Hanayama quietly brushed the wood splinters from his palm.
The crushed remains of the pencil fell silently into the trash bin.
With that simple motion, the irritation weighing on his mind disappeared just as cleanly.
(I have no right to interfere with the rules of someone else’s territory.)
Having reached that conclusion, Hanayama took out a spare pencil and returned his attention to his notebook.
The remaining morning classes were much the same as Chabashira’s.
Most of the teachers paid little attention to the students’ increasingly relaxed behavior.
Talking.
Passing notes.
Sleeping.
Using their phones beneath the desk.
Almost no one was corrected.
There was only one exception.
Satoshi Mashima, the English teacher.
Unlike the others, Mashima didn’t simply read from the textbook.
He taught with energy.
He encouraged participation.
He explained concepts instead of merely reciting them.
Most importantly…
Whenever students whispered during class, his eyes immediately locked onto them.
Without saying a word, he stared until they stopped talking.
(Now that’s a proper teacher.)
Hanayama gave an almost imperceptible nod.
To him, Mashima’s conduct reflected genuine professionalism.
A teacher should teach.
A teacher should maintain order.
That was only natural.
Before long, the final bell of the morning echoed throughout the school.
Lunch break had begun.
“Everyone!”
“If you don’t mind…”
“Why don’t we all have lunch together?”
“We still haven’t gotten to know everyone very well.”
Smiling warmly as always, Yōsuke Hirata invited the class to eat together.
Groups quickly began forming.
Boys and girls left the classroom chatting happily.
Hanayama made no move to join them.
Instead, he remained at his desk, quietly reviewing the notes he had taken during the morning lessons.
He wanted to memorize everything written on the board.
As for lunch…
He planned to make do with the oversized yakisoba bread and carton of milk he had bought from the convenience store earlier that morning.
Nearby, Suzune Horikita quietly took a small sandwich from her bag.
Like Hanayama, she showed no interest in joining the others.
The two sat in silence.
Neither acknowledged the bustling groups leaving the classroom.
Hirata glanced toward them.
Perhaps sensing that neither wished to be disturbed, he simply smiled.
“See you later.”
Then he left without insisting.
Soon…
Only a handful of students remained inside the classroom.
The quiet room was filled only with the sounds of pages turning and soft chewing.
Without taking his eyes off his notebook, Hanayama picked up the enormous yakisoba bread.
It was nearly three times the size of an ordinary one. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
He calmly took a bite.
Despite his large mouthfuls…
Not a single crumb fell onto the desk.
Years of disciplined etiquette remained evident in every movement he made.
Just then…
The classroom speakers crackled to life.
“Attention, first-year students.”
“An orientation for all school clubs will be held today at 5:00 p.m. in the First Gymnasium.”
“Any students interested in joining a club are encouraged to attend.”
Hanayama stopped chewing.
His eyes shifted toward the speaker.
A faint look of interest appeared on his face.
Horikita noticed immediately.
She swallowed the last bite of her sandwich before speaking.
“…You’re not actually thinking about attending that orientation, are you?”
Hanayama slowly finished chewing before turning toward her.
“I am.”
“It’s a rare opportunity.”
Horikita blinked.
“…May I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Do you actually understand what club activities involve?”
Hanayama nodded.
“I attended an ordinary public junior high.”
“I know what clubs are.”
Horikita hesitated.
She knew the question she wanted to ask could easily be considered rude.
Yet…
For some reason, she trusted that Hanayama wouldn’t misunderstand her intentions.
“…Forgive me for saying this.”
“But…”
“You don’t exactly look like someone who spent his time participating in school clubs.”
“So why are you interested?”
Hanayama wasn’t offended in the slightest.
He had long since accepted how others perceived him.
“If I had to explain…”
“There are three reasons.”
He raised one finger.
“First.”
“Because of…”
He paused briefly.
“…Family circumstances.”
“I never had the chance to participate in any clubs during junior high.”
“When I entered high school…”
“I promised my family that I would experience school life as an ordinary student.”
Horikita narrowed her eyes.
(He definitely changed what he was about to say halfway through.)
She chose not to point it out.
“…A promise to your family?”
“You’re surprisingly devoted to them.”
“And the second reason?”
Hanayama raised another finger.
“Second.”
“This school values merit.”
“Outstanding club activities should naturally be rewarded.”
“You mean…”
“Points?”
“In an ordinary school, perhaps trophies or recognition.”
“But here…”
“The most valuable currency is points.”
“So clubs may become another way of earning them.”
Horikita nodded slowly.
“…That’s actually a reasonable assumption.”
“And the third?”
Hanayama raised his final finger before folding his arms.
“You saw today’s classes.”
“Except for Mr. Mashima…”
“Most teachers ignored students who broke classroom rules.”
“They’re clearly under instructions not to interfere.”
His deep voice carried the calm certainty of someone piecing together evidence.
“The school wants to observe us.”
“It wants to see how students behave when no one stops them.”
“I don’t blame the teachers.”
“If they’re following orders…”
“Making their jobs harder would be unfair.”
Horikita looked at him thoughtfully.
“So you’ve concluded that the teachers won’t willingly explain how this school really works.”
“What does that have to do with clubs?”
Hanayama smiled faintly.
“If the adults won’t talk…”
“I’ll ask the students.”
“The upperclassmen have already spent time living under this system.”
“They understand how this school works.”
“There are hundreds of them.”
“Someone is bound to talk.”
“For someone who’s willing to listen…”
“Information isn’t difficult to obtain.”
Horikita froze.
Her sandwich remained halfway to her mouth.
Until now…
She had always believed she was more intelligent and more perceptive than her classmates.
She worked harder than they did.
Thought further ahead than they did.
She had always believed that was enough.
Yet Hanayama had already begun gathering information from entirely different angles.
He wasn’t simply preparing for classes.
He was investigating the school itself.
“…You…”
Horikita let out a quiet sigh.
She looked away.
“For someone who looks like a delinquent…”
“You think more like an experienced businessman than a high school student.”
“It’s honestly unsettling.”
It was the closest thing to a compliment she was willing to give.
“…A businessman?”
Hanayama looked genuinely surprised.
Then…
A quiet chuckle escaped him.