“…You really are a foolish group of students.” At the exact same time Class A was holding its homeroom, Class D’s homeroom teacher, Sae Chabashira, delivered these words.
The students froze at her excessively harsh, cold tone.
Kiyotaka Ayanokoji observed the scene with a detached expression.
“The points have been transferred.
That is an indisputable fact.
There is no fantasy or possibility that only this class was forgotten.
Do you understand?” “I mean, even if you ask us if we understand…” In response to her explanation, many appeared unconvinced, but a select few showed a realization—an expression that said, “It can’t be.” Then, a sudden burst of laughter echoed through the room.
“Hahaha, I see, so that’s how it is, Sensei.
I have solved the puzzle.” The voice belonged to Rokusuke Koenji, a student with slicked-back blonde hair who exuded an air of arrogance.
With his feet still propped up on his desk, he continued in a tone that mocked the student who had just questioned the situation.
“It’s simple.
We in Class D were not granted a single point.” “While your attitude leaves much to be desired, Koenji is correct.
Honestly, some of you must have heard the rumors, yet only a handful realized the truth by now.
How lamentable.” ‘…Rumors?’ Hearing Chabashira’s words, Ayanokoji, who had been calmly observing the situation, furrowed his brows for the first time.
He had no memory of hearing any such rumors himself.
Since entering the school, Ayanokoji had often lamented his own lack of communication skills, but standing here now, he felt that deficiency acute once more.
“What kind of rumors?” Another student, harboring the same doubt as Ayanokoji, spoke up.
“‘The points awarded might be linked to student evaluations’—did none of you hear something like that?” “…I heard it.” “Me too…” At her words, several students with wide social circles within the class nodded heavily.
“That rumor is the truth.
At this school, class performance directly impacts point allocation.
Given how often you arrived late, skipped, and chattered during class, you can hardly claim you had no idea, can you?” “Sensei, may I ask a question?” The one who raised his hand was the central figure of Class D, Yousuke Hirata.
“I heard about that rumor too.
But if that’s the case, why didn’t the school provide any explanation?
If only we had known…” “Do you need every little thing explained to you to understand it?” Chabashira’s voice turned even colder, cutting Hirata off.
“Taking classes seriously is basic behavior taught in elementary school.
Saying you couldn’t understand that is equivalent to declaring yourselves inferior to children.” “That’s…” “In the first place, didn’t you find it strange?
Being given a massive sum of 100,000 points with zero restrictions right after entering high school?
The moment such rumors surfaced, you should have questioned it.
This result is the outcome of your own shallow tendency to see only what is convenient for you.” Though her phrasing was harsh, Chabashira’s argument was entirely sound.
Unable to talk back any further, Hirata clenched his fists in frustration.
“…Then, please, at least tell us the details of how points are increased or decreased…
We want to use it as a reference for the future.” “That is out of the question.” Chabashira flatly rejected the request Hirata made in desperate hope.
She proceeded to explain calmly that the specifics of the assessment could not be disclosed, and that even if they corrected their lifestyle habits from now on, their points for this period would not increase.
Once her explanation came to an end, Chabashira retrieved a sheet of white paper and taped it to the blackboard.
“Now then, enough small talk.
Let’s get to the main topic.
As you should already understand, written on this paper are the results of each class.
The numbers here multiplied by 100 represent the points assigned to the students.” Looking at the paper, the class was once again enveloped in an atmosphere of utter shock.
What stood out above all was the figure written at the very top.
“Class A has 1,000 points?!
You’ve got to be kidding me?!” The shout came from Kanji Ike, one of the trio mockingly referred to as the “Three Idiots” of Class D.
“They’re totally favoring them!” Joining in was Haruki Yamauchi, another member of the trio and one of the biggest mood-makers in class.
Many others chimed in, calling it unfair or showing blatant jealousy.
Even Ayanokoji, though keeping his expression completely neutral, felt as if he were looking at something impossible.
‘Living a normal life alone makes that practically impossible.’ There were 40 students per class.
With that many people, it was only natural for some to break the rules.
Without an understanding of the school system on day one, achieving a perfect score was fundamentally impossible.
“Quiet down.
There is no truth to the claim that Class A cheated.” At those words, Hirata raised his hand to speak again.
“But Sensei, it’s unnatural for only Class A to avoid losing points.
It’s as if they knew about the assessment beforehand…” “Regarding the information provided by the school, there is no disparity between classes.
Every class received the exact same explanation you heard at admission.
This result is simply because a certain student correctly deduced almost the entire scope of the school’s system during that first-day orientation.” “A certain student?” Hearing this, even Ayanokoji felt a surge of inner curiosity toward that student.
To be able to think so critically and skeptically on the very first day, when anyone else would be caught up in the excitement of starting high school—what kind of environment must someone grow up in to possess that way of thinking?
“Of course, even if one knew about the point assessments, suppressing point deductions entirely is no easy task.
It simply goes to show that Class A is composed of truly exceptional students.
Unlike you defective products here in Class D.” “To say it like that…” “It is a fact.
Even putting Class A aside, the difference between you and Classes B and C is stark.” Prompted by her words, everyone turned their attention to the points of Classes B and C.
While they weren’t as absurd as Class A, seeing them laid out clearly showed the distinct gap between them.
“Even with your slow comprehension, you must understand by now, right?
In this school, students are assigned from Class A down to Class D in order of merit.
In other words, you are a collection of defective products who received the lowest possible evaluation from the school.” At those words, most of the students froze, visibly shaken.
Among them, those who held pride in their academic abilities suffered the greatest shock, including Horikita Suzune, the girl sitting right next to Ayanokoji.
“Furthermore, you are the first Class D in history to burn through all your points in a single month.
The highest-rated Class A in history, and the lowest-rated Class D in history.
It truly is a difference between heaven and earth.
In a way, I am almost impressed.” Faced with Chabashira’s sarcasm, the members of Class D no longer had the energy to talk back and hung their heads.
However, the bad news did not end there.
She revealed that there were no career guarantees unless they reached Class A, and that failing a test would result in immediate expulsion.
By the time everything concluded, a heavy, funeral-like atmosphere draped over the classroom.
Yet amid all this, Ayanokoji alone was thinking about something completely different.
‘A student who figured out the system on the very first day, huh…’ Feeling interest in someone whose face and name he didn’t even know was, in a sense, a novel experience for him.
Was this a feeling of resonance stemming from his own upbringing in a specialized environment, or was it a different emotion entirely?
Unable to identify the source of this sensation, Ayanokoji addressed that unknown individual within his own mind.
‘Can you…
become my learning material?’ –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– ‘Now then, what should I do from here?’ After the morning homeroom concluded, Class A entered a familiar routine of calling another class meeting after school.
And currently, in the classroom after hours, Mamoru sat with his chin resting on his hand, watching the outcome of the class meeting unfold.
“Then, we will now begin the meeting.
The agenda is regarding countermeasures for the upcoming midterms.” Standing in front of the blackboard directing the meeting was Kouhei Katsuragi.
Katsuragi possessed strong meeting-management skills, allowing discussions to proceed smoothly.
Lately, him stepping up in these situations had become a natural sight.
“Please wait a moment.” However, this time, someone stepped forward to interrupt.
“Matoba, is it?
What is it?” The one who raised his hand and stood up was Shinji Matoba, one of the students who had scored high marks on the recent quiz.
“Before we begin the meeting, I believe there is something we need to decide first.” “Something we need to decide?” Katsuragi’s brows furrowed.
While it was merely a reaction of genuine curiosity, coming from the heavily built, habitually stoic Katsuragi, it carried a fairly intimidating presence.
Yet Matoba continued to speak boldly without showing a hint of fear.
“Our leader.
Now that competition between classes is confirmed, I believe we must formally decide on an official leader to strengthen our class cohesion.” “What are you talking about?
If that’s the case, we already have Katsuragi-san.” The one who retorted to Matoba’s words was Yahiko Totsuka, a student currently displaying absolute trust in Katsuragi.
“Why are you deciding that, Totsuka-kun?
I don’t believe you alone hold the authority to decide our leader, do you?” “Huh?
What’s with that tone?” At Matoba’s slightly aggressive tone, Totsuka’s voice naturally flared with tension.
As if to soothe Totsuka, Katsuragi held out a hand to restrain him before opening his mouth.
“Calm down, Yahiko.
Matoba’s point is not entirely without reason.
However, Matoba, if you say that, what do you propose?
Are you saying you intend to nominate yourself as leader?” “No.
I would like to nominate Arisu Sakayanagi as our leader.” Upon Matoba’s statement, a slight commotion rippled through the classroom.
Mamoru quietly glanced over at Arisu.
Showing no surprise whatsoever at being nominated by someone else, she merely wore a smile that appeared somewhat fearless.
Seeing that, Mamoru deduced the general situation.
‘She was pulling strings behind the scenes…’ Given recent developments, it was obvious that Katsuragi would naturally solidify his position as leader if things kept going this way.
However, Arisu possessed immense pride.
She was not the meek type to serve under someone else.
Taking action of some kind was a natural progression.
“As demonstrated by the results of the recent quiz, Sakayanagi-san boasts the top academic ability in this class.
When it comes to devising strategies, I believe there is no candidate more suitable.” “I agree as well.” “Me too.” Following that opinion, several students throughout the classroom raised their hands and voiced their support.
“Hmm, then…” “May I have a moment?” The moment Katsuragi attempted to speak after hearing those opinions, Arisu’s voice cut in over his.
Simultaneously, the commotion that had risen in the classroom died down, and silence returned to the room.
‘If she pulled strings knowing it would create this exact atmosphere, that’s pretty impressive.’ This sight of the commotion instantly settling with just a single utterance could, depending on how one looked at it, feel like a display of sheer charisma.
However, Mamoru faintly realized that even this was likely a calculated performance on her part.
“I am truly delighted by everyone’s recommendations.
However, at the same time, I am sure many of you harbor anxieties regarding my capabilities.
You might wonder whether scoring well on a test translates to being able to exercise power within this school’s unique form of competition.
If I were to ignore those concerns, I could hardly call myself fit to be a leader.” At this uncharacteristically passive stance from Arisu, Mamoru gave her a glance, wondering what she was up to, but her following words made her intentions clear immediately.
“Therefore, could we leave that position on hold for the time being?
Whether I am suitable as leader, or whether Katsuragi-kun is, is something I would like everyone to judge for themselves based on the results of future examinations.” In this meeting, what was crucial for Arisu was not securing her position as leader right here and now.
Rather, it was the exact opposite: preventing a leader from being decided.
If the meeting had continued as planned and gone to a majority vote, Katsuragi would have won.
Compared to Arisu, who had been quietly evaluating talent from behind the scenes until today, Katsuragi, who had been acting publicly, commanded a far larger number of supporters.
Hence, what was vital right now was showing the class that there existed options other than Katsuragi for the leader role.
“Katsuragi-kun, would that be acceptable to you as well?” “…Yeah.
I have no desire to force myself into the position while there are opposing views.” Phrased like that, Katsuragi couldn’t refuse.
After all, Arisu had spoken nothing but reasonable arguments.
If he tried to push through a vote for leader now, he would end up ignoring the opinions of Arisu’s supporters.
The earnest Katsuragi would never allow himself to do that.
‘What a terrible self-manufactured drama.’ Having pulled strings behind the scenes to get someone else to say “Let’s pick a leader,” only to step in herself and steer things toward putting it on hold.
Mamoru couldn’t help but feel exasperated at Arisu’s sheer audacity.
“Then, I would like to resume discussing our strategy for the upcoming midterms.
Is everyone alright with me continuing as facilitator?” “Yes, that is fine.
However, before that, may I offer one proposal?” “Of course.
Go ahead.” “Thank you.
Well then, regarding the upcoming test, I would like to propose a modest little game.” “A game…
you say?” Perhaps sensing something ominous in that choice of words, Katsuragi cast a suspicious glare toward Arisu.
“Yes.
I thought it might serve well to use this upcoming exam as a touchstone to evaluate who is fit to lead the class.” “…Specifically, what do you plan to do?” “It is quite simple.
Even when we speak of midterm prep, the only real measure we can take is hosting regular study groups.
So, how about dividing into two sides—those supporting me, and those supporting Katsuragi-kun—with victory going to the group that achieves better marks?” “Absurd.
What is the point of fighting among ourselves within the class?
It’s inefficient.” “Is it?
In academic pursuits, a sense of rivalry is vital.
Yet currently, Classes B and below seem inadequate as rivals.
In that case, if we encourage competition within our own class, don’t you think individual grades will improve as well?” Though Katsuragi had shown aversion to internal conflict, he seemed to recognize a certain logic in Arisu’s words, refraining from an immediate objection and pondering it for a moment.
“…Supposing we do this, how will the judging work?
If we compete based on average scores, winning would simply be a matter of recruiting high-performing students to one’s side.
That would end up discarding those with weaker academic skills.” “I would never resort to such a tactic.
Let’s see…
how about making participation in this game entirely voluntary?
Applications will open tomorrow morning.
Those participating will sign a document indicating which camp they are joining to declare their intent.
For that matter, anyone who considers themselves leader material is free to form a third group.
As for the judgment, how about basing it on the average score for each subject among the final groups formed?” “…And the winner becomes the class leader?” “No.
This is merely intended as a reference point to observe leadership qualities.
As Katsuragi-kun mentioned earlier, if winning were the only goal, one would only need to recruit talented students.
But if one abandons students struggling academically in the process, they could hardly be called fit to lead, right?
Winning or losing isn’t what matters most.
I believe this game, through its very process, is a fitting way to judge such qualities.” Winning or losing doesn’t matter.
Once pushed that far, Katsuragi no longer had any grounds to refuse.
Since there were no particular drawbacks, it could even be considered a decent way to build cohesion within his own group.
“…Fine.
That works.” “I am glad you understand.” Arisu offered a soft, gentle smile.
However, the conversation did not end there.
“However…
while I said winning or losing doesn’t matter, lacking stakes leaves us without tension.
How about this: the losing group pays points to the winning group?” “Wha—Don’t be ridiculous!
Students engaging in gambling will affect the class’s evaluation!” “You need not worry on that front.
Truth be told, I previously asked Mashima-sensei about this.
I asked whether transferring points between students as prizes for games was permitted.
The verdict was that as long as both parties consent, the school will not prohibit it.” ‘Ah—come to think of it, something like that did happen about ten days ago.’ Hearing this, Mamoru vaguely recalled the event.
Generally, while inside the school building, he moved around as Arisu’s companion.
Mamoru had been present at that exact moment.
‘In other words, she was already anticipating this exact situation way back then.’ While Mamoru watched on like it was someone else’s business, Katsuragi, the party directly involved, looked as if he had swallowed a bitter bug.
It seemed like Katsuragi might abandon the game entirely at this rate, but then more voices chimed in.
“Sounds fine to me, doesn’t it?
It seems interesting, so count me in.” The first to raise a hand was Hashimoto.
Following his lead, supportive voices rose from others as well.
One after another, opinions agreeing with the proposal poured in.
While most were due to Arisu’s groundwork, in truth, that wasn’t the only reason.
For the past month, the students of Class A had lived under intense tension, never knowing what actions would affect their evaluation.
Under such pressure, a bit of entertainment had arrived—and one themed around academics, an area in which they held immense confidence.
It was only natural that they would want to let loose a little.
“Katsuragi-san, let’s do it.
There’s no way we’ll lose.” Amid the overwhelming majority in favor, the opinion of Totsuka, his most devoted follower, served as the final push.
If Katsuragi declined to participate in this situation, drawing a degree of resentment would be inevitable.
Katsuragi reluctantly gave his consent.
“…Fine.
Very well.” With that acceptance, the class meeting that was supposed to plan midterm strategy had, before anyone realized it, set aside its original agenda to meticulously discuss the specific rules of the game.
‘…He’s completely dancing in the palm of her hand.’ Watching from the sidelines, Mamoru could roughly grasp Arisu’s goal.
Although branded as a “game,” now that rewards were involved, this was no longer going to be a harmonious social gathering.
The losers would harbor ill feelings toward the winning camp, and those bad feelings would extend toward their representative as well.
In short, it was simple categorization.
Splitting the class clearly into friends, foes, and the remaining neutral group—that was Arisu’s true objective.
The camps formed here would likely evolve directly into factions centered around their respective leaders in the future.
‘Anyway, can I go home now?’ Of course, such matters held zero interest for Mamoru.
Unconcerned with the indifferent and dazed Mamoru, Class A officially decided to hold a game centered around the upcoming midterm exams.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Class A Civil War — Overview * A score competition held between two or more camps.
* A camp requires a minimum of 6 members (including the representative) to be approved as an official group, with no upper limit.
* Victory is decided by the average score of participants in each subject; the camp that secures the most subject victories wins.
* In the event of a tie in subject wins, the overall 5-subject average score will be used to determine the winner.
* If all camps tie on the overall average as well, no winner will be declared.
[Rewards] * Participants belonging to losing camps will pay 20,000 Private Points to the top-ranking camp.
* Rewards obtained by the winning camp will be distributed equally among its participants.
[Notes] * Participation in the game is strictly voluntary.
* Game participants cannot attend study sessions hosted by opposing camps.
* Non-participants may join study sessions held by any camp (provided the representative gives approval).
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Author’s Note: Something I think after writing every single chapter: How did it end up like this?
(ﾟДﾟ) In a work where the original MC is supposed to shine, for some reason Sakayanagi-san keeps taking center stage.
Or rather, I wanted to quickly wrap up the Volume 1 content of the original light novel, so why on earth did I start a full-blown internal class conflict?
While thinking about how Sakayanagi-san managed to unify Class A, I ended up sliding into this kind of flow…
Sakayanagi-san’s strategy and the conflict rules might feel a bit unrefined, for which I apologize!
This is the absolute best I can do right now.
Incidentally, as of now, Mamoru-kun has no intention of getting involved in this conflict, so honestly, there’s a very high chance these rules end up becoming dead lore.