Yo
Hope you all are doing well.
One quick thing to mention before we start, in this chapter, when we introduce Arisu, we're not going to give her a loli build because I am just not interested in that stuff, the opposite in fact, I highly disagree with that aspect of Japanese culture and fascination. And as you all already know, she, along with every other character is 18 plus in age as I also disagree with Japanese fascination for those below 18 years of age.
Woman are meant to be womanly. And admired only after they're above eighteen. So in this story, she's 5ft 1, and has curves. Etc… If you don't like it, too bad.
Now that we got that out of the way… please enjoy.
Actually, I just remembered to mention, ths chapter will be a bit shorter than the rest unfortunately, but the next chapter afterward will be the normal length.
Start:
The classroom remained suspended in stunned quiet, breaths caught in throats as Chabashira-sensei stepped forward once more. Her heels echoed crisply against the floor as she affixed yet another sheet of paper onto the board, this one thinner and longer, with a list of names. Each student's name sat beside a cold, stark number.
"Now then," she said, brushing a lock of her dark hair behind one ear, "I have one final piece of bad news for you all."
The hush in the room thickened.
"These are your scores from the test you took a short while ago," she continued, voice laced with biting sarcasm. "The results are… well, let's say they reflect the 'excellence' I've come to expect from this class."
Her boots clicked slowly as she paced in front of the board, pausing briefly as her sharp eyes passed over them all.
"Your sensei was just so pleased with your performance that I felt I had to share."
A dry rustle ran through the classroom as eyes darted to the board. Some students craned their necks, others leaned over their desks to read more clearly.
Kiyotaka remained seated, watching with an analytical calm. As the names and numbers came into focus, he silently noted them—Sudou: 14. Ike: 24. The class average: 64. A pitiful spread, with barely anyone above the red line minus seven students who scored very well.
Chabashira's voice turned icier. "If this had been a real exam, seven of you would be preparing to leave."
Gasps and panicked murmurs erupted in unison. A few heads turned toward the lower end of the list. Faces paled.
"W-what do you mean, leave?" Yamauchi stammered from the third row.
Chabashira gave a mirthless smile. "Let me make it clear for the dim-witted among you. If you fail on a midterm or final exam, the result is simple. Expulsion. We applied the same standard here. If this had been the real deal, anyone scoring below thirty-two points would have been disqualified. Kicked out."
The words hit like a gunshot.
"Whaaat?!" Ike's voice cracked, eyes bulging.
"Hey! Don't screw with us, sensei!" Sudou suddenly snapped, rising to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot, jaw clenched in a mix of rage and panic. "You're really gonna expel people over one test?! This is bullshit!"
"Sit down," Chabashira replied coldly. "You failed to meet the bare minimum. If this had been real, you wouldn't be here to shout."
"I… I didn't even think it was serious!"
"That is precisely the problem," she said. "You assumed this university would coddle you. That you could laze through your first year without consequence. But this institution doesn't reward assumption. It rewards performance."
From the back of the room, Kouenji chuckled quietly, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"What's so funny, freak?" Sudou snapped. "You're one of the ones who failed!" Sudou shouted, pointing at him.
"Pah. Where exactly are you looking, boy?" Kouenji's tone was dripping with condescension.
Confused, Sudou darted his eyes back to the sheet, scanning upward. His brows furrowed… then shot upward in disbelief.
"T-tied for the top…?!"
Indeed, Kouenji Rokusuke had scored ninety points, tying with Yukimura. That meant he'd correctly solved even the brutally hard questions on the end of the test.
Ike gasped. "No way. I… I thought he was an idiot like me!"
Chabashira didn't turn to silence them. Instead, she continued in her measured tone.
"This school operates under the supervision of the government. It boasts the highest advancement rate to high-ranking companies. Many of our graduates receive direct recommendations to Japan's elite corporations. Some even gain placements with major corporate groups out of the country."
The room hushed again, this time with a different kind of tension. It was ambition now—hope clinging to desperation.
"But nothing comes easy," Chabashira went on. "If you want to reach those heights, you'll need to do more than just scrape by. In other words…" She turned slightly, scanning them once again. "To secure the future you desire, you'll need to surpass the current Class A and become the new Class A.."
The students stiffened.
"Wait… so only Class A gets guaranteed advancement?" Hirata asked.
"Correct," Chabashira confirmed with brutal finality. "Your success is tied to your class ranking. Claw your way up, or get left behind."
A bespectacled student in the third row rose stiffly to his feet. "But that's absurd," Yukimura said. "No one told us any of this. Isn't that a violation of our rights as students?"
Chabashira's eyes narrowed. "Rights? You're in a program designed to simulate the pressures of society. Do you believe the world outside will hand you success for free? You're being trained, not pampered. If you don't like it, there's the door."
Yukimura's fists clenched. "This is disgraceful…"
"There's nothing disgraceful about expecting you to take responsibility for your choices," she snapped. "If you behaved like university students instead of juveniles, your class points wouldn't be at zero. Nor would seven of you have failed this test."
Yukimura fell silent.
From his seat, Kiyotaka glanced toward Kouenji once more. The flamboyant blond hadn't even bothered to look up from his self-grooming.
"Don't you feel even a little dissatisfied being in Class D?" Yukimura muttered bitterly in his direction, having noticed the narcist too.
Kouenji finally looked up, a slow, amused smile creeping onto his face. "Dissatisfied? Whatever for?"
"Because…" Yukimura began, "We've basically been labeled failures. The school gave us no assurances of success. Aren't you bothered by that?"
"Bothered?" Kouenji blinked once. "Ah, I see. You believe labels define worth. How pitiful."
The room stilled again.
"I do not require the school's validation," Kouenji continued, tone as light as ever. "Whether in Class A or Class D, I am the same brilliant being. I am perfection incarnate. I transcend such rankings."
He then gestured vaguely with a sweep of his arm. "Besides, this school simply hasn't recognized my greatness yet. If I dropped out today, I have no doubt the faculty would weep and beg for my return. Not that I would if I decided it wasn't worth my time."
Murmurs rippled through the room—some scornful, others simply confused.
Kiyotaka resisted the urge to sigh. It was impossible to tell how much of that was genuine conviction and how much was dramatic theater.
"Let me make this clear for the slower members of the class," Chabashira said, cutting through the murmur. "Your midterm exams are three weeks away. That is your next lifeline. Fail it, and there will be no second chances. I've marked the seven of you in red. You know who you are. Fix it, or start packing."
There was no warmth in her voice. No sympathy. Only the reality of consequences.
She stepped back from the board and crossed to the classroom door. Just before exiting, she paused.
"If you're capable, then act like it. If you wish to live with dignity, then earn it. Otherwise…" Her eyes swept across them. "You'll remain here—bottom of the barrel, clinging to scraps while others soar."
The door shut behind her with an audible click.
For several seconds, the room remained in silence.
Then Sudou let out a low, bitter groan and slammed his fist on the desk.
"Damn it…"
Even those who hadn't failed looked shaken. The veil had been torn away. This wasn't some laid-back university experience. It was warfare—academic, social, psychological.
And Kiyotaka?
He simply folded his arms, gaze level, already thinking five moves ahead. The pieces were on the board now. He just had to decide when to play his hand.
After all… he had already solved the S-System.
But alas, not everyone had his training.
"If we don't get any more points, what am I gonna do?"
"I used up all of mine yesterday…"
As the break period began, the classroom erupted—not with idle chatter, but with panicked voices and chaotic energy. There was no denying it now. A storm had fallen over Class 1-D.
"Forget about the points!" Yukimura shouted, his brow dripping with sweat. "What the hell is wrong with this class?! Why am I even placed in Class D to begin with?"
A few students flinched at his outburst, but no one responded.
Only anxious and hopeless glances passed between desks.
Hirata stepped forward, trying to stem the rising wave of panic.
"I understand that everyone's confused," he said, hands raised to calm the room. "But panicking won't help. We need to think logically and work together."
"Oh, come on!" Yukimura snapped, fists clenched. "Aren't you pissed that she basically called us failures? You saw that board. We're trash to this school!"
Even so, Hirata stayed composed. "Even if I were angry, would that solve anything? Isn't it better to unite and find a way forward instead of tearing each other down?"
"Easy for you to say," Yukimura growled. "I don't even agree with the way we were sorted in the first place!"
"I know," Hirata replied calmly. "But sitting here shouting won't change it. We should be asking how to move forward."
In a flash, Yukimura stormed toward him and grabbed his collar. "So what, we just sit here and take it?"
Kiyotaka's eyes narrowed slightly. Tension had reached its peak. But before he needed to intervene, a familiar voice stepped in.
"Calm down, you two, please."
Kikyou Kushida's voice was soft but firm, slicing through the hostility like sunlight through storm clouds. She stepped between them and gently took hold of Yukimura's clenched fist. Her touch was light, but it held the weight of composure.
Yukimura, surprisingly, let go.
"It's only been three weeks since school started," she said, addressing the class with wide, hopeful eyes. "Like Hirata-kun said, it's better if we all do our best together. That way, we'll definitely be okay."
"I mean… I guess you're not wrong," Yukimura admitted after a moment, his voice losing its edge.
His anger faded, and the room grew quieter as Kushida continued.
"It's better for us to stick together, right?" she added, smiling brightly. "We're all in the same boat, after all."
Yukimura gave a small nod to the male class idol. "I'm sorry. I lost my cool."
"It's okay," Hirata replied with a disarming yet fatigued smile. "I should've chosen my words more carefully."
With the immediate crisis defused, conversations gradually shifted to the more practical side of things.
Horikita, sitting across the room with her arms folded, was unusually silent. Her usual poised calm had taken on a colder edge—her eyes narrowing in thought.
Kiyotaka glanced her way just as her gaze flicked toward him.
"Ayanokouji-kun," she called across the aisle, voice low and neutral.
He looked up.
"How many points did you spend last month?"
He blinked, then answered honestly. "About twenty thousand. Give or take."
Horikita's eyes narrowed. "Hmph. That's reasonable. Unlike some others."
Her eyes drifted sideways, where Yamauchi was still whining to himself, hands buried in his messy hair as he stared at his gaming console.
"They've simply reaped what they sowed," she added coldly.
Kiyotaka gave a faint nod. "No arguments there."
Before he could add anything else to the conversation, the masterpiece noticed movement from the front. He turned his gaze in that direction just in time as Hirata rose again from his seat before moving around till he stood before all behind the teacher's podium, commanding everyone's attention with a natural sense of leadership.
"Everyone, please listen up. Especially you, Sudou-kun."
"What now?" Sudou muttered, barely lifting his head from the desk.
"We didn't receive any points this month. That's a serious problem," Hirata said. "If we don't do something now, we'll never recover. We might not make it to graduation."
"That's right!" one of the girls shouted from the back, voice shaky.
Hirata nodded sympathetically. "That's why we need to change, together. We need to stop being late. Stop talking during class. And absolutely no phone use during lectures. We have to show the school we're serious."
"Huh? And who put you in charge?" Sudou said, scowling. "What if our points don't go up anyway? We'll just be wasting our time."
"We don't know if they'll go up," Hirata admitted. "But if we keep misbehaving, they definitely won't."
Kiyotaka leaned back in his chair, watching the back-and-forth with mild interest. It wasn't hard to see where this was going.
Kushida jumped in again, siding with Hirata. "Yeah, I agree. Let's at least do what we can. Even if it doesn't guarantee anything, avoiding bad behavior is the minimum."
"That's just your opinion," Sudou grumbled.
"It's a logical deduction," Kushida countered with a bright smile, though her tone was firm. "Try to think about what's in everyone's best interest."
"Do whatever you want. It doesn't matter. Just don't drag me into it," Sudou snapped, voice low and sharp.
Then, without waiting for a response, he stood up and shoved his chair back. His expression twisted in frustration, he stormed out of the classroom like the very air inside had become unbearable. The sound of the door slamming echoed behind him.
For a moment, no one moved.
But once the shock snapped away, more than a few unfriendly comments and insults were hurled at the absent basketball athlete.
Considering that Sudo was his friend, hearing these kinds of insults and comments weren't exactly pleasing to the ears, mix it in with the concern that he felt for his friend…Kiyotaka rose to his feet and walked over to Hirata.
"I'm friends with Sudou," he said softly. "I'll try to help him calm down."
Hirata's eyes, lined with fatigue from the tension in the room, looked up and softened. He gave Kiyotaka a grateful nod, his smile small but sincere. "Thank you. I think he just needs someone to talk to."
Kiyotaka nodded in return and turned toward the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him.
The corridor outside was silent, the hum of ambient lights overhead the only constant. Kiyotaka walked slowly at first, scanning the hall in both directions. Sudou was nowhere in sight. He hadn't gone back to the dorms—Kiyotaka was sure of that. He would've been too angry, too restless to seek solitude in something so routine.
After a moment's consideration, Kiyotaka altered his course and began walking toward the central stairwell. He remembered that the school's rooftop was accessible during breaks, and more importantly, it was secluded. A place of quiet. For someone like Sudou, who'd been on the verge of boiling over, the rooftop offered a temporary escape from judgmental eyes and endless pressure. It was, logically, the most viable destination.
His footsteps echoed up the staircase as he ascended.
But he wasn't the only one climbing it.
─────
Arisu Sakayanagi ascended the central stairwell slowly, her cane tapping against each polished step with rhythmic deliberation.
(I already mentioned this, but I will mention again. For Arisu, we're not going to give her a loli build because I am just not interested in that stuff, the opposite in fact, I highly disagree with that aspect of Japanese culture and fascination. And as you all already know, she, along with every other character in this story is 18 plus in age as I also disagree with Japanese fascination for those below 18 years of age.
Woman are meant to be womanly. And admired only after they're they're above eighteen. So in this story, she's still 5ft 1, but she has curves, is 18+, Etc… If you don't like it, too bad.)
Every movement was calculated—because it had to be.
Despite being hailed as one of the most attractive women in her year, Arisu found herself at war with her own body. Now granted, appearance wise, she was good. Her appearance wasn't the problem.
Arisu had a mature and gorgeous heart-shaped visage that had a doll-like quality to it, with mesmerizing lilac hued eyes that nestled beneath long fluttering eye-lashes. Her lips were moist and plump, doused in a lovely shade of pink, her nose was small and button shaped, and the gentle curvature of her jawline formed a visage that was beyond beautiful.
A full ten out of ten in the face department.
But it wasn't just the face that was a full ten out of ten.
Her body, lush and undeniably captivating, often drew the eyes of both peers and strangers alike.
Now chest wise, she was neither flat or generously endowed, just a modest size, but it was everything below her small waist that captured the hearts of men and women alike.
Her hips were impossibly wide, swaying dramatically with each step. Her rear—massive and thick—jutted out with obscene fullness behind her, two fat enormous mounds of booty that jiggled heavily with every motion.
And her thighs—those thick, powerful columns—were sheathed in tight, spotless white thigh-highs that squeezed into the flesh just enough to enhance every wobble above.
Her body was beautiful. Devastating so. So yes… appearance wasn't the problem.
But it was the defect that she had since birth that was the issue.
It didn't make climbing stairs any easier. She thought with quiet venom.
She winced slightly as she took the next step. Her joints weren't in pain, exactly—she'd long since adapted—but there was a subtle protest in the way her muscles moved. Graceful, poised, and regal though she was, Arisu knew that her body—this traitorous vessel of irresistible softness and secret limitations—was both a blessing and a burden.
'I could've taken the elevator', she thought bitterly, pausing to rest her weight on the cane for a breath. But no… that felt too weak. Too indulgent. No queen ascends in a box.
Her long lavender hair shifted gently over her shoulders as she cast a slow glance downward. Her body might betray her on stairs, but her pride never would.
Still, the heat of frustration prickled beneath her skin. It wasn't fair—how even now, despite all her strength, intellect, and poise, something as simple as stairs could humiliate her in private. She hated that. Hated the part of her that felt fragile.
But it was a quiet hatred—dignified, inward, and unseen.
That was when she heard him.
A step below, another presence had joined the stairwell. A firm, steady footfall. Masculine. Calm.
She kept climbing, unwilling to appear distracted, even as a curious chill tiptoed along her spine.
And then she paused.
It wasn't vanity. It wasn't instinct. It was just a feeling—a whisper of awareness that someone's gaze had locked onto her.
And it had.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Kiyotaka climbed the stairs, his mind still lingering on the tense classroom. Sudou's meltdown, Chabashira's ruthless explanation, the collapsing illusion of peace—everything echoed in his head.
Then he heard it.
A soft, rhythmic tapping echoed from above. A cane.
He looked up instinctively—and froze.
There, just a few steps ahead, stood a young woman of just slightly below average height, five foot one if he analysed correctly, but with a body so wildly exaggerated in the bottom portion that it almost looked surreal. The first thing that hit him wasn't her cane or uniform.
It was her ass.
An enormous jiggly rump that could easily smother a man's entire head with ease.
Her skirt struggled hopelessly against covering it, her panties weren't winning the war either. White and lace-edged, and clearly custom made, they were stretched to their limit, covering most of that huge rear but leaving two big chunks of milky fat assmeat uncontained and wobbling before his eyes,
Her thicc shapely thighs were seductively plush and meaty, gripped by thigh-high white socks with her thighs shrinking in size as they descended down to form nicely shaped calves.
And she was climbing up slowly.
Kiyotaka stared longer than most, transfixed by the sight of such a erotic lower body—and then finally remembering the lessons of etiquette he had learned in the past four years, he quickly looked down, embarrassed, continuing his ascent in silence.
But it was too late.
She'd already turned her head.
"Oh my…" Her voice was light, airy, laced with unmistakable amusement. "You certainly stared longer than most.."
Kiyotaka reached her step and immediately looked down. "...Sorry."
He kept his eyes low as he arrived beside her, the soft scent of her perfume brushing past his nose—expensive, understated, refined.
"My, how polite," she said, smiling faintly. "You're apologizing so quickly. That makes it difficult to stay mad."
He said nothing.
Her gaze drifted over him, amused. "Though, I can't say I mind… if the one admiring my bottom happens to be the masterpiece of the White Room."
Kiyotaka's posture stiffened ever so slightly.
His eyes rose.
She looked away, feigning innocence. "Oh? Did I say something strange?"
"You did," he replied coldly. "That name isn't something you're supposed to know."
Arisu's smile widened. "But I do. And isn't that fascinating?"
He studied her. "Where did you hear it?"
"Let's just say I've been watching you for a long time," she said, brushing a lock of lilac hair behind her ear. "I know all about the Room. The experiments. The numbers. I even know how you broke the human limit at age twelve."
She turned to face the stairs again, tapping her cane gently.
"Would you be so kind as to help me up? I'd rather not exhaust myself putting on a show for anyone else lucky enough to be beneath me."
He hesitated. Then nodded once. "Sure."
She offered her arm, and he took it. Her skin was soft. Warm. Luxurious.
Her body pressed faintly into his side as they moved upward together, step by step. Each time she climbed, her gargantuan ass bounced against the air behind her—an exaggerated wobble that had no business being this pronounced. Even walking beside her, Kiyotaka could feel the motion—a subtle quake in her movements that tested the edges of his character.
She leaned in, voice smooth. "You're very quiet, you aren't feeling shy, are you?."
"I prefer to understand someone before wasting words," he replied.
"Oh?" she said. "And what do you understand about me so far?"
He didn't answer.
She giggled, clearly pleased. "Cautious. Calculating. But you're curious. I can see it."
"And you?" he asked. "Why tell me any of this? What do you want?"
She gave a thoughtful hum. "Perhaps I want to see what happens when a ghost from the past is brought into the light. Or maybe I simply enjoy teasing you… who knows?"
That's his phrase…
They reached the top of the stairs.
She let go of his arm, taking one delicate step forward, her skirt rising slightly again as her fat rear gave one last slow wobble before settling.
"Thank you for the company, Ayanokouji-kun," she said with a teasing glance. "Do be careful where you stare next time."
And with a sway of her mountainous hips, she walked away—leaving Kiyotaka staring after her in complete silence.
"Wait."
At his demand, she stopped, turning around and bestowing her amused gaze to the man who was secretly her past obsession for most of her life. "Yes?"
"What's your name?"
She gasped playfully, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as though scandalized, though from what, he couldn't tell. "Oh where are my manners?" She lowered a hand, her eyes glittering challengingly and excitedly as she bowed slightly. "I'm Arisu Sakayanagi."
End.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter.
It was a bit on the shorter side, and unfortunately, there was no erotic accidents but that will change in the next chapter… MAUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
Anyway, take care lads.
Peace.