—

2.0

—

Later that day, as Nomura-sensei had predicted, our course registration and schedule had been sorted out, bringing a sense of structure to the semester ahead. Instead of having ten subjects to study this term, we only had eight.

The following day arrived swiftly, and we started homeroom. As we all settled in, Nomura-sensei arrived with a chart showing the names of the candidates running for student council.

“This chart lists the candidates from our class who have decided to throw their hats into the ring for the student council election,” she said as she looked around the group of students. Among the twenty-one students, six names were present: Kusumoto, Aria, Nagamine, Ritter, Hazel, and myself. We candidates felt the weight of my classmates' attention bearing down on them.

“Your task now is to rally your classmates and garner their support,” Nomura-sensei went on. “Remember, you'll also have the opportunity to address the class directly on voting day, so be prepared.” With that, she concluded her remarks, leaving the room to buzz with whispered conversations.

I began mulling over a question that I had and believed it would be best to discuss it in private, out of the earshot of my colleagues. Nomura-sensei's mention of speaking to the class sparked an idea in my mind, one that seemed plausible but required clarification to ensure its feasibility.

Lunch was over in the blink of an eye as the day zipped by. As I returned to class, my world suddenly went dark as hands covered my eyes in a playful game of guess-who. I could sense their softness, indicating they belonged to a female. The pressure on my back felt like she was trying to reach out, but she was having some trouble. Only one person came to mind who would play such a game.

“Diya.”

“Bingo,” she said as she removed her hands, revealing her trademark cheeky smile. She hopped back a step, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“What's up? You've been avoiding me, haven't you?” She teased, clearly in a light-hearted mood.

“Of course not,” I said but I feel guilty for speaking to her since classes resumed.

“So, spill it. Why are you throwing your hat into the student council ring?” I could tell Diya was excited to dive into the topic because of her obvious enthusiasm.

“I figured I could use some competition,” I answered.

“But isn't that a bit extreme? I mean, challenging Hazel to something would've sufficed.” As she spoke, a realisation dawned on her, evident in the subtle shift of her expression. “I see now,” she murmured, acknowledging the gravity of my decision.

“Yeah, that's it,” I replied, certain she knew the importance of my decision.

“But the student council election? Don't you think that's a little too much? Besides, winning something like that is very difficult,” she questioned, her brow furrowing slightly and I acknowledged the challenge at hand with a nod.

“I've heard that popularity plays a big role, right?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed. “You're quite popular, but I'm not sure if that type of popularity would help you in this context.”

She was right. My popularity sprang more from curiosity and fascination than from actual social impact.

“So, do you have any ideas?” I enquired, hoping she might offer some insight.

“Me?” she asked with a laugh. “I'm a blank slate,” she admitted, closing the distance between us again with a quick hop.

“Plus, you do remember that Hazel is my best friend; you want me to betray her by helping an opponent?” Her eyes gleamed with playfulness as she taunted. Despite the jest, I understood the delicate balance of loyalty and friendship at play.

“I get what you mean,” I answered.

“Sorry, I can't be of much help, Marcus,” she apologised, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder dramatically.

“Not your fault,” I told her, valuing her candour.

“How about this? What if I treat you to dinner sometime?” she suggested, shifting the topic. Before I could respond, a soft voice broke through our conversation, causing us to turn our attention to the newcomer.

“Diya?” The girl's voice revealed that she had a shy and nervous manner.

“Aria, sorry, I forgot that I was supposed to see you,” Diya apologised, her look mirroring Aria’s disappointment. Even though her unassuming presence was often overlooked, it dawned on me that Aria was one of my classmates.

“Diya, I'll leave to attend to her,” I interrupted, sensing the importance of their conversation.

“Alright then, I'll call you later in the night to schedule our dinner,” Diya said, her devotion to our plans clear in her tone.

“Later,” I echoed, offering a wave as Diya turned to join Aria.

With some time to spare before my next class, I reached for my phone and noticed a new message waiting for me. The contents were brief but intriguing—a visitor was on their way to my room tonight.

—

2.1

—

When the class eventually ended and I started gathering my things, I felt a presence beside me. With his distinctive green-tipped hair, Jaden approached me with a sense of purpose in his stride.

“Marcus, do you mind if I walk with you back?” I was surprised by his request because he doesn't usually approach me in this manner. The thought that first crossed my mind was the upcoming elections.

“Sure, let me just grab my bag.” I hastily packed my belongings as we exited the classroom.

As we walked, I couldn't help but sense an underlying tension in the air—a palpable anticipation for the conversation that was about to unfold.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, anxious to hear what was on his mind. “It's just that you've never asked me to walk with you before, so I assumed there was something you wanted to discuss.”

“Well, there is,” he said, taking a moment to compose himself. “It involves the student council election.” Ah, I was right. The elections weighed on his mind, just as they were on mine.

“And what about it?” I asked, ready for whatever questions he might have.

“I need you to assure me that you will play fair and do nothing to divide the class.” His tone was cautious.

“Why do you think the class would get divided?” I probed, genuinely curious about his perspective.

“I'm not saying it would, but I'm just trying to warn you not to do anything that would result in that,” he continued, his worry visible in his countenance. “Don't worry, I've also had a similar conversation with Hazel.”

“Why didn't you run for the position? You would make a great leader,” I asked out of pure curiosity.

“Maybe on paper, but that type of thing isn't for me; it would be a massive screw-up, trust me,” he confessed, his words tinged with a hint of self-doubt.

“Well, maybe you're right, but I was just basing this on my own observations of you,” I comforted him, trying to instill some confidence in his abilities.

“Thanks,” he muttered, looking straight ahead as we got closer to our dorms. He came to a halt and extended his hand.

“This is where we part ways. For now, I hope what I told you sticks,” he said, in an honest but circumspect tone.

“Don't worry, I wasn't planning on causing any division among the class. You have my word,” I said, giving him a quick handshake before he turned and returned to the school building, probably still having some unfinished business.

I decided not to dwell on this and headed back to my room, preparing for the evening ahead.

—

2.2

—

It was around seven in the evening when I heard the insistent knocking on my door, disrupting the tranquillity of my room. I sighed as I got out of bed and walked to the door, already knowing who it was. When I opened it, I saw a familiar face with an impatient expression.

“Finally, you take too long,” she scolded me, her eyes shooting daggers in my direction.

“Can you stop knocking on my door like a mad person?” With a tinge of fury in my voice, I shot back. This was not the first time I had asked her to refrain from such behaviour, yet she never seemed to heed my words.

“Sure, sure, now can you move, please?” She entered my room with an air of ownership, brushing by me without waiting for a reply.

Shutting the door behind her, I observed her as she made herself at home, setting her bag down beside my bed.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Are you hungry, Kailey? I made some beans with halloumi stew,” I offered.

“Damn, I haven't had that in quite a while, thanks,” she replied appreciatively as I served her a plate of the homemade dish. As she settled onto my bed, I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the food.

“This looks great; you have improved since last time,” she remarked, taking a bite with relish.

“Well, I was practicing at home,” I admitted and she gave me a shocked look.

“That's not possible. How come I didn't catch you in the kitchen once?” She questioned; her curiosity piqued.

“I was really sneaky about it; besides, you were mostly in your room, remember?” I reminded her, with a light-hearted grin pulling at my lip corners.

“Anyways,” she gave in, returning to the meal in front of her.

“So, how has school been?” I asked and she looked up at me.

“What do you expect from school?” She answered casually before she took another bite.

“Must you be so vague about it?” I pressed on, as I was looking for a more thorough response.

“It has been much better than the first semester. I think I have finally adjusted, but the semester just started, so maybe things can change.” She explained, her tone reflective.

“That's great,” I offered genuinely, relieved to hear that she was finding her footing in school.

“And what about you?” Her attention curiously moved back to me as she asked the question.

“Me? I am surprised you asked,” I joked, thinking it would be a light-hearted statement, but her response indicated she took it more seriously than I intended.

“Sorry, I said that. Honestly, I am not too sure. I still feel the awkwardness and the feeling that I am an outcast in the class, but I guess it has reduced a bit,” I admitted, observing her closely for any reaction as she finished her meal and deposited the plate in the sink before returning to the bed.

“Wash it,” I said, my tone firm.

“No,” came her defiant response, her expression unwavering.

“Kailey?” I said with a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice.

“Wait a second; I never asked you to cook for me in the first place, so I don't feel responsible for washing the plate,” she retorted, her words laced with stubbornness.

“I blame Dad,” I sighed loudly, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. It was a familiar refrain—our father's indulgence often led to her entitled attitude.

“Well, I have about two hours to spend here so I suggest we begin,” she said, her eagerness concealed by a sly smile as she pulled a book out of her bag, the word "Pre-algebra" emblazoned across its cover alongside her name.

“So factors and multiples are what we are covering today. I can't figure out how to identify them,” she admitted, her frustration evident as she handed me the book.

As we got comfortable for the study session, I revisited the fundamentals, starting with factors. I could tell where she was struggling, primarily in the concept of identifying factors.

Recalling a helpful trick I had learnt, I demonstrated it to her. I chose to use online exercises instead of creating my own and opened a website with practice questions for her to try her hand at answering.

After about two hours of studying, Kailey slammed her book shut with a resounding thud, signalling the end of our tutoring session. She stretched her body, emitting a long, contented yawn that reverberated across the room.

“That was great; I feel like I'm now an expert in factors and multiples,” she exclaimed with pride, her smile spreading as she had just vanquished a formidable opponent. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her boastful proclamation.

“Well, 'expert,' I think it's time for you to leave,” I remarked, rising from the bed and watching as she gathered her belongings into her bag.

“You're so hasty to chase me away; I could still stay for a little while. It's just past nine, you know,” she objected, feigning innocence with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Nope, I've had enough of you for today,” I retorted, with a trace of humour in my voice and pointed to the door.

“Rude,” she teased, yet there was warmth in her voice as she complied with my request, standing up and shouldering her bag.

“Before you go, I want to tell you something,” I said, catching her attention before she reached the door.

“It better be important,” she said with a tinge of irritation as she turned back to face me.

“I'm running for the position of student council president,” I announced, anticipating her response.

She came over to me and put both of her hands on my shoulders in an excited and supportive gesture that made it clear how shocked she was.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” She shouted, and her face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. Then she gave me a cunning smile, as though she were struck with an idea of mischief.

“How about you try changing the rule on wearing your school uniform while on campus?” she suggested playfully.

“Very funny. How about I make it to the general election stage first?” I responded dryly, gently pushing her hands off my shoulders.

“I just wanted to tell you so you won't be surprised if you see my name up there,” I said, attempting to downplay the significance of my announcement.

Kailey rolled her eyes in mock exasperation before turning towards the door, opening it halfway before pausing.

“If you need help campaigning in the middle school section, I can help,” she said, her voice softening with sincerity.

“That's very nice of you,” I acknowledged, appreciating her gesture despite our playful banter.

“Shush,” she said with a grin before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room. I took a quick look around and was relieved to see that her presence had left little to no mess.

—

2.3

—

A few days had passed and after homeroom, Hazel took the opportunity to address the class.

“Everyone, I just need a moment of your time,” she began, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. “The in-class vote for the upcoming student council election is next week. I will present my policies and ideas at the manifesto on that day, but that doesn't mean I won't tease you all; expect some flyers over the coming days.” She finished with a lovely bow and concluded, “Let us come together and make this school a paradise for us all.”

Her speech was met with a few sporadic claps, but mostly the mood was muted. As Hazel straightened up, her gaze lingered on me for a moment before she moved on. She was obviously taking the initiative and demonstrating her conviction about the election.

I watched in silence, realising that I would need to come up with a plan if I was going to have any chance against her. Though I had a vague idea in mind, it would take time to formulate and execute. There was one person I needed to talk to—a crucial ally in my plan. Before class started, I hurriedly texted her to set up a meet-up after school.

Classes passed by in a blur, and soon it was time for our scheduled meeting. I made my way to the terrace, a secluded spot with umbrellas, chairs, and tables where students often relaxed. I sat down and pretended to occupy myself with my phone while keeping an eye out for any familiar faces.

When Diya arrived, she bounced over to the table with her usual energetic flair, dropping into the seat opposite me with a bright, infectious smile.

“Hello there, Marcus!”

“Thanks for coming.” I greeted her with a nod of gratitude.

“It's cool, but I thought I told you I couldn't help with election stuff,” she replied, her tone slightly resigned but still playful.

“I know, but you're still here,” I said, hoping she might change her mind.

“So, who is this person?” Diya asked with obvious curiosity as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at me.

“The student council president, Haku Hotaka-senpai,” I disclosed, observing her response. I was surprised that she remained unfazed, as if she had anticipated my request.

“Why did you need me, though? You could have gone to his class or the student council office to make an appointment,” she said, bringing up a good point as she tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table.

“Well, I didn't want people to know I was the one meeting him, hence why you're acting as an intermediary between us,” I explained, hoping she would understand the need for discretion.

Diya pondered my words for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully before breaking into a grin.

“Remember, you owe this secret agent dinner,” she declared before retrieving her phone and making a call.

“Hello Hotaka, how are you doing?” Diya addressed him by his first name with a calm, steady voice.

“I know it is out of the blue, but I need to meet you; rather, someone wants to meet you.” I watched as she looked around the area, ensuring our privacy before activating the speakerphone.

“He can hear you now,” Diya informed Haku-senpai, her eyes fixed on the phone that was lying on the table between the two of us.

“Good. Marcus, it seems you requested my time.” Haku-senpai's voice echoed through the speaker, clear and authoritative. His ability to deduce my identity caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.

“How did you know it was me?” I enquired as my curiosity overcame me.

“It was a very simple deduction; honestly, I am sure Diya could explain this to you,” Haku-senpai casually responded, which made Diya furrow her brow.

“What do you mean by that, Hotaka?” she asked, her frustration evident in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing, Diya; forgive me for that. Anyway, Marcus, I am sure you called because of the in-class voting.” Haku-senpai skilfully steered the conversation, leaving me with more questions than answers.

“You are correct. I need to ask you some questions, both you and Diya,” I responded, eager to get to the heart of the matter.

“Me? What good am I here? Besides, I already told you,” Diya objected, her hesitation clear in her voice.

“I know that you can’t help me, but that does not mean you can’t answer some questions about the school and its history,” I explained, trying to reassure her.

“History?” Diya echoed, intrigued that word was being used. I could see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered the implications of our conversation.

“I would be free from seven; both of you can meet me at the overlook,” Haku-senpai said.

“Alright then,” I said, turning to Diya as the call ended.

“Where is the overlook?” I asked sheepishly, hoping she wouldn't laugh at my ignorance. Diya couldn't contain her amusement as she responded.

“Come on, I'll show you.” She picked up her phone and gestured for me to follow, her steps quick and bouncy as she led the way to our rendezvous with Haku-senpai.

—

2.4

—

The atmosphere was filled with excitement as the day before the in-class vote drew to an end. Throughout the week, intense campaigns were going on, with each candidate vying for the interest and endorsement of their classmates. Some had resorted to traditional methods, unveiling detailed policies and plans for the school's improvement. Others, however, had opted for more dubious tactics, promising extravagant incentives like free lunches or exclusive privileges in exchange for votes.

Then there was me. I had stayed noticeably off the campaign trail in contrast to the other candidates. Instead of actively seeking votes, I had withdrawn into quiet solitude, allowing rumours to swirl unchecked around me with whispers suggesting that I had already conceded defeat or was plotting a dramatic reveal on voting day. Despite the gossip, I remained stoically silent.

I packed up my things and was ready to go as the final bell rang, signalling the end of classes for the day. But before I could make my exit, someone appeared in front of my desk. Her posture was stiff and anticipatory as she stood with a sense of urgency.

“I need to talk to you; it's important,” her statement hung in the air like a challenge.

I was perplexed by her sudden appearance but my interest was piqued.

“Alright then, what's this about?”

“Let's talk somewhere private; follow me, please,” she said in an uncompromising tone. I gave her a nod and got up from my seat, trailing behind her as she led the way out of the classroom.

Silently, we made our way through the hallways until we reached the farthest corner of the building. She halted abruptly, amidst the dwindling crowds and fading daylight, gesturing towards a nearby classroom door.

“In here,” she said, opening the door to show a dark, empty classroom. The overhead lights flickered to life as she flipped the switch, illuminating the space.

“Now that we're alone, let's talk, Marcus—just you and me,” she said, her look solemn.

Hazel. Her unexpected summons left me wondering about her intentions and the nature of our impending conversation. What was her plan? I was dying to find out.