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"Power is nothing without control." ~Pirelli Tyre Company
Everything has fallen into place—Class D just needs to give us one more push.
At the same moment, Ryuen smiled at Horikita's words—words of retreat, of quiet defeat. He took his time, relishing them, like a victor patiently considering how to claim his spoils.
And then, a voice rang out, cutting through the atmosphere of the student council meeting room.
"Then let's check the bathroom," Matsushita said—calm, steady, and sure of herself.
She didn't hesitate. She wasn't just acting confident—she was confident. She truly believed that no incriminating evidence would be found there.
"Ohh?" Nagumo responded instantly, leaning in with interest.
The rest of the room reacted in unison. One by one, eyes locked onto Matsushita. The focus of the entire room shifted, like a spotlight had dropped on her.
She had everyone's attention.
She's bluffing. She has to be.
But… maybe she isn't.
I can read most people here with near-perfect accuracy. Ayanokoji is the only true anomaly. Manabu Horikita and Miyabi Nagumo can occasionally complicate matters depending on the context, but even then, I can usually reach the correct conclusions. With everyone else, I'm confident. My read is rarely wrong.
Matsushita is undeniably intelligent—well above average—but she should still be leagues beneath my level. And yet...
"Why is everyone looking at me like that? Isn't it the obvious thing to do, when I'm confident this situation favors my class?" she asked, throwing a glare at Ryuen.
He stared back, intrigued. That look in his eyes—he was considering something. Possibly the idea that Matsushita was more than she seemed. Perhaps even the shadow leader of Class D.
But I didn't care about that. That wasn't what mattered right now.
What mattered was that I couldn't detect even the faintest trace of anxiety in her voice. No nervousness. No hesitation. She believed everything she said. Completely.
And that's what didn't make sense.
It should've been extremely difficult—near impossible—to clear the bathroom of evidence before it was locked off. Too many variables. Too little time. No opportunity to clean things up without being noticed.
Unless… It may have been impossible for Matushita alone, but... eyes shifted to Ayanokoji.
There are too many unknowns in play. Still, one thing I know with absolute certainty—this entire situation was set up by him.
It caught me off guard at first, but it only took a moment to understand. Of course, it was him. In hindsight, it was obvious.
And that complicates everything.
Now, there are only two plausible explanations for the situation I—and Class B—find ourselves in. Both revolve around Matsushita's unwavering confidence.
One way or another, she truly believes there's no evidence pointing to Class D. That much is certain. The real question is whether that belief is grounded in fact… or fed to her.
It's possible Ayanokoji simply told her the scene was clear—no evidence, nothing to worry about. She'd have no reason to doubt him. She trusts him. If he told her to say that, she would.
But it's also possible this entire thing was carefully orchestrated. Either Ayanokoji himself or Matsushita, following his instructions, managed to erase all traces from the bathroom under the guise of staying with Hirata. Depending on who Ishizaki chased, the timing might've worked out.
This is either a total bluff…
Or a flawlessly executed setup.
There's no middle ground. No way to tell.
A situation where a single person controls the entire narrative, start to finish.
It's brilliant.
Awfully so.
I'd expect no less; this should be enough.
"Are you implying the evidence at the scene was wiped, Matsushita?" I asked, fully aware she would never admit to something like that outright. No one in their right mind would.
"That's not at all what I said," she replied, unbothered.
She didn't stutter. She didn't flinch. But more importantly, she didn't clarify.
"So you did clean up the footprints," I continued smoothly. "I see. Then, just as you wish—let's go right now. But if you're wrong, Class D doesn't just walk away from this. Class B will push for formal punishment for attempted deception."
That was a direct escalation. And it landed.
Matsushita's surprise was subtle, but it was there. Her eyes flickered, her posture tightened—just slightly. Not because she was being questioned, but because she hadn't expected me to answer her challenge with such boldness.
It made sense. I was staking everything on this. If I was wrong, the damage to Class B would be significant, possibly irreparable in the short term. Most people would hesitate in the face of that risk.
But not me.
It's the same reaction people have when someone in authority suddenly calls their name. Even the innocent ones start to wonder:
Did I do something wrong?
Right now, Matsushita's thoughts were probably closer to:
Am I wrong?
"Why do you look like that?" I asked, pressing further. "You think there's only one kind of evidence that can be found in a scene where someone was beaten and bloodied? Of course not. But since you're so confident, let's head down to the scene—and see who's proven wrong."
A lack of evidence doesn't completely absolve Class D, but it does leave the situation tilted in their favor. Still, at this point, even if the bathroom is spotless, that very cleanliness could become suspicious—evidence in itself of a cover-up. It introduces uncertainty, muddies the waters, and ultimately clouds the judgment surrounding the entire case.
From Class D's side, Horikita spoke again.
"…Well then, doesn't this bring us back to step one?" she said.
I could tell she was straining. Ayanokoji couldn't openly assist her here—not with Ryuen watching the scene like a hawk, analyzing every movement, every word. Horikita was operating with limited intel. That meant her options were thin.
"Then I don't see why we shouldn't let this matter go, Ryuen," she continued. "It's more beneficial to your class than mine to walk away—especially when comparing the severity of the Hirata case… to the incident surrounding Kinoshita's 'injury.'"
Her voice was steady, but I caught it—just the slightest tremor beneath her words.
Ryuen didn't argue.
"I agree," he said simply. "I've gained something far more interesting than anything I could've extorted from you anyway."
His gaze drifted toward Matsushita.
He wasn't stupid. He understood perfectly that Class D's mastermind had a hand in this setup. And right now, Matsushita had the highest likelihood of being that mastermind.
Even if she wasn't, Ryuen could be sure of one thing: She knew something.
Her role in today's events—her timing, her composure, her confidence—it was no accident. Ryuen had seen enough to know she was either the one pulling strings… or someone close enough to the puppet master to lead him straight to them.
President Horikita glanced at the clock mounted in the student council meeting room.
"It seems the sports festival has likely ended," he said at last. "Given how long this matter dragged on, I suppose it's not surprising. You may all return to your classes or dorms. This matter is settled."
Nagumo let out a tired sigh. Understandable. He had just wasted his time watching a situation spiral, only to end in a quiet stalemate. Without a word, he turned and left the room, laptop in hand.
Soon after, Class D's Ayanokoji, Matsushita, and Horikita followed. Then the teachers exited as well, one by one.
After Ishizaki made his hasty exit—barely managing to slip out before Ryuen could call him a dumbass—the room finally emptied.
Only four of us remained.
Me.
Ryuen.
President Horikita.
And Tachibana.
"Horikita, I was going to ask, may I—"
Before I could finish my sentence, it was as if the student council president had already read my thoughts.
"Help yourself. I'll inform them of your arrival," he said calmly, then turned his attention to Ryuen.
"What will you do now, Ryuen? What exactly are your goals?" President Horikita asked. "You seem to take a particular interest in stirring chaos. I can't say I sympathize with your methods or your reasons. The way you operate—it isn't right. I can only hope you come to understand that in time."
Ryuen smiled at that, unbothered.
"Causes are for the weak. What's the point of power if you don't have the will to use it?" he said, his voice calm but biting. "I don't sit around like a coward waiting for things to happen. When I want something, I go out and take it. No higher meaning. No excuses. That's who I am. The weak are prey—I've said that before. I'm not weak. So what I do? It's natural."
He stepped closer, his words sharpening.
"You can't sympathize with me because even with everything handed to you—status, respect, talent—you've never stood on your own. You've always relied on someone else to carry the weight."
"You call it principle or teamwork," he continued. "But all I see is hesitation. That's not strength. That's fear."
He paused for a moment, his gaze unflinching.
"People like you… it's not pity I feel. It's disgust. Not because you failed—but because you surrendered. You had the intellect. The tools. The platform. And you still chose comfort over risk. You could've been much more with some ambition, that's what's revolting."
President Horikita didn't respond.
He stood silent, unwavering, but I could tell—Ryuen's words had hit something.
I didn't comment. There was nothing to gain by validating Ryuen's perspective.
The president collected himself quickly, then turned back to me.
"You too. I'm surprised you're just walking away from this incident, Yagami," he said. "Your class was caught in the crossfire. I would've expected you to address your classmates' behavior more directly."
"I haven't forgotten what's right and wrong. I don't condone disorder. Nor do I ignore it," I answered calmly. "But I believe change takes time. And timing."
He studied me for a moment, but said nothing more. Manabu Horikita could only trust my word, and that alone seemed to bother him as much as Ryuen's presence did. But I thought nothing of it.
I turned to Ryuen. "Are you coming?"
He understood. There was a reason I asked.
Without a word, we exited the student council room.
This entire situation only happened because I allowed it to happen.
Ayanokoji and I had come to an understanding. He would handle Ryuen—quietly—in exchange for my silence. A clean arrangement. Mutually beneficial.
He removes a threat.
I avoid unnecessary involvement, so when the timing was right, I 'gave in' to Class D's pressure.
To bait Ryuen into action, a blow had to land on Class B. I could not predict the exact shape it would take—Hirata's manipulation, the social maneuvering, psychological pushes—but I had accounted for the possibility. I had analyzed scenarios where something like this would happen, especially knowing Ayanokoji would likely intervene to protect Horikita from Ryuen.
Even so, despite this, despite having given silent permission, it irritates me.
Not because I didn't anticipate this situation.
But because I wasn't in control.
Yes, I expected damage. I accepted it.
But the moment Matsushita said those words—"Let's check the bathroom"—I knew.
That was the moment I lost control, even I had wanted to fight back, I couldn't.
I guess I got a taste of my own medicine.
But still… I can't quite tell.
Maybe it's not the situation itself that irritates me.
Maybe what really gets under my skin is that someone other than me is capable of orchestrating something like this. Yes, I think that is it.
As Ryuen and I approached the bathroom where the Hirata incident had occurred, a janitor noticed us and stepped forward.
"Ah, the student council president told us you'd be coming," the man said.
"Sorry to interrupt your work," I replied politely. "Would it be alright if we took a quick look inside?"
"Of course. You already have authorization. Just be careful—there's a lot of broken glass. I only peeked inside myself, but it's not a safe scene."
I gave a small nod and a polite smile in return, then stepped into the bathroom with Ryuen at my side—and, naturally, Ryuk trailing silently behind me.
Glass and blood.
There was a lot of both.
But that wasn't what I came to see.
I crouched down, focusing on the floor beneath the sink—the fragile, sleek tile of the school bathroom. I narrowed my eyes, sharpened my focus.
And then, it became clear.
Footprints. Faint, but still visible. Dusty, incomplete outlines—but real. Evidence.
A lone individual had stood here. Quiet. Still. Right by the bathroom sink.
Behind me, Ryuk's laughter began to swell, growing louder until it drowned out everything else.
I had gotten exactly what I asked for.
And yet, I wasn't satisfied.
The details of the situation didn't even matter. That wasn't why it got to me.
What mattered was who had orchestrated it—Ayanokoji.
I had already decided to let Class D win this little battle. That much was planned. But what unfolded during the case… I had been bluffed.
It felt like Ayanokoji was mocking me. As if he were saying, "I can beat you, whether you let me or not."
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Hope you enjoyed. I would like to clarify some points in case they weren't clear. First of all throughout this situation yagami was not aiming for a victory over class d as he knew this was the opportunity for Ayanokoji to keep his end of his deal, he merely defended class b took keep up appearances and prevent a overly harsh punishment, the reason he's upset isn't because he lost but because he felt the way he lost was mocking. Ayanokoji knows light would probably let him be the victor of this situation as long as he pushes to the proper degree, but Ayanokoji disregards the idea of letting light give him the victory and instead forces light to give it to him by leaving him no other option, even if he wanted to fight back. It's like playing some sport against a friend and instead of playing normally they start shooting trickshots and doing stupid moves, not taking you seriously but still winning, there's nothing you can really do about it and its annoying, so yagami isn't angry and he doesn't see this as a true loss he is just annoyed.