"In the end, we didn't manage to get anything."
"This time, yeah."
After visiting Class B's camp, Horikita and I headed to Class A's.
The result was disappointing.
Class A's camp was inside a "cave." It gaped open like the mouth of a fantasy monster, but we couldn't glimpse even a millimeter of the interior.
No wonder.
There was only one visible entrance, and it was completely sealed off by a massive screen made from countless connected vinyl sheets—the kind used for portable toilets—blocking any view inside.
We tried rather forcefully to peek in, but a boy who seemed to be their leader drove us away, and that was that.
If we'd simply been sent back on the way home from the base camp, it would have been fine, but failing to gather any information on Class A had left Horikita visibly irritated.
"So, what are you planning to do next, Ayanokouji-kun?"
"...Well. Once I've put together a strategy to win this test, I intend to discuss it with you."
"I see... Wait, what did you just say?"
My strategy was already nearly complete, so I made the declaration that would serve as the signal to start acting.
Saying it out loud somehow injected motivation into me.
Just voicing it or not seemed to make a big difference internally. It was another thing I'd learned that I hadn't felt back there.
Meanwhile, Horikita—who had let out a startled squeak—fixed me with a hawk-like stare, watching every flicker in my eyes.
"I'm not lying, so you can relax, Horikita."
The enemies were far more troublesome than I'd imagined. I'd been putting effort into fighting while keeping my existence hidden, but that was becoming unsustainable.
In fact, telling Horikita and getting even a little cooperation from her would dramatically raise our chances of winning.
"Then I didn't mishear you. What's your intention? Suddenly showing motivation... it's not like the usual conflict-avoiding you."
"I have personal circumstances too. To deal with them, I have to move."
"Personal circumstances?"
"I'd rather you not pry, but I know you won't accept that, so I'll say this much upfront.
Horikita—if you keep this promise, I'm willing to seriously help you reach Class A from now on."
Horikita folded her arms, mouth half-open.
She couldn't hide her surprise at my uncharacteristic words.
"...Fine. I understand that having my past dug into without permission isn't pleasant.
Besides, even if it's rudimentary, I've gotten a verbal commitment—that's enough."
As the conversation deepened, our strides gradually shortened.
"So, what's the first step?"
"First, I plan to become your 'shadow.'"
"Shadow... meaning you'll use me as cover. You'll attribute your achievements to me, making it seem like I did them. And behind that shadow is the real contributor. Is that the right interpretation?"
She got it quickly—helpful. I confirmed it was correct.
"Then, Ayanokouji-kun. Becoming a shadow comes at a price.
Tell me the strategy you're thinking of right now. That's the price."
"A fair demand."
There was no way the assertive Horikita would become cover for free.
I'd intended to tell her anyway, so I nodded and laid out the entire strategy I'd just formulated.
"So, your strategy is..."
.
.
.
"Exactly. Good summary."
I deliberately clapped in exaggerated praise.
One glare from her, and the applause stopped.
"...It's refreshing. This kind of behavior is unthinkable from the usual you. Is this the real you?"
"There's no 'usual' or 'real.' I'm just one person—Ayanokouji Kiyotaka."
People do tend to divide themselves into a "front" and a "back."
The front being the crafted attitude and expression they show daily, the back being their true, unfiltered self.
I think that's a valid way to define it.
A good example is Kushida.
She desperately tries to hide her back by wearing a "mask" to create her front.
But Horikita—I'm just me.
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, a human forever trapped.
There's no front or back—just a blank person.
In the end, my essence hasn't changed. I'm forced to recognize that whether I like it or not.
"By the way, you deliberately interrupted my conversation with Ichinose earlier—was there a reason for that?"
"I didn't want Class B... no, Ichinose specifically, to know that Kamukura had made a move. If she knew, she'd definitely become wary.
In the strategy I'm thinking of now, Ichinose's presence is quite significant. Being guarded against would be troublesome."
"...I understand why you interrupted. But I'm not convinced."
"You'll have to accept it. This is the only way to increase our chances against Class C."
"So Class C really is the biggest threat."
"Yeah. Classes A and B are passive. If we don't provoke them, they're not much of a danger."
"But Class C is different. If what you say is true, they're quietly preparing underground to succeed at guessing the leaders.
...I'm honestly embarrassed with myself. Back then, I was exposing my ignorance. I'll engrave in my mind that Ryuuen-kun is an extremely dangerous person."
As expected, Horikita is sharp.
She has the intellect to grasp this instantly, plus a personality that—little by little—is learning to acknowledge her own weaknesses. Yet at her core, she's strong, with unbreakable will.
In this test, I was starting to think it might be worth earning some goodwill from Horikita, who's been unwell.
"No, it's not just Ryuuen we need to watch. Kamukura too."
At the mention of Kamukura's name, Horikita's expression darkened as she let out a deep sigh.
She was probably recalling the oppressive aura he'd exuded.
"If those two work together, even your strategy..."
"Probably. No matter how we struggle, we can't stop them perfectly. But since this is still within the framework of a 'test,' there are definitely countermeasures we can take to avoid losing."
Countermeasures were still possible. With help from Horikita and Hirata, there was a chance we could overturn this absolute predicament.
But it was also true that things could have gone more smoothly.
If Kushida cooperated.
Yet something seemed off with her lately.
She'd been normal until the test started, but ever since encountering Kamukura, she's been forcing herself.
She's hiding it well from everyone else, but right now, she's unusable.
Her absence wouldn't cause major issues, but I'd still need to do a little maneuvering.
"...Can I get my hopes up for the outcome of this test?"
"Don't get your hopes up. ...We're almost back at camp. This conversation ends here.
Just keep in the back of your mind that once my strategy is finalized, I'll definitely come to you."
"Understood."
With those final words, I parted from Horikita and kept walking.
In my peripheral vision, her center of gravity wavered slightly.
I'd pushed her too hard in her condition. But now retirement was certain.
I didn't stop walking—I was heading to secure the next key person.
"Hirata."
Continuing even after returning to base camp, I quickly reached my target.
Still as popular as ever.
I muttered that in my mind and boldly approached Class D's prince, surrounded by several girls.
"Ah, Ayanokouji-kun. Could you wait a moment?"
It didn't seem like the usual sweet atmosphere.
The sharp glares from girls like Satou and Shinohara surrounding Hirata made it clear—this was trouble—even at a glance.
Ignoring the mood, I took another step forward, and one of the girls—Shinohara—glared at me.
"Hey, Ayanokouji-kun. Don't you see we're in the middle of something important?"
Standing defiantly in front of me, she was someone the usual me would have backed down from.
But right now, I couldn't afford to deal with someone like her.
"Sorry, but it doesn't look that way. Step aside for now. I've obtained important information."
"Hah? Important information? So what? We're having an important discussion too—I'm not moving!"
I'd thought her sharp tongue might be reined in since she could talk amicably with Ike, who's always arguing, but it was in top form.
I couldn't help sighing at her prickly attitude.
"What's with that attitude? You're getting cocky, Ayanokouji-kun."
"S-Shinohara-san, calm down! ...Ayanokouji-kun, what's the information you want to talk about first?"
Hirata immediately soothed the belligerent Shinohara.
Then he asked me about the information.
Being popular is tough, I thought, before concisely conveying my intent.
"It's about 'Class B's leader.' I want to discuss that matter a bit."
"Eh? The leader?"
Shinohara reacted first.
Hearing her dumbfounded voice, the nearby girls—Satou and Matsushita—turned around in surprise.
"...Got it, Ayanokouji-kun. Shinohara-san, let's put our talk on hold for now."
"...Well, if it's about the leader, I guess there's no helping it."
It seemed they accepted it.
"It's not something others should overhear, so let's talk over there."
"Yeah, understood."
Hirata and I moved to a less crowded spot.
Perhaps because the atmosphere was serious, Shinohara and the others didn't come to eavesdrop.
"So, what is it about, Ayanokouji-kun?"
Hirata cut straight to it without letting an awkward silence form.
I immediately began relaying almost everything Horikita and I had learned from scouting the enemies.
"...I see. As expected of you and Horikita-san. You casually accomplished things I could never do!"
"You're exaggerating. I just followed Horikita.
More importantly, Hirata—this is what I really wanted to tell you, if that's okay?"
I was a little tired after the broad explanation, but time was limited. I couldn't waste it, so I continued.
"It's a message from Horikita. First, there's something she wants you to announce to the class tomorrow at noon."
"An announcement? What is it?"
Smiling gently as he prompted me, I told him my strategy without hesitation.
"That we'll have most of the class retire from the test, leaving only a few behind."
"...Eh? What are you saying, Ayanokouji-kun?"
After several seconds of silence, Hirata asked the obvious question.
"Save questions for the end. ...First, a confirmation, Hirata—what do you think is the absolute worst thing we could do in this test?"
"The worst thing? ...Wasting points, I suppose?"
"Wrong. The absolute worst thing is... 'self-destruction.'"
"...Self-destruction? Do you mean the class falling apart from the inside?"
Hirata seemed to have something in mind; he asked that in return, his voice somewhat dark and heavy, his expression troubled.
"Exactly. On this uninhabited island—close to a limit situation for students—if the class splits and collapses completely?
If accumulated fatigue and dissatisfaction from group living fuel conflict and the class stops functioning as a class?"
Hirata's face twisted bitterly, as if chewing something unpleasant—he seemed to already understand what I meant.
But to deepen his grasp of the current situation, I deliberately continued to the consequences.
"...In the worst case, we couldn't preserve points, and someone might even betray us by selling leader information to another class out of selfish desire.
At that point, it wouldn't even be a test anymore. Once the brakes come off, classmates would start acting on their own, and the class would cease to exist.
If the class collapses here, reaching Class A becomes a pipe dream. It goes without saying it would become a hindrance in future similar tests."
In this already harsh environment, who could live without accumulating stress?
In a test requiring unified effort, a fractured class could only produce despairing results.
That especially applied to Class D, with its many students lacking cooperativeness.
They might cooperate at first, but it would last a few days at most.
After that, the pent-up frustration and anger from this special environment and group actions would explode, leading straight to a miserable end.
That outcome had its merits. For the future, the experience would be valuable.
But only if the inevitable disadvantages could be reliably minimized.
"...I understand the danger of self-destruction. But why retirement because of that? If everyone cooperates properly..."
"We could last until the end? Certainly—if we were Class B, it might have been possible."
There were several reasons we needed to retire most of the class, leaving only a few.
One was that a small group was easier to manage.
Less worry about internal conflict, and the food procurement issue for a large group could be solved.
And we could expel Ibuki Mio, who was suspected of being a spy.
There were other reasons, but I'd skip them for now.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Simple. It comes down to whether there's an absolute leader capable of rallying the class again when it starts falling apart—or not."
"——!"
Hirata's eyes widened, his face twisting in frustration.
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't that he believed he could hold everyone together out of pride—no, it was because somewhere deep down he'd been anxious about whether he really could, and I'd just put it into words.
"What were the girls asking you about earlier?"
"...W-well, that is..."
Most likely, they'd been pressing him to let the girls use points for a more comfortable life—an unreasonable demand he'd been trying to handle.
The only serious "consultation" I could imagine coming from Shinohara, who'd been grumbling since the test began, was something like that.
He'd been trying to refuse, but kind-hearted Hirata—whose desire to be liked by girls or protect his position wasn't the issue—genuinely felt sorry for them and was on the verge of giving in.
"You see it now, don't you? Class D can't unite right now. There are opposing groups, people who favor certain individuals—it's completely fractured.
And what everyone prioritizes is their own safety and advantage, or that of their friends. If we continue the test like this, the class splitting and collapsing is inevitable.
...But Hirata, it's only the second day. Don't you think the class is still relatively together since it hasn't collapsed yet?"
"...I get it. If everyone retired together, we could avoid collapse and carry the good atmosphere that Kouenji-kun and Ike have built into the next special test.
Looking ahead, it really would be nothing but benefits.
...But Ayanokouji-kun, that means giving up the points we can earn in this test, right? Three days of effort would go down the drain, and with no points gained, the people aiming for Class A would explode with dissatisfaction."
Retirement costs minus 30 points per person.
That's the rule of this test.
Students like Horikita, who want to reach Class A, are desperate to close the gap with the upper classes even a little.
That's why no one would accept retirement. No one wants the negative points it would bring.
By fixating on one thing like that, they waste a perfectly good hint.
"The three days of effort won't be wasted. On the contrary, because of them, we've managed some degree of unity.
——Most importantly, no negative points will occur."
"No negative points!? That's too convenient to..."
"I heard from Horikita that it's possible using a certain rule everyone knows about."
"A rule everyone knows...?"
The volume of information was apparently too much; even the sharp Hirata couldn't keep up.
His confusion and bewilderment plain on his face, he was—for once—more absorbed in his own thoughts than in conversation.
I waited a moment before giving him the answer.
"——The answer is 'point transfer.'"
"...I'm not following, Ayanokouji-kun. What can we do with point transfer?
It's in the rules, sure, but didn't sensei say it's a rule that only benefits other classes?"
"Yeah, simply giving points away offers no advantage. But what if we interpret point transfer as——entrusting them to another class?"
Hearing that, Hirata fell into thought for a moment before suddenly looking up with realization.
"I see! We transfer all our held points to another class, then retire!
That way, we preserve our current points while closing the gap with the upper classes!"
In this test, held points cannot fall below zero.
By temporarily transferring all points to another class, reaching zero, retirement penalties—no matter how many—won't push us into the negative.
Then, having the remaining few transfer the points back leaves the total unchanged.
By exploiting this rule that Kamukura had inquired about—one that pierced the test's weakness—the strategy becomes possible.
"As expected, Ayanokouji-kun! I never would have thought of something like this!"
Hirata's voice bounced with excitement as he grabbed both my shoulders and showered me with praise.
"The one who came up with it was Horikita. Besides, Hirata, I haven't explained the drawbacks and countermeasures yet."
"Ah, sorry. I got carried away."
He apologized with a handsome smile that would melt most girls.
His relieved expression likely came from seeing a way to prevent class collapse.
"First, the drawback is once we transfer the points, there's no guarantee they'll actually be returned."
"Right. Ownership shifts to the other class. They could easily find excuses not to give them back."
"Exactly. So we have to choose who we entrust them to very carefully."
"But there's a countermeasure, right?"
"Yeah. According to Horikita, we propose a 'contract' and negotiate with Class B."
I told Hirata this in a deliberately dramatic tone.
"A contract? What exactly..."
"The terms is in exchange for returning the entrusted points, we give Class B the points earned from spot occupation on the final day."
Suppose we entrust all our current points to Class B.
Even as allies, Class B gains nothing from holding or returning them.
So we create an incentive to transferring the points we earn from occupying spots.
If they hold our points once, we'll pay reasonable interest when they return them.
For Class B, who aim for Class A, points increasing this easily—there's basically no reason to refuse.
In short, the price for holding our points is the spot-earned points we give them on the final day.
"With Ichinose-san leading Class B, the chances of successful return are high.
But what if it fails?"
"Then we'd have no choice but to continue the test."
Hearing that, Hirata's face clouded.
"It'll be fine, Hirata. I've already identified the potential trouble sources. Horikita should handle them."
"...Got it. Then I'll trust Horikita-san."
"Any other questions?"
"No, I'm good."
Then this conversation was over.
I said goodbye to Hirata and headed toward the tents.
...No, hold on. Now was the perfect chance.
For whatever reason, Ibuki was nowhere in sight.
Confirming what she'd hidden... there was no better time.
Thinking that, I headed toward the tree where Ibuki had first been sitting.
...
"This is so goooood!"
"Salt or sauce—both are amazing!!"
As the sun set and darkness claimed the island, voices spilled from one particularly bright light.
Not just voices.
The savory aroma of grilling meat teased the nostrils, tormenting empty stomachs.
Many people gathered around the light, with more than enough meat and vegetables prepared and cooking.
I watched the lively scene from a beach chair a short distance away.
Ryuuen-kun was making a racket with girls on both sides, meat in hand. Ishizaki-kun was chatting with the boys.
Albert seemed in charge of grilling, efficiently preparing with Kaneda-kun and a few others.
Ibuki-san was on infiltration duty. As for Shiina-san——
"Aren't you going to eat?"
She had come right up beside me.
In each hand she held a paper plate with grilled meat and chopsticks.
"This is for you, Kamukura-kun."
"I'll accept."
My stomach was a little empty, so I took the plate immediately.
I neatly split the disposable chopsticks she handed me, picked up a piece of meat, and brought it to my mouth.
"...It's undercooked."
"Is it? I think it's very delicious."
Chewing delicately, she swallowed before replying.
What part of this meat—which failed to bring out its full flavor—was delicious?
I slowly turned the thought over in my mind as I watched Shiina bring a second piece to her mouth.
From the graceful way she handled it to how she ate, this natural beauty truly made everything picturesque.
"Kamukura-kun, you should eat with everyone too. Food tastes even better when shared."
"Is that so?"
"Mmm, that face says you don't believe me."
Her cheeks puffed out slightly as she glared at me in dissatisfaction.
A glare containing neither killing intent nor pressure was nothing to me; I maintained my usual seated posture.
When I showed no sign of standing, she quietly set her paper plate on a nearby table and stood beside me.
"Actually, this is my first barbecue. Because it's my first, I've truly felt how enjoyable it is to eat with so many people.
You don't seem like the type who interacts much with others, Kamukura-kun, so opportunities like this must be rare, right? Let's take today to experience it."
"I'll pass."
"The early bird gets the worm. Come on."
Ignoring my refusal, she extended her hand toward me.
Shiina was surprisingly stubborn for her appearance. Once she said something, she rarely backed down, all while being naturally unhurried.
Troublesome. My super analytical ability told me she'd keep her hand outstretched until I took it.
No helping it. She'd shown me a slight glimpse of the unknown—I owed her that much.
I grasped her small hand and stood.
"...Cold."
Shiina murmured that, then gently enveloped my hand in both of her soft ones.
Her palms and fingertips were warm. Even with every talent imaginable, I lacked hands like these.
The warmth that Sakayanagi-san and Shiina-san possessed but I did not—it sparked my interest.
Warmth. Something I once deemed boring and severed from myself... no, something "he" had likely averted his eyes from, something he only recognized after losing "her."
And now, I——could face it.
As I thought this, my gaze met the silver-haired girl's.
"...Then let's go right away."
She released one hand but gently pulled the other.
Her pale aquamarine hair swirled as she turned, starting to walk.
Her feelings toward romance and friendship were blurred; she couldn't gauge distance properly.
An awkward girl. Because she struggled with people, embarrassment followed her actions.
That was surely why her cheeks were faintly flushed as she led me by the hand.
"You're bad at judging distance with the opposite sex."
"I-is that so?"
My blunt observation drew a slightly shrill reply.
Even facing forward out of embarrassment, I could easily read it.
"If you don't want unnecessary misunderstandings, you should learn better distance."
Shiina looked like she wanted to say something, then let go of my hand.
"Then... you too, Kamukura-kun. You're not used to interpersonal relationships, are you?"
"That's incorrect."
Imitating the old me—Hajime Hinata—I raised my voice slightly to deny her claim.
To her questioning expression, I continued.
"I possess talent in interpersonal relationships as well."
"...Haa, it's a little sly that I can't quite call that a lie."
After this uncharacteristically vague exchange, we headed toward the center of the light.
Upon arriving, all our classmates were laughing joyfully.
"Oi."
Accompanied by approaching footsteps, a voice called out to me.
Turning toward the familiar tone, I saw Ryuuen-kun walking over with two girls in tow—flowers in both hands—holding a large paper plate, likely coming to restock meat.
"Hey, Hiyori was here too. How is it—having fun?"
Noticing Shiina's presence first, he addressed her.
"Yes, very much."
"Kuku, good."
Ryuuen accepted a drink from one of the girls beside him and drank it.
After finishing, he set the plate and cup on a nearby table and sat down with the two girls.
"You're really in the perfect spot. I've got a personal request—listen up."
"No need. I was just thinking the same thing."
"Kuku, what makes you so sure? Well, we're probably on the same page anyway. ——Albert."
At his call, Albert set down everything he was holding and came over immediately.
"Prepare the meat. Kamukura's cooking."
"...Yes."
With an intake of breath, he swiftly went to fulfill his role.
We moved to the barbecue set.
"Shiina-san, may I borrow a hair tie?"
"Of course."
With my hair length, strands falling into the grill would be no joke, so this was precaution.
I tied it into a ponytail with the white hair tie.
Then I carefully wiped my hands with a wet tissue.
That should be the minimum preparation.
"There's quite an audience today."
"Don't mind them."
Somehow Ishizaki-kun and his merry friends had gathered too; about ten people were watching.
Ignoring them was easier said than done, but my stomach was growling, so I suppressed the urge to snap and lit the grill to warm the grate.
Soon, Albert—ordered to fetch ingredients—delivered a large quantity.
"Then, let's begin."
Under the watchful eyes of many spectators, I grilled meat and vegetables.
Everyone in Class C who tasted the perfectly cooked results unanimously praised it as delicious.
.
.
.
On the second night of the special exam...
After the summer uproar ended, nearly every student in Class C retired.
***
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