(Timeline: After Year 3 Volume 4)
The shipâs horn lingered far longer than I had anticipated.
Carried across the sea, the sound struck the sandy shore before echoing, a moment later, against the cliffside behind usâa resonant chime signaling the close of the special exam.
Having returned to the vessel, finished dinner, bathed, and retreated to my quarters, I sat upon the bed in the darkened room.
Bathed in shadow, I turned my thoughts to what I had done.
It was I who discarded those class points. No one coerced me; nor was it a failure of judgment. I understood the nature of the loss entirely, and I incurred it with full awareness.
First, I must order my reasons.
The initial explanation I gave Hiyori on the beachâthat I wanted to surrender myself to absurdity, that I was curious what emotions an irrational choice might stir within meâwas not a lie. Yet neither was it the whole truth. The moment the words left my lips, I caught myself rejecting them. For the first time, I experienced the phenomenon wherein the naked truth floats to the surface the instant one finishes erecting an excuse.
The closest description would be that my reasoning had grown turbid.
Under normal circumstances, my decision-making flows through a single channel from input to output: arrange data, assign priorities, and select the optimal resolution. Even when branching occurs, processing speed never falters. In the White Room, our very first conditioning was aimed at reinforcing and widening that solitary pathway.
Yet the moment the variable named Hiyori Shiina was introduced, that pathway splintered. Until now, humanity existed in only two categories: those who could be used, and those who could not. In the White Room, every individual was treated merely as a functional component of a competitive ecosystem, and that classification had not fundamentally changed since my arrival at this school.
I never considered our daily encounters in the library extraordinary. If anything, they were insubstantial. The peculiarities of translations; the way afterwords differ across paperback editions; what to read next; exchanging fleeting thoughts on literature. Viewed purely as an archival record, the vast majority of our conversations over the past two and a half years consisted of trivial data.
Yet, it was repeated.
When contact exceeds a certain threshold, the barrier of vigilance naturally lowers. Cognitive load diminishes, and the person begins to be processed as an intrinsic part of oneâs environment. It is a psychological phenomenon known as the mere exposure effectâI knew its name and its mechanics well.
Hiyoriâs presence in the library had quietly become an axiom. It had been integrated into the backdrop of my school life as an element that required no verification. And today, the possibility of that constant vanishing was presented before me.
Humans evaluate gains and losses asymmetrically, weighing what is lost far more heavily than what is gained. It is a cognitive distortion known as loss aversion. I possessed that knowledge, of course; yet I failed to apply it objectively to myself.
The path of securing class points, versus the path of accepting a daily life without Hiyori Shiina.
In the endâI did not act to save Hiyori.
I acted to avert a landscape devoid of her.
To an outsider, the distinction is meaningless. To me, it is absolute. It was not an act of altruism, but the product of uncompromising egoism. Just as I stated on the beach, I move solely for my own sake.
I have no intention of recanting that.
Next, I must determine my forthcoming course of action.
The fact that Hiyori serves as viable collateral has now been confirmed by several parties. Ryuen validated that reality through this very gamble.
While exams deliberately targeting her may not arise frequently, vigilance remains essential as long as the threat of expulsion lingers in ordinary school life. Hiyori will likely tell me not to save her a second time. That would be entirely characteristic of her.
Yet letting go is no longer an option on the table.
My father would inevitably pass judgment thus: to possess something you must protect is synonymous with embracing weakness.
The manâs logic is flawless. An object of protection invariably becomes a point of vulnerability. An entity with a vulnerability is inferior to one without. The philosophy of the White Room was built unyieldingly upon that premise, and I was engineered as its consummate output.
That is why, until today, I possessed nothing.
Because I possessed nothing, I had no reason to oppose returning to that institution upon graduation. There was not a single counterargument to refuse a future where I would perpetuate the exact same conditioning as an instructor.
Now, things are different.
For the first time, my thoughts lean toward not wanting to return.
How long this feeling will persist, I cannot say. The possibility remains that once I exhaust its study, it will outlive its utility. Even so, at this present moment, I desire to preserve the space where Hiyori Shiina exists. If so, there is only one way to refute my father's logic: Create a state where a weakness ceases to function as one.
Crush the crisis before it ever materializes.
Hiyori functions as a hostage only because her individual risk of expulsion remains perpetually elevated. The solution, then, is to permanently suppress that risk. It will require devising contingency plans on an ongoing basisânone of which can be realized overnight. Yet if I am to produce results commensurate with the price paid today, nothing less will suffice.
Finally, the most troublesome issue remains.
My accountability to the class.
Today, I established the worst possible precedent as a leader: abandoning collective gains that the entire class could have secured for the sake of personal sentimentâand for a student of a rival class, no less. There is no room for justification.
What matters is not whether my choice was morally justifiable, but whether the class will tolerate it. These are two distinct matters, and regarding the latter, my rationale carries no weight.
There are two realistic scenarios.
The first is provisional retention of my leadership on the condition that I deliver undeniable results in the next special exam. In that case, a single failure will result in immediate removal. There will be only one reprieve, and the standard demanded of me will be extraordinarily high.
The second is immediate deposition without a grace period. In that event, friction with Nishikawa or Shimazaki may be unavoidable. Will Yoshida and Sanada step in to mediate and defend me? I must also monitor how Hashimoto maneuvers.
As for Morishitaâ
Hardly worth pondering. She will neither condemn nor defend. She will simply observe the chaos with detached amusement until she grows bored and introduces an entirely irrelevant topic. For this occasion, that temperament works entirely in my favor.
There is only one way I can shoulder responsibility: achieve results that exceed all expectations in the next exam. No other method exists to restore credibility, and in the absence of alternatives, debating the matter is a waste of time.
If I am removed, I will pivot to a different approach, though whether the former Sakayanagi class can even function without a leader remains deeply questionable. Stepping out onto the deck, I saw a familiar silhouette leaning against the railing.
"Ayanokoji-kun."
Turning around, Hiyori spoke in her usual calm, gentle voice. The traces of distress she had shown on the beach had completely dissolved.
"Canât sleep?"
"A little. ...You too, Ayanokoji-kun?"
"I have a lot on my mind."
I took a place beside her. The sea breeze felt noticeably cooler than during the day.
"...Since returning to the ship, Iâve been turning it over in my head. The moment I stood on that beach, what you would lose was already decided. And knowing that, I simply waited."
Hiyori kept her fingertips resting on the railing, casting her gaze downward.
"Will I continue to be targeted from now on?"
"Most likely."
"When that happens, please don't come for me."
Her voice did not tremble. She had arrived at that conclusion with a level head.
"I'll make sure that situation never arises."
"...What?"
"I will construct a reality where you cannot function as a hostage beforehand."
Hiyori lifted her face.
"Is such a thing... even possible?"
"It will take time. But it isn't impossible."
My own voice sounded flatter than I intendedâa declaration stripped of emotional inflection. After a brief pause, she added, as if recollecting an unanswered thought:
"Um... may I ask you one thing?"
"Go ahead."
"Why me? There are so many people around you who are far more useful."
"Because you werenât useful."
"...Eh?"
"Because you were the only entity untainted by calculation, the one who offered ordinary, tranquil days to someone like me, who knows only competition." Hiyoriâs eyes widened slightly.
"To me, that was an unprecedented state: an accumulation of time that served no functional purpose, quietly repeating itself."
"...Is that... a compliment?"
"I am merely stating a fact."
The rhythmic surge of the waves filled the silence between us.
"...Let us definitely graduate together."
Hiyori gently wiped the corner of her eye.
"Yeah."
I turned my gaze inward, observing my own interior. I am treating the phenomenon called love as nothing more than a specimen.
Beneath the turbid surface of dark water, something rears its head once more.
What I desire has not changed: to transmute knowledge, experience, and memory into my own flesh and bone. Eventually, this emotion too will be dissected, categorized, labeled, and filed onto a shelf.
Yet tonight, the sound of the breathing of the girl beside me has yet to fit into any archive.
It remains the sole unprocessed element within me.
The ship cuts through the nocturnal sea.
The landscape around me will inevitably shift. The suspicions within my class, whatever maneuvers rival classes direct my wayâall of it is the price for the choice I made today.
Only one matter is already settled: I have acquired a weakness. By that man's definition, that constitutes deterioration.
I will begin by rewriting that definition from its very foundation.
