The next day. The second day of school.
Morning sunlight streamed through the clean window glass, falling onto the new desks of First-Year Class A. Compared to yesterday, the classroom exuded an added sense of restrained order. Students sat upright in their places, gazes focused, movements like turning pages or organizing stationery carried with natural precision.
After yesterday's revelations about the "class points," the elites of Class A had shed much of their initial casualness. In its place was a calm sharpness, a clear understanding. The binding of individual points to collective honor and disgrace, like an invisible ruler suspended overhead, had transformed this group of chosen students into true "elites" more quickly than anyone had anticipated.
The seat by the window remained empty. With the preparatory bell for class drawing near, the empty chair stood out in the morning light. Many students' eyes swept toward it, curiosity and imperceptible expectation mingling in their gazes. How would Sakamoto—the boy who had entered the first day of school late, baffled everyone with his indecipherable demeanor, and revealed the secrets of the S system—appear today?
Time passed quietly. Katsuragi Kohei in the front row remained still as a rock, his eyes scanning between the podium and the empty seat. Sakayanagi Arisu sat by the wall, fingers lightly tapping the tip of her cane, her silver hair falling gracefully, a faint, playful smile resting on her lips.
Then, just before the sharp, urgent "Ding—!" of the preparatory bell:
The classroom door gently opened.
A tall figure appeared, momentarily backlit by the morning light from the corridor, his outline blurred for a heartbeat. He stepped forward into the classroom's brightness: black-rimmed glasses, a distinct dark brown tear mole beneath his left eye, a handsome, calm face, and a wine-red school uniform that perfectly outlined his tall, poised figure.
It was Sakamoto.
He subtly adjusted his breathing, a hint of sweat on his forehead suggesting exertion, yet his composure remained flawless. His gaze swept across the room with serene authority, as if he had merely returned from a morning stroll.
Under the focused stares of the entire class, he took a step. Steady. Fluid. Each motion measured, arms swinging naturally, shoulders and back straight as a pine tree. His destination was clear: the empty seat by the window.
He passed through the rows of students, countless eyes following, yet he did not glance sideways. Just as he reached the chair, his left hand brushed the air above its back, his body subtly turning, center of gravity sinking into perfect balance. And the moment his buttocks met the seat—
Ding—!!!!
The preparatory bell rang, precise and piercing. The sound filled the room in a single instant.
Buzz.
Time seemed to freeze. The previous moment—the last frame of Sakamoto taking his seat—hung in absolute stillness. Then the explosive announcement of the bell hit, a sharp contrast that made nearly every student flinch. Many tensed instinctively.
Is it like this again…
To the second…
This guy… his control over time is terrifying…
Silent thoughts flickered through the minds of Class A. Yesterday's astonishment now mingled with understanding, admiration, and a subtle sense of familiarity. Sakamoto's patterns were slowly being "read" by the elite students.
And yet, the young man in the wine-red uniform, calmly seated by the window amidst the sound waves, adjusted only his posture naturally, gaze directed toward the podium, entirely undisturbed.
The classroom remained completely silent. No exclamations. No disruption. The elites, having learned the rules of the S system, had discipline etched into their very bones. Any behavior that could disturb order would now carry unnecessary risk.
At that moment, the homeroom teacher, Mashima Tomoya, entered. His steps echoed faintly over the lingering sound of the bell. Broad-shouldered, uniform immaculate, and eyes sharp as a hawk, he was prepared to confront any signs of chaos in the new day.
But the scene before him made him pause. The classroom was perfectly still. Forty students—including Sakamoto, seated right on time—sat like statues, eyes fixed intently on the podium.
A fleeting, almost imperceptible trace of surprise crossed Mashima's eyes. Just one day—yet the adaptability of this group of elites was remarkable. His sharp gaze subconsciously swept over Sakamoto-kun by the window, then over Sakayanagi Arisu by the wall. Certain names on his "special attention" list seemed to have gained weight overnight.
He suppressed the stir in his chest, cleared his throat, and regained his authoritative tone.
"Class is now starting."
His voice was deep and commanding.
The first period was English. Mashima's explanations were clear and rigorous, his writing on the blackboard bold and precise. Students listened with exceptional focus, pens moving swiftly, questions asked and answered with impressive orderliness.
Sakamoto-kun sat by the window, gaze fixed calmly on the blackboard. Occasionally, he lowered his head to jot a note in his notebook, posture upright, expression unruffled, entirely composed.
When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Mashima closed his lesson plan and began to leave.
"Whoosh—"
Almost simultaneously, Sakamoto-kun's desk became surrounded. The quiet order of the classroom erupted into enthusiasm, a passion suppressed for the entire period finally breaking free.
"Sakamoto-kun! That was amazing!" Hashimoto Masayoshi was the first to reach the desk, face alight with excitement. "That trick yesterday—the paper airplane, the hint to buy information with points—was brilliant! Without you, how could we have thought to ask the upperclassmen about 'class points'? I was in charge of observing, but it was all thanks to your idea!"
Other classmates quickly joined in, admiration and curiosity shining in their eyes.
Then, agile and confident, a girl pushed through the crowd to stand before Sakamoto-kun. Her purple shoulder-length hair was tied into playful pigtails, her light purple eyes sparkled, and an unconventional smile played on her lips. Morishita Ai.
"Hey, Sakamoto-kun!" she called, voice clear and direct. "What's your full name, Sakamoto-kun?"
Sakamoto-kun looked up, gaze calm behind his glasses, and inclined his head slightly. "I am Sakamoto-kun—"
But before he could finish, a stack of books toppled in the back of the classroom with a loud whoosh!, scattering across the floor. The noise drowned out the latter half of his sentence.
Morishita Ai's smile froze, then twisted into a scowl. Her eyes, intent and piercing, fixed on Sakamoto-kun. She hadn't heard the crucial part of his name. Annoyance sparked in her, but Sakamoto-kun remained perfectly calm, unruffled, and that only fueled her curiosity and intensity further.
Not all students joined the encirclement. Sakayanagi Arisu remained seated by the wall, fingertips lightly tracing her cane, playful curve of her lips unchanged, lost in thought. Katsuragi Kohei, in the front row, remained rigid, brows slightly furrowed, eyes sharp, quietly disapproving of the display of personal admiration. Kamuro Masumi leaned back, purple eyes gazing out the window, seemingly indifferent.
Totsuka Yahiko, ordinary and inconspicuous, muttered under his breath from the side of the classroom:
"Putting on airs… riding on someone else's coattails."
Amid the storm, Sakamoto-kun's expression remained unchanged. Hashimoto's excitement, Morishita Ai's intensity, and the chatter of classmates had no effect on his calm demeanor. He adjusted his cuff smoothly, raised a hand to signal silence, and spoke.
"Fellow classmates," his voice clear and steady, carrying a subtle, penetrating authority that immediately hushed the crowd. "Yesterday, it was merely my response to the situation. The glory of Class A lies in your own wisdom and initiative, not in relying on any one person's guidance."
He bowed slightly, posture respectful yet composed. "All I can do is provide a stepping stone. The road ahead is long, and it requires all of you to walk hand in hand."
The surrounding students, including Morishita Ai with her dark scowl, quieted involuntarily, impressed by his composure and vision.
Sakamoto-kun—this elegant, mysterious classmate—once again left an unforgettable impression, quietly shaping the second day of school in his uniquely perfect way.