Chapter 2: The Entrepreneur Type

As the first afternoon class ended and break time began, Taishou and Asahi-san came to my desk.

“Hey, Tomonari. What was the deal with those flyers we handed out today?”

“I’m curious too. They were totally different from usual, right?”

The two of them seemed puzzled by the unusual content of the flyers.

I wanted to be completely honest with them since they helped out, but…

“…Sorry. I’d like to keep it under wraps for now, if possible.”

“Whaaat?! But I’m dying to know!”

“I was so curious I couldn’t even focus in class!”

“Taishou-kun, isn’t that just your usual state?”

Asahi-san coolly jabbed at Taishou.

As they said, the flyers we distributed this morning were completely different from the norm. Both Tennouji-san’s and Narika’s flyers had just a single, short sentence written on them.

Tennouji-san’s flyer read:

“After school, at the sports field.”

And Narika’s flyer read:

“After school, in the courtyard.”

Neither mentioned what was going to happen.

The flyers, which only specified a time and place, sparked curiosity among many students, becoming the center of conversation every break. Asahi-san and Taishou weren’t the only ones who came to me directly asking what was up.

Break time ended, and the final class of the day began.

The moment that class ended and school was out, I bolted from the classroom.

At the same time, Tennouji-san and Narika dashed out from their second-floor classrooms. Our eyes met for a split second, we nodded to each other, and then we each headed to our assigned spots.

The key to this strategy was the live vibe.

It had to be done swiftly… and spontaneously, or it wouldn’t work.

I rushed into the changing room used for gym class, pulled a costume out of my bag, and hurriedly changed. After checking my outfit in the mirror, I headed straight to my first post: the sports field. I had to finish preparations before the students started heading home.

When I reached the sports field, Suminoe-san was in the middle of setting up the stage. I gave her a quick thank-you for efficiently setting up the speakers and jumped in to help.

A little later, Tennouji-san arrived at the sports field.

Clad in a blue dress, Tennouji-san walked across the field with elegance. Her presence must have captivated countless students. Those who were about to leave the classrooms and head home surely changed their plans the moment they saw her stunning figure pass by. Wondering what was about to happen, their hearts racing with anticipation, they followed her.

And so, Tennouji-san led a large crowd of students to the sports field.

At the same moment, a man in a tailcoat appeared at the academy’s gate. …Right on time. Perfect.

Preparations were complete.

The students’ attention was fully secured.

I glanced at Tennouji-san and nodded.

Tennouji-san flashed a bold smirk.

“Here we go!”

As the man in the tailcoat approached Tennouji-san, music began playing from the speakers.

Amid the students’ gasps, Tennouji-san started dancing a ballroom dance with the man in front of her.

The slow, graceful waltz highlighted Tennouji-san’s refined movements, instantly enchanting the stunned students. The murmurs quickly faded into silence. A sacred, untouchable space formed at the center of the sports field.

Guerrilla marketing.

Bold, unconventional, and, as the name suggests, a surprise attack of an advertising strategy—that’s what guerrilla marketing is, and that’s the plan we executed.

When I decided to challenge the politician-type Joutou with the methods of an entrepreneur type, I devised a strategy to sell Tennouji-san and Narika as products. The goal was for these two products to gain more demand than the product that is Joutou Ren. That was our victory condition.

Tennouji-san’s product value lies in her noble demeanor. To make that known to more students, I had her perform a dance.

Her elegance can’t be fully conveyed through speeches alone. Her classmates might know her grace from daily classes, but underclassmen and upperclassmen likely miss out on that side of her. That’s why having her perform in front of everyone has immense value.

Tennouji-san’s campaign promise is to make the academy a place where everyone can live nobly.

What does it mean to live nobly?

Right now, Tennouji-san is showing the answer.

(…This is incredible. The sports field feels like a dance hall.)

I was so mesmerized by Tennouji-san’s dancing that I almost forgot we were outdoors. Her fluid, artistic movements drew a sigh of awe from me.

Her dance partner, I heard, is a ballroom dance instructor closely associated with the Tennouji family. This performance doubles as a promotion: if Tennouji-san becomes student council president, she could invite this instructor to the academy.

There were rumors in negative campaigns that the etiquette instructor’s fees might line Tennouji-san’s pockets, but that’s not true. Despite their close ties, the instructor is an external party. There’s no shady money trail to begin with.

After three songs, Tennouji-san and her partner bowed.

Bathed in thunderous applause, Tennouji-san looked at me with sparkling eyes.

“Tomonari-san!”

Her faint sweat glistened in the sunset, making Tennouji-san shine.

Called by Tennouji-san, I adjusted the collar of my tailcoat.

Next, it was my turn to dance with her.

It was Tennouji-san’s idea to dance with me, not just with the professional dancer. Last night, after I explained the strategy, she passionately insisted on it. Since her goal is to teach students manners, she argued we needed a model case.

In other words—, I was an ordinary transfer student with no special traits, dancing impressively enough to match Tennouji-san.

Showing everyone that scene would lend credibility to her campaign promise.

With a small fuu, I exhaled, trying to calm the nerves bubbling inside me.

(…Here we go!)

Psyching myself up, I faced Tennouji-san.

I placed my right hand on her shoulder blade, striking a hold position. As the music started, I slowly rotated my body clockwise.

The moment I began the natural spin turn, my body moved on its own.

I recalled the time before summer break when Tennouji-san taught me to dance. The techniques she drilled into me back then seemed etched into my body. Dancing with her now brought those memories back vividly.

I’m not scared. The tension I felt moments ago had somehow melted away.

It wasn’t a long period that Tennouji-san taught me to dance. Yet, I felt like I’d danced with her tens of thousands of times. That’s how deeply the memory of dancing with her was burned into my brain.

“Izuki-san.”

Tennouji-san called to me in a soft voice.

“You’ve really improved.”

“…Thanks to you, Tennouji-san.”

She’s bold. …I was a bit surprised she called me by my first name in front of all these students, but in this situation, no one could overhear our private conversation.

This is our sanctuary.

A dazzling stage where we stand out more than anyone, untouchable by others.

“How much your efforts have inspired me…”

Tennouji-san murmured, gazing straight at me.

We transitioned into a reverse turn, returning to the center of the field.

“For your sake, too, I will become student council president.”

Tennouji-san, voicing her deep conviction, carried herself with utmost dignity.

Her eyes, usually fierce with competitive fire, were different now. They were calm, like a still lake without a single ripple. For Tennouji-san, becoming student council president was no longer a reckless pursuit but a mission she was destined to fulfill.

“Please cooperate with the survey!”

Suminoe-san’s voice rang out. Glancing over while dancing, I saw her handing out surveys to the students, as we’d planned.

The charm of guerrilla marketing lies in the thrill of an unconventional event. To keep the concept of a sudden event intact, we minimized the number of collaborators to heighten secrecy.

I debated involving Taishou and Asahi-san as helpers but decided against it. They’re relatable, everyday students. Rather than making them collaborators, I felt letting them enjoy the event from the same perspective as everyone else would, in the long run, make for better promotion.

My hunch was probably correct. Asahi-san was watching our dance with her classmates. Her genuine enjoyment of the event was surely influencing other students positively.

I couldn’t spot Taishou, but he’s probably gone to Narika’s event.

After seeing Suminoe-san hand a survey to Asahi-san, I focused back on dancing with Tennouji-san. I’d give it my all for the final stretch and dance perfectly to the end.

Data analysis through surveys is another tactic the entrepreneur type excels at. With only a few days left in the election period, we’d conduct surveys every day from now until the final day, regularly asking students what they want from Tennouji-san and Narika.

When the dance ended, we received roaring applause.

“A success, wouldn’t you say?”

Amid the shower of applause, Tennouji-san smiled with satisfaction. I probably had a similar expression.

When I came up with the guerrilla marketing idea, I felt my perspective widen.

Election campaigns aren’t just about speeches. We can try a broader range of things. The politician-type Joutou sticks to speeches because he’s good at them, but we entrepreneur types have a different way of fighting. In fact, creating the battlefield itself is our true strength.

I think the market of voters is secretly tired of the current election activities, which are all about speeches. That’s why an event like this struck a chord with them.

In today’s market, speeches are oversupplied.

So, we provide a new kind of supply.

“Tennouji-san, I should get going…”

“To Miyakojima-san’s event, yes? I wish you success there as well.”

We’re executing a similar strategy with Narika, though the content is entirely different.

I started heading to Narika in the courtyard.

Just before I left—Tennouji-san spoke.

“Hold your head high.”

Her faintly sweaty face locked onto mine.

“You’re already my equal.”

Those words resonated deeply in my heart.

There was no time. I loosened the collar of my tailcoat slightly and ran to the courtyard.

On the way, my vision blurred.

(…Oh no.)

I was on the verge of tears.

Tennouji-san had said the words I wanted most.

Saying them in that place, at that moment, was unfair. As I recalled my inexperienced self from when she taught me to dance, her words hit me hard.

While running, memories flooded back. The time she corrected my posture, the lessons on academics and manners, studying together during summer courses, and the break we took during the management game when she humored me.

I told Tennouji-san my goal of becoming her equal during that break in the management game. Back then, too, we danced together like today.

Since then, it seems I’ve grown properly.

I know… this isn’t my finish line.

I haven’t truly become Tennouji-san’s equal yet. We only appear equal in this specific moment, in this particular situation.

Still, having my efforts recognized made me so happy I could cry.

…There’s still a ton of work to do.

I can’t break down here.

When I reached the courtyard, a huge crowd had gathered. Just like Tennouji-san’s event, Narika’s had drawn a lot of people, which was reassuring. Plus, to my pleasant surprise, some students had followed me from the sports field. I hadn’t had time to change, so I ran in my tailcoat, but it seems that worked as good promotion.

Pushing through the crowd to the center of the courtyard, I found Kita setting things up.

“Kita-kun, sorry for leaving all the prep to you.”

“It’s fine.”

Sweat dripped from Kita’s forehead.

But with a fulfilled smile, he continued.

“I’m supporting Miyakojima-san too, so I want to help.”

That pure sentiment surely reached Narika.

Thanks to Kita’s preparations, there was little for me to do. I made final adjustments to the tatami mats laid out on the ground and picked up the microphone.

“Now then, starting now—”

I glanced at Narika, who was waiting at the center of the tatami.

Narika gave a short nod.

“—Student council president candidate Miyakojima Narika will perform an iaido demonstration.”

Dressed in a black dojo uniform, Narika glared at the straw target in front of her.

One look at her piercing gaze, and the surrounding students held their breath.

That intense look was once a symbol of fear. But since the athletic festival, Narika has steadily dispelled misunderstandings, and now her dignified presence has become a unique weapon.

In this guerrilla marketing, we wanted to showcase Tennouji-san and Narika’s human charm. Though their goals were the same, we planned different approaches.

For Tennouji-san, the strategy was to make her already-known charm more tangible, resulting in the ballroom dance.

At Kiou Academy, dance parties are familiar to students. If Tennouji-san becomes president and implements various programs, students might one day dance as gracefully as she did. That was the concrete vision we aimed to give them.

On the other hand, I felt Narika’s charm hadn’t been fully conveyed yet.

Or rather, what we’d shown so far wasn’t enough.

As Kita mentioned in his speech, Narika’s greatest charm is her continuous growth. But that charm is clear to those who’ve been close to her daily, not so much to others. Even if it gets across, “continuous growth” could be taken as “she has nothing now.” In the management game, she delivered results, so most students probably don’t see it too pessimistically, but expecting a stranger to trust in that feels like a leap of faith, and there’s resistance to it.

So, I decided to showcase one of Narika’s charms that could be seen right now.

As we’d already told other potential officers like Nishi-san and Abeno-san, Narika is top-tier in martial arts and flower arrangement. In these fields, she’s practically unmatched.

“Suu—”

Narika took a quiet breath. In that moment, I could feel her focus sharpening, like the sword she held.

Silently, deeply, diving ever deeper, Narika’s concentration intensified.

Despite the large crowd, a complete silence fell. It was so quiet you could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze.

“Ha—!!”

A single flash. Narika swung her sword.

It must have been a breathtakingly beautiful stroke. …I say “must” because I couldn’t see her blade. I was staring, but I must’ve blinked right before.

But then, I noticed something odd.

The straw target, supposedly cut, didn’t collapse.

No way… did she miss? No, Narika may be unreliable in other areas, but in martial arts, she’s an absolute genius. She wouldn’t make such a mistake in front of a crowd…

As anxiety slowly built, Narika sheathed her sword and gave a graceful bow.

Then, she tapped the straw target with her scabbard.

The top half of the target wobbled and fell to the ground.

“…Huh?”

What just happened?

So, Narika had cut the target perfectly. But her stroke was so precise that the target didn’t fall, staying balanced atop the cut even after being sliced.

…Huh?

Is that something a human can even do…?

A few seconds later, scattered applause began, followed by a thunderous ovation. It seemed everyone needed time to process what happened.

Narika wore a smug look, as if it went exactly as planned, but I saw it. Until the applause started, she was panicking, thinking, “Did I mess up?”

Come to think of it, Narika’s always been like this. In the management game, she unknowingly crushed competitors too. …She’s an all-or-nothing kind of person.

(…Well, it’s a success.)

With this much applause, it can’t be called a failure.

The cut surface of the straw target on the tatami was unbelievably clean. It didn’t even seem humanly possible. It was so impressive it was almost intimidating.

At any rate, we’d shown that Narika has something truly unique.

In an academy filled with talented students, having an unrivaled skill must have deeply resonated with the crowd.

As I breathed a sigh of relief at the guerrilla marketing’s success, an especially loud clap echoed.

Turning around, I saw Joutou standing there.

“Impressive skill.”

With that, Joutou approached Narika.

“Since I’m here, mind if I give it a try?”

“Huh…?”

Taking the sword from Narika, Joutou stood in front of a spare straw target.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Joutou swiftly drew the sword from its sheath.

“Fu—!!”

With a spirited shout, his sword sliced the target diagonally.

The cut piece of straw rolled onto the tatami.

“Well… as expected, I can’t match Miyakojima-san.”

Sheathing the sword, Joutou stroked the cut surface of the target.

Applause rained down again. But this time, it was for Joutou, not Narika.

(…He got us.)

I should’ve looked into it beforehand.

Joutou also had experience in iaido.

Of course, he wasn’t as skilled as Narika. But for someone crashing the event out of nowhere, he was more than capable.

Guerrilla marketing is a surprise advertising strategy. We planned a performance that Joutou’s camp wouldn’t notice or have time to counter, but in a way, Joutou pulled off the most guerrilla-like intervention.

The crowd went wild for the sudden intruder’s flashy strike.

Returning the sword to Narika, Joutou took a microphone from Rintarou, who was nearby.

“Miyakojima-san, I have a proposal.”

Joutou’s voice echoed through the courtyard via the microphone and speakers.

“How about we compete with our minds next?”

“M-minds…?”

Narika’s face paled.

…Idiot. Don’t show your weakness so obviously in front of everyone.

Narika’s grades aren’t disastrous, but compared to Tennouji-san or Joutou, she falls short.

But Joutou, seeing Narika’s strained expression, clarified, “Not about grades.”

“How about a debate tomorrow after school, with all three student council president candidates? The theme will be the traditions of Kiou Academy.”

The first to react to Joutou’s proposal weren’t me or Narika, but the audience.

The students’ excited cheers made me feel a pang of frustration inside.

(…There’s no way I can refuse in this atmosphere.)

If I turn it down now, I’d betray the students’ expectations, and Narika’s influence would take a hit.

Joutou never intended to let us say no from the start. He used Narika’s performance to draw the students’ attention, cleverly proposing a competition that would get them hyped up. He’s a calculating entertainer.

I give a silent nod to Narika, who’s glancing my way.

Narika looks a bit anxious but faces Joutou and declares,

“…Fine, I’ll take you on.”

“Then I’ll look forward to tomorrow. Give my regards to Tennouji-san, too.”

With that, Joutou finally leaves.

…Tennouji-san doesn’t seem like she’d back out of this challenge either.

It’s possible Joutou read that far ahead and invited Narika first. Since Narika might’ve refused, he needed to create an atmosphere where she couldn’t, using the crowd’s energy.

For a moment, I could almost see the shadow of Minato-senpai, who isn’t even here, standing behind Joutou.

◆

I quickly shared Joutou’s debate invitation with Tennouji-san.

As expected, Tennouji-san decided to take on the challenge. The debate is set for after school tomorrow. With little time to prepare, we decide to hold a strategy meeting at the academy right away.

After contacting Shizune-san and having Hinako head home early, I follow Tennouji-san’s lead, walking down the school corridor.

“This is the study room.”

Tennouji-san opens the door, and Narika and I step inside.

She’d mentioned knowing a place perfect for our strategy meeting, and this room is indeed convenient. The study room is lined with numerous PCs, and there’s a large whiteboard at the front.

“I didn’t know a place like this existed.”

“Yes. But as you can see, it’s not used much. Most students at this academy head home right after school.”

The study room is completely empty. It’s helpful for discussing sensitive matters without others around, but having such a large room all to ourselves feels a bit lonely.

Apparently, this room isn’t used for classes. It’s solely for self-study, but since Kiou Academy students are so busy, they usually leave right after school.

“…If I become president, I’d like to make effective use of places like this.”

Tennouji-san murmurs, seemingly inspired by the sight of the study room.

Since it’s all ours, I decide to claim the central seat. I start the PC in the middle of the room and sit down in front of it.

“Let’s begin our strategy meeting to win the debate.”

Tennouji-san and Narika sit on either side of me.

“The topic is the traditions of Kiou Academy, correct?”

“Yes. …No matter how you look at it, it’s a topic that favors them, but if we can present compelling ideas, we could boost our support significantly.”

The debate will likely resemble a formal discussion. Each candidate for student council president will first present their views on Kiou Academy’s traditions, then engage in a discussion. We need to anticipate challenges—whether our ideas are truly valid or if they might overlook certain students’ needs.

At the very least, it won’t be a tame affair where the three candidates just share their thoughts and call it a day. If that were the case, a speech would suffice.

“To begin with, what exactly are Kiou Academy’s traditions?”

Narika asks, her eyes reflecting the glow of the monitor.

It’s a pure, piercing question that cuts to the core. As Narika says, we need to start there.

“For now, let’s list everything that comes to mind.”

I open the notepad app pre-installed on the PC and start jotting down Kiou Academy’s traditions in bullet points.

In the back of my mind, I also think about activities beyond the debate.

With the debate happening, giving speeches tomorrow after school might be tough.

That said…

(…Thanks to our countermeasures against the smear campaign, spreading the details of our platform worked out well. At this point, speeches aren’t our top priority.)

To counter the negative campaign Rintarou launched, we compiled our platform and made it freely accessible online. As a result, students have been independently learning about Tennouji-san and Narika’s promises.

The smear campaign had me sweating bullets, but now that we’ve turned it around, it’s become a tailwind. Ironically, that negative campaign helped spread our platform.

“…That’s more or less the gist of it.”

Tennouji-san says, staring at the monitor.

For now, I’ve listed four traditions of Kiou Academy that come to mind.

• Many students’ parents are business executives or politicians.
• The curriculum is significantly more advanced than typical high schools.
• The signature “Management Game” class.
• The undeniable existence of disparities based on family background.

I’ve included both the good and bad traditions I’ve noticed recently.

Looking at the text on the monitor, a question suddenly occurs to me.

“Should we delete this data afterward?”

“No need. The PCs here are reset to their initial state upon reboot.”

In that case, I’ll leave it as is.

“These four are what came to my mind as well, but they’re likely obvious to the other side, too.”

“Right. Everything listed here was mentioned in Joutou-kun’s speeches.”

If these are the key points, the real challenge is how we delve into them.

“The fourth one… we’ll need to handle it delicately.”

Narika says in a small voice.

Disparities based on family background. Seeing those words, Narika likely realized anew that her own family status is higher than most students.

But I don’t agree with her acting as if she’s the perpetrator.

“I don’t think either of you needs to feel guilty about it.”

Narika looks puzzled, so I continue explaining.

“Disparities based on family background aren’t just felt by those at the bottom—they affect those at the top, too. …Narika, haven’t you struggled with misunderstandings for a long time? Part of why people kept their distance from you was likely your high family status.”

“…Now that you mention it, you’re right.”

Because of their high status, they can’t speak carelessly. …But who’s the real victim here? It’s always the students from lower backgrounds who choose to keep their distance. Those from higher backgrounds are often left isolated unilaterally.

When others keep their distance, understanding from those around them grows distant, too.

(…In a way, Hinako’s suffering from that, too.)

It might not be discrimination exactly, but Hinako undoubtedly bears the greatest disadvantage from her high family status. The pressure of acting like the perfect Ojou-sama takes an immense toll on her. That’s why the role of her caretaker exists.

“Regarding this issue of disparities based on family background, my approach is the complete opposite of Joutou-san’s.”

“That’s right.”

I have a feeling this topic will be the crux of the debate.

To clarify everyone’s positions, I vocalize my understanding.

“Right now, Kiou Academy has disparities based on family background. Joutou-kun believes everyone should adjust to the lowest common denominator.”

His goal is to bring commoners into the academy and have everyone adapt to that environment, teaching even the highest-status students to behave in a way that aligns with those below them.

“On the other hand, Tennouji-san believes everyone should be trained to rise to the top.”

Tennouji-san thinks that even students from lower backgrounds should be forged to thrive in an elite environment.

“And Narika wants to create an academy where family background doesn’t matter at all.”

Narika aims to foster an environment where people can easily change themselves through active interaction. If those suffering from status disparities can transform themselves, it could lead to liberation from those gaps.

In fact, Narika has freed herself from the loneliness of her status by changing herself.

“Three distinct approaches.”

Tennouji-san remarks.

With three distinct approaches, this is bound to spark heated debate.

“Tomonari-san, I’d like to use this as our angle of attack.”

“Got it. …Narika, are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. I think I can draw on my own experiences to speak confidently on this topic.”

Having risen from adversity, Narika can now leverage the notoriety from that struggle. The students who once feared her will likely take her words seriously because of it.

The only issue is…

“…Narika, you’ll have to speak in front of people again. Will you be okay?”

“I-I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten better compared to before. …I think.”

Her attitude doesn’t inspire much confidence.

“Then try giving a speech right now, standing there.”

“Hmph… Fine. I’ll prove I can do it.”

Narika steps up to the whiteboard.

I know she’s capable when she pulls it off.

But I also know the gap when she fails is staggering.

“Regarding the traditions of Kiou Academy, here’s what I think—”

Narika begins her speech.

But partway through, she stops and looks at me.

“…I-Izuki? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“It’s to help with your nerves. Keep going.”

Let’s see how well she handles being watched.

“K-Kiou Academy’s traditions, as I see them…”

“…”

“For example, when it comes to disparities in family background…”

“…”

As expected, she’s still not used to being stared at, fidgeting nervously.

“W-Wait!!”

Narika’s face flushes red as she shouts.

“I can’t speak properly when you’re staring at me like that!”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t get nervous?”

“I-It’s not nerves! It’s… something else that’s distracting me…!!”

Something else?

“Excuses aren’t a good look.”

“Ugh… Uuuugh…!!”

Narika starts trembling.

Huh, that’s odd. I thought she’d improved a bit, but she seems even more flustered than before.

As I tilt my head at Narika’s darting eyes, the study room door opens.

“Excuse me. …Tomonari-san, we’ve finished sorting the surveys.”

Suminoe-san enters the study room, holding a stack of survey forms.

Kita-kun is behind her. I’d asked them to collect and sort the surveys. It was a huge number, so I’m grateful they finished so quickly.

“Suminoe-san, Kita-kun, thank you.”

I take the stack of survey forms from them.

Glancing at Narika, I see her sigh in relief, muttering, “Saved…” I’ll have to check on her again later if we have time.

“Miyakojima-san, do your best.”

“Thanks, Kita-kun. You’re always a big help.”

Kita-kun cheers Narika on before leaving the study room. He could’ve stayed to chat, but he likely left to give us space, knowing we’re pressed for time before the debate.

“Tennouji-sama, I’m rooting for you.”

Suminoe-san offers a word of support to Tennouji-san.

“Thank you. …But why the ‘-sama’ all of a sudden?”

“It’s a habit. I can’t seem to shake it.”

Suminoe-san smiles sweetly, but Tennouji-san’s smile twitches awkwardly.

…She’s got it bad.

Someone, please take Suminoe-san to a hospital.

Not long ago, she was known for her refined, graceful image…

“Tomonari-san.”

Just before leaving, Suminoe-san beckons me over.

Does she have something private to say? Curious, I step out of the study room with her.

“If you don’t make Tennouji-sama win, I won’t forgive you.”

“…I’ll do my best.”

“If it comes down to it, we could slip some laxatives into that Joutou Ren guy’s food. If you don’t have the guts, I can do it for you.”

“Please don’t.”

Until I met Rintarou, I thought no one at this academy would resort to underhanded tactics…

Turns out, they’re right here, in my own circle.

“Seriously, don’t do it, okay?”

“…Tch.”

Wait, did she just click her tongue?

Good thing I double-checked.

After Suminoe-san leaves, I let out a deep sigh and return to the study room. …She’s a whirlwind, mentally speaking.

“What was that about?”

“…She suggested a strategy, but it was too extreme, so I shot it down.”

Brushing it off vaguely, I start reviewing the sorted surveys.

The survey is simple, asking what kind of president students want Tennouji-san and Narika to be. We hadn’t done a straightforward survey like this before. We did tally one to gauge the true feelings of Hinako’s supporters, though.

I need to start thinking about the final speech, too.

The election’s final day is Monday, the start of next week. Today’s Wednesday, so excluding today and the weekend, we have three days left to clinch this.

Reflecting the survey results immediately and changing our stance could cause confusion. That’s always been a risk, but with only three days left, there’s no time to smooth over any chaos. At this stage, we need to be cautious about making changes.

I plan to review all the survey results by tonight, but I’ll carefully consider how to incorporate them until the final day. Rushing could lead to self-destruction at this critical moment.

(…Hm?)

As I scan the survey responses, something feels off.

This is probably…

“Izuki, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm… No, it’s nothing.”

Noticing my furrowed brow, Narika tilts her head, but I choose to stay silent.

(…No need to bring it up now.)

This isn’t related to the debate.

Depending on the situation, it might be something I should keep to myself.

◆

After school on the eleventh day of the election period.

The debate organized by Joutou was about to begin.

“…Fancy setup.”

Arriving at the auditorium, I can’t help but mutter at the sight before me.

The debate is being held in the auditorium. During lunch, Rintarou told me Joutou’s team would handle the preparations, so we left it to them, but the stage is far more elaborate than I expected.

At the center of the auditorium, three desks are arranged at equal intervals, facing each other. It’s like a triangle with a desk and chair at each vertex. The three presidential candidates will likely sit there.

The audience seats encircle the setup completely.

I’d assumed the candidates would debate on a raised platform, but it seems this “match” will take place in the center of the auditorium, like a boxing ring or wrestling arena.

(Surrounded by stares from every angle… Is this some kind of psychological tactic?)

It’s an unsettling setup. There’s no way they created this nerve-wracking environment by chance.

From past speeches, I know Joutou is used to being watched. That’s probably why he deliberately chose a stage that heightens awareness of the audience’s gaze. It’s no issue for him, but for Tennouji-san… and especially Narika, it’s a tough environment.

“Tomonari-san, I’m heading out.”

“I’ll… head out, too.”

Both finish their mental preparations. Tennouji-san wears a bold smirk, while Narika looks visibly nervous.

“I’ll be watching from here. Let’s stick to the strategy.”

Tennouji-san and Narika nod and head toward the center of the auditorium, where Joutou awaits.

Unfortunately, with the limited time, we couldn’t devise a guaranteed winning move. But we did come up with tactics to improve our odds.

We categorized Kiou Academy’s traditions into several groups and focused on preparing arguments for the one we’re most comfortable discussing. Once the debate starts, we need to steer the conversation toward this category. If we can, it’ll give us a strong advantage.

“Now, we will begin the debate among the three student council president candidates. I, Asahi Rintarou, the vice-president candidate, will serve as moderator.”

At the center of the venue, Rintarou takes the microphone and greets the audience.

“The topic is the traditions of Kiou Academy. Over the next hour, the three candidates will discuss this theme.”

The audience, including me, looks at the three candidates seated at their desks.

Joutou, Tennouji-san, Narika… all three wear serious expressions.

“Let’s begin.”

Rintarou signals the start of the debate.

The auditorium falls silent. No applause, no cheers. The gazes of the brilliant students, who will one day lead this country, are fixed squarely on the center of the auditorium.

“I’ll take the lead, since I proposed this debate.”

Joutou is the first to speak.

“I believe many of Kiou Academy’s traditions amplify students’ insecurities. For example, the system that primarily admits students from prestigious families. Because family background is vetted at the entrance, everyone accepts the resulting disparities after enrollment. This atmosphere, where issues rarely surface, is itself a harmful tradition, don’t you think? That’s why I aim to democratize Kiou Academy, ultimately removing family background as an admission criterion. I want to fundamentally eliminate the insecurities tied to family status that everyone secretly harbors.”

As expected… Joutou’s argument hits hard for a commoner like me.

I may hide it, but deep down, I’m just an ordinary guy. That’s why I’ve pushed myself to work harder, but not everyone can do that. Some students might be crushed by the weight of status disparities. I could’ve easily been one of them if I’d taken a wrong step.

But democratizing Kiou Academy isn’t the only way to address this issue.

“Regarding those disparities…”

Tennouji-san speaks up.

“I wish to resolve this in a manner completely opposite to Joutou-san’s approach.”

“…Come to think of it, Tennouji-san, you also mentioned something about family lineage in your first speech, didn’t you?”

Yes, Tennouji-san nods in agreement.

As Joutou said, Tennouji-san had also identified the issue of disparities caused by family lineage quite early on. However, even if they both recognized the same problem, the solutions they proposed were different.

“I’ve listened to your speeches several times, so I believe I understand your vision of making Kiou Academy more accessible to the common people. …I’m not opposed to the idea of learning about the outside world. However, forcing ourselves to conform to the outside world feels overly aggressive. If we’re going to adapt, it should be in a way that aligns with Kiou Academy’s unique identity—otherwise, what’s the point of being here?”

“Kiou Academy’s unique identity, huh?”

Joutou lets out a cold smirk.

“Not everyone here is at this academy because they want to be.”

With that, Joutou surveys the audience surrounding them.

“I have a question for everyone here. …Did any of you have any other choice besides enrolling at Kiou Academy?”

Not a single student nods in response to Joutou’s question.

No matter how wonderful Kiou Academy’s environment may be, it doesn’t mean the students necessarily wanted it. That truth has just become painfully clear.

Perhaps… there are students here who are attending this academy against their will.

“You speak as if everyone here takes pride in being a Kiou Academy student, but the reality is as you see,” Joutou continues. “Tennouji-san, you talk under the assumption that Kiou Academy’s traditions are inherently correct, but where’s your evidence for that? You and your group stubbornly refuse to change the current system. Isn’t that why you’re called the conservatives?”

“…Tch.”

Just by choosing his words carefully, Joutou has managed to position himself so advantageously.

Joutou was making full use of the energetic impression carried by the term “reformist.” The term “conservative” shouldn’t be negative, but somehow, it created an atmosphere that painted us as lazy.

But Narika cut through that atmosphere with a single stroke.

“We’re not saying the academy doesn’t need change. In fact, if I become president, I want to create an academy where any student can transform themselves.”

Narika wasn’t exactly defending Tennouji-san.

The election was still a three-way stalemate. As if to emphasize this, the three candidates’ seats were spaced equidistantly. But it was Joutou who first lumped Tennouji-san and Narika together as “conservatives.”

Joutou himself had created this situation, which could be seen as two against one. He could hardly complain, then. With that thought, I watched the three-way debate confidently, but—

“Miyakojima-san, your proposal relies too heavily on students’ autonomy.”

Joutou’s counter was far sharper than we had anticipated.

“For students at Kiou Academy, who haven’t had the chance to change themselves for so long, being suddenly told they can change will only cause confusion. Even if you become president and fulfill your promises, I can only see a future where no one follows you, rendering it meaningless.”

“N-No, that’s not…”

“I’m aware of how Miyakojima-san was once feared due to misunderstandings. But your perspective, having climbed out of that, is tainted by survivor’s bias.”

Joutou speaks fiercely, as if fueled by righteous indignation.

“You had the foundation to change yourself from the start. In other words, you had your family lineage!”

“—!”

Narika catches her breath.

In essence, Joutou was saying this: There were probably many students at this academy besides Narika who wanted to change themselves. But most of them failed. Narika was the only one who succeeded, and wasn’t that because of her privileged family background rather than her own efforts?

Normally, such an opinion would spark anger, but both Narika and I found ourselves speechless.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but… that perspective hadn’t occurred to us.

Narika was able to change herself because she kept pushing forward despite countless failures.

Having been by Narika’s side, I know this. But there are plenty of people at this academy who don’t. To them, Joutou’s words must have struck a powerful chord.

“If you want to create an academy where students can change themselves, start by changing the academy itself. That’s my vision of making Kiou Academy more accessible to the common people.”

Narika had no response to Joutou’s bold declaration.

This was a bad turn of events. …But more than panic, I felt a sense of unease.

(…What’s wrong?)

Something’s off.

Why are we being cornered like this?

It’s not like I was arrogant enough to think we’d dominate. Joutou’s skills are the real deal, and this debate was his idea in the first place. Fighting on his turf meant we were well aware of the significant chance of defeat—Tennouji-san, Narika, and I all knew that.

But even so…

(…His counters are just too precise.)

The theme of this debate was supposed to be Kiou Academy’s traditions. The issue of disparities due to family lineage was merely one topic derived from that theme, and there were plenty of other angles to discuss.

Talk about the students’ parents, the curriculum, the Management Game—among countless topics, we chose to focus on family lineage disparities as our entry point to take the offensive. That’s why we had prepared arguments for this topic in advance.

So when the debate quickly shifted to family lineage disparities, I inwardly cheered, “Yes!” It was the perfect flow to discuss the topic we were most prepared for.

Yet Joutou was keeping up with our prepared arguments on the fly. No, he wasn’t just keeping up—he was hitting us with even more information than we had.

His debating skills were just too good.

Even if Joutou is a rare political talent, this was almost too perfect.

“I object!!”

Tennouji-san’s shrill voice cuts through the air.

“Joutou-san, what you’re aiming for isn’t reform—it’s a reckless scrap-and-build that will bring about massive destruction! Your promises will undoubtedly cause far more chaos than Miyakojima-san’s ever could!”

If causing chaos is the issue, then isn’t Joutou’s approach an even bigger problem? That’s what Tennouji-san was asserting.

“And didn’t you just say earlier? Where’s the evidence that Kiou Academy’s traditions are correct?”

“Yes, I did say that.”

“That evidence lies in the achievements of our graduates.”

Joutou’s brow twitches slightly.

The momentum shifts to Tennouji-san.

(…Clever. She steered it toward the flow she had prepared.)

If possible, we need to break Joutou’s momentum here.

Tennouji-san voices the critique of Joutou she had planned in advance.

“Kiou Academy’s graduates are thriving remarkably in society today. Their accumulated glory is proof of this academy’s correctness. Your vision of making Kiou Academy more common will dismantle that glory. Calling yourself a reformist sounds nice, but can your reforms guarantee the future of the students here right now?”

Will the students here really be able to keep up with Joutou’s reforms?

As Tennouji-san said, Joutou’s reforms are massive—scrap-and-build isn’t an exaggeration. Such reforms come with significant risks.

If the reforms fail, you can’t just revert to the old system. Joutou’s vision of a more accessible Kiou Academy is like a ship that either reaches new shores or sinks halfway—once it leaves the harbor, there’s no returning home.

Do the students here truly have the courage to board that ship?

And even if they do, does Joutou have the skill to meet that courage?

Countless gazes pierce Joutou.

Yet Joutou remains upright, unshaken.

“Take a look at this.”

At Joutou’s words, a document appears on the stage’s screen. It seems he had prepared it in advance.

Seeing the document’s contents, our eyes widen.

“This is…!”

“It’s a graph of the career paths of our graduates.”

A large pie chart is displayed on the screen, clearly showing what percentage of graduates chose which paths.

At the high school level, nearly all graduates pursue higher education, but the issue lies beyond that—after university.

“Kiou Academy graduates are said to mostly inherit their parents’ businesses or follow similar paths as politicians or bureaucrats. …But in recent years, that trend has been shifting. As this graph shows, more graduates in the past few years are starting their own businesses from scratch.”

So that’s how it is…

Many students, like me, are probably learning this for the first time. Everyone watches Joutou’s document with keen interest.

“With technological advancements, work styles have diversified. The barriers to entrepreneurship have lowered, and the number of markets has grown compared to the past. …Even if Kiou Academy doesn’t change, the times are changing. So, shouldn’t we adapt this academy to those times?”

I almost nod in agreement, but at the last moment, a flaw in the document snaps me back to reality.

(That document… it’s polished to hide it, but if you look closely, the content is shallow…)

For a document shown to so many students, its quality isn’t that high. It was probably thrown together yesterday or today in a rush.

But if that’s the case… why?

Why was this document made so hurriedly?

Almost as if it suddenly became necessary…

(…This isn’t a coincidence.)

The unease I’ve felt since earlier and this new unease—they’re connected.

The overly precise counters. And this document is prepared as if it were a direct counter to Tennouji-san’s arguments.

(Our strategy… was leaked.)

That’s the only explanation.

“More students are straying from the paths their parents laid out. That’s exactly why we should learn about the outside world! What I aim for isn’t reckless chaos-causing scrap-and-build! It’s a new survival strategy for this academy!”

Joutou strings together appealing words.

But having realized the truth behind my unease, I glare fiercely at him.

At the center of the auditorium, Tennouji-san and Narika are pale-faced, utterly silenced by this overwhelming defeat.

I want to rush to them and tell them they haven’t lost.

But how would that look to the surrounding students?

“—That’s enough!!”

Rintarou’s voice echoes through the auditorium.

“Time’s up, so we’ll move to closing remarks. If anyone has final words, please go ahead.”

Even if he says that, Tennouji-san and Narika have nothing left to say.

Joutou stands and takes the microphone.

“This debate wasn’t about deciding whose ideology is superior.”

He surveys the students as he speaks.

“But… I believe I’ve shown who the most dependable person is.”

With that, Joutou sits down.

A small clap is heard. That clap grows into a massive wave, shaking the auditorium.

The unending applause rains down as if to crush Tennouji-san and Narika.

“That concludes the debate. Thank you all for your attention.”

Rintarou brings the debate to a close.

I want to go to Tennouji-san and Narika to comfort them. But there’s something I have to do first.

As the students begin to disperse, I head toward Rintarou.

“Rintarou.”

“Tomonari-senpai?”

“Come with me for a sec.”

Rintarou looks puzzled but follows quietly.

We leave the auditorium together and head to the back of the school building. I want to confront him publicly, but that might make Rintarou clam up.

For now, I just want to confirm the truth.

“How did you steal it?”

At my question, Rintarou tilts his head.

“Steal? What do you mean?”

“The answer sheet we prepared for the debate… you have it, don’t you?”

Rintarou’s eyes widen in shock. His reaction surprises me, too.

He’s not playing dumb.

“…You didn’t know, Rintarou?”

“No. …At least, I didn’t.”

Rintarou answers with a serious expression.

At that moment, footsteps approach.

“—The academy’s PCs are set to reset with every restart for security reasons.”

A female student appears from around the corner of the building.

“But what if that setting was disabled in advance?”

The girl smirks confidently.

If the reset setting was disabled, any data created on that PC would remain even after a restart. Meaning, someone could later extract the data they wanted.

That’s how she must have stolen our strategy.

“That’s careless, Tomonari-kun. Letting such important information get stolen so easily.”

“…Minato-senpai.”

The former student council president, Minato-senpai, appears before us with calm confidence.

From her tone, it’s likely Rintarou wasn’t involved in this.

The mastermind is probably Minato-senpai.

“How did you know we were using the study room?”

“Heh, you still overestimate me, don’t you?”

Minato-senpai laughs.

“I told you, I’m different from that person. …I had no idea you’d use the study room. But it was easy to predict that, after being forced into the debate, you’d hold a strategy meeting right here at the academy to save time. So, I tampered with the security settings of every PC in the academy, restarting them one by one to check for traces after you left. …Thanks to that, I’m sleep-deprived.”

There wasn’t enough time to pull this off after we agreed to the debate. Minato-senpai must have been tampering with the academy’s PCs even before Joutou proposed the debate—while we were busy with our guerrilla marketing.

But to do it in such a brute-force way…

“Pretty gritty, right? Not cool at all, is it? But that’s who I am. You’re always surrounded by naturally gifted people, so you could never understand my tenacity. Enviably, you’re one of those gifted people yourself.”

“That’s not…”

“Don’t say it’s not. After all, that person acknowledged you.”

Minato-senpai no longer hides the emotions swirling in her chest. A dark intensity churns in the depths of her eyes, threatening to swallow me whole as we speak.

I was mistaken.

Minato-senpai’s fearsomeness isn’t her foresight, as she claims.

She probably only has average foresight. But with that alone, she compensates with sheer, relentless tenacity.

Even if there’s a gap in talent, she bridges it with raw determination.

That’s how Minato Maki fights.

That’s how she’s been fighting all this time at the genius-filled Kiou Academy.

“Tomonari-kun, you probably don’t know this, but there was once a student who tried to run for student council by bribing others.”

I didn’t know that.

But now that I’ve seen the kind of scheming that happens at this academy, it doesn’t feel unnatural. There are probably students here who’d do such things, and I just didn’t know.

“…What happened to that student?”

“I made them withdraw. Good thing I noticed before the election started.”

As if relieved by the thought of a dodged bullet, Minato-senpai sighs.

“There are people at this academy who play dirty. And the student council needs the ability to stop those schemes.”

Hearing those words, I finally understand what Minato-senpai is getting at.

If you can’t see through schemes, you’re not qualified to be student council president.

That’s what she’s saying.

“…So, that justifies you using dirty tactics?”

“Exactly. I agree with Ren-kun’s ideas, you know. …You guys are too pure.”

You’re too pure to be suited for the student council. That’s what Minato-senpai came to tell us, going so far as to reveal her tricks.

She’s here to break our spirits, telling us to know our place.

Even if we’re innocent people untainted by corruption, that doesn’t give Minato-senpai the right to resort to dirty methods. She must know that.

She’s doing this fully aware of its wrongness.

She’s using dirty tactics with full consciousness of their unfairness.

“Does Joutou-kun know about this?”

“He knows. He even gave me a message for when you asked that question.”

A message…?

“‘This time, it’s my own will.’ …That’s what he said.”

With that, Minato-senpai walks away.

Rintarou mutters a brief “Sorry” and follows her.

…Yeah, I figured, I think to myself.

The negative campaign was Rintarou’s doing alone. But behind it was his passionate desire to support Joutou, who never seemed serious about winning.

Joutou must have deeply regretted letting his own hesitance push Rintarou to dirty his hands. That’s why he decided this time would be different.

This time, he’d take us down with his own will.

“…Haa.”

Left alone, I let out a quiet sigh.

A bit late, I realize I could just report this. Why didn’t I think of something so obvious right away?

I could just tell the teachers everything.

…How would I even explain it?

There’s probably no evidence left. She revealed everything because she’s confident it’s all been covered up.

(Should I have recorded it…?)

If I’d recorded our conversation on my smartphone, it could’ve been evidence. Since Joutou’s complicity is confirmed, a successful accusation could take them both down.

Then, it’d just be Tennouji-san and Narika, fighting a clean battle…

“…Haha.”

Suddenly, everything feels utterly ridiculous.

Evidence, accusations.

Recordings, takedowns.

What am I even thinking…?

Is this really what you think about during an election?

“Hahaha…!”

The dry laughter wouldn’t stop.

It felt like if I didn’t do at least that, I’d lose my sanity.

“…Damn it.”

Is this even fair?

◆

Returning to the auditorium from behind the school building, I was greeted by Tennouji-san and Narika, who looked worried and asked, “Did something happen?” Only then did I realize how bad my complexion must be.

I felt guilty for causing the two of them, who were already disheartened, to worry about me. But right now, I desperately needed time to sort out my thoughts.

If I tried to explain what just happened to them, I had a feeling my head would overheat and boil over.

“…I’m sorry. I need some time to cool down, so let’s call it a day for now.”

It pained me to disband the group for my own convenience, but I just wasn’t in a mental state to talk calmly. Tennouji-san and Narika complied without a single complaint.

I passed through the school gate and walked for a bit before being picked up by the Konohana family’s car.

As I sank into the back seat, Hinako, sitting beside me, stared at me intently.

“Izuki… did something happen?”

With Hinako, I felt like I could explain things calmly.

Precisely because she wasn’t directly involved in the election, I could lay everything bare to her without holding back.

“The thing is…”

Deep down, I must’ve wanted to let it all out. I told Hinako everything—how Minato-senpai had set us up, and how Joutou had condoned the strategy.

“…That’s awful.”

After hearing it all, Hinako murmured softly.

Yeah, it’s awful, isn’t it? The voice inside me nodded furiously in agreement.

But saying that wouldn’t change the outcome of the debate.

“…I’ll head back to my room now.”

Once we arrived at the mansion, I made a beeline for my room. My heart was still far from calm, but time didn’t care about my feelings—it kept marching on. I had to start thinking about how to turn things around starting tomorrow, and I needed to do it now.

“I’m coming too.”

Hinako tugged lightly at my clothes as she spoke.

“…Fine, I guess.”

She usually tagged along anyway. When she was swamped with assignments from Kagen-san and getting dragged off by Shizune-san, that was one thing, but lately, that hadn’t been happening as much.

“I’m pretty busy today, so I won’t be able to talk much, okay?”

“Mm. Just being by your side is enough.”

If I were my usual self, I might’ve gotten flustered.

But the me who was drowning in bottomless anxiety responded with a surprisingly flat tone, saying, “I see,” as I nodded.

Back in my room, I immediately booted up my laptop.

(I need to report the situation to Tennouji-san and Narika right away.)

It had already been an hour since we parted ways, and I still wasn’t confident I could stay calm. So instead of a call, I deliberately chose to send a written message detailing what had happened.

I told them how Minato-senpai had set us up, keeping my personal feelings as detached as possible.

After sending the message to both of them, I let out a quiet sigh.

“Izuki, are you… okay?”

“…Yeah, I’ve calmed down quite a bit.”

That was a lie. I was nowhere near calm.

But if I didn’t at least pretend to be composed, the heat in my head would never cool down.

(…I need to compile the survey results.)

The surveys we distributed during the guerrilla marketing hadn’t been fully reviewed yet, thanks to the debate strategy meeting getting in the way.

I started going through the surveys that Kita and Suminoe-san had sorted.

Partway through, one particular survey sheet gave me an overwhelming sense of unease.

It was the exact same feeling I’d had during the debate strategy meeting.

(This—!)

The anger simmering deep in my chest connected with the unease radiating from that survey sheet. The rage, which had nearly settled, surged back to the surface because of this.

“Damn it!!”

Overwhelmed with frustration, I shouted and tore the survey sheet apart.

Hinako, sitting on the bed, flinched in surprise, her body trembling. Catching her reaction in the corner of my eye, I felt as if I’d been doused with cold water.

“Sorry, Hinako. I’m really sorry…”

“It’s okay… I was just a little startled.”

I was shocked at how angry I’d gotten.

Looking at the torn survey sheet, I pressed a hand to my forehead. This might be the first time in my life I’d been this shaken. Even when my parents skipped town in the middle of the night, I hadn’t been this furious.

“…What happened?”

Hinako asked.

Since I’d startled—and probably scared—her, I had an obligation to explain.

With my hand still on my forehead, I answered.

“…I’d noticed it yesterday after school, but among the surveys we collected, there are responses deliberately designed to throw us off.”

On the surface, they seemed to support us. But upon closer inspection, they subtly guided us toward ruin.

A cunning trap had been laid within the surveys.

“Joutou’s camp… their reach extends this far…”

This was a group that would tamper with the academy’s computers to steal data. I should’ve anticipated they’d distort the survey results too.

Hinako was speechless. I was dumbfounded when I realized it myself.

To think they’d go this far—

Even if I noticed, it was meaningless if I couldn’t stop it. I might’ve brushed it off as trivial, but before I knew it, Joutou’s schemes had cracked my mental defenses. Perhaps all of this was part of an off-the-board strategy to wear us down psychologically.

(…I didn’t want to use those kinds of tactics because I didn’t want to burden everyone.)

Resorting to schemes would tarnish Tennouji-san and Narika’s reputations. Given their personalities, they’d likely refuse to cooperate if I even suggested it.

But…

(…Am I being too soft?)

Was staying silent after being pushed this far really the smart choice?

If I tried to use underhanded tactics, Tennouji-san and Narika would probably stop me.

In that case, I could just do it like Rintarou—execute it in a way they wouldn’t find out.

It was a choice I’d ruled out because of the risks. But now, I was starting to think fearing those risks was foolish.

I lost to Minato-senpai, who took risks.

I suffered a crushing, undeniable defeat.

—An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

When Minato-senpai turned against us, I balanced the approval ratings with Hinako’s help.

So, if they used dirty tricks, shouldn’t I fight back with dirty tricks of my own?

I’d avoided schemes because I didn’t want to drag Tennouji-san and Narika’s names through the mud.

But thinking about it calmly, wasn’t it too late for that?

I’d already dragged their names through the mud.

The thing that angered me the most—

It was myself, for making Tennouji-san and Narika look humiliated.

“…I can’t let those two down any more than I already have.”

My resolve slipped out from my lips.

I didn’t care about self-preservation anymore. For now, I’d set aside what others thought of me.

My only focus was the shortest path to making those two win.

Come to think of it, Takuma-san had been pushing me toward schemes from the start. Hinako and Shizune-san might dislike him, but his skills were the real deal. In fact, I’d achieved good results in the management game thanks to his advice.

If I’d just followed his advice from the beginning…

(Maybe… I should consider it.)

I decided to try thinking up a strategy.

Not just the straightforward methods I’d used so far, but including tactics that ignored morality entirely…

And then—

(Ha, haha…!)

As I brainstormed strategies with no holds barred, I couldn’t help but smirk.

Why was it? —The ideas just kept coming.

How about preparing false promises? Ones that sound great for the students but don’t need to be fulfilled. I could just make up excuses later to brush them off.

What about fabricating evidence that Joutou’s camp was cheating? I gave up on accusing them over the debate incident because I lacked proof, but if there’s no evidence, I could just create it. Crafting evidence they can’t easily deny and stirring chaos until the final speech day feels like a solid plan.

I could find the student from Joutou’s camp who submitted the fake survey responses and turn them into a double agent. Threatening them with accusations of sabotaging the election might make them compliant. It’s not technically against the rules, but they’d want to avoid ruining their reputation at the academy. I’d need to track down the culprit, but somehow, I feel like that’s my forte.

The ideas kept flowing—endlessly. Immoral tactics, despicable plans that no upright person would ever conceive.

Takuma-san once said I had a talent for seeing through data.

If I have a talent for seeing through data—then I must also have a talent for forging it.

Because I understand how people interpret data. I can sense their assumptions, the creator’s background, the ideals embedded, the key points, the numbers easy to fudge… I just know how people try to read between the lines.

If I can exploit that, I can create data that no one could ever see through.

I could figure out a way to lie so perfectly it’d never be exposed.

If I have the power to peek behind the curtain, it stands to reason I also have the power to keep others from peeking.

(No wonder Takuma-san recommended it.)

I recalled the conversation with Takuma-san about politician types versus entrepreneur types.

He’d also said that schemes were the field where my talents would shine the brightest.

I hadn’t felt great about hearing that. If anything, I wished I had some other talent.

But maybe I was wrong?

Maybe my talent… was meant for this very moment?

“Izuki.”

The moment my name was called, I felt like my heart was seized in a vice.

I’m sorry—I nearly blurted it out reflexively but clamped my mouth shut. I hadn’t done anything wrong yet, but I felt horribly uneasy.

My heart was racing, and cold sweat dripped from my forehead.

As I tried to act calm, Hinako stared at me intently.

“What are you thinking about?”

“…I was thinking about the next strategy. I came up with a pretty good move.”

I wasn’t lying.

But Hinako didn’t break eye contact for even a second.

“Is that really all?”

Her pure, unwavering gaze held me captive.

“Right now, Izuki… you had the same look as my brother does when he’s thinking about something bad.”

The same face as Takuma-san…

I knew what Takuma-san was to Hinako. In other words, she’d seen right through me—she knew I was about to resort to schemes.

“…Was it that obvious?”

“Mm. But the fact that you don’t try to brush it off proves you’re still Izuki.”

Hinako smiled softly, as if relieved.

“Izuki, stay still.”

“Huh…?”

Hinako stood up and walked over to me.

What was she planning? Did she want to peek at my laptop screen?

As I wondered, Hinako suddenly wrapped her arms around me tightly.

She pulled me close, cradling the back of my head. My face was buried in her delicate chest.

“Hi-Hinako!?”

“—It’s okay.”

A gentle, oh-so-gentle voice rained down from above.

“Izuki… it’s okay.”

Hinako’s hand softly stroked my head.

“You can’t let one failure make you give up.”

My raging heart began to calm, almost magically.

The warmth of her touch slowly melted the hatred festering inside me.

This girl, who’d endured hardships hundreds of times greater than mine, was holding me like this. Guilt and embarrassment swirled within me.

“But…”

Words spilled from my throat unbidden.

“But… it was the one failure I couldn’t afford to make…”

It was a massive failure.

I’d created a scene where Tennouji-san and Narika seemed to bow to Joutou. Overturning that image of defeat in the few days left would be next to impossible.

If it was just my failure, I wouldn’t care.

But I’d forced a defeat onto the two people I admired from the bottom of my heart.

It was the one failure I couldn’t afford—

“There’s no such thing.”

Hinako looked straight into my eyes and said firmly.

“Think back to when I messed up with the three-second rule.”

I didn’t know what she was getting at, but I did as she asked.

It was during a dinner with business associates when Hinako accidentally dropped a snack and picked it up, citing the three-second rule, only to be called out for it. It feels silly now, but back then, she’d only just met me and was fascinated by commoner culture. It must’ve slipped out by habit.

“Who helped me back then?”

I thought for a moment before answering.

“…Shizune-san.”

“Hehe… Not saying yourself is so like you, Izuki.”

Hinako laughed.

I knew what she meant. I think I helped her too. But since I felt partly responsible for the incident, I couldn’t easily claim credit.

“The ones who helped me were you, Shizune, Tennouji-san, Miyakojima-san, Asahi-san, and Taishou-kun.”

Hinako listed each name carefully, as if offering a prayer.

“But I think the ones who directly helped me were just you and Shizune.”

What did she mean?

“I think Tennouji-san and the others helped you.”

“Me…?”

“Mm. You helped me, Izuki. And Tennouji-san and the others helped you.”

Hinako said happily.

“Izuki… don’t rush. There are always people around you ready to help you.”

Her kind eyes reflected my face, sunken in despair.

“No one thinks you’re a burden.”

Right after Hinako said that—

A small chime sounded from my laptop, signaling an incoming video call.

The caller was Tennouji-san.

“See?”

Hinako smiled, as if she’d predicted this exact moment.

I silently accepted the call.

“Tomonari-san!!”

Tennouji-san’s loud voice blared from the laptop’s speakers.

“Next time, we will win!!”

She spoke with fiery determination.

I was so caught off guard by her energy that I froze for a moment.

“…Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me!! That humiliation we tasted at the debate… just thinking about it makes my hands tremble!! We’ll settle the score as soon as possible!!”

Hearing her, I finally understood Tennouji-san’s mindset.

She was already thinking about what came next.

“Um, uh…”

“What is it!?”

“I mean… don’t you feel anything about it? We got completely played by Minato-senpai’s trap…”

“That’s—obviously enough to make my blood boil!!”

A furious shout rang out.

“But so what!!”

That shout was, in part, directed at Tennouji-san herself.

“Unfortunately, I’m quite accustomed to defeat. Ever since I came to this academy, it’s been one loss after another.”

There’s only one person Tennouji-san has lost to time and again.

The perfect Ojou-sama—Konohana Hinako. The girl standing right beside me.

“I’ve experienced humiliations that made my body tremble more times than I can count. So, this level of adversity? It’s hardly worth mentioning!!”

There must be frustration, of course. But to her, it’s not something worth dwelling on.

For Tennouji Mirei, feeling frustrated was just a constant companion in her daily life.

As I was overwhelmed by Tennouji-san’s intensity, the computer pinged with another incoming call.

“…Narika?”

“Oh? Perfect timing, isn’t it?”

Narika was requesting to join our video call. Since we use this app for the Management Game too, Tennouji-san, Narika, and I are all familiar with it.

When I approved Narika’s request, her face appeared on the monitor, and her voice came through.

“Sorry for interrupting the call.”

“No, it’s fine. …So, uh, did you need something?”

“Well, it’s less about needing something and more about making a declaration.”

A declaration?

I tilted my head, and Narika’s expression turned deadly serious.

“Izuki. —We have to win.”

With fierce determination and a dignified air, Narika made her resolve clear.

“Minato-senpai may have had her own intentions, but no matter the circumstances, using underhanded tactics to sabotage others is unforgivable. Joutou-kun, who turned a blind eye to such methods, bears responsibility too.”

Narika continued.

“When I got your message, Izuki, I remembered the time I performed my iaijutsu demonstration. …Joutou-kun’s swordsmanship was truly impressive. That’s exactly why we need to set him straight. I might be reading too much into it, but doesn’t he strike you as someone who’s naturally upright? If a man like that resorts to such crooked tactics, we need to put an end to it right now. For someone aiming to be president to shy away from the righteous path—that’s nothing short of a failure of honor.”

“…You sound like a samurai or something.”

“Have you forgotten? The Miyakojima family comes from a samurai lineage.”

Oh, right. That’s true.

Her overly dramatic way of speaking felt oddly fitting because Narika’s usual demeanor carries an air reminiscent of a samurai’s dignity.

I recalled the time during the Management Game when she gave me a hanging scroll inscribed with the Miyakojima Five Precepts, her family’s code. One of those lines went something like this, didn’t it?

Our company’s ethos must be to uphold justice.

Upholding justice… With Narika’s unwavering belief in that principle standing before me, I couldn’t even think of stooping to schemes.

Suppose I resorted to the same tactics as Joutou and his group. In that case, I’d probably end up getting metaphorically sliced down by Narika herself.

“…Got it.”

Yeah, that’s right.

Why was I acting like I was cornered all by myself?

I’ve got such reliable people by my side…

When I glanced at Hinako, she gave me a gentle smile and a quiet nod.

Just as Hinako said, I’m surrounded by people who’ll help me out.

Letting out a slow breath, I—slapped both my cheeks as hard as I could.

“T-Tomonari-san!?”

“I-Izuki!?”

Maybe I went a bit too hard, because Tennouji-san and Narika sounded genuinely worried.

“Sorry, just psyching myself up.”

“P-Psyching up? Your face is swelling…!”

“It’s still not enough. I was debating whether to use my fists.”

But with that, it felt like the old, mopey me had died.

If I ever sink into despair again… I’ll rely on them to pull me out then, too.

“Let’s win. I want to start brainstorming strategies right now.”

“Yes…!”

“No need to tell me twice!”

Seeing their enthusiasm, I found a spark of hope.

It’s not over yet. We haven’t lost. We can still turn this around.

“It’s gonna be a long night, so I’m grabbing some drinks!”

With that, I stood up and headed out of the room toward the kitchen.

The moment I stepped out, I nearly bumped into Shizune-san, who was pushing a tea trolley.

“Shizune-san?”

“It seemed like it’d be a long night, so I brought some drinks.”

“…How’d you know?”

“I just do. I’ve been by your side for a long time, after all.”

Her words made me feel a little embarrassed, oddly enough.

The tea trolley had drinks prepared for Hinako, too. The pot probably contained tea, right? Having something fancy like this at a time like this was a lifesaver. It really lifted my spirits.

“Izuki-san.”

Shizune-san called my name with a formal tone.

“Don’t get conceited. Neither Tennouji-sama nor Miyakojima-sama are dependent on you. Just because you’re feeling down doesn’t mean the other two will be at a loss.”

“…You’re right. I might’ve been a bit arrogant.”

With this blunder, I was so down I thought we were all doomed.

But that was arrogant of me.

What felt like the end of the world to me might not be the same for Tennouji-san or Narika.

No matter how deeply I despaired, to those two, this might just be a hurdle they could still overcome.

I’d overlooked such an obvious possibility.

“Relax your shoulders.”

Shizune-san gave me a gentle smile.

“Through tireless effort, you’ve grown enough to carry someone else’s future on your back. But carrying that burden isn’t always the right choice. Even if you have the strength, sometimes it’s better not to bear it.”

It was valuable advice.

After the Management Game and overcoming a few storms in this election, I’d started to feel my own growth, even if just a little.

So maybe I’d gotten a tad full of myself.

Tricked by Minato-senpai? Swayed by Joutou’s schemes? —Since when did I become the kind of person who’d lose their cool over something like that? Minato-senpai, the former student council president, is leagues above me to begin with. And Joutou’s an exceptionally talented guy. The possibility of losing was always there from the start.

It’s fine to want to call out their shady tactics. But wallowing in the fact that I got outplayed? That’s not the time for it.

What I regretted most was letting Tennouji-san and Narika down.

But those two aren’t the type to let their spirits be dampened so easily.

I returned to the room with Shizune-san. Hinako glanced back, and Shizune-san gave her a polite bow before placing the tea trolley in the center of the room.

I grabbed a cup and saucer, set them on the desk, and sat down.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh, you’ve already brought it?”

“Yeah, Shizune-san prepared it for us.”

Tennouji-san knows about Shizune-san. When I revealed my true background, she specifically mentioned consulting Shizune-san instead of Kagen-san.

I took a sip of the tea. It had a faint hint of ginger, warming my body and boosting my energy.

By the way, while I was grabbing the tea, Narika’s image had vanished from the monitor. Where’d she go? I wondered, but then I heard loud footsteps, and Narika plopped back down.

“I got permission from Mother!! We can pull an all-nighter!!”

“Uh, I’d rather avoid an all-nighter since it’ll mess with us tomorrow…”

“What!? B-But I was looking forward to it…”

Seeing Narika deflate like a disappointed kid, I gave a wry smile.

I didn’t want to pull an all-nighter, but her gung-ho attitude definitely boosted our morale.

As a lively atmosphere started to fill the room—

“Then I’ll lend my modest strength to the cause as well.”

“Hi—Ko, Konohana-san!?”

I almost called her Hinako like usual but hurriedly corrected myself.

Hinako’s sudden comment startled me so much I nearly jumped out of my seat, but—

(…Well, I guess it’s fine with these two.)

Unlike the rest of the academy, Tennouji-san and Narika know I’m just a commoner and that I live at Hinako’s house.

Realizing I didn’t need to panic, I calmed down, but…

“Khh…!”

“Mgh…!”

For some reason, Tennouji-san and Narika’s expressions turned grim.

“I… I knew you two were living in the same place, but…”

“Seeing it with my own eyes… it just hits me in the chest…!”

Tennouji-san looked like she’d bitten into something bitter, and Narika clutched her chest dramatically.

Well, now that they mention it, seeing me and Hinako in casual clothes, hanging out in the same room, probably feels like a much closer vibe than what they’re used to seeing at the academy.

Noticing their reactions, Hinako flashed a fleeting, triumphant smirk.

“Tomonari-san, would you like a shoulder massage?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Thanks…”

Why’s she suddenly offering that?

I’m not complaining since it’s nice, but…

Hinako’s slender arms gently rested on my shoulders.

“Ah—Ahhh!? K-Konohana Hinako!? What are you doing!?”

“Izuki!! Why’d you agree to that!! That’s cheating—I mean, it’s indecent!!”

“Indecent, really?”

My shoulders are perfectly clean, thank you very much.

“Hehe… Tomonari-san, your shoulders are so tense.”

“W-W-Wait, aren’t you touching him a bit too much!?”

“Yeah, yeah!! That’s not a massage—you’re practically caressing him!!”

Okay, I was thinking the same thing.

It felt less like a massage and more like she was gently stroking me all over, which was kinda ticklish.

After a bit, Hinako finally let go of my shoulders.

“Phew… Sorry, I’m feeling a little sleepy. Tomonari-san, I hate to ask, but may I borrow your bed?”

“Uh, that’s fine, but…”

Hold on…?

Didn’t she just say she’d help out…?

“T-T-Tomonari-san’s bed!?”

“N-N-N-No way!! That’s absolutely indecent—no way!!”

Tennouji-san leaned back dramatically, and Narika pointed at us with fierce conviction.

Their loud shrieks must’ve echoed, because I heard doors swing open in their respective rooms, followed by their maids’ voices: “Ojou-sama!?” and “What’s the matter!?” But Tennouji-san and Narika were glued to their monitors, staring at us.

Meanwhile, Hinako flopped onto my bed and murmured happily.

“Hehe… It smells like Tomonari-san.”

“I’m going to lose my mind~~~~ !!”

“Haa… Haa, haa…! For some reason, I’m dying to grab my sword…!”

Tennouji-san was practically tearing her hair out, and Narika was trembling with intensity. The maids behind them looked pale with worry. I heard something about “losing her senses,” but they’ll be fine, right?

I haven’t even slept in that bed since I got home today, so it probably just smells like detergent or fabric softener. With winter approaching, the maids switched our bedding to down comforters, which can’t be washed with fabric softener, so it’s likely just the detergent’s scent.

Honestly, Hinako’s bed probably smells the same, but…

Hinako was grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying Tennouji-san and Narika’s flustered reactions.

“Hehehehe…”

Hinako…?

Are you… just messing with them…?

“Excuse meeee!”

The door suddenly swung open.

Stepping into the room with a carefree voice was Yuri.

“I brought some freshly baked tea snacks!”

“Thank you, Hirano-san.”

Hinako bowed elegantly, every bit the perfect Ojou-sama.

Meanwhile, I was caught off guard since I only just learned Yuri was in the mansion today.

“Hina… Konohana-san, did you know Yuri was here the whole time?”

“Yes. She said she’d be practicing cooking until late today.”

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed to be overthinking things.”

So she kept quiet for my sake, huh?

I didn’t know what to say, but Yuri just laughed.

“If you’re letting everyone worry about you like that, you’ve still got a long way to go.”

“…Yeah, you’re right. I’ve got a lot to work on.”

“Exactly. Have some sugar and snap out of it already.”

Yuri placed a tray on the tea trolley, loaded with cookies in all sorts of shapes. I grabbed one and popped it into my mouth.

…It’s comforting.

Everyone’s kindness is really sinking into my heart.

Savoring the cookie’s sweetness, I turned back to the computer with renewed focus.

“—Let’s do this.”

It was meant as a mutter to myself, but Tennouji-san and Narika, visible on the monitor, nodded with serious expressions. Break time was over. It was shaping up to be a long night.

“Is it okay if I stick around and watch?”

Yuri asked, a bit hesitantly.

“Sure. It’s probably not that exciting, though…”

“Oh, it’s exciting.”

Yuri said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Watching Izuki is fun. Right, Konohana-san?”

“Yes. It’s never boring.”

“I quite agree.”

“I could watch him all day.”

Why’s everyone so on board with this…?

Feeling Yuri’s gaze, I checked the survey forms.

“The election period is down to its final two days. The last day is just morning speeches, so tomorrow’s our only chance to make a move.”

On the final day, the candidates give their speeches in the auditorium in the morning, followed immediately by voting and the announcement of results.

If we’re going to pull off a bold strategy, tomorrow’s our only shot, but the situation—fresh off a loss in the debate—didn’t allow for reckless moves. As of yesterday, Joutou had a slight lead in support. Thanks to our initial advantage, the gap wasn’t huge, but considering our support might dip tomorrow, a conservative strategy probably wouldn’t be enough to turn things around.

“I want to do something bold, like our guerrilla marketing campaign.”

Tennouji-san chimed in.

“That’s high-risk, high-reward… You sure about it?”

“Yes. If we do something flashy enough to make everyone forget today’s results, that’s the goal. Hiding our defeat doesn’t sit well with me, but from what I’ve heard, this wasn’t a loss I can accept gracefully.”

It was a rational opinion born of her forward-thinking mindset.

If we could pull off something big enough to erase the memory of the debate loss, we’d find a path to victory.

“Narika, you good with that?”

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Alright. …Let’s brainstorm with that approach in mind.”

After steering the conversation toward brainstorming ideas, I glanced back at the survey forms.

While thinking of good ideas, Takuma-san’s face popped into my mind.

(…I’m sorry, Takuma-san.)

I apologized to my mentor in my heart.

This whole ordeal made me realize one thing.

(I’m just not cut out for scheming.)

When Hinako called my name while I was mulling over something shady, I nearly apologized on reflex. My heart was so terrified I almost cried unconsciously.

I might be able to come up with schemes, but I don’t have the guts to follow through.

It’s not in me. …I don’t have the nerve to set people up.

The thought of someone seeing through my misdeeds scared me to death. I’d probably lose the ability to look my friends in the eye. My hands and voice would tremble, and I’d never sleep at night.

(So if I have any talent at all… I’ll use it only for what’s right.)

I might end up betraying Takuma-san’s expectations. This master-student relationship, forged so casually, might finally come to an end. Even so, I decide to keep my distance from schemes and plots.

The talent for seeing through the hidden side of data.

That’s something I’ll use for what’s right.

I focused and read the survey. …Look at the honest feelings of the students who answered it. Deep within this single sheet of paper, the true thoughts of the students are surely hidden.

Focus, focus, focus—then, I noticed something.

At first, I dismissed it as trivial. But as I kept spotting similar things, I began to see it as a potential weapon, one that could turn the tables.

I gathered the survey sheets into a single stack and turned to Hinako.

“Konohana-san, could you sort these surveys the way I tell you?”

“Understood.”

Ufufu, how delicious, I thought, imagining Hinako relaxing with Yuri, chatting about tasty things. Asking for help from these two, who’ve gotten so close lately, feels just right.

I handed the stack of papers to Hinako and explained how to sort them.

“Please separate the ones about the election from the ones about what comes after the election.”

Hinako’s eyes widened slightly.

A strange request, but it carried clear intent. If that’s the case…

“…You’ve seen something, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to think about a solution later, but…”

Hinako must have sensed I had a plan. Without prying further, she began sorting the survey sheets.

“Just a simple question, but what exactly does the student council do?”

Yuri’s question made me pause and think before answering.

“A lot of things. Purchasing supplies, allocating budgets, selecting guests for events…”

“Events, like the cultural festival?”

“Yeah. The student council’s first big job is probably running the cultural festival.”

“Ooh, cool!”

Yuri looked genuinely intrigued.

“Kiou Academy’s cultural festival is invite-only, right? You’d better invite me properly, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Good. …I’m looking forward to it.”

Yuri grinned, clearly in high spirits.

Seeing her like that, I became certain my thinking wasn’t wrong.

“Right?”

My sudden affirmation made Yuri tilt her head curiously.

“It’s gonna be fun, isn’t it? The cultural festival.”

Yuri tilted her head even further.

In that little exchange, I caught a hint of the breakthrough I’d been craving. Once Hinako finishes sorting the surveys, I’ll double-check their contents, but I can already say my next strategy is pretty much set.

I glanced at the monitor showing Tennouji-san and Narika.

“I’ve come up with a plan.”

I explained the details to them. At first, they were surprised, but as I went on, their expressions showed understanding. They both seemed to grasp the potential I felt in it.

Once I thought of it, it felt like the only option.

Since none of us could come up with anything better, we started hammering out the details. I reviewed the surveys Hinako sorted, confirming this plan would work, and kept strategizing until I was on the brink of sleep deprivation.

The thrill of feeling a breakthrough kept pushing me forward, despite my battered state.

But that’s exactly why I failed to notice until the very end.

When Narika learned what Minato-senpai had done to us, she said, “We have to win.” She also said, “He’s someone we need to set right.”

She never once said I.

And I never noticed that until it was too late.

◇

After the video call ended, Narika let out a quiet sigh.

It was already late at night. She needed to sleep soon. When the conversation started, she’d been ready to pull an all-nighter, but now that sleepiness was creeping in, her mind wasn’t working as well, and she regretted how inefficient it felt.

“Two more days, huh…”

She murmured the remaining days of the election period that Izuki had mentioned. Today was Thursday, so tomorrow was Friday, and then Monday after the weekend. The election would end in those two days.

By Monday, they had to reach a conclusion

“This dilemma… I have to settle it too.”