Sakamoto's answer—"observing and learning" and "no clear intention yet"—was neither refusal nor agreement. It was more like a declaration of distance. He stood at the edge of the storm, calmly measuring its magnitude without stepping into it.
Horikita Manabu's gaze, sharp as an eagle's behind his glasses, fixed intently on Sakamoto's tranquil expression. Thoughts flickered rapidly through his mind:
Observing and learning? Hmph. Elegant and composed on the surface, yet hiding deep calculations underneath. He wants to use this opportunity to peer into the Student Council's core structures—its privileges, decision-making channels, its direct links with school authority… That's what he truly intends to 'learn,' isn't it?
He wants to grasp the real power structure of this so-called meritocratic academy. A perceptive mind. But perception alone isn't enough…
Horikita decided to test him. He wanted to tear open this polished exterior and see what lay beneath the calm—whether Sakamoto's composure was genuine steel or a carefully crafted façade.
His low voice broke the silence, a fingertip tapping lightly on the table, radiating invisible pressure.
"Sakamoto-kun. 'Observational learning'—a clever term."
Though his tone remained steady, each word felt like a needle aimed at the heart.
"But the core operations of the Student Council—this 'machine'—cannot be understood through mere observation."
He leaned slightly forward, gaze narrowing like a cold instrument of analysis.
"What is it you truly wish to examine? Its scope of privileges? How decisions circumvent the class system? Or perhaps… its role in setting rules rather than obeying them?"
In a few sentences, Horikita Manabu precisely struck at the heart of Sakamoto's stated intentions—uncovering the Council's true nature, its privileges, its machinery, and its place in the school's rule hierarchy.
He paused deliberately. His gaze sharpened, like a hunter waiting for the slightest twitch from his prey. The air in the office tightened instantly.
Katsuragi and Ichinose held their breath. Tachibana Akane's grip on her pen tightened. Vice President Nagumo's playful smile only deepened, eyes glinting with interest.
But Sakamoto did not flinch.
His expression remained unchanged. Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his gaze was steady, unruffled. Not even his eyelashes trembled.
To him, Horikita's piercing probe was little more than a passing breeze.
He inclined his head slightly, posture elegant, voice clear:
"President Horikita's insight is truly admirable."
A direct acknowledgment.
No excuses.
No evasion.
The frankness of it sent a faint jolt through Horikita's chest.
Sakamoto continued, his tone sincere yet composed:
"The Student Council, as the highest body of student self-governance, is the central axis of this academy's unique rule system. To understand its operational mechanisms, boundaries of authority, and interactions with school administration is to understand the structure of a precision instrument."
He lifted his right hand slightly, his slender fingers sketching a subtle arc in the air, as though tracing the outline of an invisible framework.
"Only by discerning its internal logic can one comprehend how this 'machine' drives the school's larger system—how it maintains order and balance under the principle of meritocracy."
He met Horikita's gaze directly, unafraid, his voice open and steady:
"My purpose here is indeed observational learning. But that learning is for a deeper understanding of the rules themselves. To understand rules is not to exploit them, but to fulfill my responsibilities as a member of Class A more effectively within them. I have no intention of seeking privileges or exploiting loopholes."
A faint flicker crossed Horikita Manabu's eyes.
He wasn't cornered. He turned the situation around instead. This adaptability… this grasp of the nature of rules…
The young man before him was no ordinary student.
This boy might truly possess potential.
Nagumo's eyes gleamed with excitement. Understanding rules? Fulfilling responsibilities? Sakamoto had not only neutralized Horikita's pressure but unveiled a depth of insight that was nothing short of impressive.
He clapped softly, unable to contain himself, his smile bright.
"Magnificent! Sakamoto-kun's perspective is truly enlightening! Only by understanding rules can one utilize them—maximizing one's capabilities within the system! I admire that level of insight!"
Horikita Manabu shifted the topic, though a subtle note of provocation threaded through his words.
"However… understanding rules is one matter; applying them in complex situations is another. Can an observer truly remain content with merely 'understanding'—never 'intervening'?"
Just then, Nagumo "accidentally" bumped the corner of the table.
The teacup beside Horikita Manabu wobbled instantly, the steaming liquid threatening to spill over the documents scattered across the desk.
"Be careful!" Tachibana Akane exclaimed softly.
Katsuragi and Ichinose tensed on instinct.
But—
A figure moved like a shadow cutting through still air.
At some point, Sakamoto had already stepped forward, half his body gliding ahead. His right hand flashed like lightning.
But instead of grabbing the teacup, he angled the simple silver fountain pen in his hand as if it were a precision instrument. The nib touched the underside of the tilting cup at an impossible angle—
Clink.
A faint, crisp sound, like a chime of silver.
The pen tip became a flawless fulcrum at the exact instant the teacup lost balance.
The cup froze.
The wobble vanished.
The liquid inside rippled once—barely—and then settled into stillness.
Not a single drop spilled.
The motion was instantaneous and smooth, executed with the precision of a thousand rehearsals. From the slide-step, to the pen's placement, to the teacup becoming steady as stone—everything unfolded within a single breath.
Sakamoto straightened, withdrew his pen with quiet grace, and bowed lightly to the astonished Student Council President.
"My apologies. Balance is easy to break, yet difficult to maintain. True mastery," he added softly, "is revealed in the smallest shifts."
It was both an explanation and a metaphor—a flawless echo of his earlier philosophy, and a subtle answer to the Council's test.
The room fell silent.
Nagumo's playful smile disappeared entirely, replaced by a solemn flicker. That sort of movement was no coincidence.
Tachibana Akane's fingers tightened around her notebook, knuckles whitening. Her eyes brimmed with disbelief.
Katsuragi and Ichinose were stunned speechless, their minds refusing to accept what they had just witnessed.
Horikita Manabu stared at the perfectly still teacup, its surface showing only the faintest lingering ripple. Then he raised his eyes to the young man who had performed the act with such elegance and ease. A breath escaped him—quiet, controlled, yet carrying a trace of shaken composure.
His sharp gaze swept briefly over Katsuragi and Ichinose before finally returning to Sakamoto.
"Katsuragi Kohei-kun. Ichinose Honami-san."
Horikita's voice returned to its usual stern calm, as though restoring order to the moment.
"Thank you for your enthusiasm and willingness to contribute to the Student Council. Your aspirations have been noted."
He paused deliberately, then continued in an uncompromising tone:
"However, the selection of Student Council members requires comprehensive evaluation. At present, there are no plans to add new members. Please return for now. If there are recruitment changes, you will be informed through official channels."
A slight shadow crossed Katsuragi's expression, but he quickly regained composure and bowed.
"Understood, President."
His voice was steady, almost unreadable.
A flash of disappointment flickered in Ichinose's eyes, yet she maintained her warm, composed smile.
"Alright, President. Thank you for the consideration."
She bowed politely.
Horikita Manabu's gaze returned one final time to Sakamoto—deep, complex, almost contemplative.
"As for you, Sakamoto-kun…"
He hesitated, measuring his words.
"The Student Council does not restrict students with a desire to learn from visiting."
He gave Sakamoto a long, steady look—scrutiny mixed with something like tacit acknowledgment.
Then, as if the test were over, he returned to his documents, the matter seemingly concluded.
"The three of you may leave," Tachibana Akane said, stepping forward with impeccable timing and a courteous gesture toward the door.
Katsuragi and Ichinose bowed once more and began walking back.
But Sakamoto did not move immediately.
He bowed again—elegantly, perfectly—to both Horikita Manabu and Vice President Nagumo.
"Thank you, President Horikita, Vice President Nagumo, for your time and insight."
His voice was clear and calm, flowing like spring water.
Then he lifted his right hand. The silver fountain pen that had steadied the teacup spun gracefully between his fingers, forming a smooth silver arc—a silent punctuation to the moment.
"What I have heard and seen today has been greatly enlightening."
The pen stopped mid-spin and slid precisely into the pocket of his blazer, as though guided by invisible lines.
"Farewell."
With that, he turned and walked away.
His steps were steady and fluid, his back straight as a unfaltering pine. The burgundy hem of his uniform fluttered softly with each measured stride.
The setting sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow across the room. The light caught his retreating figure, outlining him in a brilliant halo—tall, elegant, unfathomable.
A silhouette walking calmly out of the storm, and perhaps, toward the center of it.