---Notice---
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"But if a long train of abuses, prevarications, and artifices, all tending the same way, make the design visible to the people, and they cannot but feel what they lie under, and see whither they are going, it is not to be wondered that they should then rouse themselves, and endeavour to put the rule into such hands which may secure to them the ends for which government was at first erected." ~John Locke
"If that's all, then I'll be going," I told Sakayanagi after finalizing our contract in the presence of a teacher.
"Yes, I believe we're done here," she replied, her tone light, almost playful. "But don't be a complete stranger, Yagami-kun. Otherwise, I might start to feel a little used if you only ever come to me out of necessity."
"If someone overheard that, they might get the wrong idea," I said.
"It's fine—it's just the two of us here, after all," she replied with a smile. "Anyway, good luck with your plan. And do let me know when it's my turn to keep my end of the deal. If you're right about what you just told me, I doubt you'll have the luxury of taking your time to get things into motion."
I nodded in acknowledgment before turning to leave. My next stop was Class D. It didn't take long to get there, and as I arrived, I peeked my head into the room.
The reactions were noticeably different from those in Class A. Here, I was welcomed with a bit more familiarity, perhaps because I was better regarded in Class D. After all, I had saved and frequently interacted with Karuizawa in the past, earning me her trust and, by extension, some level of favor from her peers.
"Light!" Karuizawa's voice rang out as I stepped inside. She rose from her seat and approached me with a mix of annoyance and relief. "You've been ignoring my calls, you know? I've been worried about you! But apparently, that's been for nothing."
I chuckled lightly, scratching the back of my head. "Sorry about that, Karuizawa. I've been catching up on student council work over the break. With all the special exams, I couldn't make much progress earlier, so I've been busy."
"Is that so?" she asked slowly, her annoyance fading as my explanation sank in. "Even still, you could've sent me a message explaining that. But… I understand, I guess."
"Thank you," I replied with a slight smile, noting how quickly her mood shifted.
"So, what brings you here?" Karuizawa asked, tilting her head curiously. As I prepared to respond, I couldn't help but notice Horikita seated at the back of the class, her gaze fixed on me. It was clear she was already assessing my intentions.
"I just wanted to visit, honestly. Nothing in particular brought me here," I said casually, glancing around the room. The atmosphere during lunch was lively, but what stood out was how packed the class was during lunch. It wasn't difficult to infer the reason why.
"I see," Karuizawa said. "I'd offer you lunch, but… well, our situation is a bit difficult. Most of us haven't left the class for lunch because of our lack of private points, and, of course, the free vegetable soup really sucks…" Her words trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid.
"Is it really smart to be sharing our class's situation with an outsider, Karuizawa?" Horikita interjected from her desk.
"Come on, Horikita. It's not like it's a secret," Karuizawa shot back. "Anyone paying attention could figure out we've been living off next to nothing for months. It's not like I am revealing some hidden strategy."
"Eh, I kind of agree with Karuizawa, too," Kushida chimed in, her voice bright. "Besides, Yagami is known for being smart. Maybe he could give us some advice on how to handle this situation." Her eyes sparkled with hope as they met mine.
"That's not a bad idea," Hirata added. "What do you think, Yagami? Is there anything we can do to improve our, well… poor conditions?"
His question brought the entirety of Class D's attention onto me. All eyes were fixed, waiting for the wisdom they presumed I had to offer.
"Well, I'm sure all of you know that cooking your own food, shopping responsibly, and—" I began, only to be abruptly cut off by Sato.
"Everyone here knows those things!" she said with an exasperated huff. "But obviously, that's not what we're asking you for. Can't you use that brain of yours a bit more… creatively to think of a better way to make our lives more pleasant?"
What the hell? Is that all I am to these people? Some sort of deadbeat scammer? Some type of schemer? This entire situation felt absurd, yet somehow it was perfect.
I took a moment to compose myself before replying. "Well… it surely wouldn't be good if you all went malnourished," I said at last.
"Huh? Isn't that obvious?" Yukimura replied. "That's exactly why we're asking for your opinion—because we're trying to avoid that."
"Yes, malnourishment definitely wouldn't be good," I said, nodding slowly. "But let's think this through. This is still a school, after all—a place designed for young students. I find it hard to believe the administration would allow things to get that far."
Some students began to murmur among themselves, clearly picking up on the underlying meaning of my words.
It's not typically a school's responsibility to ensure its students are nourished. In the outside world, parents bear that burden. If a child doesn't eat at school, the duty falls on their guardians to provide. But in this school, that responsibility has shifted entirely. Here, the school is accountable for the health and well-being of its students, not parents. If a significant portion of the student body were to report symptoms of malnourishment to the nurse's office, it would create a major liability. Neglecting such reports could be seen as negligence on the part of the administration.
"Huh? But if things were that simple, why wouldn't everyone who couldn't afford food just…" Sato muttered, trailing off as she tried to piece together the logic.
"The reason is obvious," I interjected. "It's a matter of desperation. Few classes have faced the sustained deprivation that yours has. Class D's class point total has never even been over 100 since your first month of school, and for the last few months, its been zero. For most students, this hasn't been an issue because they've never been pushed to these extremes. So your situation is… unique."
"I guess you're right," Sato admitted. Around her, other students nodded their expressions, a mixture of realization and desperation.
"But still… it feels kind of scummy," Hirata whispered. "Claiming malnourishment or something similar just because we don't want to eat vegetable soup… Especially when there might be students who genuinely need whatever the school could provide."
His words were quiet but carried weight, a sentiment that resonated with the room. A few students shifted uncomfortably, clearly grappling with my suggestion.
I shook my head in disagreement, meeting Hirata's troubled gaze. "Scummy? You're wrong." I tapped my foot lightly on the ground—a symbolic gesture to draw their focus. "This isn't a matter of morality. It's a question of responsibility. The responsibility of a system to its participants, in this case, the school to its students."
I paused for a moment, ensuring I had everyone's full attention before continuing. "If someone with millions of private points were to go to the nurse's office and claim malnourishment, taking whatever aid is provided without need—that would indeed be scummy. Exploiting resources that others truly need would be the act of a parasite." My voice grew firmer, cutting through the faint murmurs in the room. "But that's not the situation you're in. You're not trying to take what isn't yours—you would be trying to claim what is. This school has a responsibility to ensure its students are properly nourished or at least capable of sustaining themselves. Yet you've all been systematically stripped of that ability. You're not exploiting the system; you've simply been scammed out of what's rightfully yours."
The room grew quiet. Still, my words settled over them like heavy weights. Their expressions shifted from doubt to contemplation as I began to explain the concept further.
"There are many people in this world who take advantage of the responsibilities of others and reap benefits through manipulation or deceit. Those people are scum. But then there are those who truly need a service—people like you. Within this group, you can be divided into three categories: the fools, the rebels, and the exceptions."
I paused once more. "The fools," I began, "are the ones who need a service but allow the system to convince them otherwise. They blindly follow the rules, trusting that the very system starving them will one day save them. They endure indignities, hunger, and suffering—all in the name of upholding a fairness that doesn't exist. These are victims, yes, victims who willingly chain themselves to a sinking ship."
I shifted my stance, letting my gaze sweep across the room. My voice grew sharper. "Then there are the rebels—the ones who need the service and see through the lies. They know the system isn't designed to help them. They understand that fairness is an illusion, and so they take matters into their own hands. They cheat, they scam, they take—not because they're immoral, but because they understand something the fools do not: when the system fails you, breaking its rules isn't betrayal. It's survival. These are the desperate, yes, but they are also the bold. The resourceful. The ones who refuse to starve in silence."
I took a step forward, "And finally, the third group: the exceptions. These are the lucky ones. They need the system, and by some twist of fate, the system works for them. Maybe their suffering becomes too loud, too visible to ignore. Maybe they catch the right person's attention. Whatever the reason, the system saves them—not because it's just, but because it's trying to save face. These exceptions receive aid, not because they deserve it more than the fools or the rebels, but because their existence threatens the system's image. They are saved out of necessity, not fairness."
I let the silence stretch around me; the students of Class D seemed frozen, caught in contemplation. I swept my gaze over them, my voice dropping slightly as I delivered the final blow.
"Do you see the pattern? Whether you're a fool, a rebel, or an exception, your fate isn't decided by your needs or your worth. It's dictated by the whims of the system. And that's the real scam. The system doesn't care about fairness or justice—it plays God with your survival. So, no, I don't blame the rebels for finding another way. I blame the system for making it necessary in the first place."
I let out a breath, allowing the weight of my words to hang in the air. Then, with a calm finality, I concluded, "Play by the system's rules if you must. But don't ever make the mistake of playing fairly. Because remember—the system is never fair."
It all worked out perfectly—no, even better than I expected. Everyone here seemed motivated, resolved, or inspired by my words. It's funny how a little improvised speech can change one's perspective. I didn't expect such quick results, but then again, maybe I should have. This should be enough to push them, even if only 1 or 2 of them to start out. I can't help but wonder: how will the system—the school—react when it's confronted by dozens of students rebelling?
I've been curious to test this for some time now, and today gave me the perfect chance to find out. Although it's just a test.
It's a step toward accomplishing my new goal.
It's funny—the scum, the fools, the rebels, and the exceptions. Everything I said about them earlier is true to an extent. Each plays their role in this grand system, unknowingly following invisible rules. But there's one thing most people overlook. Above these groups and beyond the systems themselves, there's one more figure.
The one who rewrites the rules.
In a broader sense, these are the people who make the system work for them, bending it to their will. In governmental terms, they'd be the ones who pay or manipulate the system to cater to their desires. They don't wait for the system to favor them, nor do they rebel blindly. They exploit the system for their benefit.
That's where I stand.
I'm not a fool clinging to hope that the system will someday be fair. I'm not a rebel clawing for survival. And I'm certainly not an exception relying on luck or pity to make it through. I've studied the system, understood it, and now, I break its rules when it suits me. But unlike the scum, I don't do it for petty gains. I do it because it builds toward something greater.
The truth is simple: the system isn't just flawed—it's predictable. Its structure is rigid, and most people either follow it blindly or collapse under its weight. But I've learned how to see its weak points and how to exploit its design to serve my ambitions. Systems like these aren't meant to be fixed, dismantled, or replaced; they're meant to be used. And that's precisely what I excel at.
The sound of slow clapping pulled me out of my thoughts. The noise originated from the hallway just outside Class D. Moments later, the source stepped into view—Ryuen.
The tension in the room was immediate. I noticed the way several students stiffened, their gazes darting between Ryuen and his entourage as if expecting trouble. Few figures were as disliked—or feared—here as him, especially in Class D.
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Ryuen said, his voice loud and mocking. "Man, I really hate cowards. Especially the kind who are too scared to stand up for themselves."
Behind him, his entourage followed: Ishizaki, Ibuki, Albert, and a few others from Class B. I noticed some Class D students exchanging worried glances, while others looked away entirely, unwilling to meet Ryuen's eyes.
"But then again," Ryuen continued, "this situation suits Class D perfectly. You're all nothing but scared sheep, huddling together and hoping the wolves don't notice you."
"But among you," he continued, his voice dropping slightly, "there is a scared shepherd hiding behind the guise of a sheep. Nevertheless, they're just another coward themselves."
His gaze sharpened; I thought it might land on me. But instead, his attention shifted back to the room as a whole, his grin widening with satisfaction.
"That shepherd… I'll find him," Ryuen declared, turning toward me; he added, "Yagami, can you come here for a second?"
I played along, stepping toward him as he beckoned me closer. His hand gestured for the class to pay attention as he presented me like a prop in his performance. "I know Yagami here has figured out your identity. Even if you've cut your assistance from the class, I'll find you by whatever means necessary. Even if it gets to the point where I have to squeeze the information out of Yagami here. Even if it means expelling more students from Class D."
His tone was as calm as ever, but the threat in his words was impossible to miss. The students of Class D shifted uneasily in their seats.
Ryuen nudged me forward, urging me to walk. I decided to listen, maintaining my composure as we moved through the classroom together. He walked alongside me, his eyes scanning the room. We slowly made our way through the midsection of the first and second rows.
"I'm sure everyone here knows Yagami," Ryuen said. "So I'm curious…"
He glanced around, letting his eyes linger on a few faces in the first and second rows, seemingly analyzing their features and reactions. Then, he stopped abruptly at a desk. His smirk widened slightly as he locked eyes with his chosen target.
"You," Ryuen said sharply, pointing toward a trembling figure. "What's your name?"
Of course. Leave it to Ryuen to single out the weakest person in the room. His gaze landed on Airi Sakura, who was already doing everything she could to avoid eye contact. She turned her face further away, her voice barely audible as she stammered, "I-I, uh, umm—"
"Ryuen, I don't think this is appropriate," Hirata interjected, his tone calm but firm.
"Appropriate?" Ryuen repeated mockingly, tilting his head slightly. "I simply asked for a name. That's not a difficult thing to respond to, is it?"
His attention snapped back to Sakura, who flinched at his words. After a painfully long pause, she finally muttered, "I-It's Sakura… Airi Sakura…"
Her eyes remained fixed on her desk.
"Sakura, is that right?" Ryuen said. Sakura gave a small, reluctant nod. "Good. Now, bring your head up."
Sakura stayed frozen for a moment, clearly contemplating compliance. Eventually, she raised her head just enough to meet Ryuen's gaze, though it was clear she could burst into tears at any moment.
"Good," Ryuen said. "Now I have some simple questions for you. They're just your opinions, so answer them honestly."
It wasn't a request—it was a demand. With Ryuen towering over her and the eyes of Class B on her, Sakura had no choice but to nod, though her reluctance was written all over her face.
"...O-okay," she whispered.
Ryuen pushed me forward lightly as if to remind her of my presence. "What do you think about Yagami?" he asked.
The question surprised everyone. Most of the class had expected something far more complex or dramatic. Instead, Ryuen's straightforward question left them puzzled about his true intentions.
Sakura's eyes flicked toward me for the briefest of moments, but then quickly darted away. It was as if she'd seen something she shouldn't have, and from that point onward, she avoided my gaze entirely.
"Well? Are you going to answer the question?" Ryuen said, his voice turning more aggressive.
Sakura remained silent, her hands trembling as she fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. The tension was unbearable, and finally, Horikita spoke up.
"I think that's more than enough, Ryuen. Your presence here is unwelcome, and I think Sakura feels the same."
Ryuen didn't even flinch. Instead, he turned his attention toward Horikita. "Well, that's up to Sakura to decide, isn't it? You could get me and my class removed from this room, but…" Ryuen paused, taking on a predatory grin, "Class B might hold a grudge. And Sakura would have to deal with more than just my stare, wouldn't she? So, given these are Sakura's potential consequences, don't you think it's only fair to leave the decision to her?"
Horikita fell silent, clearly weighing the consequences of escalating the situation. With no one else stepping in, Ryuen turned back to Sakura, who looked like she wanted to disappear entirely.
"Now," he said. "Let's hear your answer."
Faced with no escape, Sakura finally spoke, her a whisper. "I-I… don't know."
For a moment, even Ryuen seemed caught off guard. His face remained still, his smirk faltering ever so slightly before he quickly regained his composure.
It was definitely an unexpected response. People under pressure, especially when intimidated, tend to fall into predictable patterns—either giving in to the intimidation with an "expected" answer or instinctively offering a defensive plea for help. But Sakura showed no such commitment. Her hesitant "I don't know" was unusual, especially given her anxious demeanor and obvious fear. One would have expected her to stammer out something more decisive, even if only to escape the pressure.
Given my status and my history of helping Karuizawa, most students in Class D would likely have responded with something positive about me, even under duress. It was strange, then, that Sakura didn't. Could she genuinely harbor doubts about my character? If so, why?
"You don't know?" Ryuen repeated as he studied her face. "Hmm. I see. Then let me ask you this—who in this class would you regard as good people? Friends, perhaps?"
Sakura froze for a moment, her eyes darting to the left side of the classroom. Of course, given the seating arrangement, this wasn't particularly revealing; most of the class was to her left.
"I-I, uhmmm… A-Ayanokoji, Horikita, Hirata too…" she finally muttered.
It was as if Ryuen had stumbled upon a winning lottery ticket. For some reason, this timid girl possessed instincts sharper than one would expect. But even this response, insightful as it was, wouldn't be enough to reveal Class D's true mastermind.
"Interesting…" Ryuen muttered. "You excluded Kushida from your little list. Is there a reason for that?"
Sakura's face turned pale, and her hands trembled slightly. "...I just… I don't know her well…" she whispered.
It was an obvious lie, one that even the least perceptive person could have detected. With the knowledge Ryuen and I shared about Kushida's betrayal of Class D, the falsehood became even more apparent. This girl, timid as she was, seemed far more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for.
Ryuen's eyes scanned the room once more, lingering briefly on a few students before returning to Sakura. He seemed to consider whether to continue pressing her or move on. But after a moment of deliberation, his smirk returned, and he straightened up. It seemed his brief exchange with Sakura had given him all the amusement he needed for now.
Ryuen was lucky—what should have just been a display of dominance over a weak student had turned into an unexpectedly revealing conversation. The weakest link had proven to be the most insightful.
As Ryuen turned to leave, I followed close behind him. Before stepping out, I gave the class a brief apology.
"What was that about, Ryuen?" I asked.
"I thought I'd have a little fun with Class D while you were busy with Class A," Ryuen replied with a smirk. "It seems like you've been hogging all the fun for yourself at both classes though."
I sighed, shaking my head. It wasn't like Ryuen's hunt disrupted anything important; either way, I had other matters to deal with.
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Yes, there is lots of crazy stuff going on. As you can imagine, we will be following canon, but there will be a lot of deviations from the canon storyline given how Yagami has impacted things. I hope you are all excited and are looking forward to future chapters. I don't know if you guys like the idea of a shift from canon or if you are bothered by it, so give me your opinions.
How was the chapter?