Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Let me take your attendance while you keep shooting me!” A commanding voice rang through the deafening barrage.

“Isogai.”

“Here!”

“Okano.”

“Here!!”

As Koro-sensei went down the list, each of the students reported, fingers never leaving their trigger. The volleys of bullets obfuscated the view. Gunpowder and smoke filled the run-down room. Thirty or so pairs of eyes were trained on their teacher, or rather, his dozens of high-speed copies.

All except one.

One seat down the rows, comfortably settled the peculiar student. Her steely eyes strained on her textbook, back straight, head lowered, ears plugged, fingers trailing the text lines. The girl didn’t flinch, nor bothered joining the rest of the class.

“…and while most corporate consolidations during the Meiji period were driven by necessity, it’s worth noting the influence of pre-existing samurai family networks-”

“Nagisa.”

“Here!”

“Kayano”

“Here!!”

“-but the Zaibatsu structure’s success wasn’t due to loyalty or honor. It was scale. Influence. Planning. Basic cause and effect…”

Eventually, the gunfire halted. Metal clicked. Magazines dropped to the ground. Groans of dissapointment echoed the room. As per usual.

“And that’s all of you! Which leaves…”

Korosensei drifted his tiny black dots for to the left wall, where Mafuyu Takahashi sat, not a strand of her high purple ponytail out of place. The girl obliviously flipped a page, before glancing up to the staring of the class. Ripping her eyes from her book, she piped up dryly.

“Takahashi, here.”

This was the daily norm for class 3E. They would begin the day with gunning down their teacher with BB bullets, and the tentacled monster would casually take their names without breaking a sweat. However, there was one student who would never participate in their shared assassination effort.

“Miss Takahashi, did your trigger jam today?” A poor attempt at humour.

Mafuyu shared the sentiment. “No. I didn’t bring my…,” she uttered the word with distaste, “gun today. Nor any other of my weapons. And I believe I’ve made myself clear enough on my priorities.”

Indeed, she had.

“Is this… mandatory?”

She questioned, eyeing the handgun. A near-perfect replica of the Colt 1991. Not that the girl would know.

“Technically, no,” answered Karasuma. “Participation is encouraged by the government, but, naturally, they doubt children can do a better job than them,”

Next to the gun were a few magazines, a jar with bright pink-colored marbles - bullets - and a green knife. Out the corner of her eyes, Mafuyu noticed agents handling assault and sniper rifles, showing them to her classmates.

What felt like an enternity passed as Mafuyu stared stoically. She finally turned up to Karasuma.

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Pardon?” Incredulousness leaked through the similarly stoic government agent.

Her response drew in the nearby students. The girl, for the most part, appeared unreadable, but her voice reverberated with absoluteness.

“I’d rather not participate in killing the monster. I don’t want to handle these weapons.”

“They are perfectly safe for humans-“

“A gun whose bullet’s speed can be used to kill a Mach 20 monster, is enough to harm a normal person. And no, it’s not about safety.”

Overhearing the two’s conversation, 3E’s new homeroom teacher (if she can even call the thing that) approached the two. “Such interesting moral compass!” clearly amused.

“It’s not about ethics,” shot back Mafuyu, sharply, “There’s no benefit to me in spending valuable learning hours trying to hit a creature that can apparently dodge missiles.”

Her voice wasn’t raised, but her words carried. Murmuring spreaded, while her steadfast gaze glared defiantly at the government agent and the monster.

“Oh? And what’s possibly more important than assassination?” Korosensei asked in a sing-song voice, wiggling his tentacles animatedly.

Mafuyu countered flatly, “There’s no return in that. Anything else would be a better use of time-,” Awkward chuckles. She glanced at her watch, “-such as studies. We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think, sir?”

As the tensity rose, their homeroom relented with a chuckle, drifting back to the board. The others began to clean up. Mafuyu moved not an inch.

‘7:46 AM.,’ she noted down. ‘Socialized aggression period extended by 6 minutes. Unstructured.’

After homeroom, it was their first period, History. After the disaster that was the last history class (Korosensei tried to rope Karasuma into reenacting a scene with him, and the man stormed out after being dressed up as a princess), the octopus took it upon himself to recreate the betrayal of Nobunaga.

A few dozen cardboard cutouts of historic soldiers blocked the entrance to the already cramped classroom. The board was covered with a banner depicting Edo-era buildings on fire. On the teacher’s desk sat a radio, which played war cries and explosions for maximal immersion.

Nobunaga (played by sensei) and his army was losing to a traitor (played by sensei), wielding a comically large squeaky hammer.

“-and this betrayal,” Korosensei exclaimed, face and clothes sprayed with ketchup, “was not just tactical, but emotional! A childhood friend turned assassin! Drama, tension, tears!”

The audience could do nothing but agonizingly spectate, while jotting down whatever they could made of the display. Again, except for one student…

“Yes, Miss Takahashi?” The octopus paused mid tentacle-swipe.

“I fail to see how cartoon dramatization conveys any academic insight beyond base emotional reaction.”

The strain rose once again. A deafening squeak from the hammer slipping. Korosensei blinked.

“Oh? And how would you teach the betrayal at Honno-ji?”

One finger raised, she listed without flinching. “Chronologically. Strategically. Cause and effect. List outcome and societal implications. Ten minutes. And no ketchup.”

The silence thickened, as Korosensei slowly floated to her desk. “But will they remember it tomorrow?” his voice partially inquisitive.

“If they care about the content, yes.”

“And if they don’t?”

Stony eyes narrowed. “Then they shouldn’t pretend they do with paper cutouts and squeaky hammers.”

Rumbles from the radio resounded in the silent room.

“...Nufufufu. Direct as ever, Miss Takahashi. Very well. We’ll try your method next class, hmm?”

The girl gave no reply. Flipping to the end of her notebook, she scribbled:

‘Lecture type: emotional stylized. Efficiency: Low. Reference pages 161-170 for today’s lecture.’

Second period.

“I’d prefer algorithms be taught through rulesets, not nicknames and backstories.”

Third period.

“Conducting live chemical demos without proper human protection makes dangerous references.”

Fourth period.

“So the takeaway is “trust your heart”, not documented patterns of behavior?”

“It feels like she’s giving the teacher mid-period evaluations, not studying from them,” Kayano whispered.

“She kinda is,” Nagisa agreed with a shudder.

Fifth period.

The student body was saved from the constant back and forth. As the students filed out of their classroom wearing blue tracksuits, they were met with Karasuma, arms crossed.

“For today’s warm up, 10 laps around the track. Go!”

They groaned, but such rigorous training was required if they wanted to have a shot at killing their homeroom, and they complied. Lap by lap the students started finishing their warm up.

15 minutes pased. Her breath ragged, her lungs burned, her limbs wobbled. Mafuyu dragged herself onto her eighth lap with a stumble. Most of her classmates had completed theirs.

Gasping for air, she collapsed onto the nearest bench after finishing her laps. She wheezed, knees shaking as the midday sun burned her scalp.

A towel landed on her head. Her red face gazed up to see a familiar face.

Manami Okuda, looking not much better than her, asked her, concerned. “You okay, Takahashi-san?”

She grabbed the towel with a nod, before something cold was pressed into her palm.

“Water,” replied Kaede Kayano simply, sipping on her own bottle.

“T-thanks,” Mafuyu replied hesitantly.

The three sat in silence. They don’t usually converse much, but in this period, they bond over the same thing: struggle.

Mafuyu tolerated Okuda. Decent at Science where she admittedly had a fraction of struggle. Cooperative. Potential benefit from connection. Her kindness also felt familiar. Meanwhile, Kayano was rather unpredictable. But she found she didn’t mind her company.

“PE is going to be the death of me,” Okuda moaned, stretching her legs. Kayano hummed affirmatively while Mafuyu reponsed between gasps.

“Tell me about it.”

Okuda and Kayano chatted, while Mafuyu recovered. They stayed for a while more, as students slowly got ready for their drills. Hunching over, Mafuyu blinked as she spotted something from the corner of her eyes, in between the trees. A flash of red.

She stared at the spot, narrowing her eyes. A beat passed, and the shade revealed itself, stepping out of the shadows. The mysterious figure - male - slowly walked towards the three with a breezy smirk, hands nestled in pockets.

“Who’s that?” asked Okuda, noticing the approaching boy.

“He’s not wearing any uniform…” replied Kayano.

The redhead stopped in front of them, and turned to Mafuyu. “Wow, that was… hard to watch,“ he drawled. “I couldn’t help but wonder - what’s the Princess doing slumming it with the bottom-feeders?”

As if Mafuyu’s day couldn’t go bad enough.

“Kunigagaoka’s favorite delinquent returns,” she scoffed.

“Big words, Miss Exiled-for-Excellence,” Karma shot back. Her glare hardened. “What, hit a nerve? Guess the castle got enough of your condescending ass.”

“What are you doing in a school? Shouldn’t you be shaking up salarymen on the street right now?”

His grin grew wider. “Please. I’m here precisely because I can exert my violence!” Karma exclaimed enthusiastically. Slowly, dramatically, he leaned in. “Aren’t you thrilled yourself,” tangerine eyes glinting amusedly, voice dropping a pitch, “-having a one-in-million opportunity to legally murder a teacher?”

She glowered, but didn’t give in the taunt.

Karma shrugged, walking past, “Your loss.” He held up his arm in a lazy wave. “Catch you later, Ice Princess. Bigger fish to fry. Try not to collapse before lunch next time.”

Kayano and Okuda, wide-eyed, exchanged glances as the boy left.

“Who is that guy?” Kayano asked with a shiver. “He gives me the creep.”

Mafuyu clicked her tongue. “Karma Akabane. Our newest classmate, I assume,” she scowled at Karma’s back as he approached Korosensei. “Stay away from him if you don’t want trouble.”

Her companions stood up. “Looks like he’s going for an assassination,” Okuda remarked. “Are you coming to see it?”

“I have no interest in assault attempts,” Mafuyu sipped on her bottle. “-much less from him.”

As Karma launched his trademark chaos, most of class 3E spectated in a mix of awe and horror. Mafuyu didn’t spare a glance. The hours she lost to morning disorder had already thrown off her study schedule, and she spent the rest of the day quietly reclaiming them, flipping through textbooks while others busied themselves.

Chatter exploded over their newest addition’s antics as the schoolday ended. She offered Kayano and Okuda a polite nod, packed her things without a word, and slipped out before the noise could pull her in.

The descent downhill left her winded again, but she pushed on, pace quickening as she neared the main campus. There, at the entrance, was a strawberry blonde on her phone. Mafuyu approached the girl without hesitation.

“Honami!”

She gazed up from her scrolling, eyes drifting to the source, before lighting up with recognition.

“Good evening, Mafuyu,” Honami greeted back with a warm smile, her ocean blue eyes sparkled.

After telling the onlookers to mine their businesses with a glare, the two started walking. Honami adorned a breezy expression, while Mafuyu maintained her scowl.

“You seemed frustrated today,” Honami questioned, her side pigtail drooping as she edged her head to the side, glancing at her friend’s face.

Mafuyu sighed, “I had PE today.” Honami patted her shoulder in sympathy. Mafuyu slowed half a step, but they continued walking. “And, you know, just spending time in that rickety building makes me wanna puke.”

The girl giggled, “I doubt the state of the campus bother you as much as… you know,” the blonde finished lamely, noting her grumbling friend’s face darkened.

“What about your new homeroom? I heard the other one resigned right?” She swiftly digressed.

“He’s-,” Mafuyu’s scowl returned, fists clenched, fingers picking nails, “-argh! He’s insistent on wasting my time!”

And so Mafuyu exploded, complaining about just about everything wrong ever since she got placed into 3E, from incompetent educators, to downright delinquent classmates, to meaningless assa-activities. All the while Honami listened, providing quiet hums and shoulder pats.

“You really can’t catch a break, do you?” the girl commented with a tender tone, rubbing Mafuyu lightly to calm her down.

“No matter,” Mafuyu exhaled after gaining her breath, her voice self-assured. “I’ll just study by myself, and stay at the top of the school like always. This is a mere roadblock. Though I admit,” she looked back at the faraway sight of Kinigagaoka, strangely wistful, “I miss the main campus. And you.”

“I know,” Honami soothed the shaking girl. “Although, you should socialize with your new classmates, Mafuyu. You can’t just do everything on your own.”

“If they have a tenth of the brain cells that you have, I’ll consider it. They make working with fricking Asano look easy.”

The two fell in silence, before Mafuyu turned a shade pink. “Sorry Honami. I made you sit through my horrible new school life again.”

Honami shook her head. “That’s what friends are for, right? You’re in a rough spot right now.” Her smile turned teasing. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve complained more than usual.”

Mafuyu’s cheeks turned even darker, voice dropped half a tone, “thanks for listening, Honami, you’re an angel.”

“Anyway, have I told you who I met today-“

After waving goodbye to Honami, Mafuyu quickly headed to the sky-high building down the block. She entered the five-star-worthy hotel-like reception area, and punched the highest floor number in the elevator.

As the glass elevator rode up, she got a good view of the district, her school’s enormous campus, and the hill next to it. If she squinted hard enough, she could make out her beloathed classroom. Naturally, Mafuyu’s gaze was more drawn towards the modern buildings below.

The elevator stopped with a ding, and she strolled towards the furthest of the three units on the floor. Unlocking the door with her fingerprints, she called out to the broad duplex.

“I’m home.”

Towards the kitchen, she can hear steam and stove noises coming off. Her mother must be cooking right now. And to the right, was the sounds of the TV. Which means her father was also home. A rare sight.

She passed by the living room, where he sat on the couch, eyes fixed to the news on their gigantic television. The lanky man was in his mid-thirty, sporting a young face and medium parted hair the same shade as his daughter. He made no indication he heard her coming back from school.

“Welcome home, father,” Mafuyu muttered. He grunted a beat later.

She passed by the kitchen and greeted her mother as well, to which the toned woman with short brown hair replied “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Go put your stuff away and wash yourself.”

“Yes, mother.”

Dinner was a quiet ordeal. Mafuyu’s father scrolled the phone, probably reading the stocks, while her mother worked on her laptop. There was only the sound of fingers on screen and keyboard in their whole apartment.

Mafuyu munched on her meal mutedly. It was a simple dinner, as despite her mother’s adeptness at cooking, the woman didn’t see the need to complicate her home recipes.

The silence was not the comforting one like in the libraries, where Mafuyu could study in peace. It was suffocating, slowly eating at her sanity. Whenever she wasn’t chewing her food, her fingers drummed on her thigh, her feet shuffled. Utimately, the girl broke.

“How was the work trip, father?” Mafuyu tried to hide the strain she didn’t intend in her voice, though it seemed she failed, as her father stared at her weirdly.

“It was a rewarding trip, thank you for your concern,” the man eventually answered, robotically.

“What about you, mother? How has your day been?”

The woman answered, tone dripped with frustration, eyes never leaving her computer. “Some stores got into trouble with schools for hiring junior-high students. Apparently, it’s ‘too early’ for them to be working. I’m helping them find alternatives.”

And then back to silence.

After a brief moment, the mother realised what was missing. “And you, Mafuyu,” she turned to address her daughter, her voice devoid of inflection. “How are your studies going?”

“The lack of subject-specific teachers is concerning, but I am managing well, mother,” Mafuyu replied, tone steady.

“Well, you better study well to get out of that dreadful class. No matter your grades, it’ll drag your university application down.”

“I understand, mother.”

They finished dinner without much fanfare. Mafuyu quickly did the dishes, and retreated back to her room. Once inside, she released a sigh she didn’t realise she was holding.

Her room wasn’t exactly bare, but it was hard to say it had much personality either. Aside from simple furniture and an ensuite, on the wall was an empty whiteboard. Next to it is Mafuyu’s personal planner, detailing her plans and study tracking. ‘Return to main campus’ remains excruciatingly uncrossed.

On the opposite wall were a few taped up newspapers. In the middle were articles, most featuring a purple-haired man or a brunette woman.

Hideo Takahashi. Successful businessman, delved into stocks exchange and education investments.

Riena Takahashi. Owner of a big coffee store chain. Initially local, but slowly expanding inter-city.

On her desk were a few opened books. At the corner, though, were two frames. One of her family when she was a little kid. Her small face stared at the camera curiously. The other, a selfie with Honami on a school trip. Her friend held the phone, her other hand shaped into a V, while Mafuyu stood behind with an awkward smile.

Mafuyu sat down at her desk and quickly cleaned the surface. She grabbed her Science notebook from her bag and slammed in open in front of her, muttering:

“Not good enough.”

Chapter Text

“Wait, isn’t that Takahashi from 2A? Why is she standing with them?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She got placed in the End Class.”

“But, wasn’t she, like, crazy good? I heard she could even rival the Five Virtuosos!”

“Probably knocked a teacher out cold like that brute Karma. They both hated teachers with a passion.”

“She doesn’t look like the fighting type to me though.”

‘Meaningless noise,’ Mafuyu mutely told herself.

It was time for Kunigagaoka’s monthly assembly, one of the rare times class 3E went to the main campus.

As usual, the thirty plus students became the laughing stock for the whole school. They jeered, they mocked, they insulted the students as if it was second nature. Even the staff showed open disdain.

As if it was second nature.

Class 3E lowered their heads in shame. After all, it was their own lack of diligence that led them to the bottom of the school’s

ladder. Things were looking up with the arrival of Koro-sensei, but it was times like this that they got reminded of their position in this elite Junior High.

Stepping stones. Undesirable scraps.

Irina and Karasuma observed the scene. Their introduction as teachers of class 3E caused a few head turns, but ultimately their students were the main attraction of the show. One particular student seemed to get even the majority of gazes and whispers, however.

Mafuyu Takahashi stood still, her arms clasped to her side, her head held neutrally. Her icy eyes stared straight ahead at the podium. Her ears twitched at the murmur of the students around her, but her expression remains stony.

‘Even now, she stands like a royal among peasants,’ Irina noted.

She had had a fair share of encounters with the purple devil.

It started when she was still in her “bitchy” period. To be fair, most of the students probably despised her then. But none of them had dared to leave her classes, despite how dull they were. Well, until a certain student decided to do just that.

No words, no approval. The girl just silently stood up from her chair, and strolled out of the classroom without an even gaze at Irina. Her action left the whole class, including Irina, gawking. The peace didn’t last for long, as the students started inventing excuses to follow the purple-haired shrew, and she had to physically reel them back in.

After the humiliating episode with that damned octopus, though, the embarrassed woman began to try actually teaching the brats, in the hope of making the rest of the year bearable (they were still calling her a Bitch, but hey, at least they weren’t agonistic anymore).

Sure, the material was in no way appropriate for normal 14-15 year-olds. But she had deemed what she was taught to by her teacher at their age, what she had mastered, informative. And the kids were excited at a new challenge, so Irina thought she was safe.

If she wasn’t the target of an intense, hateful glare every five minutes of her class, that was. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who still held a grudge towards the assassin.

“Class dismissed!” Irina remembered a period, where the moment she finished those words, and the students rose from their seats…

Click.

Click.

Click.

A perfectly tied ponytail marched towards Irina.

Thud.

“I’ve never seen someone so unqualified holding a lesson,” the brat stated coldly, hands on the teacher’s desk. In front of her was a thick folder, neat print letters peaking through the cover.

“You claim you are fluent in Japanese, yet you make zero attempts to highlight common Japanese learners’ pronunciation mistakes. You’ve failed to introduce foundational grammar structures in the last three sessions. Your pacing is erratic, your explanations unclear, and your assessments nonexistent. Finally, I hope you have noticed this is a classroom, not a brothel.”

She could feel her ‘teacher’ stature cracked. Taking a minute, Irina stared at the girl. “And you are-“

“Takahashi.”

Irina racked her brain for a counter. “I remember you,“ she finally claimed triumphantly. “You outright passed out when I kissed you for mispronouncing ‘voluptuousness’.”

That earned a few laughs from the bystanders. Meanwhile, Mafuyu’s face burned, but her voice turned venomous. “You’re lucky child services don’t prosecute international felons,” she spat. “But that’s besides the point.”

“The point is, you should be sacked.”

The students at the front gagged at the brazen claim. The previous stature may as well have been knocked down.

“Wh- what?!” Irina squawked, hands gripping the desk, trembling.

Okay, she was an assassin first and foremost, not a teacher. Accomodating for the kids here might have shortened her lifespan by a chunk, but she had been dreading the day Lovro whisked her back. B-but the audacity of this hellspawn!

“The show has commenced!” Karma whilsted from the side, shoving a paper bag under Nagisa’s face. “Popcorn?”

“When did you get that?!”

“Your lesson plans, if they exist, lack any measurable objectives,” The brat continued her assault. “No syllabus. No progress tracking. No correction. In any other institution, this would be grounds for dismissal.”

“He- hey, listen here, girly-“ Irina sputtered, trying to gain back what little credibility she still had.

“No, you listen to me.”

Her mouth clamped shut.

The devil jabbed her finger at the folder.

“Marked sections highlight the grammar patterns your lesson skipped, pronunciation errors you ignored, and a list of vocabulary your students repeatedly misused without correction. Either you follow this manual, or you give your position to a qualified educator. I don’t come here to waste one and half an hour a week. Un-, der-, stood?”

So, between scowling sessions, the girl had been writing a teaching guide?

“Honestly-,” Irina grumbled, snatching the folder, defeated. She stormed out of the room, to the wide eyes of the students, pushing shut the door, and stomped to the staff lounge.

Once inside, the fuming woman shoved the cursed tome in her closet and snapped at the octopus.

“Is this how you teach kids manners in Japan these days?!”

“Nurufufu-, it seems you have also caught the ire of Miss Takahashi, hmmm?” The damned thing sniggered, enjoying his afternoon tea (and the spectacle).

“What, did she invalidate your whole credibility as a teacher as well?”

“She certainly tried to,” Koro-sensei took a sip, shuddered, and continued. “And while her advice had merit,” he claimed smugly, ”there was certainly still a lot for her to learn.”

She jabbed her finger to the kids’ physical instructor, who had been silent for the whole convo, “What about you?”

“Miss Takahashi hasn’t voiced her critique with my training yet,” Karasuma remarked dryly, “or rather, she usually ran out of breath before she could. However,” his gaze hardened, “her aversion to assassination drills has raised some concern.”

“Claiming she had fear of knives. Intentionally flailing when handling a basic handgun. I’m having her do non-specialized activities for now,” he sighed, voice turned serious, “But this cannot last. As her homeroom, don’t you have the responsibility to ensure she follows her curriculum?”

“Miss Takahashi is certainly a special case, isn’t she?” Koro-sensei declared, raising a paper from a stack of sheets and scanning through it. “A top student in a class of low-rankers.” He glanced at Karasuma. “A sheep in a pack of wolves.”

“All I see is a rude, know-it-all brat,” Irina muttered, staring at her picture on the corner of the paper. Hair like a midnight bruise. Lips a straight line, razor thin. Eyes cold as glacier.

“She is the outcast of the outcasts.”

‘They’re talking about End Class. They’re not talking about me.’

“Wow, she looked like a statue there.”

“Statue? Her eyes look like they can melt the podium!”

‘I don’t belong here. I belong to the main campus.’

“Figure she would make it back to the real world?”

“Unlikely. Noone ever leaves that class after all.”

Mafuyu closed her eyes.

‘I will return to my rightful place.’

12:05 p.m.

A couple of hours after the assembly.

While most of class 3E have started their lunch break in the classroom, or outside, Mafuyu stood in the hallway, near the teachers lounge.

Waiting. Patiently.

She was leaning on the window, arms crossed, finger tapping, staring at the room’s clock through the door gap.

Time passed by.

Finally, the wooden door slid open, revealing a tall man in dark orange business suit. Hands behind his back he strolled towards the building’s exit, shoes clopping against the rickety floorboard. Towards her.

Upon seeing the man, Mafuyu stepped to the middle of the corridor in front of him, and bowed down a perfect 90 degrees, hand clasped to her sides.

“Principal Asano,” she greeted politely, voice neutral.

She was faced with a scrutiny look as the girl straightened up, though the principal kept his pleasant smile on his face. There was a click of recognition in his eyes.

“Ah, Miss Takahashi, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly. ”One of our brightest, if I recall. You give my son and his little group a run for their money everytime exams roll around.”

It seemed he recognised her after all. “May I take a moment of your time, sir?”

Asano gave her a long, hard look, still with the same smile plastered on his otherwise stony face. “I assume you want to ask about your placement this year,” he figured.

She nodded.

“As you may know,” he went on to explain, “the class system of Kunigagaoka is based on merits, in an attempt to encourage students to be at their best. Diligence is rewarded, while negligence,” the man did a scan of his surroundings, eyes narrowed, voice sharpened, “is punished.”

“Precisely, sir,” Mafuyu agreed, not skipping a beat. “You said it yourself. My grades have been nothing but perfect. My track record is clean.”

“It makes no sense to place me here, sir,” she reasoned determinately, inquisitively.

“Ah, if not of your academics-” Asano rebutted instantly, “-then it must be your behaviour.”

The girl stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“If I recall,” he listed airily, “you do criticise your teachers quite frequently. And your classmates have described you as ‘hard to work with’. Schooling is a collaborative effort, Miss Takahashi.”

“I point out outdated teaching methodologies. My classmates’ opinions do not concern me, only their efficiency in group projects. This is a prestigious academic institution, not a trust-fund day-care,” argued Mafuyu icily.

She thought she saw something dangerous glinted through the principal’s eyes, but it disappeared as swiftly as it showed. “That it is,” he hummed.

“Well, it has been a wonderful conversation, Miss Takahashi.” Asano headed forward, his voice amiable, but definite. “You’re a bright girl, I’m sure you will figure it out.” He walked past her.

Before he could go far, however, Mafuyu whirled on her heels and called out. “Wait!”

His head slowly turned sideways.

“As per the rules, If I score in the top 50 in the upcoming midterms, I can return to the main campus with the homeroom teacher’s approval, correct?”

He regarded her with a cold smirk, and continued his steps. “We’ll see.”

He didn’t look back.

Tomohito Sugino paced back and forth on the bare ground behind their campus. Nervous sweatdrops fell down his face.

It was the end of the school day. Not a particularly warm afternoon, but he felt the heat all the same. As if he was going to make a deal with the devil. Speaking of her…

“H-Hey, thanks for meeting with me Takahashi,” he offered a weak wave, other hand tucking his collar.

“What do you want,” the purple-haired girl replied curtly, leaning back on the wall, arms crossing.

“So, uh, if you didn’t know already, my name is-”

“Sugino, yes, I know who you are,” she cut him off. Rude. He cringed.

“Ye-yeah, I just, uh, had a feeling you might not…,” he trailed off awkwardly.

Mafuyu Takahashi sighed. “Look, can you cut it short? I don’t have all day, and your stuttering is not helping.”

The boy gulped, eyes diverting. “It’s just, I mean, you’re… a bit… scary?” Her eyes glinted. “Not as an insult, ha ha…”

Tomohito coughed, straightening up. “Anyways, the reason I wanted to talk to you is, I see you're struggling with P.E., right?”

Takahashi said nothing.

Gathering every bit of courage, he continued “I’m not the best at assassination or anything,” a slight flinch from her, “but I was in the baseball club. I know a thing or two about physical activities. Of course, a lot comes down to your own training, but I was wondering if you would like any pointers on improving your physique.”

He held up his hands defensively before Takahashi could get a word in. “I’m not saying you have to get fit or anything. But I’ve watched you during P.E. periods, and uh-“ he winced, “-it was quite rough.”

The girl gave him a long, hard look. The boy felt himself shrinking under her harsh gaze. A moment passed, and scary she finally replied, flatly “I am flattered that you think I can benefit from your coaching. But-“

“-what’s in it for you?”

“W-what’s in it for me?” He looked at her quizzically. “I mean, I wouldn’t refuse some help with math. You’re obviously pretty smart, the class thinks so anyway. But really, you don’t need to do that.” He attempted a friendly smile, “I just want to help out a classmate.”

Again, she fell in silence, scrutinising Tomohito’s form. Each second passed, the boy felt like he could melt into a puddle, but he stood still, facing her questioning stare head on.

“-I have to prepare for the midterms,” his hope deflated a little. “But,” he perked up.

“After that, I will tutor you on Math, and you will help me with P.E.” she responded stoically. “Is that suitable?”

“You really don’t have to. I have a feeling you’re a busy gal, so I wouldn’t dare-“

“Nonsense. You help me. I help you. A transaction’s nature.”

He was sure his confusion at her choice of word was visible, but he quickly shook it off. “In that case, yeah that sounds good!” he replied with a weak, but happy tone.

Takahashi extended her hand, and Tomohito stared at it oddly. The girl beckoned, and he hastily met it with his own. They shook.

“That’s a deal then, now if you will excuse me.”

She turned and walked without another word, disappearing back into the building. He blinked.

‘Well, that went better than expected.’

Sugino’s hand was still held in place. “…That was terrifying.” He muttered, shuddering. But the boy allowed himself a small smile, and a weirdly satisfying feeling.

‘Maybe the girl wasn’t so bad after all.’

“Takahashi-channn!”

Mafuyu turned. Sure enough, a familiar blob of green appeared in her vision. She distinctively remembered not giving Kayano permission to call her that. Trailing behind the eccentric girl, a gentler glassed figure offered a timid wave.

She waited for them at the start of the dirt road, hand clasping her backpack’s strap.

Her relationship with the two was certainly far deeper than the rest of the dreadful class. Nonetheless, their conversations had been minimal outside of her personally torturous hours. Naturally, the girl was confused as to why they were approaching her now, at the end of the school day.

“Okuda-chan was showing me this new dessert shop.” Kayano explained as they neared, cheeks flushed. Okuda nodded mutely beside her. “Apparently, they make the beeest flan! And a sweet-loving girl like me cannot let such treasure go unexplored!”

“…I don’t get how this relates to me.”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go check it out with us!” She beamed, matter-of-factly. “Worry not,” Kayano winked, “they also serve coffee. Something tells me you’re more of a bitter enjoyer.”

Okuda piped up softly. “Since you were chatting with us a bit, we thought you might wanna come hang out.” She waved her hands frantically. “N-no pressure though!”

A dessert shop date?

Honami did say…

She scanned their expectant gazes. Kayano was right, she most certainly preferred coffee to sweets. Such events could lead to more deepened connections, given how little they talk outside of class.

Kayano’s eyes were bright. Okuda looked hopeful, in her own quiet way. Mafuyu supposed this could be benefi-

No.

Exams were on the horizon. She couldn’t afford any distraction. Unlike them, she had something to gain, and everything to lose.

“I apologize-,” her voice polite, but flat. Their smiles faltered. “-but I must decline the invitation. I plan to prepare for exams this evening.”

Kayano’s grin twitched. “But, midterms are a week away!” she argued. “Surely, someone with your mi-“ Mafuyu’s face hardened. She stopped.

“Again, it’s a shame, but I really don't have time for today.” Her smile is diplomatic, not reaching her eyes. Kayano’s beam cracked. Okuda looked down, fiddling her sleeves.

She turned on her heels.

“I will see you tomorrow, Okuda, Kayano. Perhaps some other times.”

She assumed her downhill brisk. ‘Assuming I’m still wasting my time here, that is,’ went unsaid.