Class D Boys Group Chat
Yamauchi Haruki: *07:44 - On my way to class!*
Ike Kanji:You're actually coming on time? The odds of that are worse than winning the lottery.
Yamauchi Haruki:Heh, you know how it is~
Ike Kanji:Wait… don't tell me… you're only coming for the girls in swimsuits?
Yamauchi Haruki:High five! You get me, Kanji!
Hirata Yōsuke:While the motivation is questionable… punctuality is still good. But your attendance records this week…
Yamauchi Haruki:Who cares? Teachers don't even check. Stop nagging.
Shimizu Akira set his phone down with a sigh.
These guys really live without a care in the world.
A week into the semester, they still hadn't noticed the school's hidden deduction system, chatting away about swim class like chirping sparrows.
In just seven days, he'd witnessed over 50 rule violations: tardiness, skipping class, whispering during lectures, covert phone use…
Ike Kanji had started as an average student, but after befriending Yamauchi, he'd become a serial truant—and one of Kushida Kikyō's many orbiters, trailing after her like a hormonal monkey.
It proved the old adage: "You are the company you keep."
Shimizu observed it all but knew he had no right to interfere.
At the end of the day, they were just classmates.
Then—
[Ding~ Daily Intel Updated]
[Intel 1: The school tallies class points at the end of each month.]
[Intel 2: First-month results—A:940 | B:650 | C:490 | D:0]
[Intel 3: Kushida Kikyō vents stress by kicking doors and cursing.]
His breath hitched.
These three pieces of intel were far more valuable than expected—especially the second one.
That glaring "0" felt like a punch to the retina.
(Zero points? Class D is a… big fat zero?)
"Heh…"
A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped him.
It wasn't amusement or shock—just the icy laugh of someone confronted with absurdity.
"I knew this class was a dumpster fire… but not this bad."
Even the most pessimistic estimate should've had a baseline score—like a kindergartener guessing on a college exam and stumbling into a few right answers.
But zero?
That meant Class D hadn't just failed to achieve anything—they'd likely triggered every penalty possible.
(Did we hit zero because there were no points left to deduct?)
In that moment, something shattered—not Class D's dignity, but the last shred of delusional hope he'd clung to.
(As expected… this class is beyond saving.)
The realization was a cold blade, cleanly severing his hesitation.
Truthfully, he'd never held high expectations for this class. This intel just laid the brutal truth bare.
If the rating system had more tiers, they'd probably be demoted to Class E or F.
*(A 490-point gap from Class C…)*
It reminded him of college entrance exams, where a single point could separate thousands of students.
Now, between Class D and C lay 490 of those "gaps"—not just a difference, but a chasm impossible to bridge.
Shimizu's situation was like being forced into a failing project team.
The veterans scrolled through videos or counted down to clock-out time.
Every monthly review, this team ranked last in attendance and performance, earning zero bonuses.
As the new hire, he saw the dead end clearly—but couldn't escape due to contractual binds.
His only option? Side gigs to survive.
It wasn't just Yamauchi and Ike skipping class—even Karuizawa's gyaru squad often played on their phones during lectures.
Nearly half the class had broken rules.
(Third intel! So Kushida was lying? Her stress relief is door-kicking and swearing?)
He wasn't surprised. He'd always known her kindness was a facade.
After all, no one was perfect—everyone needed an outlet.
Suppressing negativity only bred resentment.
Even Shimizu wasn't flawless. Learning about Class D's zero points had put him in a foul mood.
The classroom buzzed with energy.
Yamauchi and Ike immediately launched into loud, pool-related chatter, drawing a crowd around "Doctor", the bespectacled boy with his laptop.
"I bet Sakura's at least a D!"
"No way, she's an E! 500 points!"
"Kushida's definitely a D, right?"
Amidst the lewd laughter, they even drafted odds, oblivious to the disgusted glares from nearby girls.
After a week, Class D's hierarchy had solidified.
Foremost was Hirata Yōsuke—with his good looks, social skills, and soccer club membership, his fair leadership earned widespread respect.
Next was Kushida Kikyō, whose infectious smile and emotional sensitivity made her beloved.
(She hadn't arrived yet—otherwise, the boys wouldn't dare discuss her so crudely.)
Hirata, already present, frowned at the commotion and approached.
"Guys," his tone was gentle but firm, "there are girls here. This isn't appropriate."
"Oh… right, Hirata."
"Yeah, yeah."
The group dispersed—except for Yamauchi and Ike, who stood their ground, defiance written on their faces.
Hirata smoothly pivoted: "Instead of this, why not find a girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend?"Yamauchi raised his voice, "Actually… Sakura confessed to me." His volume ensured everyone heard.
"What?!"Ike gaped. "That glasses-wearing Sakura?"
Hirata stiffened, glancing at Sakura Airi's empty seat. His smile faltered as he weighed his options—Yamauchi was obviously lying, but without Sakura present, calling him out was tricky.
Then—
SCREECH.
A chair scraped loudly from the back of the room.
"You sure about that?"
Shimizu Akira stood, his cold gaze locking onto Yamauchi and Ike.
Yamauchi's Adam's apple bobbed violently, his face draining of color.
"Cough… must've gotten it wrong! It was some plain girl from another class!"
He scrambled back to his seat like a rabbit fleeing a predator.
Ike, though calmer, froze under Shimizu's stare. With a strained smile, he too retreated.
(Shimizu from the boxing club… Last time, at the entrance ceremony, Yamauchi almost got punched for running his mouth. Seems he finally learned.)
(So this is how Shimizu handles things…)
Hirata shot him a grateful look.