both the midterm and finals, a summer vacation awaits you. For the sake of that reward, give this exam everything you've got. That's all from me. I wish you the best of luck."
With that announcement, morning homeroom ends.
Afterward, someone comments that the bellow was probably the soul-cry of a Class D guy reacting to the vacation news.
—I agree.
…
My name is Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. I'm a male student in Class 1-D.
Abrupt as it is, allow me to explain the current situation in Class D.
We in Class D are labeled "defectives"—students given the lowest evaluation by the school.
In truth, until May, we lived freely and indulgently, completely unaware—or unconcerned—about the existence of the school's evaluation system. A dreamlike existence.
Then reality finally hit us, and no one could accept it.
0 class points. Evaluation zero. Some of us now face a month with zero yen.
And on top of that, another harsh truth: fail the test and you're expelled.
In the recent quiz, seven people in Class D scored below the red line—a miserable result. If things continue this way, more than seven could be expelled.
It was a truly hopeless situation.
Yet even then, a path forward began to appear.
Starting the day after receiving the lowest evaluation, most students began attending classes seriously, desperately fighting to recover points.
But groups are strange things. Even if 90% unite, the remaining 10% won't. Worse, some get caught up in short-term gains and give in to their desires.
In short, the latter type are the ones who refuse to study.
And I was ordered by my neighbor, Horikita Suzune, to hold a study session targeting exactly those people.
For someone like me with no friends, it was quite the ordeal, but with help from a girl named Kushida Kikyo, I somehow managed to make it happen.
The first study session, however, failed.
Horikita's serious personality clashed with the slackers' attitudes—she got angry, hurled insults, and things fell apart.
Yet afterward, a change came over Horikita.
Some trigger broadened her perspective. In other words, she grew.
And gradually, Horikita and the slackers began to acknowledge each other. The study sessions resumed.
From there, progress was swift. Horikita is skilled enough to teach others.
Once she started guiding the slackers, their abilities improved visibly.
Kushida also lent a hand.
And now, with one week left, we're solidly preparing for the test.
Thanks to Horikita and Kushida. If things continue like this, Class D should have zero expulsions.
We should be able to break the current deadlock.
—Everyone thought so.
"Hey, keep it down a little. You're being loud as hell."
One of the nearby studying students calls out to us in warning.
As I said earlier, we're studying to prepare for the test with only one week remaining.
The location is the library. Given the exam period, there are scattered groups like ours holding study sessions.
The current situation is one of the slackers solved a problem and got excited. His voice grew too loud and disturbed those around us.
"Sorry, sorry. Got a bit carried away. I was just happy I got it right The guy who came up with induction was Francis Bacon, right? Worth remembering, no loss there"
Ike Kanji, one of the slackers, flashes a sheepish grin as he says this to them.
In moments like these, his communication skills shine.
Being able to interact amiably even with strangers is a rare and extremely valuable ability in modern society.
Even if they're called slackers, they have strengths too—ones not everyone can acquire.
"Hah? …You guys are from Class D?"
The expression of the male student who warned us shifts into a mocking smirk.
Sudou Ken, another slacker who doesn't like the look, stiffens and snaps back.
"What's your problem? So what if we're Class D? Got a complaint?"
He has his own unique strength, which is his extraordinary athletic ability.
He's poured everything into sports, especially basketball, and has the skill to back up his pro aspirations.
But his temper is short, and studying isn't his forte. Those are the reasons he ended up in Class D.
"No, no, no complaints. I'm Yamawaki from Class C. Nice to meet ya."
The student who called himself Yamawaki keeps talking smoothly.
In short, it's an insult aimed at Class D.
I can respect the boldness of saying it straight to our faces, but starting a conversation with that attitude means Sudou naturally won't stay quiet.
And the disturbance spreads to everyone around.
But here the situation shifts. Our very own Teacher Horikita steps in, benching the less-than-calm Sudou.
As expected of Horikita. She tears Yamawaki's pride to shreds with pure logic, forcing him to slam the desk and stand. She turns the taunting match decisively in our favor.
As things escalate, every eye in the area turns toward us.
Perhaps sensing the danger, a couple of nearby Class C students try to stop Yamawaki.
Only two, though.
What are the other three doing? Don't they know what happens if you cause trouble in this school?
"We're not studying just to avoid failing. We're studying to get better scores. Don't lump us in with you! And what exactly are you studying anyway? The test has expulsion on the line, so what good does studying outside the scope do?"
"Eh?"
Horikita lets out a rare questioning sound. Understandable—the guy just said they're studying material outside the test scope.
"You seriously don't even know the scope? This is why defectives are—"
"Shut your damn mouth."
Sudou's patience finally snaps.
Well, watching him so far, it's less a patience bag and more an explosion bag… but I'll set that aside for now.
Sudou grabs Yamawaki by the collar.
He pulls his arm back, clearly intending a real punch, so I slide my chair back to intervene.
And right after that—
"What are you doing?"
A male student with long black hair stops Sudou's fist.
He's slightly taller than me.
But the striking hairstyle is a minor detail.
More importantly—since when was he there?
I felt no presence, no footsteps. That surprises me.
I'm not the only one. Sudou only notices the student's existence when his hand is caught.
For Sudou—someone with extraordinary athletic reflexes and almost animal-like instincts—to react this late means something.
Sudou immediately releases Yamawaki's collar, flicks away the grip on his right hand, and leaps back instinctively.
He keeps his eyes locked on the male student—a gaze like a predator sizing up prey. That's how wary he is.
In stark contrast, the long-haired student shifts his gaze from Sudou to Yamawaki.
Pure crimson eyes, devoid of any emotion, radiate warning. Yamawaki clearly feels fear.
"Yamawaki-kun. I'm asking what you're doing."
"S-Sorry. Just got carried away messing around. Right? S-So please don't tell Ryuuen-san…"
Messing around by looking down on people—he's no good at all… And Ryuuen-san? Who's that?
"Boring."
"Eh?"
Boring? Yamawaki's remark certainly wasn't amusing, but is that the right response?
Maybe this guy isn't great at conversation either… I find myself harboring a faint, mysterious hope.
"…After you apologize to them, return to your classroom."
"Y-Yeah, got it. Then about Ryuuen-san…"
"I won't."
Conversation over, Yamawaki and the other Class C students pack their things and leave the library at once.
The three who started trouble exit looking terrified; the remaining three who watched indifferently walk away slowly.
On the way out, one of the girls among the three tells the black-haired student, "I'll leave it to you." Quite irresponsible.
"Now then, it seems Class C students have caused you trouble."
The long-haired student turns toward us.
What a cold voice. Not intimidating, not sharp like thorns.
Actually, the voice itself is quite ordinary—almost androgynous in tone.
Yet its flat resonance makes it feel completely devoid of emotion.
Depending on the listener, it could inspire fear.
"…Yes. Could you make sure this doesn't happen again? You seem reasonable, so I'll ask you."
Horikita hesitates briefly under his aura but quickly recovers her usual composure and states it boldly.
"Yes. I'll pass the message along."
Why is this happening? Intuitively, this guy doesn't feel like a stranger.
If I told Horikita about it, she'd probably say, "So that's your type, huh?"—but that's not what I mean.
Why, though? It's genuinely the first time I've felt anything like this. The world really is full of things you can't predict.
But there's one thing I know for certain.
—This man is dangerous.
I was careless, no question. It's been a little over a year since I left that place, so I must have let my guard down.
Even so, a normal high schooler shouldn't be able to approach without any presence and have me completely fail to notice.
Yet I didn't sense him at all.
I can erase my own presence too, but if you asked whether I could do it to that degree, I couldn't say yes.
It was like a seasoned assassin. No ordinary high schooler could manage that.
Just who is this guy?
"Hahaha, looks like I didn't need to step in after all!"
As my internal alert level for the long-black-haired student rises, a girl with peach-colored hair and a voluptuous figure approaches us.
I've seen her before. When Class D's homeroom teacher, Chabashira, called us in, this girl was consulting with Class B's homeroom teacher, Hoshinomiya.
In other words, she's from Class B.
"Ah! Ichinose-san!"
"Oh! Kushida-san! It's been a while~!! Studying for the test right now?"
Apparently Kushida knows this student named Ichinose.
Her communication skills are on an entirely different level from Ike's.
She's the kind of bright girl who set a goal on the very first day to become friends with everyone in the school.
Though that's only her outward personality. The real her underneath is—terrifying. Extremely so.
"You're Kamukura Izuru, right? I didn't expect you to be the one running a study group."
But more than even the scary Kushida, it's him.
This is the first time I've heard the name Kamukura. Unusual name. I wonder how it's written in kanji.
"Kushida-san, who is she?"
Horikita doesn't seem to know her. She has even fewer friends than I do—or rather, the same amount—so it's a natural reaction.
Whoa, she just glared at me for a second.
"She's Ichinose Honami-san! She's in Class B and she's really nice!"
"No way Kushida-san is the nicer one!"
All the slackers except Sudou are practically drooling. Their eyes are glued to her chest.
Well, when something that impressive is right in front of you, it's hard not to look as a guy—but staring that openly is still not okay.
"Wait a second, Ichinose-san—and Kamukura-kun, if that's okay? There's something I want to ask you both. About the midterm scope you were told."
"You're Horikita Suzune, right? Nice to meet you! The midterm scope? Umm, could I borrow a textbook for a sec? …Here, from here to here! Man, the school really did something harsh, huh! Changing the scope a week before the test like that!"
A change in test scope? Class D never heard anything about that.
"A week ago… a change in the test scope!?"
Horikita is speechless too. Why is this happening? Could the tests be different? No, that can't be.
"…So the scope we know is different after all. And a change in the test…"
"Huh? Class D didn't hear about it? That's pretty bad, isn't it…? Wait, don't tell me the scope is different for each class… Hey, Kamukura-kun, what scope did you hear about in Class C?"
"The same as what you just showed."
Still that cold voice.
But it seems the notice reached Class C properly.
"Then I think all the classes are probably taking the same test. Why would only Class D… maybe a communication error?"
It's unthinkable that only Class D would be different. That would destroy any standard and affect class points.
Without a standard, accurate evaluation becomes impossible.
Since the school quantifies evaluation, I can't imagine they'd go to the trouble of doing something like that.
"Thank you, Ichinose-san, Kamukura-kun. We'll excuse ourselves here."
"You're probably heading to the faculty office, right? Lunch break has a little over ten minutes left, so you should hurry!"
At Ichinose's words, we quickly gather our things and jog toward the faculty office.
Later, we learn the shocking truth—it really was a communication error—and the situation becomes hopeless once again.
And in that moment, I spot one possibility and decide to act on it.
…
A week has passed since the midterm ended. Today is the long-awaited results day.
Because of that, there's a restless, uncomfortable tension among the classmates.
Even if they've only spent a little over a month together, the idea of someone being expelled clearly weighs on them.
"Good work, everyone. We'll return the tests now."
Sakagami-sensei arrives carrying five envelopes that presumably contain the answer sheets and six rolled-up sheets of graph paper.
After those words, the five subject tests are handed back one by one in order: English, math, Japanese, social studies, science.
When everyone has received all their tests, I scan the room—many look relieved or ambivalent, but no one appears despairing.
From the atmosphere, it seems there are no expulsions.
Once all tests are returned, Sakagami-sensei unrolls the six sheets of white graph paper he brought.
Just like the quiz, they list every student's scores by subject and total.
"Hmm. The average across all subjects is around seventy points. Quite a good performance—I'm impressed. You all worked hard. Keep it up for the finals too."
Still, publicly posting grades like this is unusual. Personal information like this isn't normally shown to others. Listing every single score in detail is even rarer.
Some students probably hate it, but there's no helping it. It's school policy. Changing it would take considerable effort.
Though this policy is actually optimal for improving the "society" that is a class, so there's no need to change it.
"Ah, I almost forgot the most important thing. There are zero expulsions. No one failed this test."
At those words, most of the class visibly relaxes.
Naturally. They've just escaped a crisis that threatened their school life.
"There's nothing else to discuss today, so you're free to do as you like."
As Sakagami-sensei finishes, the classroom buzz grows louder. Friends compare scores and get excited.
In the middle of it, I spot Ryuuen talking with Ishizaki and Yamada. Looks like they're preparing for the demonstration.
"Kamukura-kun."
A familiar voice. I turn to see Shiina.
She has a gentle smile, but with few friends, she rarely initiates conversation in the classroom. So it feels a little unusual.
"What is it?"
"There's something I'd like to ask."
"Probably why Ryuuen-kun and Ishizaki-kun scored high enough to rank near the top."
"Yes. I thought you might know something, Kamukura-kun."
Ryuuen aside, it's understandable she'd find Ishizaki's score odd based on how the study sessions felt.
She hasn't realized there was a shortcut. Not that she needed one.
Studying diligently and taking the test honestly is also a valid answer, so I have no intention of criticizing it.
"As for that, Ryuuen-kun will explain eventually, so there's no need for me to say anything."
"I see."
She replies curtly after hearing what she wanted. Her interest seems to have faded. To a bookworm like her, the existence of a shortcut is probably trivial.
"Still, Kamukura-kun, you got perfect scores in every subject."
"Kaneda-kun and Ibuki-san did too. It's nothing special."
"…Then does that mean I, who didn't get perfect scores, am nothing special?"
At my words, she sighs.
Out of 500 possible points, she scored 483—an extremely high mark. Achieving that through pure effort without the shortcut is genuinely impressive.
There's no need to compare herself to others.
Tests aren't about comparing to others; they're about measuring your own ability.
"That's not true at all, Shiina. Kaneda and I only got perfect because we cheated a little. Someone like you, who can score that high purely on your own merit, can't possibly be ordinary."
Perhaps overhearing, Ibuki from the seat in front joins in to encourage Shiina.
It's rare for her, but I quickly realize it's whimsy born from the confidence and mental superiority of her high score.
"…Cheating? But that's part of ability too… and anyway, Kamukura-kun got perfect on his own."
"You can ignore this guy—he's an anomaly. Have more confidence."
While wearing an uncharacteristically gentle expression—completely unlike when she talks to Ryuuen or me—she insults someone. Quite advanced conversational skill.
"That's a harsh way to put it."
"You're weird in all sorts of ways, so it's only natural."
"Perfect scores yet poor analytical skill. Boring."
At my words, Ibuki's expression shifts. Her temper is as short as ever.
"Hah, perfect on the test but everything's 'boring, boring'—are you vocabulary-poor or something!?"
"Boring. Your provocation is entirely predictable. In a taunt battle, he still has the edge."
"…There it is, you said boring again!!"
He, of course, meaning Ryuuen. Ibuki seems to understand instantly.
And she hates Ryuuen. With her competitive nature and high pride, she always reacts strongly to comparisons like this.
"Ibuki-san, getting angry like that is exactly what Kamukura-kun wants…"
"I know! But when something pisses me off, it pisses me off! Anyway, this guy—"
Ibuki looks ready to lunge, but Shiina holds her back, so there's no real worry.
But the fooling around ends here.
Because Ryuuen has begun walking toward the podium.
Ibuki and Shiina notice too and stop their banter.
The other students notice Ryuuen moving and gradually quiet down.
Little by little, but surely, this class is becoming his.
There are still a fair number who oppose him, but perhaps intrigued by his test results, they're unusually docile.
The king arrives at the podium as usual, flanked by his two subordinates as guards.
"First off, good job making sure no one got expelled."
The king's opening words—his perpetual top-down attitude—slightly grate on the nerves of Class C's many eccentric students.
It was clear when he stepped forward that his lingering resentment was still visible.
"Kuku, sorry to the idiots who studied hard and barely avoided expulsion, but I saw through the trick behind this exam."
His words cause a stir in the class.
From the looks of it, no one else noticed the past exams.
"This score sheet is proof. I delivered results, didn't I? You seriously didn't notice something this obvious?"
Indeed, Ryuuen's name appears in the top seven on every sheet. His total is easier to count from the top.
And with his taunting, the anti-Ryuuen faction's tension rises higher and higher. The situation is plainly unfolding in the palm of his hand.
"Calm down. The main event starts now."
He draws it out leisurely. The entire class leans in for his next words.
"I'm thinking of holding a victory party tonight at 18:30 to celebrate zero expulsions. This is the announcement. If you come, I'll consider telling you the trick this time and how you'll be treated going forward."
I'm not sure what victory he's celebrating, but there's going to be a party. And that's where he'll reveal everything.
"Location will be posted in the group chat. If you're not in my group but want to come, ask someone who is. Don't worry—no 'violence' allowed this time. Remember that. That's all from me."
Boring. He's far too starved for entertainment.
Far too honest with his desires.
It's one of his strengths, but simultaneously a weakness.
Still, the other students are far too naive.
Even the biggest fool should have realized his true nature by now.
Yet looking around, the number of people who suspect him can be counted on one hand.
…No violence allowed?
What is he saying? He'd never willingly discard his most effective tool.
Ah, boring.
Since I can already predict what will happen after school tonight, unless I'm forcibly summoned, I won't be attending the victory party.
"Are you going, Kamukura-kun?"
As soon as Ryuuen finishes, Shiina speaks to me again.
"No. You're not going either, correct?"
"Yes, that's my intention. I'm not good with large groups… And now that the test period is over, I have a backlog of books to read."
I decide not to probe her hobby, which has practically become an obligation.
If I express interest in books, she'll bite like a lively fish, and dealing with that would be troublesome.
Her pacing is something even I would get swept up in without gathering data from several interactions.
"You don't even want a change-of-pace meal?"
"There's some logic to that, but still, with a big crowd…"
For someone who prefers quiet indoor spaces like her room or the library, a noisy crowd is understandably daunting.
"I do want to try eating with someone, but I can't muster the courage to invite anyone."
"Then how about Ibuki-san? She probably won't go to the party anyway."
"…Eh?"
"…I see. We did talk during the study sessions, so I think I could invite her."
Her voice seems a little higher than usual.
"Ibuki-san, would you like to go eat together?"
"…Sure, I guess."
Shiina acts immediately.
Ibuki agrees, not entirely unwilling.
It's a good opportunity for someone with few social connections. Let's help her make a friend besides me.
"Kamukura-kun, why don't you come too?"
Slightly unexpected—my eyes almost moved.
"…Is that not okay? I think eating with three people would be more fun than two."
Shiina turns to me and invites me again.
Now, the choices for my after-school plans are three.
[⇒ Decline the invitation and go to the party.]
[⇒ Skip the party and accept.]
[⇒ Do neither and go home.]
Honestly, the time spent will be the same no matter what. But if I have to choose between a boring party and being with them or alone, the latter two are easier.
And spending time with "friends" holds more unknown potential than with boring people.
That feeling is still something I can't experience. But that very fact makes it a clue to the unknown.
[Select → Skip the party and accept.]
"I don't mind. Time passes the same no matter what I do."
"What's with that reluctant tone—like you're only coming because you have to? Do you actually not want to?"
At Ibuki's words, Shiina looks sad, perhaps worried.
I didn't mean anything in particular, but to clear the misunderstanding I offer a casual lie.
"No, I'm just a little hesitant about eating someone else's cooking."
"Now that you mention it, you always made your own bentos. Don't tell me you're going to say you have Ultimate Chef talent or something?"
"Yes."
"…Huh. Really. If you're that confident, then let me eat your cooking."
I have no idea what train of thought led her there.
"Your intellectual curiosity has extreme downside variance. It was slightly unknown, so I'll accept."
Ignoring Ibuki's grimace, I confirm with Shiina, and she nods.
Once decided, I'll use every available talent.
As soon as our conversation ends, the five-minute warning chime for class rings.
Even with tests over, points are still involved—being late to class is forbidden.
The classmates begin preparing, returning to ordinary daily life.
.
.
.
Using the Ultimate Chef talent, I was able to satisfy their palates!
***
[1] Monokuma
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