After school, the day after handing the letter to Hirata.
Mamoru stood on the school rooftop, gazing out at the courtyard through the chain-link fence.
Down below, even though it was currently an exam period, members of the track and field and baseball teams could be seen pouring their hearts into practice.
‘Ah, youth…’ It was merely something to pass the time while waiting, but as he watched them, the words Fuka had said to him just a few days ago drifted through his mind.
“Be selfish, huh…” Even before now, the thought had crossed his mind occasionally: What is it that I actually want to do?
He had an ideal image he aimed for.
He didn’t believe it was within his reach, but there was still a person he strived to become like.
However, that was the person he wanted to be, not something he actively wanted to do.
Turning his face away from the courtyard, he leaned back against the fence and looked up at the sky.
As he watched the clouds lazily drift by, the rooftop door suddenly clicked open, and two male students along with one female student walked in.
Pulling his floating thoughts back to reality, Mamoru turned his attention toward the students who had entered.
One was Yosuke Hirata, whom he had met the other day.
The second was a black-haired girl with a somewhat difficult, prickly expression on her face.
‘Is she Kushida-san?
She looks a bit different from what I imagined.’ Although Mamoru had specified a maximum of two companions, he had expected one of them to be Kushida, a female student who reportedly held significant influence within Class D.
Having heard that her reputation reached other classes, he had imagined someone with a highly sociable demeanor, making this a bit surprising.
However, setting aside his brief impression of her, Mamoru shifted his gaze to the remaining male student.
Brown hair, and somewhere-focused, somewhat vacant eyes where you couldn’t tell what he was looking at.
At first glance, he was a male student with a completely listless expression, but looking at him, Mamoru narrowed his eyes.
‘…He’s strong.
Far better trained than your average sorcerer.’ He could tell just from his walk and posture.
A centered, core-driven stance with a stable center of gravity.
A natural posture, yet maintained with a constant, baseline level of alertness to handle any unforeseen situation.
Naturally, he couldn’t gauge the exact extent of his fighting ability, but at the very least, when it came to core physical stability, it was clear he was far better conditioned than a low-tier sorcerer.
‘Is he really just an ordinary civilian?’ As a test, Mamoru formed a tiny barrier right in front of the boy’s eyes.
It was purely visual, with no innate technique effects or physical force—a complete illusion.
The result: the boy seemed completely unable to see it, passing right through without the slightest movement to avoid it.
‘Can’t even see it, huh.
That makes it even creepier…’ Honestly, Mamoru would have felt more at ease if he turned out to be a hidden sorcerer.
Not being a sorcerer, what kind of upbringing in modern-day Japan could foster a student with such an absolute, perpetual “battlefield-ready” mindset?
While he pondered this, the three of them had already approached right up to Mamoru.
“Did we keep you waiting?” At the sound of the voice, Mamoru shifted his focus from the brown-haired boy back to Hirata.
“No, I was the one who invited you, so arriving early is only natural.
First time meeting you two.
I’m Mamoru Gojo from Class 1-A.” In response to Mamoru’s self-introduction, the black-haired girl standing slightly behind Hirata stepped forward and introduced herself.
“Suzune Horikita, Class D.” ‘So she wasn’t Kushida-san, huh.’ Finding it slightly unexpected that his prediction was off, Mamoru observed the girl named Horikita without being rude.
Arms crossed, back straight—a dignified posture.
Eyes looking over as if glaring directly at him.
‘A girl with quite a bit of pride, it seems.’ Behind the eyes glaring at him, hostility flickered subtly.
She likely genuinely disliked dealing with people altogether.
Her attitude of building a wall between herself and others almost seemed like she was intimidating her surroundings.
After finishing his observation of Horikita, Mamoru cast his eyes on the remaining male student.
However, standing a short distance away, that boy kept his eyes fixed on Mamoru without opening his mouth.
“Ayanokoji-kun?” Called by name by Hirata, the boy finally spoke up as if snapping back to reality.
“Ah, my bad.
I was zoning out.
I’m Kiyotaka Ayanokoji from Class D.” Ayanokoji answered casually, but Mamoru picked up on the nuance behind his reaction.
‘He’s on guard.’ Positioned slightly behind Hirata and Horikita.
A gaze that observed Mamoru as if taking in a bird’s-eye view.
Though he shouldn’t have any cursed energy, he might have felt something similar toward Mamoru.
While Mamoru was analyzing this, Hirata spoke up.
“Well, to get straight to the point, could we hear more about what was written in the letter?” The other two remained silent, observing Mamoru’s demeanor.
It seemed they were leaving the flow of conversation to Hirata.
Hirata as the facilitator, Horikita as the brain, and Ayanokoji as the bodyguard for emergencies.
Mamoru deduced the roles of these three in such a manner.
Originally, the purpose of this call was to evaluate the key figures of Class D.
Thinking that quite an interesting lineup had assembled, Mamoru opened his mouth to speak.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– The first thing Kiyotaka Ayanokoji thought upon seeing Mamoru Gojo was not an impression of his opponent, but perplexity toward himself.
A chill running down his spine, breathing that naturally became shallow, and an oddly loud heartbeat.
Judging these symptoms occurring within his body objectively, he realized for the first time that he was feeling nervous.
‘What is this guy…?’ Since childhood, Ayanokoji had experienced an environment called the White Room, receiving an education so severe that calling it “gifted education” was an understatement.
What he learned there was not merely pure academic ability.
Cultivating violence was also a core part of the curriculum—training against opponents superior to himself, who could be considered professionals in combat.
Precisely because of that experience, he understood.
‘At the very least, I cannot win through violence.’ Even as he thought this, he shook his head inwardly, realizing that was not the real issue.
The opponent was strong.
Ayanokoji did not possess a mind that flinched over a simple fact like that.
Then what was this feeling he was currently experiencing?
To put it plainly, Ayanokoji had absolutely no idea what the cause was.
There were security cameras.
There were other people present.
Even personality-wise, he could tell the opponent wasn’t someone who would immediately resort to violence.
Yet, no matter how many such logical reasons he listed, the current situation felt to Ayanokoji like standing on paper-thin ice—precarious and unreliable.
It shouldn’t be possible.
Even while thinking that, a bizarre sensation whispered that his head might fly off his shoulders in the very next second.
‘Fascinating.’ However, Ayanokoji displayed none of this agitation on the surface.
Instead, treating this sensation as a piece of experience to be stored away, he sent a cool, observational gaze toward the existence named Mamoru Gojo.
Then, responding to Hirata’s question, Mamoru spoke.
“Right.
Since it’s bad to take up too much of your time during this period, let’s wrap this up quickly.
First, as a prerequisite—and as stated in the letter—there is a definite strategy to beat the upcoming midterms.” Up to that point, it was what had been written in the letter.
However, having it affirmed so directly made Hirata’s and Horikita’s expressions stiffen.
“…That’s hard to believe right off the bat.
That an exam prepared by the school would have a shortcut other than studying seriously.” Hirata said so, but to Ayanokoji, it wasn’t particularly surprising.
Back when their homeroom teacher, Chabashira, was explaining the exam, her tone had sounded completely confident that a way to overcome it existed.
Ayanokoji found it entirely natural that this incomprehensible individual would arrive at the same line of thought as himself.
“It’s only natural to think that, but first, take a look at this.” Saying so, Mamoru pulled an A4-sized brown envelope from his bag.
“Inside this are the questions—and answer key—for what will likely be the upcoming midterm exam.” Unable to catch up with the words spoken, the two stared at him with blank expressions.
“Um…
that’s a joke, right?” “No, it’s real.
Since there’s no physical proof, I can’t state it with 100% certainty, but I personally believe without a doubt that the questions inside this envelope will be given.” A faint smile hovered on Mamoru’s face as he spoke, but rather than a triumphant expression, it was a soft one meant to disarm their guard.
“How on earth did you…” Hirata was unable to hide his agitation.
The authenticity of the information, doubts about the opponent’s motives—multiple suspicions swirled, preventing him from forming proper words.
Seeing his state, Horikita spoke up.
“Hirata-kun, do you mind if I take over for a bit?” This was something they had discussed and decided before coming here: leave the basic conversation flow to Hirata, but hand the initiative over to Horikita once the actual negotiation began.
While the timing was a bit early, seeing Hirata’s flustered state, she likely judged it better to switch early.
Hirata looked at Horikita, gave a quiet nod, and stepped back slightly.
“Allow me to ask in his place.
Assuming your words are true, why do you possess such a thing?
Don’t tell me you stole it from the faculty room?” Horikita’s question was almost provocative.
In a sense, it was her usual attitude, but to Ayanokoji, who was on guard against Mamoru, it made him break into a cold sweat inwardly, wondering if she might step on a landmine.
“Of course not.
This wasn’t obtained through illegal means.
Let me skip the beating around the bush and get straight to the point.
At this school, the exact same questions are used every year for the first-year, first-semester midterm exams.” At those words, Horikita and Hirata were rendered speechless, their eyes wide with shock.
‘I knew it.’ On the other hand, Ayanokoji was the sole person coming to a quiet realization that one of the possibilities he had considered was correct.
However, even though his prediction was spot-on, it didn’t mean he was without questions.
‘But why reveal this so early on?’ From a purely negotiation standpoint, this was information that should have been held back until later.
At this point, Class D had already learned the secret to beating the next exam, meaning the overarching goal of coming here was essentially accomplished.
Holding his doubts, Ayanokoji quietly listened to the words that followed.
“To tell you in advance, me finding out about this information was almost entirely a coincidence.
If you want verification, feel free to grab any random upperclassman later and ask them.
They probably won’t tell you straightforwardly, but judging by their reaction in conversation, you’ll be able to confirm the truth.” He says coincidence, but it’s suspicious whether that’s true, Ayanokoji thought.
This school’s information concealment was thorough.
Under such an environment, it was hard to imagine the school making a blunder that allowed a single student to accidentally stumble upon a secret.
“…Setting aside my doubts about how you obtained that information, I’ll proceed on the premise that it’s a fact.
The contents of that envelope are, in other words, past midterm exam papers.
I take it your goal is to ask whether we’ll buy them from you?” Horikita seemed to compartmentalize that immediate verification was impossible, choosing to push the conversation forward instead.
In reality, the probability of Mamoru lying was low.
As he said himself, fact-checking could be done however they wanted later.
“Gotta appreciate you being quick on the uptake.
You two are probably thinking this might be a trap, but you realize that currently Class A has no merit in setting a trap against you guys, right?
In fact, with just this piece of information, you’ve gained a massive advantage.” From the start, Mamoru had been answering the doubts they would naturally harbour, anticipating their perspective.
He was holding the reins of the conversation.
A situation like this was likely quite difficult for Horikita to handle.
What he just said was also true.
Given Class D’s current state, they were far more likely to self-destruct if left alone.
Class A had almost zero incentive to play unnecessary tricks.
Horikita seemed to understand this as well, posing her next question while glaring with frustration.
“…Incidentally, how much do you intend to sell it for?” “200,000 points.” To the question, that number was delivered without a moment’s hesitation, causing Horikita’s eyebrows to twitch upward.
“You certainly rip people off, don’t you?” “Gojo-kun, surely that amount is…” Hirata also murmured in shock, clearly finding the sum exorbitant.
‘Even for an initial high-ball figure to negotiate down from, that’s pushing it too far.’ Indeed, Ayanokoji agreed that it was an unreasonable sum.
It was an amount that might not even be reached if you combined the remaining funds of the three people present.
“Is it really?
Personally, I think it’s worth at least that much.
40 students in a class—that’s 5,000 points per person.
Broken down by subject, that’s just 1,000 points per subject.
If you collect it from the whole class, it’s not an unpayable amount.” When put that way, it did feel like it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.
However, whether they could actually pay it was a different story.
“Besides—this part is just my speculation—if anyone gets expelled in this upcoming exam, you should assume the Class Points you can earn will drop to zero.
In terms of preventing those dropouts, don’t you think it has value?” At those words, Hirata’s expression shifted from ‘absolutely impossible’ to one of deep contemplation.
For someone who valued class harmony above all else, bringing up “expulsions” was a fatal weak spot.
On the other hand, Horikita aggressively shot back, refusing to yield to those words.
“Unfortunate for you, but we aren’t as backed into a corner as you think.
With the current Class D, even if we take it normally, the chances of dropouts occurring are low.
In fact, we’re even expecting fairly high scores.” While this was mostly a bluff, regarding the expulsion part, it was about half sincere.
The current study group was on track.
If they continued seriously like this, she believed avoiding failing marks for everyone wasn’t impossible.
“You sound quite composed, but setting aside dropouts, claiming high scores is pushing the bluff a bit too far.
The exam coverage was just changed last week; aiming for scores that high starting now is going to be tough, isn’t it?” However, such expectations were easily shattered by Mamoru’s counter-remark.
“The exam coverage…
changed…?” For a second, Horikita uttered blankly, looking as if she hadn’t processed what was just said.
After putting up a bluff, displaying such a reaction was an obvious blunder.
Yet, the information just delivered was shocking enough that her reaction felt inevitable.
“…Don’t tell me you didn’t know?
Last Friday, the exam scope for all subjects was significantly changed.” Finding Horikita’s reaction surprising, Mamoru spoke with an astonished tone.
His casual delivery gave it an even stronger sense of truth, making it clear he wasn’t lying.
“Wait, Gojo-kun.
Is that really true?” Rather than doubting him, Hirata asked as if praying it was a joke.
“If you don’t believe me, you can check with the teachers or students from other classes later.” Just as Mamoru said, this was something they could confirm immediately.
There was no reason to lie here right now.
Given that their current study pace was already cutting it close, avoiding failing marks without past exam papers was now virtually impossible.
Realizing this as well, Horikita placed a hand over her mouth, a grim expression washing over her face.
After a long pause, Horikita finally opened her mouth to speak.
“…We don’t necessarily have to buy it from you.
If the existence of past exams is real, we can negotiate with other upperclassmen.” Hearing those words, Hirata looked at Horikita with a realization.
Horikita’s words were correct.
If they negotiated with upperclassmen, there was a chance they could get it for a much cheaper price.
Furthermore, compared to past exams provided by a student from another class, acquiring them themselves would guarantee no foul play or tampering.
And because Ayanokoji had arrived at that exact line of thought beforehand, he had found it puzzling why Mamoru had revealed the existence of the past exams right at the start.
“True.
If you ask other upperclassmen, someone would probably hand them over for around 20,000 or 30,000 points.” Having her point validated so easily caused suspicion to flicker across Horikita’s face.
“Knowing that, how could you present such an absurd amount?” “Well, because that price isn’t just for the past exams alone.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “Simple: silence money.
Truth be told, I haven’t disclosed the existence of these past exams to any other class—not even my own.
If you buy this from me, I will keep it a complete secret from everyone until the midterms are over.” Understanding the weight of those words, Horikita’s eyes widened.
If this condition was kept, the past exams would cease to be a mere tool for avoiding failing marks and transform into a weapon to gain a massive edge over other classes.
To Horikita, who aimed for Class A, this was a condition she could not ignore.
“…You certainly have room to spare, don’t you?
Keeping it a secret even from your own class.
Or do you simply not hold other classes in your sight at all?” Glaring at him with sharp eyes as if feeling looked down upon, Horikita pressed him.
Breezing past her glare as if it were a mild wind, Mamoru continued in a calm voice.
“My apologies if I offended you.
It might sound insincere coming from me, but I personally don’t have much interest in the inter-class competition.
That’s why I think trading with another class is fine, as long as there’s a profit to be made.” As expected, the man named Mamoru Gojo stood here prioritizing personal gain over class benefit.
Having anticipated this to some degree from the moment he received the letter, neither Horikita nor Hirata found it particularly surprising.
However, Ayanokoji alone felt a slight sense of dissonance regarding that statement.
‘Is points really his only goal?’ There was no concrete evidence—just a vague intuition.
Watching the opponent’s posture, he felt as though there was another underlying objective.
After a moment of weighing the conditions, Horikita finally spoke up.
“…No.
There isn’t enough proof of trust.
Even if we make a verbal promise here, we have no way to verify whether you actually upheld it.
Furthermore, if another class stumbles upon the existence of past exams on their own, paying 200,000 points would be a complete waste.” Horikita’s reasoning was entirely sound.
From exam results alone, it was impossible to tell whether someone had used past exam papers.
The worst-case scenario for her would be paying that vast amount of points, only for the gap between classes to remain unchanged.
However, the opponent had likely anticipated such a response.
Without batting an eye, he spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
“Then let’s add one more condition.
If Class D fails to take 1st place in the upcoming exam, I will fully refund all the points obtained from this transaction.” Horikita’s eyes widened in shock, though a look of suspicion instantly swept over her face once more.
“…What are you planning?” This proposal was an exceptionally generous condition for Class D.
In the first place, even with past exams, there was no guarantee Class D’s current academic strength could secure the top spot.
In practice, the probability of getting through the exam for free was quite high.
“It’s just the result of prioritizing fairness.
These past exams are, so to speak, a ticket to take 1st place in the next test.
If that value isn’t fulfilled, it’s only natural to return the points paid, right?” Watching that attitude, the slight dissonance Ayanokoji had felt earlier crystallized into a single, clear shape.
‘This guy…
doesn’t care about profit at all.’ It was a realization he could make precisely because he himself possessed a similar perspective.
To simply observe.
That alone was the opponent’s true objective, Ayanokoji was now certain.
‘Horikita stands no chance against him.’ It wasn’t even a matter of winning or losing to begin with.
In this negotiation, either outcome was fine to the other party—whether they accepted the terms or not.
He was merely observing whether they would bite the bait he dropped.
Trying to outsmart him or worrying about being outsmarted was a complete waste of effort.
This trade was fair.
It was set up in a way that, under normal circumstances, prevented their side from taking a loss.
Hence, Ayanokoji could easily predict the upcoming development.
“I can’t trust it.
I’ll say it again: this is nothing more than a verbal promise.
If we pay right now, there’s nothing we can do if you claim later that no such promise was ever made.” As someone naturally suspicious, Horikita would obviously say that.
And the opponent, having foreseen such an objection, likely already had a solution prepared.
“It’s only natural to be suspicious.
That’s why I prepared this as well.” As he spoke, Mamoru pulled a small device from his pocket.
“What’s that?” “A voice recorder.
Inside is the recording of our entire conversation just now.
If you accept the deal, I’ll hand this data over to you as proof of trust.
In exchange, if this data gets leaked despite the contract terms being kept, you will pay your earned points for the following six months as a penalty.
I’ve prepared a written document, so if you agree, please sign it.
I will keep the document.” In short, Class D would hold the audio recording, while Mamoru Gojo would hold the contract as a deterrent against the misuse of that audio data.
“How roundabout.
Wouldn’t a simple written contract suffice?” “I considered that, but suppose the contract stated: ‘Class D shall pay a penalty to Mamoru Gojo if this contract comes to light.’ In that case, you’d have to worry about the risk of me intentionally leaking the contract just to collect the penalty, wouldn’t you?” The same logic applied to the audio recording.
When a breach occurred under a clause where one party received damages, the receiving party might intentionally leak it.
If both sides shared the exact same medium of evidence, it would be impossible to narrow down the leak source, leading to a dead end over who was actually responsible.
It was a set of terms that prioritized fairness to an extreme degree, systematically eliminating every doubt the other party might harbor.
Even Horikita, deep in her suspicion, looked exasperated by his thoroughness, her guard visibly lowering.
“…Give us a moment to discuss amongst ourselves.” “Take your time.” Mamoru nodded smoothly at Horikita’s request.
With that, Horikita motioned to Ayanokoji and Hirata, stepping a short distance away.
“What an extremely troublesome opponent.
In a way, he seems sincere, but he’s so enigmatic it’s creepy.” “Haha…” Hearing Horikita’s evaluation of Mamoru, Hirata let out a dry laugh.
“What do you two think about the deal just now?” At Horikita’s question, Hirata spoke slowly, feigning a thoughtful pose.
“…Personally, I don’t think it’s a bad deal.
The price is high, but if we explain the situation to everyone in class, it’s not an uncollectible sum.” However, Horikita immediately shot down Hirata’s opinion.
“Telling the other students is out of the question.
I don’t trust them to keep a secret.
If we tell them, it could easily spread to other classes.” “Huh?
But if we do that, isn’t getting the past exams pointless?” “No, it still has meaning.
Assuming the past exams are real, we can narrow down our study topics significantly.
If we distribute them two or three days before the actual exam, the risk of a leak will be minimized, and we can expect fairly high scores.” “…From the sound of it, are you in favor of the deal, Horikita?” At Ayanokoji’s question, Horikita nodded with a complex expression.
“…Since he went out of his way to set up these arrangements, the credibility is high.
Besides, we don’t know how many opportunities we’ll have to gain Class Points in the future.
We should close the gap with other classes whenever possible, even if it’s just by a single point.” Given the setup, they could intentionally choose not to aim for 1st place and get their points refunded, but as someone who hated losing, Horikita seemed determined to aim for 1st place regardless.
“That’s true.
Then the issue becomes the points…” “We’ll have to pay it ourselves.
By the way, Ayanokoji-kun, you mentioned spending around 20,000 points last month, right?
Meaning you have over 70,000 left?” “Don’t casually count on my wallet.” “You were the one who told me to pick up the failing students.
That means you have a duty to cooperate.
For this matter, your wallet is shared property.” “What ridiculous logic…” Watching their exchange, Hirata chimed in with a bitter smile.
“Hahaha…
you two really get along well.” “If you genuinely think so, you should visit an eye doctor.” On this point, Ayanokoji completely agreed with Horikita.
Where on earth did he find anything heartwarming in that exchange?
“Still, even combining our points, it’s not enough.
We’ll either have to negotiate a price drop or ask to pay after the exam.” “I know.
Let me see…
if we can negotiate it down to under 150,000, let’s pay here.
Deferred payment is a last resort.
Even if he accepts, convincing the other students to pay later will be tough.” Splitting it among the three present meant 50,000 per person—that was likely the absolute limit they could pay right now.
Given Class D’s current eccentric members, even if points were granted next month, it was unlikely they would quietly pay up after an explanation, nor could they be trusted to keep a secret.
Predicting that friction would inevitably arise, Hirata agreed with Horikita’s assessment.
“Got it.
Let’s do that.” That made two votes in favor.
Following the majority rule, Ayanokoji nodded silently.
“We’ve reached a decision.” Returning after a moment, Horikita addressed Mamoru directly.
“Go ahead.” To Mamoru, this was a negotiation where either outcome was fine.
Without feeling any pressure, he waited for Horikita’s answer.
“We have no issue with the contract terms.
However, the point cost is too high.
As you might know, the current Class D doesn’t have the financial capacity to pay such a sum.” ‘So, a price negotiation, huh.’ Mamoru hadn’t expected the initial 200,000 to pass anyway, so this was well within expectations.
“I see.
Then how much can you manage?” “100,000 points.
Around that much, we can manage to pay right now.” “Got it.
That works.” A sudden drop to half the price.
Yet Mamoru accepted the massive price cut without hesitation.
Horikita and the others had likely intended to gradually compromise from there.
Taken aback by the unexpected acceptance, she looked flustered.
“…You accepted that remarkably easily.” “Well, that’s all you can pay, right?
Then it doesn’t matter.
Even if I sold it to other classes, it’d only bring in 20,000 or 30,000 per class anyway.
This is more than enough to cover my costs.” Honestly, further discussion was unnecessary for Mamoru.
He was never attached to the points to begin with.
Through the flow of the negotiation so far, he had gained a sufficient grasp of Horikita’s and Hirata’s personalities.
While Ayanokoji remained an enigma to the end, continuing the conversation didn’t seem particularly meaningful anyway.
Pulling the contract from his bag, Mamoru handed Horikita a pen, backing paper, and an inkpad.
“Then please sign and leave a thumbprint here.” This contract was something Mamoru had improvised the other day.
It wasn’t a formal legal document, but with a thumbprint, it had sufficient value as evidence.
“Alright.” After confirming the other two signed as well, he handed over the voice recorder, let them verify the audio data inside, and then handed over the envelope containing the past exams.
He then pulled out his phone to process the point transfer.
“Well, that settles the deal.
Just in case a refund scenario occurs, I’d like to exchange contact info.
Is that fine?” “I don’t mind.
Though you don’t need to worry—Class D will be taking 1st place on the next test, so such an occasion won’t come.” While operating her phone, Horikita glared straight up at Mamoru’s face from a close distance.
To her, it was likely meant as a declaration of war, but since it was rare for Mamoru to have such straightforward hostility directed at him, he couldn’t help but find it somewhat cute.
“I see.
Personally, I’d prefer it that way too, so I’m looking forward to it.” It was a genuine comment rather than sarcasm, but Horikita didn’t seem to like it.
Her face turned sour for a brief second before she promptly turned her back on him.
Exchanging contact info with Hirata next, Mamoru finally faced Ayanokoji.
“In the end, I didn’t get much of a chance to talk with you.” “Yeah.
I’m not as quick-witted as those two.
I thought it’d be bad to interrupt and get in the way.” It was hard to grasp the emotion behind Ayanokoji’s expression as he spoke.
Was he being sincere, or just deflecting?
However, there was one detail that bothered Mamoru, so he pointed it out softly.
“You don’t need to be so on guard.
I don’t use violence without a reason.” Given his line of work, Mamoru was sensitive to fear and vigilance, making Ayanokoji’s underlying tension clearly visible to him.
However, Ayanokoji’s eyes merely wavered for a split second before he immediately offered a blank response.
“What do you mean?
I didn’t intend to be on guard at all.” Seeing him display not a shred of composure loss, Mamoru raised his evaluation of Ayanokoji even higher in his mind.
‘Man, he really is impressive.
Not just physical ability, but his mental fortitude is incredible.’ Unlike the body, the mind was difficult to train.
While he couldn’t be compared to specialized existences like Jujutsu Sorcerers, as an ordinary civilian, he was well beyond the norm.
“Is that so?
Maybe I misread it then.
Sorry for saying something weird.” Either way, if the guy was playing dumb, there was no point in forcing it.
“No, don’t worry about it.
I’m just terrible at socializing.
If I looked like I was on guard, it was probably because of that.
My bad instead.” “I see.
Well, we’re in different classes, but now that we’ve exchanged contacts, I look forward to working with you.” “Yeah, likewise.” With just that, Ayanokoji stepped back.
With this, the transaction was complete.
It seemed the three of them had things to discuss among themselves, so Mamoru decided to leave the rooftop ahead of them.
“Well, I’ll be taking off then.” “Ah, yeah, Gojo-kun, thanks for today.
It was a huge help.” Hirata politely thanked Mamoru as he turned to leave, and Ayanokoji raised a hand lightly, while Horikita curtly looked away.
“You’re welcome.” Leaving behind those words, Mamoru departed from the rooftop.
Walking down the hallway toward the exit, Mamoru reflected on the conversation.
‘In a sense, the one I should be most vigilant about is Ayanokoji-kun.’ Both Hirata and Horikita were remarkably capable for people placed in Class D.
Regarding Horikita’s flaw, he roughly understood it after interacting with her—simply put, a lack of communication skills.
He hadn’t spotted Hirata’s flaw yet, but as long as it hadn’t manifested, it wouldn’t pose a major issue for the time being.
The problem was Ayanokoji.
Both his physical capabilities and mental composure were absurdly abnormal for a regular student.
Depending on his will, Class D’s future could turn for better or worse.
He possessed that kind of mysterious aura.
‘All in all, quite a subtle outcome…’ He had achieved his baseline goal of making contact with Class D’s key figures.
However, after meeting them in person, his overwhelming impression was an uncomfortable uncertainty regarding Class D’s future.
They had capable individuals, yet simultaneously harbored ticking time bombs—an unsettling result.
While pondering these things, he arrived at the entrance.
Oh well, worrying won’t fix anything, he thought, switching his mindset as he approached the shoe lockers.
Suddenly, a voice called out from the side.
“Hmm, I’ve been waiting for you.” “…Why are you here?” Turning toward the voice, there stood a familiar silver-haired woman—Fuka Kiryuin—leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“Oh, nothing much.
Today was the day of your negotiation, wasn’t it?
I was naturally a bit curious.” “Then a call or a message would have been fine.” “Don’t be so cold.
Heading home together and making a detour along the way is a fine page of youth.
Why not deepen our friendship as fellow students once in a while, outside of training?” “Go do that with your other friends.” “Don’t underestimate me, Mamoru.
I have no one in this school I’d call a friend.” “That’s not something to say so proudly, you know?” Mamoru himself didn’t have many friends at this school and didn’t particularly mind it, so he couldn’t talk much, but he was somewhat exasperated by Fuka’s grand, unbothered attitude.
“Now listen.
It’s not that I care about having no friends, but I am interested in the act of dropping by somewhere with someone on the way home from school.
Don’t you think an underclassman should accompany his senior?” “Then go grab some other random underclassman, please.” Saying so, Mamoru tried to walk past her, but Fuka firmly grabbed the hem of his uniform shirt.
“I can’t let that pass.
I am not such a loose woman that I would invite just anyone.” “Coming from someone who invited a guy she barely knew into her room and held his hand, that’s not very convincing.” “Hmph, what are you saying?
You were the first man to enter my private room, and the first whose hand I held.” “I seriously don’t get your sense of personal boundaries, Fuka-san.
Besides, can you let go?
Is it this pattern again?” Last time it was his hand, but this time it was the hem of his uniform.
Considering it might wrinkle, Mamoru genuinely wanted her to give him a break.
“If you don’t understand my sense of distance, then all the more reason to deepen our friendship.
Don’t worry, I won’t make an underclassman pay.
Whether it’s karaoke or bowling, it’s my treat.” “Alright, alright, I’ll hang out for a little bit.
Just let go for now.
My clothes will wrinkle, and if someone sees us like this, it’ll get troublesome…” Clang.
Mid-sentence, a sharp metallic sound echoed from the stairs near the entrance.
Curious, Mamoru turned around, only to see two familiar female students standing there.
One was a girl with purple hair tied to one side—Masumi Kamuro—staring wide-eyed.
And the other—a silver-haired girl with whom he had shared the longest history in this school—Arisu Sakayanagi, was looking at them, having dropped her trademark cane right at her feet.
“Ah.” Uncharacteristically, a blank, dumbfounded sound escaped Mamoru’s mouth.
Observing the scene with great interest, Fuka nodded and murmured softly: “Hmm…
so this is a love triangle confrontation.” “Will you shut up for a second?” –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Q.
Does Ayanokoji feel Cursed Energy?
A.
No, he doesn’t.
His survival instincts, honed through a skewed life experience, sounded an alarm.
It’s close to Toji Fushiguro’s top-tier physical perception/evasion reflexes, but without Cursed Energy.
His combat experience bridged that gap.
Q.
What is Ayanokoji’s impression of Mamoru?
A.
A dinosaur tied to a dog leash.
He’s quietly tied up, but if he feels like it, he could devour you at any moment based on his own will.
Q.
How does Ayanokoji’s physical ability compare to a Jujutsu Sorcerer?
A.
Personally, I estimate his raw physical specs ‘without cursed energy’ to be roughly on par with a non-close-combat Grade 2 Sorcerer.
Against dedicated close-combat types or Grade 1 Sorcerers whose raw physical stats exceed Olympic athletes even without Cursed Energy, it would obviously be impossible.
And here is the foolish author, having just finished one negotiation scene only to throw in a fresh new disaster right away.
I could have just ended it quietly and written “and then the midterms ended,” but midway through, this way of closing the curtain popped into my head, and I couldn’t resist.
To be honest, regarding the interaction between Sakayanagi-san and Kiryuin-san, I haven’t thought out at all how to develop it yet.