He was completely immersed in a meditative state of high-speed writing, and the focused yet effortless aura around him exuded a mysterious, highly professional charm that words could hardly describe.
It felt as though he wasn't in a classroom at all, but performing some kind of precise and critical calculation.
A strange silence fell over the room. Mashima forgot to continue the Q&A session, her gaze fixed on Sakamoto's notebook—most of which was hidden beneath his left hand, leaving only the blur of the rapidly moving pen tip visible.
Sakayanagi Arisu's fingertips began tapping rhythmically on the smooth tip of her cane again, her eyes deep and unfathomable.
This silent game of chess had introduced an elegant, unpredictable, and mysterious variable far earlier than she expected. And this variable—no matter the gesture—possessed a charm impossible to ignore.
First Year Enrollment: Chapter 004 — Sakamoto, Who Understands Everything
After a while, Mashima Tomoya's deep voice finally fell, marking the end of the explanation on the "Key Points of Advanced Nurturing High Schools."
His sharp gaze swept across the class one last time, lingering briefly on the window seat—on Sakamoto—before he turned and walked out of the classroom with steady steps.
The soft click of the closing door felt as though it had sealed away an invisible pressure.
Instantly, the tension in the room spread outward like ripples in water.
The elites of Class A, though still composed, visibly relaxed, and soft whispers began circulating between desks. Yet almost every gaze was drawn—magnetically—to the window seat at the back.
Sakamoto.
At some point, he had stopped his rapid, dazzling writing.
The pen rested quietly on the notebook.His right hand remained poised in a relaxed yet controlled manner—thumb and index finger pinching the pen, the other three fingers extended naturally, his elbow resting elegantly on the desk.It looked less like he had just finished high-speed calculations and more like he had completed an elegant sketch.
His tranquil demeanor contrasted strikingly with the concentration he showed while writing.
Katsuragi Kohei was the first to approach.
His sturdy figure strode steadily toward the desk. Hands clasped habitually behind his back, posture rigid, his bald head reflecting the sunlight with dignified seriousness.
His brows drew together, eyes sharp with scrutiny and confusion, as he spoke in a low, controlled voice:
"Sakamoto-san, what were you writing just now? That question—you seemed to have figured something out?"
His gaze shifted to the notebook.
Immediately after, Hashimoto Masayoshi appeared beside him, slipping in with his trademark sunny smile. But his eyes gleamed with undisguised curiosity.
"Whoa! Sakamoto-kun, that was amazing! Cutting off the teacher and then saying 'I understand'—so what did you understand? Tell me! And your notebook—does it hide the secrets of the S-System!?"
He leaned in to peek.
Although Kamuro Masumi kept her distance, her cool violet eyes subtly shifted toward them, and she unconsciously stepped a little closer.
Even the hunchbacked, ghost-like boy in the corner quietly rose and drifted toward the group like a shadow.Through gaps in his thick curly hair, his eyes stared intently at Sakamoto and the notebook.
Sakamoto had become the center of a silent storm.
Between Katsuragi's stern interrogation, Hashimoto's enthusiasm, Kamuro's cold attention, and Kito Hayato's shadowy gaze—Sakamoto remained unchanged.
He calmly lifted his head, his eyes sweeping over the gathered students from behind his black-rimmed glasses.A faint smile curved at his lips.
He didn't answer Katsuragi's question.Nor did he acknowledge Hashimoto's chatter.
Instead—under everyone's watch—he moved.
His left hand stayed firmly on the notebook.His right hand picked up the pen with effortless grace.
Then—
Sakamoto's left hand moved.
With smooth precision, he tore the entire written page out of the notebook—cleanly, silently—like a magician revealing a trick.
The motion was gentle yet sharp. Controlled.
Under the stunned gazes of Katsuragi… Hashimoto… Kamuro… and Kito Hayato—
Sakamoto began folding the page.
His fingers were long and graceful, his movements fluid and rhythmic, never hesitating.The paper fluttered between his fingers—folding, creasing—too fast to follow, yet strangely beautiful.
Seconds later, a simple, angular paper airplane rested in his hand.
Every eye in the room locked onto it.
This was the page containing Sakamoto's furious writing—the answer they all wanted.
Sakamoto lifted the paper airplane, turned to Katsuragi, and spoke gently:
"Katsura-kun, what matters isn't what I understood."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across Hashimoto, Kamuro, and Kito Hayato.
"What matters is that we understand this:Although points are deposited into personal accounts, their value may not belong solely to the individual."
He lightly weighed the airplane in his hand with elegant composure.
"Ms. Mashima is correct—the points may indeed be used freely."
His words rang clearly.
"But remember the word he emphasized—'inseparable.'Individual points are deeply tied to the collective's honor and disgrace."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes drifting toward the upper-floor teaching building, as if hinting at something.
"Points are numbers. They are resources.They can buy anything, but perhaps—"
His eyes returned to the plane, fingers brushing along its wing.
His voice softened into a gentle reminder.
"It measures something intangible as well—such as the value of our Class A."
Katsuragi's brows furrowed, confusion shifting into contemplation.Hashimoto's smile faded, replaced by seriousness.Kamuro's violet eyes deepened with bewilderment—and curiosity.Kito Hayato's hidden gaze flashed beneath his curls.
Sakamoto continued:
"As for this—"
He raised the paper airplane toward the sunlight.It twirled lightly between his fingertips.
"It doesn't contain an answer.It contains a reminder."
He smiled—gentle, yet layered with meaning.
"Some things are clearer when you see them with your own eyes…and verify them with your own hands."
Before anyone could react—
Sakamoto flicked his wrist.
The airplane leapt into motion, gliding swiftly through the air!
It didn't fly toward anyone.
Instead, it dipped into a clean arc toward the open window.
It slipped through the frame, glided briefly in the sunlight, then adjusted its direction in mid-air—
Heading straight toward the large, clearly labeled trash bin across from the teaching building—the upper-grade building.
Clatter.
With a soft thud, the airplane landed perfectly in the bin marked Recyclable.
Sakamoto withdrew his gaze and added calmly:
"There are no trash cans in our classroom yet.So this was the only temporary solution.My apologies."
Everyone froze.
Katsuragi's mouth opened slightly.Hashimoto's eyes went wide.Kamuro stepped forward without realizing.And Kito Hayato's gaze followed the airplane's vanished path with unusual intensity.
Sakamoto, however, had already stopped paying attention to the paper airplane. He calmly stood up and smoothly adjusted the collar and cuffs of his burgundy school uniform, meticulously attending to every detail.
Then, he bowed slightly to the group gathered around the table—Katsuragi, Hashimoto, Kamuro, and Kito Hayato who stood a little farther away—his posture as elegant as a gentleman bidding farewell:
"Excuse me, everyone."
With that, Sakamoto began walking without waiting for anyone to respond.
His steps remained steady and fluid, each move seeming carefully measured in distance. His arm swings were perfectly controlled, his shoulders and back straight as a rod. As he passed through the room, the students in his path unconsciously parted, creating a clear passage toward the classroom door.
Just as he was about to exit, he seemed to remember something. He paused slightly and turned to the side.
The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the corridor window, outlining his tall figure with a golden glow.
He pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, the lenses flashing with a cold, sharp glint that briefly illuminated the dark brown beauty mark under his left eye.
He looked back toward the classroom, a fleeting, subtly enchanting smile tugging at his lips, his voice gentle and clear:
"May all your points be used in a 'worthwhile' way."
As soon as he finished speaking, he turned away and disappeared into the sunlit corridor outside.
The classroom of Class 1-A remained silent.
Katsuragi Kohei did not move. His brows were still furrowed, but the sternness in his eyes had softened into deep contemplation. He subconsciously glanced out the window toward the upperclassmen's building.
Hashimoto Masayoshi scratched his head, the familiar smile returning to his face—but now tinged with thoughtfulness. He muttered:
"What does he mean by 'worth it'…? This guy is really interesting."
Kamuro Masumi stood motionless, her purple eyes fixed on the doorway where Sakamoto had disappeared. For the first time, a clear expression of curiosity appeared on her usually indifferent face.
Kito Hayabusa silently walked to the window, gazing across at the trash can where the paper airplane had landed. His thick curls framed a deep, unreadable expression.
Meanwhile, Sakayanagi Arisu remained seated, rhythmically tapping the smooth tip of her cane with her fingertips.
She looked in the direction Sakamoto had gone, the playful smile on her lips deepening.
The paper airplane flying toward the upperclassmen's building…The reminder about "worthwhile"…The elegant, mysterious figure disappearing into the sunlight…
The variable known as Sakamoto had placed an unpredictable piece on the elite chessboard known as Class A.
First Year Enrollment: Chapter 005: Sakamoto Outside the Window
Sunlight slanted through the connecting corridor of the teaching building, cutting geometric patches of light and shadow onto the clear window panes.
Sakamoto walked through the corridor with a steady, elegant pace, like a precisely calibrated pendulum. The hem of his burgundy uniform fluttered lightly with every step.
He stopped outside the back window of Class 1-B, standing quietly like a shadow blending naturally into the background. Only his glasses reflected a faint, cold gleam where the light struck them.
The air in Class B was warm and sweet, as though soaked in honey.
The first-year students, still shy after their initial introductions, gathered in small groups, sharing their expectations for the new school year.
Beside the podium, a girl with long pink hair bent over to arrange the newly distributed "Key Points Handbook," her fingertips brushing the embossed school emblem. A carefree smile rested on her face—
Until she caught sight of the still figure outside the window.
Honami Ichinose paused slightly.
That boy…He looks familiar.I think I saw him at the opening ceremony?He seems to be from Class A.
He stood tall and straight like a pine tree, one hand casually in his pocket, the other naturally at his side.
Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his gaze swept gently across every face in the room—not scrutinizing, but observing softly.
It felt like he was quietly assessing potential allies… or future rivals.
When his gaze reached her, he nodded slightly—and a faint, polite smile touched the corners of his mouth, like a silent greeting.
Then he looked away naturally, as though acknowledging a beautiful detail in a passing scenery.
"What are you looking at, Ichinose-san?"
The girl beside her followed her gaze.
But there was no one outside the window.Only the dappled shadows of tree branches swaying in the breeze.
"It's nothing."
Ichinose smiled lightly and shook her head, though her fingertips continued to absentmindedly trace the cover of her handbook.
"I just felt like… someone was measuring the world with a ruler."
She murmured softly, puzzled by the boy's behavior—but left with a calm, slightly warm impression of his profile.
A faint murmur drifted through Class C. The desks were arranged loosely, a few boys huddled together whispering, and someone in the back row slept with their head down on the desk.
Ryūen Kakeru leaned against the window, rolling an eraser between his fingers, letting it bounce smoothly across his knuckles. His eyes drifted outside lazily—until the eraser froze mid-roll.
A figure stood outside the window.
Black-rimmed glasses.Posture straight as a javelin.A calm gaze surveying the entire classroom.
That posture.That expression.
Ryūen's lips curled into a mocking grin.
He's putting on a show.
Is this guy going from class to class like a peacock, inspecting his territory?