"You're saying... Suzune is in the wrong?" Horikita Manabu's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive face.
He clearly hadn't expected this sudden interloper's opening salvo to be a direct critique of his sister—the boy's own classmate.
"Isn't it obvious?" Shimizu Akira crossed his arms, his tone laced with exasperation. "Horikita-san, I explained the class system to you last Friday. Yesterday, Chabashira-sensei reiterated it. Your placement in Class D is entirely justified."
"It's been days. You've surely verified it with the school. Now even your brother confirms—you're in Class D because you lack competence. How much more stubborn can you get?"
Shimizu shook his head, gaze shifting between the siblings. "Honestly, if I were the president..." He massaged his temples. "Just imagining dealing with family drama gives me a headache."
His eyes locked onto Horikita Suzune. "And you're missing something crucial. Your brother started in Class A. By questioning the system's fairness, you're indirectly discrediting his achievements."
Casually, Shimizu stepped between them.
"You're family." His gaze ping-ponged between them. "Blood ties shouldn't be this strained. Horikita-san, it's time to face reality..." A glance at Manabu. "And Mr. President, you're high schoolers, not kids. No need for physical solutions."
Horikita Suzune's emotions were in turmoil.
She'd thought Shimizu had come to support her—instead, he'd sided with her brother.
At this rate, she might just cancel those tutoring sessions!
Meanwhile, Manabu's eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly.
The boy's arguments were flawlessly logical—each point rooted in objective analysis.
As for violence?
The idea hadn't even crossed his mind.
Not when this underclassman was advocating his position while being his sister's classmate and club junior.
"I'm Horikita Manabu, third-year Class A, student council president." A slight nod. "Your name?"
"Shimizu Akira, first-year Class D." A perfectly measured reply. "An honor."
"If you aspire to reach Class A..." Manabu's voice was icy, "learn from Shimizu here. Starting with basic social skills."
With that, he turned on his heel and left.
"How decisive... Came just to see his sister, huh? No interest in anyone else." Shimizu watched the retreating figure, stroking his chin regretfully.
He'd hoped to ask about the vice president, but Manabu hadn't given him the chance.
A heavy silence settled.
Horikita Suzune stood frozen for a long moment before finally lifting her chin, her voice faintly unsteady:
"My placement... Was it primarily due to poor social skills?"
Shimizu's reply was calm. "Finally catching on?" A beat. "And that's not all. Your condescending attitude, your deliberate isolation—all factored in."
"...What an unpleasant assessment. From someone who fails Japanese Literature."
"I call it like I see it. Besides, grades ≠ communication skills."
"I don't need to rely on anyone! Nor can I trust them!"
"...Say that again in a few years. See how embarrassingly edgy it sounds."
Abruptly, Shimizu shifted gears. "By the way, you're aiming for student council president, right? From what I hear, Kushida Akane-senpai often works alongside your brother as his right hand. So he's never truly been alone."
Genuine curiosity colored his tone—if she idolized her brother, why half-ass the imitation?
"...How do you know that?" Horikita's face darkened instantly.
"Ask any third-year. Seriously, when's the last time you had a real conversation?" Shimizu was beyond done. "You can't even gather basic intel, yet expect Class A? Should your brother praise you for failing?"
Each word struck like arrows to her heart.
Impossible.
She'd always believed... her brother walked utterly alone.
Yet he'd had a trusted partner all along?!
What did that make her years of solitary striving?
Shimizu noted how she suddenly bowed her head, lips whitening from how hard she bit them, her whole frame trembling with disbelief.
He hadn't anticipated one offhand remark would shatter her defenses.
But really—wasn't this common sense?
The student president couldn't function solo—how else would he win elections, let alone manage responsibilities?
"You were being unreasonable earlier. Your brother's anger was justified. Reflect on it."
With that, Shimizu turned and left—no empty comforts, no false niceties.
Horikita Suzune wasn't stupid. She had her pride.
He'd said his piece—with her intellect, she'd piece things together.
Back in his dorm, Shimizu collapsed onto his bed, replaying Chabashira's messages.
A more pressing thought emerged:
"If Nagumo's blocking intel leaks..." He stroked his chin. "Then right now, only I and Sakayanagi from Class A know the full picture. Classes B and C are still in the dark..."
This was a golden opportunity—a prime window to sell intel.
"Time to expand operations."
He'd never intended to limit his services to Class D, nor promised exclusive deals.
In this meritocratic school, information was power—and power grew more valuable the more people fought for it.
Yet one question nagged at him:
If the intel was suppressed, how had Sakayanagi Arisu gotten her hands on it?