6.7
ON THE WAY BACK to my dorm after our chaotic meeting, I came across Katsuragi standing next to a water fountain. He didn’t seem to be looking for anyone in particular, so I called out to him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Ayanokouji? Oh, nothing. Just thinking a little about the final exam next week,” he replied.
“In a place like this?”
“I wanted some time alone to think in peace and quiet,” said Katsuragi.
His thought process was unlike that of a typical first-year high school student. That being said, I couldn’t imagine that the test was so advanced that even Class A would agonize over it.
“Do you feel like the exam will go well?”
I decided to respond honestly. “Dunno. But everyone’s studying really hard.”
“Is that so? It would be nice if no one were expelled,” said Katsuragi.
I didn’t feel as if he was particularly concerned for his classmates. “Did something happen?”
“When you were in junior high, were you ever class representative or on the student council?” he asked, his voice somber.
“No, wasn’t interested at all,” I replied.
“I’ve been a student council member since elementary school. I even served as student council president in both elementary and junior high. But, after coming to this school, I had to make some significant course corrections,” said Katsuragi.
“Come to think of it, you didn’t join the student council here.”
“I wanted to, but I couldn’t get Student Council President Horikita’s attention.”
So far, this had nothing to do with the final exam.
“At first glance, the student council president and class representatives don’t appear to have much authority. Most students think that participating is nothing more than a waste of time and effort. That’s why only a few people want to join the council,” said Katsuragi.
I shared the majority’s feelings on that. I didn’t want any management position.
“However, those roles come with certain privileges. There’s a divide between people who hold the positions and people who don’t—one that can’t be crossed. I’ve lost those privileges,” said Katsuragi.
“But your standing in Class A is still good, right?”
“If that were the case, we absolutely wouldn’t have chosen Class B as our target for the final exam,” he replied.
True, someone like Katsuragi would’ve picked Class C or Class D. He’d have chosen the path of strong defense and decisive victory.
“Is it okay to talk to me about your class’s internal politics?” I asked.
“It’s fine. You understand what it’s like.”
“You know, you should cut yourself some slack. You’re trying to singlehandedly carry Class A, but I bet if you relaxed a little, they’d still be fine. The important thing right now is to maintain your position,” I told him.
“I suppose. Hmm…to be told to maintain my position by a Class D student who should be chasing after us,” he responded, clearly amused.
“Perhaps I can see things objectively precisely because I can’t catch up with you.”
When the two of us got to the dormitory, we found a crowd in the lobby.
“It’s pretty noisy in here. Did something happen?” Katsuragi asked.
“Dunno. Should we try asking around?” I caught sight of the Professor and called to him. “What happened?”
“Oh, Ayanokouji, is that you? It seems that all us first years somehow received the same missive in our mailboxes.”
“The same letter?”
I slipped through the crowd, went over to my mailbox, and unlocked it. The mailboxes didn’t normally see much use, but students did occasionally get packages, gifts from friends, or letters from the school. Others peered over my shoulder as I opened the door.
I took out a letter folded into fourths and walked back to Sotomura.
“Is this…?”
“Yes, it would seem so!”
A few moments later, Katsuragi returned with a similar piece of paper. We unfolded our letters at nearly the same time. They said:
First-year Class B student Ichinose Honami may be collecting points illegally. —Ryuuen Kakeru
Sotomura showed us the same message on his paper. Katsuragi mumbled, “What is that guy planning by signing his name to this? If this claim is baseless, the school will take disciplinary action against him.”
“If he’s risking that, does that mean his claim is true?”
“Well, I suppose that this is something I could see Ryuuen doing. If people start to suspect Ichinose of fraud, it’ll make her life difficult, regardless of whether it’s true. What Ryuuen is doing could be considered defamation, but he wouldn’t care about something like that,” Katsuragi explained.
It was true. While Ryuuen could theoretically lose his reputation if his lies were exposed, he had no reputation to speak of.
“Hey, Ryuuen’s back!” said one student as Ryuuen entered the building. I wondered whether he knew what had caused all the commotion.
“Hey, Ryuuen. What’re you trying to pull?!” One of the Class B guys grabbed him.
“Hmm? What in the world are you talking about?”
“This! Your letter! This nonsense you handed everyone!”
“Oh, that. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?” said Ryuuen.
“What’s so interesting about it?! Look, this is going too far!”
“Fine then, let’s see some proof that Ichinose isn’t collecting points illegally,” Ryuuen replied.
“That’s—”
“How about it, Ichinose?” asked Ryuuen, still holding the letter. He looked at Ichinose, who’d just arrived.
“No matter what I say to you right now, you probably won’t believe me, will you, Ryuuen-kun?”
“That’s right. Besides, it’s up to the school to decide whether you’re doing something wrong.”
“I suppose so. Sorry, everyone. It seems as though I’m under suspicion. But please don’t worry. I’ll report to the teachers tomorrow and prove that this is just a misunderstanding on Ryuuen-kun’s part,” said Ichinose proudly.
“How exactly do you plan on proving that, Ichinose?” asked Ryuuen.
“I’ll explain everything in detail. I’ll tell them how many points I have, and how I acquired them. If I do that, will you be satisfied?”
“Report it to the school? Why don’t you prove it right now, in front of all of us?”
“Will you believe me if I just explain it to you, Ryuuen-kun?” Ichinose countered.
“No, I won’t. Spewing lies is probably as easy for you as breathing,” Ryuuen taunted.
“Then it stands to reason that, if I report my total points to the school, there shouldn’t be any room for fraud, right?”
“Heh. I see. I suppose you have a point,” said Ryuuen.
“Are you convinced?!” shouted a Class B student.
“Humans are nasty, lying creatures. Isn’t it possible that Ichinose is coming up with some kind of scheme to hide the evidence right now?” said Ryuuen. He was hounding her, trying to back her into a corner.
“What is that guy plotting? Even if Ichinose has lots of points, she’s far from the kind of person who’d steal them. Ryuuen has absolutely no chance of succeeding,” said Katsuragi. His expression grew even sterner.
“In that case, what can I do to make you believe me?” Ichinose asked Ryuuen.
“First off, say how many points you have right here and now. Second, explain how you acquired those points. I’ll report that information to the school tomorrow. If you do that, you’ll convince the students who distrust you, right?” said Ryuuen.
If they did that, it would dramatically cut down on any opportunities for her to lie or make excuses later. However, I couldn’t imagine that Ichinose would agree to something like that so easily.
“I can’t accept, Ryuuen-kun.”
“So, you admit that you committed fraud?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. It’s precisely because I didn’t obtain my points illegally that I can’t just show you all my cards. Your private points have a big impact on the moves you can make. If I explain everything to the school tomorrow, they should investigate. On top of that, if I did commit fraud, they’d make everything public anyway, right?”
“There’s no guarantee that you’ll report your total points to the school like you say you will.”
“Then go yourself, Ryuuen-kun. Tell them just what you wrote down in this letter,” said Ichinose.
“Really? Heh. Seems like you’re pretty confident.” Ryuuen snickered. It was true. A guilty person might have been nervous, yet Ichinose remained as calm as ever. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow.”
Ichinose watched Ryuuen board the elevator with a bold smile on his face.
“Once the seed of doubt is planted, that doubt will grow until it’s eradicated. Even an exemplary student like Ichinose isn’t exempt. The deeper the doubt, the greater the loss of trust,” said Katsuragi.
He was right. The same thing applied to politicians. However high their approval rating, one damaging lie could cost a great deal of support. Once the lie proved entirely groundless, approval ratings might rebound, perhaps even soar higher than ever. But, generally, it was hard to entirely dispel allegations once they spread.
The next day, Ichinose did as she’d said she would. The school issued an official notice that there was no fraudulent activity. They cleared her of all suspicion.
A while back, I’d noticed that Ichinose possessed well over one million personal points. She’d probably accumulated even more by now.
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