Chapter 3 – Points, People, and the Quiet Collapse
The first real cracks in Class 1-D didn't show up with fireworks.
They started with a pencil case.
Or more specifically, the lack of one.
I was halfway through copying down notes from our modern history teacher — a stern-looking guy with a voice like sandpaper — when a girl across the room raised her hand awkwardly.
"Sensei, um... I left my pencils at the dorm. Can I borrow one?"
He didn't even look up. "You may."
She turned to the student next to her, a round-faced boy with messy hair and a nervous posture.
He flinched when she asked.
"I—I forgot mine too."
A few chuckles rippled across the room.
It happened again a few minutes later. Then again. By the third time, someone loudly asked if the school store had pens that cost less than ten thousand points.
Chabashira-sensei didn't bat an eye.
But I noticed the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not a smile. Just… satisfaction.
She already knew.
Day 5
The illusion shattered.
The morning began like the others: quiet alarm, cafeteria breakfast, sluggish stroll to homeroom.
But today, there was a rustle of energy in the air. A sense of unease, like a storm building on the horizon.
I slid into my seat as Ichika slammed down into hers in front of me.
She turned halfway to face me, eyes wide.
"You check your point balance yet?"
I blinked. "No."
"Do it."
I did.
My school-issued tablet loaded up the private point system. The same sleek interface as before. One tap, and the number lit up in sharp blue:
0 points.
Not "99,999" or even "10." Just zero.
A flatline.
I stared at the screen for a second, then blinked and checked again. Still zero. I turned my palm up and waited for Chronos to chirp in.
"As predicted. First evaluation complete. Behavioral score: insufficient. Point total: nullified."
"You could've warned me," I muttered.
"You required immersion. Now you understand."
Across the room, voices were rising.
"What do you mean I have zero?!"
"I didn't even buy anything!"
"Yo, check your balances! Something's wrong!"
It spread like wildfire. And in the middle of it all, Chabashira entered — on cue, like an actress making her entrance after letting the tension boil to just the right temperature.
She waited at the front of the classroom until the noise started to die.
Then she dropped the bomb.
"No one told you monthly points were unconditional," she said. "They're earned. And your behavior over the past month did not warrant a reward."
The silence was immediate. Heavy.
She walked slowly down the aisle, eyes sharp.
"Excessive spending. Disregard for rules. Poor attendance by some. Insubordination. Social disharmony. You were being evaluated from day one."
Her eyes flicked to Ayanokouji briefly.
Then, for half a heartbeat, to me.
"Class D has failed its first test. No points for this month. You may earn them again... if you learn."
A kid near the back stood up, red in the face. "You can't just not pay us! You said it was monthly!"
"I said you were given points. I never said you'd keep receiving them."
A few students cursed under their breath. Others just slumped back in their chairs.
I leaned forward slightly and whispered to Ichika, "So. Still glad you didn't splurge?"
She didn't answer at first. Then, finally: "I spent six hundred points on a decorative phone case shaped like a pineapple. So no, Kaz. No, I'm not glad."
Lunch
The cafeteria felt different.
Gone was the easy laughter and bright chatter. Students clung to plain rice bowls and soba noodles with a kind of quiet dignity — the kind that said I'm not poor, I'm just... budgeting.
I ended up next to Ayanokouji at the end of the counter. We both reached for the cheapest bento at the same time.
He pulled his hand back slightly.
"You take it."
"Generous."
"Strategic."
I gave him a glance. "You knew this was coming."
He didn't answer right away.
"I suspected."
"That's polite code for yes, isn't it?"
Ayanokouji looked me over for a second, then said, "You didn't look surprised either."
I smiled. "Guess I'm naturally cynical."
His eyes lingered on the clock embedded in my palm for just a second before he turned back to his food.
"You're interesting."
"Dangerous or stupid kind of interesting?"
"Both."
That Evening – Common Lounge
The dorm common area on our floor was sparsely occupied. A few students were whispering in corners, no doubt scheming or venting.
I sat on the couch, legs stretched out, watching the wall-mounted TV show some late-night cooking competition I wasn't really paying attention to.
Chronos ticked faintly in my head.
"You've confirmed the social destabilization phase. Class D will fracture within 48 hours."
"So I just watch?"
"Not necessarily. The system allows for disruption and manipulation. Leverage begins with knowledge."
"And you've got all the knowledge."
"I have data. You must interpret it."
"How noble of you," I muttered.
A voice interrupted.
"You always talk to yourself?"
I turned. Kushida Kikyo stood near the hallway entrance, holding a can of soda and wearing a deceptively innocent smile.
I sat up. "Just working through some thoughts."
"Oh, I do that too," she said, crossing over and sitting in the armchair opposite me. "Though usually I write in a diary. Less chance of being called weird."
I smiled. "You're assuming I care."
She giggled — practiced, but warm.
"I've been meaning to talk to you, Hanabira-kun."
"And here I thought I was being subtle."
"You're... interesting. Not like the others. You watch people. You don't speak unless you've already thought of ten different responses."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Are you planning something?"
"Wouldn't it be suspicious if I said no?"
She laughed again. "Definitely."
I tilted my head. "So. Which version of you am I talking to right now?"
Her smile didn't falter. "Excuse me?"
"You're popular, sweet, bubbly. Almost too bubbly. Like soda that's been shaken but hasn't exploded yet."
A faint twitch passed through her expression.
"Or maybe I'm just reading into things," I said casually, standing up and stretching. "Don't mind me."
I started to walk away when her voice floated behind me, softer this time.
"Kazuki-kun... you're not as clever as you think."
I turned back with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Maybe not. But I'm not as stupid as you're hoping either."
I left the lounge and walked back to my dorm, the quiet hallway buzzing louder than any conversation.
Later – In My Room
Lying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling while Chronos ticked away.
"Today was... messy."
"Messy is a step away from movement. Fracture leads to change."
"I get that. But this class isn't going to make it if they keep imploding. Ayanokouji's playing the long game. Horikita doesn't trust anyone. Kushida's got layers I don't want to unwrap without gloves."
"And you?"
"I don't know."
A pause.
"I died once already. I don't plan to just exist again. But I'm not ready to start swinging knives."
"Not yet."
"…Not yet," I echoed, closing my eyes.
The clock in my palm ticked once more.