When Kiyomizu was younger, he had also gone through a chuunibyou phase. Back then, he was always inexplicably confident, stubbornly believing he was different from everyone else and smarter than his peers. It wasn't until he entered university and then the workforce that this childish sense of superiority gradually faded.
Looking at the silver-haired girl before him, he suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
(As expected... a young lady who hasn't been humbled by reality yet.)
He made a silent judgment. This condescending, arrogant attitude most likely stemmed from a sheltered upbringing—she had never experienced true failure nor met an opponent who could thoroughly defeat her. His assessment was: she needed to be taken down a peg or two to learn a lesson, which might, to some extent, correct her haughty attitude.
"Alright, alright, you're right about everything," Kiyomizu said, waving his hand dismissively. "The opening ceremony is about to start. I'm leaving."
He turned and walked away, his posture crisp and decisive, showing no intention of continuing the conversation.
(This guy!)
Arisu Sakayanagi's slender fingers unconsciously tightened their grip on her cane. She, of course, understood the meaning of "chuunibyou"—the childish delusions of adolescents. How could that be compared to her own rigorously reasoned self-awareness?
(My classmates? They're just a bunch of mediocre people.)
In her eyes, they were like rigid pawns on a chessboard, not even worthy of her serious attention. And that boy who had just walked off...
(He's so high and mighty...)
What bothered her most was the almost pitiful look he'd given her as he left, as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. This feeling of being looked down upon was completely new to her. If it were anyone else, she could have just made a mental note and settled the score later. But it had to be him—the one opponent she had grudgingly acknowledged—who acted as if she wasn't even worth his notice.
(The desire to defeat him fair and square in a battle of wits...)
(...is only making this frustration grow stronger.)
"What, you don't believe my judgment? Do you think Masumi Kamuro won't steal after the opening ceremony?"
Arisu Sakayanagi quickened her pace to catch up. Seeing the boy ahead of her slow down, she secretly breathed a sigh of relief. If he had actually started running, her physical condition would have made it impossible to keep up. Her voice was calm with the confidence of a winner. "Why don't we make a bet on what time Masumi will make her move? This will be a great test of observation and reasoning..."
However, Kiyomizu just took a deep breath, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. Before she could finish, the boy clenched his fists, sprinted forward, and vanished from sight within a dozen seconds.
"He... he actually... ran away?! And he wouldn't even tell me his name in the end?!"
Arisu Sakayanagi froze in place, her cane tapping a crisp sound on the ground. A rare look of astonishment appeared on her delicate face, which then flushed into a vexed crimson.
...
When Kiyomizu pushed open the doors to the gymnasium and quickly walked toward the Class D formation, he could clearly feel the probing stares of the students around him. The 39 other students of his class were already lined up, now sizing him up with various expressions—curiosity, mockery, and even a hint of schadenfreude.
(So I've become the center of attention...)
Kiyomizu muttered. Arriving late in front of everyone was bound to attract this much focus. However, having been shaped by society, Kiyomizu had long since learned not to care about the opinions of others.
The homeroom teacher, Sae Chabashira, gave him a cold glance, casually tapping a roll-call book against her palm. "Late on the first day of school, Kiyomizu? Get in line, quickly."
"Haha—"
A wave of snickers rippled through the class ranks.
Chabashira's gaze swept over Kiyomizu again. "Wait! Go stand in the very front row." She paused, then added meaningfully, "At the very front of the Class D line."
Kiyomizu walked to the designated spot with a calm expression. He discreetly observed his homeroom teacher. Not only had she called him by name, but she had specifically emphasized the "Class D" line.
(Did she see through my lie?)
Kiyomizu wondered. Earlier, when he had deliberately lied to Chabashira, even using the probing line "a conceited student like that belongs in Class D," the matter-of-fact expression on her face had said it all. Class D was indeed the bottom of the barrel at this school.
(So is this a retaliatory arrangement?)
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the gymnasium doors opened again. Arisu Sakayanagi entered slowly, leaning on her cane. After a brief conversation with the Class A homeroom teacher, she too was directed to the very first spot in her class's line.
Their eyes met briefly in the air.
Arisu Sakayanagi's mouth opened slightly in genuine surprise—she clearly hadn't expected him to be a student of Class D. However, Kiyomizu himself wasn't surprised at all. After all, his written exam scores were abysmal. In his memory, he couldn't even solve the most basic equations. With such academic ability, being placed in Class D was inevitable.
Following that, the student council president, Manabu Horikita, took the stage and began his speech. The content was mostly clichés, but one piece of information stood out: This school adhered to an educational philosophy that valued "both the literary and martial arts." In this day and age, aside from specialized sports academies, it was rare for a regular high school to so openly champion such an old-fashioned educational concept.
...
As the lengthy opening ceremony concluded, the classes remained in their neat formations. A few homeroom teachers came forward to give brief instructions. Sae Chabashira slowly paced in front of the Class D line, her eyes scanning the new students.
"Classes will officially begin tomorrow," she said, pausing for effect. "For the rest of the day, you are free to do as you please. I suggest you familiarize yourselves with the campus." With that, Chabashira turned and left.
Some students had already begun to follow the crowd out of the gymnasium. Kiyomizu keenly felt a sharp gaze on him. He turned slightly and met Suzune Horikita's cold, pond-like eyes.
"Late on the first day. It seems you don't take your status as a student very seriously."
"I was held up by a difficult person while gathering some necessary information," Kiyomizu replied calmly.
"...People with a poor sense of time rarely accomplish much."
"You're right. Speaking of which, I'm quite interested in the student council. How about we go check it out together now?" His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
—There he goes again.
Horikita thought to herself. Every time she spoke with sharp intent, he would deflect it with ease and even steer the conversation in a direction that interested her. She had to admit, his emotional intelligence was leagues above hers. And this time, he had directly mentioned the student council.
"You..." Her voice hitched, her brow furrowing unconsciously. "Do you know the student council president is my brother? Is that why you deliberately brought it up? You think I'd be interested?"
Kiyomizu tilted his head slightly. "You have the same last name, and... the way you looked at him during the opening ceremony was quite complicated, wasn't it?"
Horikita's breath caught in her throat.
—He saw through me again.
This realization made her fingers tighten unconsciously. She had always prided herself on her intellect and never thought anyone could surpass her in insight. But ever since meeting Kiyomizu, it felt like he could effortlessly see through her in every exchange. It gave her the strange illusion of facing her own brother. Even her secret plan to visit the student council to see her brother... he had figured it out. That's why he had extended the invitation.
She pressed her lips together, a strange restlessness stirring in her chest. If she were to date him, he would probably be the type to show up ten minutes late on purpose, hiding somewhere to watch his girlfriend squirm anxiously before appearing with an apologetic smile.
And yet, this feeling of being outmaneuvered... strangely reminded her of her brother. The same sharpness, the same intelligence, the same way they left her unable to retort. Although their personalities were different, the feeling they gave her was inexplicably similar. She hated this feeling of being seen through, yet she couldn't bring herself to be truly cold to him. She just couldn't dislike him.
"...Stop looking back at me in the future," she finally said, turning her face away. Her voice was lower than usual, tinged with an almost imperceptible quiver. "Let's go."
Her retreating figure looked less like a composed departure and more like a hasty escape.
-------
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