Chapter 229: The Perfect Girl Is Not So Perfect

Time slipped away, and in the blink of an eye, it was already mid-November. The leaves of the ginkgo trees lining the school paths had been thoroughly dyed a golden yellow, standing tall and graceful. With a gust of wind, they rustled and whispered, sending golden fallen leaves dancing wildly through the air.

There were less than two weeks remaining until the end of the second semester.

The students of each class were making their final push for the final exams. Even students from Classes C and D, who normally didn't seem particularly academically inclined, were appearing frequently in the library. As a result, even the library's seating had grown a few degrees more crowded.

The scratching of pens, the soft rustle of turning pages, and the deliberately hushed voices of inquiry—all of it wove together into a great, all-encompassing net, shrouding the entire library.

Within this net, there existed a certain species known as the honors student. In this library—where everyone else was grinding themselves to the bone—they were like the calm eye at the center of a storm. Composed and unruffled, they seemed utterly out of place.

As high-academic-ability individuals whose grades were perpetually stable in the nineties and who occasionally scored perfect marks, they had long since transcended the bounds of Advanced Nurturing High and stood beyond its rules. They possessed the unshakable confidence that, even if their paired partner slacked off entirely, they could still pass the exam.

The reason they came here—perhaps they had long since grown addicted to studying, unable to extricate themselves after even a single day without it.

Or perhaps, gazing upon the masses of struggling academic underachievers floundering in the sea of learning—oppressed by the will of the heavens—they could only deploy the Great Art of Instant Enlightenment, guiding and transforming them one by one, helping them survive their heavenly tribulation.

Or perhaps such matters were utterly irrelevant. For existences akin to library-bound spirits—"You—are the ones who are merely visiting!"

And Fuyuji Mikage—belonged to none of the above categories.

As an Extraterrestrial Demon, he had long since transformed this realm into a chessboard, its students into chess pieces. The moment these students successfully weathered their heavenly tribulation and grew complacent and self-satisfied—he would strike in an instant.

"Seize them all in one grasp—refine them in the span of a breath! Transform them into nourishment for our ascension..."

Seated on the second floor of the library, having finished his own test papers ahead of time, Fuyuji interlaced his fingers and placed them before his mouth. Gazing down upon the struggling students of Classes C and D on the first floor, he uttered this low, murmured chant.

"..."

Her purple half-ponytail cascading over her shoulder, Kamuro Masumi kept her head lowered and focused on the test paper before her. Her slender, fair right hand wrote with methodical precision. Without raising her head, she asked, "Did you read another one of those strange books that Morishita dug up from who-knows-where?"

The lofty, disdainful posture of the Extraterrestrial Demon Fuyuji instantly collapsed. His entire body lurched to one side. In the span of a breath, his defenses had been shattered. "Oi, oi. Why does it have to be from Morishita-sama? Can't I have found it on my own?"

"That's true." Kamuro recalled those indescribable, bizarrely hilarious videos this guy periodically sent her. She nodded. "The two of you are, in a certain sense, six of one and half a dozen of the other."

"..." Fuyuji opened his mouth woodenly.

Weren't you the one who watched them with considerable relish? Sometimes you even turn around and send videos to me.

"Still—judging by the current situation, the cohesion of Class C and Class D really is improving."

Beside them, Shiraishi Asuka, who had been flipping through a stack of test papers, timely inserted herself into the conversation and offered a reminder.

"Ah..." Fuyuji shot a glance at the students of Classes C and D below—still whispering and murmuring amongst themselves, yet their study sessions now looking considerably presentable. "That was inevitable."

No one understood the situation of Class D better than Fuyuji. Although Horikita Suzune and Kushida Kikyo still maintained their original mode of interaction—and hadn't grown closer just because they'd held each other and slept through a night—and even frequently clashed and argued due to differing opinions...

Their relationship had indeed changed. Horikita-girl would now proactively initiate conversation with Cha-Cha. And Cha-Cha no longer covertly, stealthily tripped Horikita-girl up behind her back.

Through this back-and-forth, the infighting within Class D had actually begun to show signs of decreasing.

As for Class C...

The corner of Fuyuji's eye twitched violently. With considerable difficulty, he tore his gaze away from that flock of chuuni delinquents.

According to the intelligence Hashimoto Masayoshi had gathered, the reason Class C had grown more united was roughly this: they had fought side by side, shoulder to shoulder. In the process of desperately resisting the Crap-Eating King, they had accumulated between one another a bond of friendship akin to having squatted in the same trench together!

Because that bastard Ryuen Kakeru was simply far too inhuman—after two uninterrupted weeks of Class C's passionate, enthusiastic mutual brawling—Class C had split into two factions. The Ryuen Faction... and the Resist Ryuen's Tyranny Faction!

Yet, because they had searched through the entirety of Class C and could find no student capable of leading, after a round of discussion, they had chosen a compromise.

The Crap-Eating King Ryuen Kakeru was not permitted to serve as the class's nominal leader. If a situation arose requiring someone to represent Class C, the class would collectively select one person to go and negotiate. In exchange—during special exams, the Class C students could, to a certain degree, follow Ryuen's orders.

After nearly two full semesters of tireless effort and repeated beatings from the school regulations of Advanced Nurturing High, Ryuen had finally—trembling and quivering—taken a great, staggering step forward on his dream of ruling Class C.

"Here!"

Just as Fuyuji was hesitating over whether to team up with Blond Senpai and deal Ryu-chan yet another blow—a test paper was extended before him. The handwriting couldn't be called beautiful, but between the lines, it exuded a crisp, decisive boldness.

"As expected of Bro. Finished the test paper a full half hour early. Congratulations." Overjoyed, Fuyuji accepted the test paper.

Kamuro silently straightened her back, putting on an air of indifference. She let out a tsundere "Hmph!"

"Hurry up and give me my score."

"Just a moment."

Without even pulling out the answer key, Fuyuji grabbed the red pen from the table and swiftly began marking and correcting. A few quick strokes—in less than twenty seconds, a test paper upon which circles dominated the vast majority at a single glance was produced.

"Mm..." Fuyuji nodded with feigned profundity. Raising the test paper with both hands and spreading it open, he spoke with admiration. "Smoothly broken through the ninety-point barrier. As expected—as long as Bro sets her mind to it, she can accomplish anything."

The corner of the girl's mouth rose uncontrollably. Beneath her wine-red blazer, her already straightened back straightened yet another degree, setting off the elegant curve of her bosom all the more fully.

"As expected of the disciple taught by me—Fuyuji Mikage..."

"Drop dead!"

Her eyes, which had been half-closed in pleasure, instantly flew open. The smile on Kamuro's face was immediately replaced by mortified fury. Raising her long leg, her foot—wrapped in a black knee-high sock—landed with precision on the tip of Fuyuji's toes, even grinding down with force.

"A pervert who comes to harass me every single day—actually dares to say something like that." Kamuro glared at Fuyuji, grinding her teeth. Her fair cheeks were dyed a thin flush of red.

This bastard—never mind the fact that he crushed her confidence every single day. Those restless paws of his were always inviting themselves without permission—touching here, kneading there. And in the end, he actually had the audacity to shamelessly claim all the credit for himself!

She had never seen such a shameless person!

"Ha ha. Just kidding, just kidding." Fuyuji scooted a couple of inches closer and, beaming with delight, drew near Kamuro's side. Throwing an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her just a little closer toward himself. "Masumi's hard work—I've witnessed it firsthand. This is all Masumi's own strength—absolutely no excess fluff whatsoever. Besides, Asuka did most of the teaching anyway."

The young man's face magnified continuously before her eyes. Warm breath brushed past her ear. Kamuro's pretty face flushed a few degrees redder, as though dyed with the finest rouge. Turning her head away, she let out yet another tsundere "Hmph."

"That's more like it..."

"This is Masumi-san's own hard work. It has very little to do with me."

Beside them, Shiraishi had already finished organizing the test papers. She circled the types of questions that might be useful with her pen. Then, standing the test papers upright, she gently tapped them against the desk a few times with soft thuds, aligning the edges before placing them into her backpack.

"Well then—it's decided!" Fuyuji pulled out his phone and declared with heroic, soaring bravado. "To celebrate Bro's score breaking through ninety points for the very first time—the five of us are going out for a feast later! The most expensive kind!"

"Stop it, you bastard!"

Scoring ninety points and then going out to celebrate... what kind of elementary schooler behavior was this?!

Kamuro—who loved thrills yet whose skin was, paradoxically, exceptionally thin—flew into a towering rage and reached out, trying to snatch Fuyuji's phone away. Yet, against all expectations, Fuyuji nimbly evaded her grasp.

"Knew you'd pull that move~"

"Damn bastard—hand it over!"

In her desperation, one of her snow-white thighs beneath her pleated skirt lifted directly. Her knee pressed down atop Fuyuji's thigh, using it as leverage to extend the reach and range of her arm. Fuyuji, meanwhile, swiftly switched his phone back to his right hand, raising it high above his head. His body cooperatively leaned backward, once again flawlessly evading her offensive.

In a back-and-forth exchange, the two of them tangled and grappled without the slightest restraint.

"Alright~"

Shiraishi watched the childish interaction between the two. Her violet eyes curved into crescent moons. Smiling radiantly, she expressed her approval. Calmly, she pulled out her own phone. Her fingers lightly tapped across the screen, and on the spot, she sent a dinner gathering message to their five-person group chat.

Before long.

"It's settled. Morishita-san says one hour from now—meet up at Keyaki Mall."

"Ha ha. Bro—I win." Fuyuji wrapped his arm around Kamuro's waist and smugly issued his declaration of victory.

"Count yourself lucky."

Kamuro, her cheeks faintly flushed, hammered a fist against Fuyuji's shoulder. Her body went limp and slack in defeat.

"You two..." A shimmering light rippled and swirled within Shiraishi's violet eyes. Gently, she spoke.

"What's wrong?" The two of them turned their heads simultaneously.

"This is a library. Please be mindful of your influence."

In that very instant—the two of them finally discovered the blind spot. Simultaneously, they looked at each other.

Fuyuji's arm was still wrapped around Kamuro's waist. One of Kamuro's legs was still, without the slightest restraint, pressed atop his leg. The upper halves of their bodies were practically plastered together—so close they could feel the breath exhaled by the other.

The rustling whisper of the wind through the ginkgo trees outside the window, and the faint sound of turning pages drifting up from below, only served to accentuate the bizarre, eerie stillness of this place.

...

Ten minutes later—having finally managed to coax the thoroughly bristled Bro into barely calming down—Fuyuji wandered alone through the bookshelves of the library.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting gratings of light across the neatly arrayed spines of the books.

There was still a little over half an hour until the appointed meeting time. The three of them had decided to sit in the library for a while longer before heading to Keyaki Mall. With nothing else to do, Fuyuji prepared to search the library for the kind of book he wanted to find.

—Other works published by Shina Katsumi.

His thoughts reaching this point, the corner of Fuyuji's mouth curled upward wildly.

Since he had published one book—then, with high probability, he had published other books as well. Watch as I hunt them all down and read them, one by one. When we meet—he will surely regard me as a kindred spirit. The kind who can't wait to behead a chicken and burn yellow paper as sworn brothers.

At that time—I shall ride my beloved little motorcycle. I will surely be able to smoothly whisk away the adorable little Shiina.

Still...

Fuyuji swiveled his neck. His gaze swiftly swept past the surroundings and lingered on the usual spot of that silver-haired, marshmallowy girl. Her figure was nowhere to be seen. Probably these past few days, the library had been far too noisy, prompting that quiet-loving girl to return to her dorm ahead of time—

His rapidly sweeping gaze came to an abrupt halt. A pink silhouette had flashed and vanished in the corner of his eye.

Hm?

Fuyuji, who had been strolling leisurely, spun around. Without warning, he ducked into a secluded thicket of bookshelves. Instantly quickening his pace, he spun around once more and soundlessly circled back behind the spot from just moments ago.

There—a girl with hip-length pink hair was lightly leaning both hands against the edge of a bookshelf. Her head peeked out just a little, cautiously, carefully gazing ahead.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps at the top of the bookshelf, casting a brilliant, radiant glow upon her pink strands of hair.

"Eh?"

As though failing to spot her target, the girl lightly lifted her plump, fair thigh and hurriedly ran in the direction Fuyuji had vanished, looking left and right.

"Strange—where did he g—"

"Ichinose, what are you doing?"

"Meowha!"

Startled half to death by the sudden voice, the girl spun around in an instant. Subconsciously, she retreated several steps with a clatter. Looking toward Fuyuji, the smile on her face had yet to even bloom before her head slammed with a resounding thud against the bookshelf.

"Nngh—!"

Having been struck with solid force, Ichinose Honami clutched her head with both hands and reflexively crouched down. Her delicate features instantly scrunched up into a tight ball. Even tears had been squeezed out.

"No need to be this polite, is there?"

Fuyuji stepped forward and crouched down. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, he helped Ichinose up.

"Nn... that really hurt." Ichinose was still immersed in the lingering aftermath of the collision. After clutching her little head for quite a while, she seemed to finally realize something. Abruptly snapping back to her senses, she raised her head. Upon her long lashes still clung a trace of physiological moisture. "Ahaha. Good afternoon, Fuyuji-kun."

"Good afternoon, Ichinose."

After briefly exchanging greetings, Fuyuji returned to the main topic. "So—did you need something from me?"

"D-did I?" Ichinose's slender index finger extended and scratched at her cheek. Her gaze drifted aimlessly, with no fixed point. "I just happened to run into Fuyuji-kun here by chance, that's all~ Haha~"

"Fine." Fuyuji crisply and decisively accepted this explanation of hers. "Then—Ichinose-san—is there anything you'd like to say to me right now?"

"Um... that is..." Ichinose shot a rapid, furtive glance at Fuyuji, then lowered her head. Then, she quietly stole another glance. A murmur as faint as a mosquito's whine spilled from between her lips. "It's about the special exam..."

"Hm?" Fuyuji blinked. "What about the special exam?"

"This time—our classes are opponents..."

Ichinose's voice grew softer and softer. Her little head seemed about to bury itself into her own chest.

"And then? Did you come to declare war on me? That from now on, the students of our two classes should cut off all contact forever?"

The voice that had been on the verge of fading into nothingness abruptly spiked in volume. Ichinose's head shook back and forth like a rattle-drum. "No, no, no! That's not it at all! I just... wanted to come and talk with Fuyuji-kun for a bit."

"Well, there you go, then." Fuyuji spread both hands wide. "It's just one exam. Never mind the fact that the exam is conducted on a per-class basis. Even if this time we really do have to determine a winner—must we necessarily fight to the bitter end? There will be plenty of exams in the future where cooperation is possible."

"Is that so... Fuyuji-kun thinks so..." Ichinose let out a long breath and patted her full chest. A smile bloomed once more upon her face. "That's good, then."

"So—Ichinose was avoiding me just now because of this?"

Ichinose's pretty face instantly turned into a giant red face. Laughing awkwardly, she spoke. "Y-yes..."

"Honestly." Fuyuji shook his head and smiled with helplessness. "Where's that powerful social prowess of yours—the one that usually rallies and unites your classmates around you? How come, at a time like this, you suddenly turn all soft and moe?"

"Because, because... Fuyuji-kun is..."

"Alright. Let's set that aside for now." Sensing that Ichinose was feeling rather shy today, Fuyuji timely shifted the topic. His gaze turned toward the direction of Class B's study group. "How's your class's study progress coming along?"

At the mention of this, a smile instantly climbed onto Ichinose's face. The girl once again regained her usual overflowing, energetic spirit.

"No problem at all~ Everyone is working very hard. Mako-chan isn't very good at math, so lately, she's been studying in her dorm every night until ten before sleeping. Even Chihiro-chan has become proactive, actively asking her classmates about problems she doesn't understand..."

"Is that so?"

"Mm, mm! Everyone is working incredibly hard. We can definitely—"

It was only then that the effusive Ichinose recalled that there were some matters she probably shouldn't be mentioning. Raising a hand, she clamped it over her own mouth. In a muffled, garbled voice, she spoke. "Careless of me. Fuyuji-kun—from now on, I won't say another word!"

"..."

Fuyuji paid it no mind. Smiling, he gazed at the girl before him—so immensely, universally popular across the entire school.

"In truth—our class is already more or less prepared. Well then... shall we settle things fair and square at the exam?"

"Mm!" Ichinose Honami nodded heavily. "When the time comes—let's compete openly and honorably."

Just then—the first-year Class B girls on the first floor spotted Ichinose from a distance and were frantically waving and gesturing in her direction.

Noticing her classmates, Ichinose likewise waved back in response. Turning toward Fuyuji, she spoke. "Well then... I'll be going now, Fuyuji-kun. Do your best on the special exam."

"You too."

Fuyuji stood rooted in place. From a distance, he watched Ichinose—bouncing and skipping away like a little rabbit.

"What an easy-to-coax girl..."

Then, pulling out his phone and glancing at the time, he turned and strode with leisurely steps back the way he had come, returning to his original seat.

Time to head back. Bro and Shiraishi-mama were probably getting impatient.

...

The next morning, the sky had yet to fully brighten. The world was still submerged in a deep, profound ink-blue. Only at the eastern edge of the sky did a faint sliver of fish-belly white peek through.

The campus was utterly still. Only the early birds perched upon the branches let out all manner of crisp, clear chirps and calls, breaking the tranquility of the early morning.

Outside the dormitory building—within a mailbox shrouded in dimness—an envelope was suddenly, abruptly stuffed inside. Through the light filtering through the gap, the handwriting upon it could be faintly discerned.

[Ichinose Honami—is a criminal!]

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