Chapter 8: A Glimpse into the Thought Process

At 6:07 p.m., with the special exam nearing its end, the dense trees finally began to thin.

6

Little by little, the world ahead opened up between the trunks and leaves. The oppressive green that had surrounded us for days loosened, allowing faint traces of space and evening light to seep through.

Everyone was exhausted.

It had reached the point where the simple act of walking almost felt like something that stole strength from the body. Breaths came shallow. Sweat had long since dried. In its place, only the rough sensation of salt remained, clinging to skin and clothes alike.

Even so, no one stopped.

After coming this far, the choice to stand still had disappeared from everyone’s mind.

We needed to reach the goal as a group as quickly as possible, and preserve our high multiplier. That would lead to a larger reward, and just as importantly, it would help us avoid the penalties waiting for anyone who failed.

One step at a time, the distance continued to shrink.

And then—

The moment finally arrived.

“Whoa, hold up, everyone,” Yoshida, who had been walking at the front, halted abruptly as his smartwatch caught the signal. “Looks like this is the goal area.”

He stepped back almost immediately, retreating several paces until he was outside the boundary again.

“We're doing a final check of everyone's tokens... right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “We should confirm everything one last time, just to be safe.”

Once thirty seconds passed inside the goal area, arrival would be confirmed. At that moment, everyone’s tokens would be finalised, and transfers would no longer be possible.

However badly we wanted to finish, this was the one part that had to be handled with care.

Our final scores would decide more than the outcome of the exam. They were an essential step toward preventing expulsion and ensuring that everyone could move on to what came next.

“A final check is great and all, but we don't even know how many we need to be safe,” Sonoda grumbled.

That was where he was mistaken.

Even within this group, more than half the students already had enough information to feel a certain degree of confidence.

To make sure everyone was on the same page, I turned around, swept my gaze over the group, and spoke up.

“The absolute minimum number of tokens we need to secure before crossing is 51. As long as you have that many, you will absolutely not be expelled.”

None of the students from Classes C and D showed a hint of surprise at my assertion. On the other hand, several students, Sonoda included, looked completely bewildered.

“How can you be so sure? Don't just make stuff up, Ayanokōji,” Ike snapped, the first to bite.

“Yeah, where did fifty-one even come from?” Shinohara chimed in immediately.

Yet, beneath their protests, there was a distinct ring of theatricality. Their confusion was an act, rather than genuine bewilderment.

Kushida and Mii-chan, however, were a different story. Unable to follow the logic behind my claim, they stared at me with genuine skepticism.

“No, the number isn't random,” I replied. “The reason I said 51 tokens just now is because it’s been confirmed that the person at the bottom of the group has exactly 50 tokens.”

As I spoke, the eyes of Ike and the rest of the group snapped toward one person: Ibuki Mio.

“...How do you know that? You could be wrong,” she retorted, defensively covering her smartwatch, even though her total wasn't actually displayed on the screen.

“It’s not a particularly difficult calculation,” I said. “For the past four days and three nights, we've moved as a single unit, tackling the exact same tasks. Our initial token counts were also directly linked to our survival time in the previous exam. If you just do some basic addition and subtraction, even an elementary schooler could figure out the total.”

“...But…” Ibuki began, her voice catching on the obvious objection. “what about the tokens Katsuragi gave me? There's no way you'd know exactly how many—”

Halfway through her rebuttal, it finally clicked. Even someone as dense as Ibuki realized why I could state her total with such absolute certainty. The entire thing had been orchestrated from early on.

“You...” Her glare slid away from me and fixed itself on Katsuragi. “Don’t tell me...”

Now that there was no longer any need for secrecy, Katsuragi’s stoic expression softened by a fraction.

“That's right,” he said. “I shared the exact number of tokens I transferred to you with Ayanokōji.”

As Katsuragi laid bare his betrayal, I picked up where he left off, keeping my attention on Ibuki. “In a special exam where someone is guaranteed to be expelled, the tension never truly lets up. But if a losing role is decided in advance, and that information is shared, the others can be freed from the mental pressure of uncertainty—”

Cutting me off, Shinohara stepped forward eagerly, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“It’s pretty pathetic, honestly,” she said. “You were just being used by Ayanokōji-kun from the very beginning, Ibuki-san.”

“...Since when?” Ibuki demanded. “Since when did you decide to cut me off?”

3

“Probably from the very beginning, don't you think?” Shinohara mocked. “Or maybe right when Katsuragi-kun became the representative. The only reason you didn't get an equal share of tokens is because Ayanokōji-kun already had him in his pocket. Isn't that right?”

“You're surprisingly well-informed, Shinohara,” I noted. “I don't recall ever mentioning my alliance with Katsuragi to you.”

No one else present had realized we were working together. Reveling in the fact that she was the only one who supposedly grasped the situation, Shinohara narrowed her eyes with smug satisfaction.

“You tried your best to keep it a secret, of course.” she said, looking utterly delighted with herself as if she had unraveled the entire plot through her own deductive skills.

6

“I suppose there's no point in hiding the details anymore,” I said.

Once the clock ran out, the final results would be announced. If Ibuki were expelled without ever learning how the trick was pulled off, she probably wouldn't be able to accept her defeat in peace.

“Katsuragi and I discussed who should serve as the benchmark,” I continued. “In other words, who would be assigned the losing role. In the end, we chose Ibuki. Then, during the lunch break on this final day, I contacted each class by radio and told them the number of tokens they needed to secure. The only people kept in the dark were the four Class A students in Group 3, and the Class B students, with the exception of Katsuragi.”

3

“...Why didn't you tell us?” Kushida asked, her voice laced with a mixture of anxiety and frustration.

“It's not like all of you are skilled actors,” I explained. “If everyone knew the truth, there would inevitably be an unnatural shift in the group's dynamic. Limiting the informed members to about half ensured that we wouldn't accidentally tip Ibuki off. Besides, last night was the first time this strategy was shared with the rest of the school year.”

Here, I began to explain, recalling the events that led up to the moment I released that arrow, and the circumstances in which I had let it fly.

The sequence of events actually began on the night of the third day, shortly after Nishikawa’s second transmission came through the radio.

I had requested a connection to Group 8, which Ichinose belonged to.

Sakagami-sensei, acting as their designated supervisor, answered first before promptly handing the receiver over to her.

“Sorry for the wait, Ayanokōji-kun. Did you need something?” Ichinose's voice crackled through the radio, calm but laced with a faint, unmistakable hint of joy.

“The third day will be over soon,” I said. “I’ve decided how this exam should be brought to a conclusion, and where the point of compromise should be. Is Horikita nearby? If you can call her over right away, I want you to let her hear what I’m about to say.”

By the rules, radio communications were strictly one-on-one. Switching speakers midway through a call or engaging in a two-way conversation with a third party was strictly prohibited. However, removing the earpiece so that the audio broadcasted to the immediate surroundings wasn't a violation.

“Understood. Just a second,” Ichinose readily agreed. Faintly, I heard her call out, “Horikita-san, could you come over here for a moment?”

I waited in silence.

“...Understood, I'll listen in from nearby,” Horikita's voice drifted through the channel, tinged with obvious bewilderment. Ichinose was still officially the one on the call, but the mic picked up her surroundings clearly enough.

“I called her over,” Ichinose confirmed. “She's listening.”

“I'll keep this brief,” I said. “This special exam is designed so that at least one person will inevitably be expelled. While it's technically possible to void the penalty by cashing in a Protection Point or a massive sum of Private Points, the current third-years simply don't have that kind of capital to spare.”

“That's true,” Ichinose murmured. “We've been fighting while constantly worrying about that, too.”

“The most straightforward countermeasure is to meticulously adjust everyone's tokens, ensuring no one from Class A or Class D falls to the bottom of the rankings. But the fatal flaw in that strategy is the lack of a definitive safety line.”

“Because there's always the looming risk of a multi-way tie for last place,” she finished, catching on.

“Exactly,” I said. “So, to completely eliminate that risk, I've decided to pre-designate one student to be the loser.”

“A designated loser...?” Horikita murmured while listening to the radio beside her.

What would she think when she heard those words?

It would not have surprised me if unease stirred within her, her pulse quickening ever so slightly.

“If we lock in the token count and multiplier of the student at the very bottom with one hundred percent certainty,” I explained, “then every other student can guarantee their survival by simply exceeding that score by a single token.”

Upon hearing this proposal, the first thing that would pop into Horikita's mind would probably be the faces of the four Class A students, starting with Kushida.

But at the same time, wouldn’t another kind of unease have risen to the surface?

If he really intended to expel someone from Class A, why would he go out of his way to make sure I heard it?

“Who is it that you're planning to expel, Ayanokōji-kun?” Ichinose asked.

Her voice was perfectly calm; a composed tone I likely never would have heard from her in the past. It perfectly aligned with her new, merciless stance when it came to protecting her own classmates.

“Ibuki,” I answered. “From Class B, she belongs to my Group 3.”

“Ibuki-san…” Ichinose repeated softly. “I see.”

Even if she understood the reasoning, Ichinose was not the sort of person who could rejoice at anyone’s name being chosen. If anything, she likely felt pity and sympathy for Ibuki, who was being steered toward the fate of expulsion.

And what about Horikita? The moment she heard that name, had a wave of relief washed over her, knowing the victim wasn't from her own class? Or were indescribably complex emotions welling up inside her?

Perhaps she was desperately suppressing the urge to ask why it had to be Ibuki.

And then there was Sakagami-sensei, Ibuki's homeroom teacher, who was likely listening to the conversation over the radio.

Naturally, it had to be agonizing to sit there and listen to a plot to expel one of his own students, but even so, homeroom teachers are not permitted to interfere in the special exams.

“I won't ask you why you chose Ibuki-san,” Ichinose said. “If you've decided on her, Ayanokōji-kun, then you must have already judged it to be the absolute best option.”

2

“Yeah. At this point, my decision is final. If we leave things to chance and an unspecified student gets expelled, we risk losing an excellent student. You could just brush that off as the harsh nature of a special exam, but if the outcome can be controlled, I prefer to eliminate any unforeseen variables.” I continued without changing my tone. “Moving on, I'm going to share the exact number of tokens Ibuki holds with every group right before we cross the finish line. To guarantee everyone's safety, we'll calculate her multiplier at a baseline of 100%. In other words, as long as a student holds even one more token than Ibuki, they are mathematically immune to expulsion.”

“So that's why you wanted Horikita-san to hear this,” Ichinose noted. “But how are you going to explain this to Class B?”

“No explanation is necessary. As long as our three classes share the information, the problem solves itself.”

I briefly clarified that there was no risk involved even if a Class B student scored lower than Ibuki, then pressed on.

“Horikita is fairly close to Ibuki. If she decides to move against me and try to stop this expulsion after hearing this, she's free to try. But if I sense even the slightest hint of interference, I will instantly swap the target, and someone from Class A will be expelled instead. Whether I choose an easy mark like Ike or Shinohara, or someone whose loss would deal a massive blow to the class like Kushida or Mii-chan... that will be for me to decide.”

11

It was a forceful warning—and a threat—aimed at Horikita, whose expression was likely beginning to stiffen.

“Right now, Ibuki is holding exactly 36 tokens,” I added. “If that number fluctuates tomorrow, I'll contact you again. Her current count is important, but all that truly matters is exactly how many she has the moment we reach the goal area.”

“Yes, understood,” Ichinose answered. “I'll start making preparations to share the information on my end as well.”

After confirming her response, I cut the transmission.

“Sakagami-sensei,” Horikita said suddenly. “Please connect me to Ayanokōji-kun immediately.”

“I do not mind doing so, but───”

“Wait, Horikita-san,” Ichinose interjected. “What exactly do you plan to say to Ayanokōji-kun?”

“I cannot simply nod and comply when he resorts to such unilateral threats.”

“I understand how you feel,” Ichinose said gently. “But our primary agreement was to ensure no one from our own classes gets expelled, wasn't it? I was just as surprised by Ayanokōji-kun’s proposal, but strictly in terms of our overall strategy, it doesn't pose a problem.”

“That’s...” Horikita faltered for a moment. “I understand that. But intentionally choosing one specific person to be expelled is...”

“As long as Ayanokōji-kun operates within the boundaries set by the rules, it isn't a violation,” Ichinose said, turning slightly toward the supervisor. “Isn't that right, Sakagami-sensei?”

“Indeed,” Sakagami replied. “It leaves me with rather complicated feelings as well, but what he is attempting does not violate any rules. He will likely continue to maneuver quite cleverly from here on out. If you reject his proposal, he will simply pivot and select his victim from Class A. If you find that unacceptable... What then? Will you choose a different student in his stead and strike back? Doing so would invite a rather glaring contradiction. After all, if you intentionally manipulate the scores so that someone else falls below Ibuki-san, you would be employing the exact same methods as Ayanokōji-kun.”

2

If Horikita refused to intentionally target someone, her only option was to leave the outcome to chance. Yet, if she clung to randomness, Ayanokōji would still hold the reins, leaving the probability of Ibuki's expulsion incredibly high.

“If you do not wish to dirty your own hands, will you inform Ryūen-kun of this?” Sakagami pressed. “If he learns that one of his classmates is being targeted, he might take action in your stead. Though, speaking frankly as the homeroom teacher of Class B, that would be the most preferable outcome for me.”

Hearing Sakagami speak with such blunt honesty, bordering on a breach of his strict neutrality as an examiner, Horikita bit her lip and swallowed her protests.

“Wanting to protect your friend isn't a bad thing,” Ichinose said softly. “But I think you need to take a step back and carefully assess the situation first. Figure out what you can do, and what Ibuki-san can do for herself. If you need it, I'll help you too.”

“Thank you,” Horikita replied, before walking away from the spot alone.

“I anticipated he would do something,” she murmured. “but Ayanokōji-kun has finally made his move... Must I simply chalk this up to the misfortune of them being placed in the same group? No. Fundamentally, Ibuki-san belongs to a rival class that we are meant to defeat. If I just stand back and let his strategy play out, our class will reap all the benefits without suffering a single drawback…”

Ibuki was not, by any generous standard, an honor student.

But her physical ability made her a troublesome existence. She was also on relatively close terms with Ryūen, Ishizaki, and Albert. If a student like her was expelled, it would do more than remove one troublesome opponent. It would slow the momentum of Class B, a class now pressing closer and closer behind them.

On top of that, no one from Class A would be harmed.

From a purely strategic standpoint, there was no disadvantage in letting the matter pass.

“But—”

Horikita knew she had to cast aside her personal feelings and critically examine the dice Ayanokōji had just rolled.

Were the statements she had been made to hear over the radio entirely true?

What if the entire premise of expelling Ibuki was a lie?

What if he was merely using her name as camouflage to conceal his true target?

Through a simple process of elimination, it was highly unlikely he would eliminate a student from Ichinose's class. There was currently no strategic merit in drawing a bow against them. Of course, if Ayanokōji deemed it necessary, he wouldn't hesitate to show them zero mercy— but even so, this was not the moment. Which meant his target had to be someone else... someone other than Ibuki from Ryūen's class.

How exactly is Ayanokōji planning to fight this?

For a fleeting moment, Horikita felt as though she had caught a glimpse of his true endgame.

6

We stood just before the goal.

No one spoke.

Everyone listened in silence as I finished recounting what I had told Ichinose and Horikita. When the explanation came to an end, I turned my eyes toward Ibuki.

“If you had found out earlier that you were one hundred percent guaranteed to be expelled, there's no telling what kind of sabotage you might have pulled to drag this group down,” I continued. “That's why I decided to wait until the bitter end, the final checkpoint right before we cross the goal line, to tell you.”

“Hah...” Ibuki gave a short, dry laugh. “So that’s how it is, huh.”

Her gaze moved past me.

Behind me, Katsuragi stood with his arms folded, his expression firm. Ibuki glared at him.

“I never thought we were buddy-buddy or anything,” she said. “but I didn't expect to be thrown to the wolves by my own ally.”

“This is a necessary sacrifice,” Katsuragi replied stoically. “We cannot afford to make a tactical error and lose someone valuable.”

“Yeah, maybe you're right.” Ibuki’s voice was cold, but strangely calm, as if some part of her had already accepted it. “Even I know I'm just dead weight.”

Then her eyes returned to me.

“But why reveal it here? You could have just said it after reaching the goal, couldn't you?”

“It's no wonder you think that,” I said. “Shall I tell you the reason?”

“No... whatever. It's not like hearing it is going to magically cancel my expulsion anyway.”

Ibuki shifted her gaze toward Sonoda and Morofuji. Though both looked visibly distressed, neither could meet her eyes. They quickly averted their gazes. The heavy atmosphere hanging over the group spoke volumes: If anyone helped Ibuki now, the target could change at any moment.

By dragging everything into the light, I had effectively paralyzed the entire group.

“The only option left to you,” I said, “is to refuse to enter the goal area until the very end, and hold on to the hope that someone might transfer tokens to you. But you shouldn’t expect too much. Even if some unusually generous person wanted to save you, they would have to consider the distortion that would create. In other words, they would risk causing some unexpected ally to be expelled in your place. No one wants to take responsibility for that.”

The major advantage of this setup was that all the responsibility rested squarely on me, the architect of the plan. Because of that, the rest of the group was spared from the crushing weight of guilt.

“Yeah...” Ibuki said. “I know that much.”

Glaring daggers at me, Ibuki stomped her foot against the dirt and marched straight up to me.

“Fine, I'll accept the expulsion. So let me hit you once before I go.”

I had considered various patterns, but at the very end, a very Ibuki-like demand came out.

“Acts of violence carry a severe penalty. I don't know what will happen if you do it.”

“Don't make me laugh. What do I care about penalties if I'm already getting expelled?” She clearly had no interest in my response. Looking fully prepared to pounce, she reached out with her left hand and forcefully grabbed me by the lapels. This was the raw resolve of someone who had completely accepted their expulsion.

“I’m the one who decided to have you expelled, after all,” Ayanokōji said evenly. “I suppose I can grant you at least that much.”

Perhaps not expecting me to agree, Ibuki was slightly taken aback.

“You’ve got some nerve. Fine, then. Don’t expect me to hold back.”

Releasing my tracksuit, Ibuki turned her back and slowly walked away to put some distance between us.

It seems she is serious.

An entirely unscripted development had just arrived.

Is she really going to punch him?

Everyone's skeptical gazes were glued to the two of us.

Enraptured by the spectacle, the rest of the group subtly shuffled their standing positions, a minor detail no one would notice amidst the mounting tension.

“Alright... here I go.”

“Wait a minute. Are you seriously going to punch me?” I asked.

“Did you think I was joking? I am dead serious. You already agreed to it, so prepare yourself.”

“...I see. Then, let's see───”

I dragged out the time by pretending to hesitate just a little.

Finally, I let out a slow breath and gave her a clear, definitive nod.

“I won't counterattack. It will just be you hitting me one-sidedly, Ibuki.”

Ibuki, who had been bottling up her pent-up frustration for a long time, broke into a savage grin.

“For all the crap you've put me through... Die, Ayanokōji!”

1

She kicked off the dirt and charged toward me.

And then, she unleashed a clenched right straight punch aimed squarely at my cheek without hesitation.

A dull smack echoed through the trees as the impact flared across my left cheek.

4

“Whoa, she actually hit him!” Ike yelped in shock.

Beside him, Shinohara squeezed her eyes shut with a wince.

Around us, surprise spread in a wave.

Then came silence.

“Normally, an act of violence like this would clearly be subject to penalties,” I stated calmly, breaking the silence. “But fortunately, there's no supervisor around to see it, and I have no intention of reporting it. As far as the school is concerned, nothing happened.”

3

If Ibuki were expelled for a rule violation, the entire plan of dropping her to last place would be rendered meaningless. Because of that, there was no chance Ike, Shinohara, or anyone else would dare dig deeper into the incident.

“Satisfied now?” I asked.

“At least pretend it hurt a little,” she grumbled.

“I'm just enduring it,” I replied.

“...Hmph.”

Perhaps satisfied with finally landing the one hit she had always wanted, Ibuki stepped back.

“All right,” Katsuragi said. “We should probably head for the goal ourselves soon.”

As he prepared to walk away, abandoning his comrade, Ibuki cast him a brief glance.

“In the end,” she said. “you're really not going to give me a single token, huh.”

“That is the policy I decided on,” Katsuragi replied coldly. “You will exit the stage here.”

“Tch.”

Stripped of any backup from her allies and throwing away her last shred of hope, Ibuki finally forced herself to start walking toward the goal.

Seeing Ibuki like that, Shinohara made her move before Kushida could.

Of course she did. From Shinohara’s point of view, there was no way she could let Ibuki reach the goal as things stood.

“Say, is it just my imagination, or does this whole thing feel totally staged?” Shinohara asked, her gaze sweeping coldly over Ibuki, Katsuragi, and finally, me. “Telling Ibuki-san about the plan right before the goal, letting her punch you... aren't you guys just putting on a show to make it look like she's the one getting expelled?”

“W-what do you mean, Satsuki?” Ike stammered.

“Look, I didn't even tell Kanji this, but Horikita-san warned me,” Shinohara explained. “She told me absolutely not to take this story about expelling Ibuki-san at face value. And if you think about it, she's right. We haven't actually confirmed how many tokens Ibuki-san has. There's no concrete proof anywhere that her count is exactly 50, is there?”

As Ibuki tried to head for the goal, Shinohara approached her, stepping ahead as if to cut her off and block her path.

“If I were really in a pinch,” Shinohara continued. “I would fight tooth and nail to be saved. Nobody just gives up and crosses the goal line like that. Which means there's only one logical answer: you're actually holding more tokens, aren't you?”

5

Fifty tokens was by no means a large amount. Ibuki had performed poorly in the individual tasks, and during the team and group stages, Katsuragi had only transferred her the bare minimum. To any outside observer, she was clearly dead last in the group. But there remained the suspicion that what they could see was not necessarily the whole picture.

“Talk about completely missing the point,” Ibuki scoffed. “Getting that one hit in was all I needed to give up entirely.”

“Maybe,” Shinohara replied. “But we don't know the truth, right? Everything Ayanokōji-kun just said, and this whole narrative about Katsuragi-kun abandoning you— it could all be fabricated.”

Saying that, Shinohara shot a sharp, fleeting glare at Katsuragi.

As long as token transfers were possible until the very moment before reaching the goal, the possibility that Katsuragi had given Ibuki enough to survive was not zero. Nor was Katsuragi the only candidate. Ichinose’s overly kind class might have helped, or perhaps, Ayanokōji himself, might have orchestrated something behind the scenes. Class D, too, had had the opportunity.

“I haven't gotten anything from anyone,” Ibuki stated flatly.

“Hmm,” Shinohara said. “But hey, even so, you don't have to throw in the towel so quickly, do you?”

“Huh?”

“If we said we were going to save you, Ibuki-san,” Shinohara continued. “the situation might change a little.”

“...Save me?” Ibuki asked, perplexed. “I don't get what you mean.”

“Show me your tokens right here, right now.” Shinohara demanded. “If you let me confirm your count with my own eyes, I'll transfer enough to you so you surpass Kushida-san. That way, you won't be in last place anymore, right?”

“W-what are you saying, Shinohara-san!” Mii-chan cried out, the first to react.

Shocked by a proposal that would seemingly throw a classmate under the bus, she unintentionally raised her voice.

However, Kushida remained perfectly calm, soothing the panicked girl with a hushed voice.

“It's okay,” she said. “That probably... isn't Shinohara-san's true intention. It's definitely a bluff just to confirm how many tokens Ibuki-san actually has.”

“B-but…” Mii-chan trailed off.

Although Ibuki had received an unexpected proposal, she immediately arrived at one answer in her head.

“Look, I'm not stupid,” Ibuki said. “You think I'm gonna fall for something that basic? Even if I show you, there's zero guarantee you'll actually hand over any tokens.”

“But it keeps the possibility alive,” Shinohara countered. “Doesn't it?”

If Ibuki refused to show the number, she would receive nothing. If she showed it, there was a chance, however small, that she might receive some tokens.

Shinohara was dangling that harsh yet tantalizing bait.

“You think I received tokens from someone before coming here?” Ibuki asked. “No way.”

“Of course, as long as I was keeping an eye on you, I didn't see you bumping smartwatches with anyone,” Shinohara explained. “But maybe you got them last night. Or this morning. It's not like we could monitor you twenty-four hours a day, Ibuki-san. A transfer takes barely a second, after all. Tell you what, if you show me your screen, I'll even give you five tokens right away.”

She had begun negotiating, trying by any means necessary to draw out Ibuki’s true count.

“So in the end, this is for your own safety,” Ibuki said. “Even if I get five tokens, my result won’t change.”

“Regardless of what my motives are, isn't it better for you to get your hands on some extra tokens?” Shinohara countered. “I don't think you should throw away even a one percent chance of survival. Who knows, maybe someone in another group only has 54 tokens, you know.”

“Sorry, but I have no intention of lifting a finger to buy you the safety you're so desperate for,” Ibuki said, moving again, trying to head for the goal.

Shinohara’s voice followed her, sharper now.

“That’s suspicious. So you did receive tokens from someone after all. Was it Katsuragi-kun, or someone else? Or maybe Ayanokōji-kun?” she said dismissively. “Well, whoever it is doesn't really matter. But at this rate, I suppose I can't afford to give Kushida-san the extra tokens. I’d be worried, you see.”

For Shinohara, visually confirming Ibuki's tokens was the best way to purchase peace of mind. But even if she couldn't verify the number, she still held a powerful trump card: the tokens she had been pooling and withholding from Kushida over the past two and a half days.

“Do whatever you want,” Ibuki said. “Kushida has more tokens than me anyway. But───”

Shooting Shinohara a fierce glare, Ibuki abruptly raised her wrist. She punched in her passcode, bringing her total token count up on the display.

“The only thing I can't stand is being thought of as having been helped by Ayanokōji, even for a millimeter.”

Then she forcefully thrust her wrist right in front of Shinohara's face, presenting undeniable proof that no tokens had been secretly transferred to her.

Looking annoyed, Shinohara pushed that arm away and stared at the display once more.

“It really is... fifty.”

Faced with the simple-minded Ibuki's direct action, Shinohara found herself completely bewildered, unable to hide her confusion.

2

“...You can't swap smartwatches or... how should I put it, display an old token count, right? Like some sort of loophole…”

Shinohara fell deep into thought, desperately grasping at methods that bordered on the impossible. In reality, the smartwatches could not be removed, and even if someone managed to take one off, doing so would obviously trigger a penalty for violating the rules. Furthermore, there was absolutely no function to falsify the display.

If Ibuki entered the goal area just like this, her tokens would be finalized.

“Thank you, Ibuki-san,” Shinohara said brightly. “Well then, a promise is a promise. I'll send you five right away.”

“I don't need them,” Ibuki spat, immediately turning her back to walk away.

But Shinohara quickly darted around her, blocking her path and flashing her smartwatch. She then had Ibuki, who offered no resistance, switch her watch to receive mode. While forcibly stealing tokens was undeniably a penalty, there were likely no rules against forcefully giving someone tokens.

“I'm the type to keep my promises, after all,” Shinohara declared.

Just as she forcefully moved to tap their watches together, Kushida suddenly intervened.

“Wait, Shinohara-san. Aren't those part of the tokens you’re supposed to return to me?” Kushida asked. “You promised to properly hand them over before we crossed the goal line... didn't you?”

“But Kushida-san,” Shinohara replied. “your score is already higher than Ibuki-san's, so there's really no need to worry—”

1

Seeing Shinohara trying to be stingy, Kushida raised her voice, the carefully crafted facade of the perfect classmate beginning to slip.

“You promised to properly hand them over later, didn't you?” Kushida said, her voice rising slightly. “Mii-chan also wants you to hand over all 34 of my tokens you received. If you're going to give five to Ibuki-san, take them out of your own share.”

It was a fierce assertion. Kushida's tone practically demanded to know if Shinohara intended to renege on their agreement. Given that it was a completely legitimate demand for the return of her own tokens, there was absolutely no logical reason for Shinohara to refuse.

“I said I’ll give them from my own share,” Shinohara replied, irritation creeping into her face. “I just want to give Ibuki-san five first. That should be fine, shouldn’t it? She looks like she’s about to enter the goal anyway.”

“...No,” Kushida said, her eyes sharpened. “I absolutely can't accept that. Because— right now, I only have 54 tokens. I showed you my screen earlier during the final check, so you're well aware of that, aren't you, Shinohara-san?”

Anger openly bleeding into her voice, Kushida firmly rejected the excuse. Faced with such fierce pushback, Shinohara averted her eyes in irritation.

The one most surprised by the exchange was Ibuki, who stood nearest to them.

“You have 54?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kushida answered. “Now you understand what the situation is too, right, Ibuki-san?”

“Shinohara…” Ibuki said, shifting her gaze toward Shinohara “Were you actually planning to save me just to get Kushida expelled?"

If Shinohara had successfully transferred those five tokens to Ibuki, Ibuki's total would have hit 55, dropping Kushida squarely into last place.

Was it merely a coincidence of numbers or something Shinohara had calculated in advance?

“Oh, please,” Shinohara said. “I’m not that mean.”

“Really?” Kushida said. “Then I want you to hand over my tokens right now.”

“...Jeez, I said I understand, Kushida-san,” Shinohara replied with a hint of irritation. “I didn't realize you had such a suspicious personality. Fine, hold out your smartwatch.”

2

Likely judging that she couldn't argue back any more aggressively with the entire group watching, Shinohara began tapping her smartwatch. A moment later, a sharp chime rang out from both of their watches, signaling a successful transfer.

Right after the transfer went through, Shinohara smiled fearlessly at Kushida, whose expression flickered with momentary confusion.

“Alright, I'm heading to the goal now,” Ibuki announced. “Oh, and by the way, I don't need those five tokens you said you were going to give me.”

Had Ibuki deliberately stood there, delaying her own walk to the goal, just to provide the final push Kushida needed to receive tokens from Shinohara?

Regardless, having seen the transfer through, Ibuki turned and tried to head toward the goal once again.

Seeing that, Katsuragi tried to step forward, but I stopped him with a look.

1

Immediately after that, Kushida shoved Shinohara out of the way, reached out, and grabbed Ibuki's arm to stop her.

Stumbling and nearly falling over from the unexpected shove, Shinohara glared furiously at Kushida.

“Wait, Ibuki-san,” Kushida called out. “Show me the number of tokens you have right now, too.”

“Huh? I literally just showed Shinohara,” Ibuki protested. “Did anyone even come near me since then?”

Not a single soul had approached Ibuki.

It was a situation where it was 100% impossible for her to receive a token transfer.

“Just show me.”

“...Fine.”

Bowing to the inexplicable, heavy pressure radiating from Kushida, Ibuki typed in her passcode once again. She turned her wrist, proving to Kushida that her total was indeed exactly 50.

“Thank you,” Kushida said. “I just couldn't feel relieved without confirming it with my own eyes. Because───” She paused for one breath. Then turning back to Shinohara with a beaming smile, she continued, “Because I can't trust an ugly bitch like you, Shinohara-san, not even for a millimeter, now can I?”

8

For a split second, everyone present wondered if they had misheard. Did Kushida just say what they thought she said?

Even Ibuki was entirely taken aback, her mouth hanging open in a wide, dumbfounded gape.

“W-wait a minute!” Shinohara shouted. “What the hell did you just say to me!? Hey!”

“Couldn't you hear me?” Kushida asked, still smiling. “I called you an ugly bitch. Your face, your personality, and your body too.”

6

“HAAAAAAH!?”

Completely ignoring the screaming Shinohara, Kushida tightened her grip on the dumbfounded Ibuki's arm and started marching her toward the goal area.

“Sorry, but I'll be crossing the goal together with you just like this, Ibuki-san.”

“W-wait, Kushida───” Katsuragi, unable to restrain himself any longer, called out.

But Kushida turned back to him with a smile.

“I can't wait,” Seeing that Katsuragi couldn’t keep himself from moving, Kushida answered with a smile. “After all, Katsuragi-kun, you look like you want to save Ibuki-san. If you gave her some clumsy sympathy, I might end up in danger again.”

Without waiting for his response, Kushida dragged Ibuki the rest of the way, reaching Yoshida, who was waiting just before the goal.

“We're going to cross the goal first, Yoshida-kun.”

“Eh… ah, y-yeah…”

Still unable to process Kushida’s words or the situation, Yoshida could barely form a coherent sentence.

“Are you... really sure about this?” Ibuki asked.

“It's fine, it's fine,” Kushida said, her expression strangely light. “Honestly, everything has just become so ridiculous to me now. I actually feel pretty refreshed.”

Stepping decisively into the goal area, Kushida raised her smartwatch and began operating it ostentatiously.

“Hey, Ibuki-san,” she said. “I have one last present for you, so just take it.”

“Huh?” Ibuki said, confused. “What do you mean, present?”

“Right up to the very end, Shinohara-san is an ugly bit— no, a cheapskate. Even though I explicitly told her to hand over my thirty-four tokens, she only sent me ten. Isn't she just disgusting to no end?”

“Wha...?”

It seemed Shinohara had decided to harass Kushida until the bitter end, while simultaneously taking out an insurance policy for herself. She had likely calculated exactly how many tokens she needed to hoard so that, even after sharing half of her stash with Ike, she would still barely manage to stay above Kushida in the final rankings.

“Even if I give you half of that, I won’t be expelled,” Kushida said. “So take it.”

“No,” Ibuki pointed out. “Even if I take half, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting expelled.”

“That's true. I need you to stay below me until the very end, Ibuki-san,” Kushida explained. “However, Ayanokōji-kun and the others planned to have everyone hold at least fifty-one tokens. What if there's a miscalculation somewhere? Besides, I don't want to hold onto Shinohara-san's disgusting tokens any more than I absolutely have to.”

2

“...That's just like you, Kushida.”

3

Ibuki clearly thought the gesture was meaningless.

Even so, she went along with it and placed her wristwatch against Kushida’s.

“W-wait a minute!” Shinohara snapped. “I’ve been listening for a while now, but what the hell is this!?”

Repeatedly being called ugly, Shinohara finally boiled over. Enraged, she charged at Kushida and grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving.

“Everyone heard that, right!? Kushida-san is a wicked woman!” Shinohara said, her voice rising in desperation. “Th-that’s why I was trying to manage the tokens properly for Class A!”

“I won't deny it, you know? It's completely true that my personality is awful,” Kushida replied, completely unfazed. “But hey, your boyfriend seems absolutely obsessed with this wicked woman. When I told him I'd do anything for him if he helped me out, he was drooling all over me. It was honestly disgusting. Why don't you try training your dog properly?”

19

Before long, a signal indicating the goal was confirmed flowed from Ibuki's, Kushida's, and then Shinohara's smartwatches.

1

Paying no mind to the confirmation sound, Shinohara whipped around and screamed.

“Kanji!?”

“Huh? N-no, wait, that’s not— I don’t know anything about that! She’s making it up!?”

Ike's eyes darted frantically around the group as he tried to string a coherent excuse together, but the words completely failed him. He wiped a thick bead of sweat from his forehead with a painfully awkward gesture. He had completely lost his composure. Even as he desperately tried to deny the accusation, his voice squeaked slightly, making his sheer panic glaringly obvious.

He turned and bolted after Shinohara, stammering out panicked excuses. Just as Ike's retreating back disappeared into the trees, the heavy vegetation rustled, and Kōenji gallantly strolled out from behind Katsuragi.

3

“My, my. It appears that troublesome affair has finally come to an end.”

Kōenji’s arrival was unexpected. He appeared just as Katsuragi was about to close in on me.

“You appeared from a rather strange place. Don't tell me you were watching us?” Katsuragi asked, whirling around.

Kōenji casually brushed his golden hair back and flashed a fearless smile. “I simply thought it would be poor manners to interrupt, so I waited.”

“You seem to be alone,” Katsuragi said. “Where are the rest of your group members?”

“I do prefer acting alone, you see,” Kōenji remarked. “I imagine it will still take them a little while to arrive.”

Answering breezily as he glided past Katsuragi, Kōenji moved to stand directly in front of Mii-chan.

“My apologies, but I'd like you to listen to me for a moment. Do you mind?” he asked, gently offering his arm as if escorting her to a ball.

1

“W-what is it?” Mii-chan stammered.

“This is hardly the proper place. Let us take a short walk, shall we?”

With that, he invited Mii-chan away just as she was about to reach the goal, leading her to a secluded spot slightly away from the rest of the group.

“What's his deal?” Sonoda muttered, tilting his head in complete bewilderment.

Once Kōenji had moved her to a position where they couldn't be overheard, he gently pushed Mii-chan’s back against the trunk of a large tree.

“Show me your smartwatch, if you please.” After shooting a brief, meaningful glance in my direction, Kōenji murmured so.

2

“Eh, umm? What do you mean?” Mii-chan asked hesitantly.

“The number of tokens you currently possess,” Kōenji replied. “I wish to know exactly how many there are. Though, I suppose it's a different story entirely if you have a reason you cannot show me.”

“No, um, yes... that is fine, but…”

Thoroughly bewildered and unable to comprehend the intent behind Kōenji's actions, Mii-chan nervously operated her smartwatch. She typed in her passcode, bringing up her token count on the display.

“Hmm. It seems you have accumulated a solid number of tokens.” Kōenji said, looking at the smartwatch. “However, it is always best to be absolutely certain. Once we factor in the multiplier, this total still leaves you in the danger zone.”

1

Then he operated his own smartwatch and made a movement to transfer tokens.

5

A moment later, a sharp chime rang out simultaneously from both of their devices.

“E-eeeh!? T-this many, eh!?” Mii-chan gasped, shocked.

“It is nothing you need to worry about,” Kōenji said smoothly. “Consider this an insurance policy from me. However, it would be quite problematic for me if you were to hand them over to anyone else, you see.”

With that, he pulled her by the arm and confidently strode straight into the goal area.

Flashing a brilliant, white-toothed smile at the utterly bewildered Wang, Kōenji brought her along, instantly finalizing both of their scores.

“What the heck was that just now?” Yoshida muttered, looking utterly unable to grasp what had just happened.

But there was still the matter of explaining things to Katsuragi— and deciding what to do from here on.

1

I decided to prioritize those first.