The first of May arrived with a palpable sense of dread hanging over Class 1-D. The forced discipline of the past three weeks had been a bitter pill, swallowed with resentment and a dawning, unwelcome understanding of their precarious situation. The usual morning chatter was replaced by anxious whispers and furtive glances at the clock, awaiting their homeroom teacher and, more importantly, their point allocation.
The click of Chabashira Sae's heels against the linoleum floor heralded her arrival. She entered with her usual impassive expression, but Hachiman, a connoisseur of subtle human tells, detected a faint, almost imperceptible curl at the corner of her lips – a look that screamed "I told you so" without uttering a single word.
"Good morning, students," she began, her voice as cool and crisp as the early May air. "As it is the first of the month, your private points for May have been distributed. I trust you've all checked your phones."
A collective rustle of devices followed. Hachiman had already seen his. 21,000 points. Added to his carefully hoarded 94,000, it brought him to a comfortable, if not extravagant, 115,000. He glanced at Horikita. Her expression was tight, but not surprised. She, too, had likely anticipated this.
The rest of the class, however, was not so composed.
"21,000? That's it?"
"But... we were good! We came on time! We didn't talk!"
"This is garbage! What did we do wrong?"
Chabashira let the confused and angry murmurs swell for a moment before she cut through them with surgical precision. "It seems some of you are under the misapprehension that your recent, shall we say, attempt at good behavior would magically erase the transgressions of your first week." She tapped a stylus on her tablet, and the main monitor at the front of the class flickered to life, displaying a stark list:
Class A: 940 Class Points (94,000 Private Points per student)
Class B: 870 Class Points (87,000 Private Points per student)
Class C: 490 Class Points (49,000 Private Points per student)
Class D: 211 Class Points (21,100 Private Points per student – rounded up from 211 Class Points which would be 21,100)
A gasp went through the room. The disparity was brutal.
"So, if we hadn't changed, we would have gotten zero?" Ike Kanji muttered, his face pale.
"Most likely," Chabashira confirmed, her gaze sweeping over them. "You see, this school operates on a merit-based system. Your Class Points, and thus your private points, are a direct reflection of your class's overall evaluation. Every rule broken, every instance of tardiness, every disruption in class deducts points. Conversely, positive contributions and good conduct can add them."
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "Your initial 100,000 points, or 1000 Class Points, was a starting bonus. In the first week alone, Class D managed to hemorrhage nearly 800 Class Points. Your 'good behavior' for the past three weeks only managed to slow the bleeding and regain a pitiful few."
Her expression hardened, the mocking glint in her eyes becoming more pronounced. "Let me be perfectly clear. Class D is, for all intents and purposes, the dumping ground. You are the defective students. The ones deemed to have the least potential. And that 100% employment and college advancement rate I mentioned? That privilege is reserved almost exclusively for those who graduate from Class A. The rest of you will have to fight tooth and nail for any scraps that remain."
Silence. A thick, suffocating silence filled the room. No one could argue. They had been given a golden opportunity and had squandered it with breathtaking incompetence. The realization that their initial good fortune was a fluke, and that their current meager allowance was the result of three weeks of effort, was a crushing blow. How much had they truly lost in that first, hedonistic week? The math was terrifying.
Many eyes turned to Hirata Yosuke and Kushida Kikyo, the de facto leaders who had relayed the warning. Hirata looked troubled, his usual cheerful demeanor gone.
"Sensei," Hirata began, his voice strained. "If this is the system, how were we supposed to know? It wasn't explained."
"The school doesn't believe in hand-holding, Hirata," Chabashira said. "It expects you to observe, to deduce. Some students in other classes managed it. Some even in this one, it seems."
This sparked a new wave of murmurs. Kushida, seeing an opportunity, was about to speak, perhaps to subtly imply she had figured it out, but Hirata, to his credit, spoke first.
"Actually, everyone," Hirata announced, turning to the class. "The information I shared… it wasn't something I figured out on my own. I received an anonymous message detailing the likely point system and the consequences of our behavior. I just relayed it."
A ripple of surprise went through the class. Kushida, caught off guard, quickly adjusted. "Yes, Hirata-kun is right! We both discussed the anonymous tip and felt it was important to share with everyone, hoping it wasn't too late." She beamed, trying to reclaim some of the credit and maintain her benevolent image.
Hachiman almost snorted. Smooth, Kushida. Real smooth.
Chabashira, meanwhile, was observing this exchange with keen interest. An anonymous message? Her mind raced. The chances of another class helping D-class, the dregs, were infinitesimally small. It had to be someone within Class D. But who? This class was supposedly the worst of the worst. She had held no expectations for them. Her gaze drifted across the room, lingering for a moment on Horikita Suzune, who sat ramrod straight, her expression a mask of cold fury – not at the point deduction, Chabashira sensed, but at the label "defective." Then, her eyes landed on Hikigaya Hachiman. He was staring out the window, looking utterly bored by the entire revelation, as if it were a mildly inconvenient weather report.
These two? A seed of suspicion, or perhaps intrigue, planted itself in Chabashira's mind. Horikita's academic scores were top-tier, but her social skills were non-existent. Hikigaya's scores were painfully average, his interview a disaster. Yet, their reactions, or lack thereof, were… unusual. She had no proof, but she resolved to keep a closer eye on them as she explain further 'class point is all that matters if you gain more class point then class-C then class-C will become class-D and you will become class-D and one such opportunity is the mid term I don't think that's enough to close the gap '.
With that chabashira left the class room Leaving the students to think for themselves.
Horikita, for her part, was seething. Defective. The word echoed in her mind, a stinging insult. She had always prided herself on her intellect, on her capabilities. To be lumped in with these… slackers, and then to be branded as deficient, was galling. But as the initial anger subsided, a colder, more analytical part of her brain took over. If academic ability alone guaranteed success, Ichinose Honami from Class B, who reportedly had the highest overall entrance exam score, wouldn't be in Class B. And someone like Sudo Ken, who seemed to struggle with basic arithmetic, wouldn't have been admitted at all.
Unless… Horikita frowned. Sudo possessed monstrous athletic ability. That had to be his "merit." This school evaluated more than just grades. It looked for potential in various forms. And she, despite her grades, had been placed in D. Why? Her lack of social skills? Her inability to cooperate? She wouldn't have even understood the point system if it hadn't been for Hikigaya's incisive, if cynical, observations. He had seen the trap when she had only seen leniency.
A painful thought struck her. Her flaws. The ones she stubbornly refused to acknowledge, or perhaps hadn't even been fully aware of. Was this why her brother, Manabu, treated her with such disdain? Because he saw these deficiencies clear as day? A sudden, fierce resolve hardened her eyes. She would not remain defective. She would claw her way to Class A. And to do that… she needed to address her weaknesses. The most glaring one? Her inability, or unwillingness, to work with others.
Her gaze drifted to the boy slouched in the seat next to her, still gazing out the window. Hikigaya Hachiman. Cynical, antisocial, and possessing a disturbingly accurate understanding of human nature and systems. He was, ironically, the only person in this class she found tolerable, perhaps even… useful. He would be her first step. An acquaintance. Maybe, just maybe, the closest thing to a friend she'd ever had.
While Horikita was having her epiphany, Yukimura Teruhiko, a boy who wore his academic pride like a suit of armor, was not taking the news well. "This is unacceptable!" he exclaimed, standing up abruptly. "I studied hard! My grades are excellent! How can I be in a 'defective' class?"
Kushida, ever the class mediator, quickly moved to soothe him. "Yukimura-kun, please, calm down. We're all in this together. If we work hard, I'm sure we can improve our standing!" Her words, though sweet, did little to quell the simmering resentment in the room.
Later that day, after the tumultuous morning classes had ended, Horikita approached Hachiman as he was packing his bag.
"Hikigaya-kun."
He looked up, his dead-fish eyes showing mild, very mild, surprise. "Horikita. What fresh hell awaits?"
"I wish to propose an arrangement," she said, her tone formal. "It is clear that remaining isolated in this school is detrimental. Our individual efforts, while perhaps superior to our classmates', are insufficient to elevate the class significantly."
Hachiman leaned back, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "And what does the ice queen propose? A hostile takeover of the student council? Or are we starting a cult?"
Horikita ignored his sarcasm, though a tiny muscle twitched in her jaw. "I propose we work together. Pool our observations, strategize. It is… a logical course of action." It wasn't an order, but a request, albeit a stiffly delivered one.
Hachiman considered her. She was right, of course. Two semi-functioning brains were better than one, especially when surrounded by… well, Class D. And she wasn't annoying. That was a huge plus. Plus, if his house husband plan was ever to come to fruition, aligning himself with a potentially successful, intelligent woman wasn't the worst idea. She was definitely "future wife material" in the making, if she could just thaw out a bit.
"Alright, Horikita," he said with a sigh that suggested he was making a great sacrifice. "I'll bite. But don't expect me to start holding hands and singing Kumbaya. This is purely a pragmatic alliance. And you owe me a MAX Coffee for this emotional labor."
A flicker of something unreadable – annoyance? relief? – passed through Horikita's eyes. "I will consider the coffee. For now, let us focus on understanding the full scope of this 'S-System'."
Meanwhile, in Class 1-B, a different kind of conversation was taking place. Their 870 points, while significantly better than C and D, were still short of Class A. Ichinose Honami, their vibrant and popular leader, was discussing this with Kanzaki Ryuji, a more stoic and analytical member of their class.
"We did well to heed those initial warnings," Ichinose said, thoughtful. "But still, 60 points shy of A. There must be nuances we're missing."
Kanzaki nodded. "The anonymous hints we received were… unusually insightful. Almost too precise for a simple observation. They led us to deduce the basic mechanics, but the source of those hints is what interests me." His gaze drifted towards a quiet student sitting near the back, Ayanokoji Kiyotaka. Ayanokoji had been the one to "casually" mention certain patterns he'd "noticed," which had then spurred Ichinose and Kanzaki into action.
They had caught onto his subtle guidance, shared the information with their class, and instilled discipline early. But in doing so, both Ichinose and Kanzaki had come to a startling conclusion: Ayanokoji Kiyotaka was far more intelligent and perceptive than his average scores and reserved demeanor suggested.
Kanzaki walked over to Ayanokoji's desk. "Ayanokoji. We need to talk."
Ayanokoji looked up, his expression placid. "About what, Kanzaki?"
"Your contributions. You clearly understand more about this school than you let on. Class B needs your full capabilities if we're to reach Class A."
Before Ayanokoji could respond, Ichinose arrived, placing a friendly hand on Kanzaki's shoulder. "Now, now, Kanzaki-kun. Let's not pressure Ayanokoji-kun. He helped us a lot already! Everyone contributes in their own way, and at their own pace, right?" She gave Ayanokoji a warm, reassuring smile. "You do whatever you feel comfortable with, Ayanokoji-kun. We appreciate any help you're willing to give."
Ayanokoji offered a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you, Ichinose."
Kanzaki frowned slightly but didn't press further. Ichinose's leadership style, built on trust and inclusivity, was effective, even if he sometimes wished for a more direct approach.
Back in Class D, as Hachiman and Horikita left the classroom, a fragile, unspoken truce had been forged. The school had fired its first major salvo, and for two solitary figures, the battlefield suddenly felt a little less lonely, if no less treacherous. The path ahead was unclear, but for the first time, they weren't walking it entirely alone.
....END....