I Want You to Bury Him

As soon as they stepped out of the library, Kamuro couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hey, Hikigaya, you just said people are dropping out of classes A and B. Is that true?"

"Yeah, it's true… Are you worried?"

"No, not at all! I'm not the worst in my class."

Kamuro's confidence was justified. Despite her grades, her physical abilities were among the best in the entire grade. Her athletic prowess would undoubtedly benefit her class in events like the sports festival.

She also had other unique skills—like stealing and tracking—that set her apart.

Although these talents might not sound commendable, there were historical parallels, like the stories from China's Warring States period about cunning strategies.

It all depended on how they were applied.

"Yeah, you don't have much to worry about," Hikigaya replied with a soft smile.

"Sakayanagi isn't likely to give up on a rare talent like you… though you might have to work yourself to the bone."

"Ugh, can you not talk about it like that?"

Kamuro clicked her tongue in annoyance, turning to leave. But then, she suddenly paused.

"By the way, when's your next visit to the library?"

"Huh? I go there almost every day."

"…I see."

With those vague words, Kamuro walked off without so much as a goodbye. She was someone who always did things her way.

"Whatever, I'll just grab a bento and head back to the dorm," Hikigaya muttered, stretching as he made his way to the convenience store. Just then, his phone rang.

The message was from Haruno.

She's back?!

Hikigaya had been concerned something might have happened to Haruno, but it seemed it was nothing serious—likely just some trivial family matters. After all, being the heir to a major company meant she was often busy.

Sighing, Hikigaya headed to the location mentioned in Haruno's text—the easternmost classroom on the second floor of the Special Teaching Building.

"Hi, Hikigaya-kun! Long time no see. Did you miss your big sister?"

"...It's only been a week, right?"

As usual, Haruno greeted him with her cheerful demeanor, but Hikigaya couldn't shake the heavy feeling in his chest. Something was lurking beneath her bright exterior.

"Don't sweat the details," Haruno waved dismissively.

"By the way, I saw your message as soon as I got back. Impressive, as always. You guessed right. The mysterious student I was looking for is Ayanokouji Kiyotaka."

"It was just a coincidence."

"Haha, still as modest as ever…"

Haruno smiled and shook her head, but there was a note of helplessness and uncertainty in her voice as if she was unsure whether to continue.

Hikigaya sighed inwardly. He hated seeing Haruno like this.

So, he decided to ask the question he had been avoiding.

"Haruno-san, who exactly is Ayanokouji?"

Haruno's eyes widened slightly, but then she smiled bitterly.

"Really? I never thought I'd see the day when you'd show concern for me. I'm such a failure that I don't even have the face to see Yukino-chan."

"…I'm leaving."

"Wait, don't go! I was just joking!"

With a smile, Haruno grabbed Hikigaya and, despite his resistance, pulled him into a tight embrace.

Hikigaya froze.

—What is this?! So soft! And she smells so nice?!

"Um, Haruno-san? You…"

"Shh, just listen," Haruno whispered into his ear.

"Eight years ago, I was invited to an institution. They said it was for the future of Japan and asked if I would participate in some tests."

"An institution? Tests?"

Those words sent a chill down Hikigaya's spine. He quickly tried to analyze the implications.

"Though I wasn't told the test results, I saw something disturbing when I was there."

"…Ayanokouji?"

"Yes, him."

Haruno couldn't help but recall that sterile white room where all the children were diligently focused on their studies. The sight of Ayanokouji working silently, like a machine, had been the first time she'd ever felt true fear.

"So, what do you want me to do?"

Hikigaya doubted Haruno wanted him to confront Ayanokouji directly. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

Not physically, and certainly not intellectually. If Ayanokouji could solve that math problem so easily, he had to be a genius.

"I want you to… bury him."

"…What?"

What was Haruno talking about?

She couldn't possibly mean killing him… No, it had to be a metaphor.

"Do you mean to get him expelled? But that doesn't seem like a good idea."

Hikigaya couldn't picture himself outsmarting Ayanokouji, nor did he want to try.

"No, quite the opposite."

Haruno's next words shocked him.

"I want you to ensure that Ayanokouji Kiyotaka stays in school and graduates from Class D in three years."

"Why?"

Hikigaya couldn't understand Haruno's logic. If she hated Ayanokouji so much, wouldn't it be easier to let him drop out? Why go through all this trouble?

"Hmm, how should I explain it?"

Haruno slowly released him, tapping her chin thoughtfully before she spoke.

"Let me give you an analogy. Imagine a company investing heavily in developing a product. In the lab, its performance is outstanding, but it's not ready for market yet. Then, unexpectedly, the product gets stolen."

"At that point, if you wanted to hurt the company and make its shareholders lose confidence, what would you do, Hikigaya-kun?"

"No idea… but I think I understand what you're getting at."

In this context, the method would be to prematurely release the product, letting people see its mediocre or poor performance, and at the same time, prevent the company from recalling it.

"…So, Ayanokouji is that product?"

"Exactly. The organization's goal is to turn ordinary people into artificial geniuses, and Ayanokouji is their most successful creation, their so-called masterpiece."

"…What?"

Hikigaya was stunned. What a ridiculous concept.

"Are you saying this organization is like the KGB, training super-agents?"

"It's a little different, but that's close enough."

Haruno's expression turned serious.

"These experiments started when the children were infants. They were either orphans or had terrible parents. So yes, it's somewhat similar to the KGB, though both sides aim to serve their country."

"For the country… by creating geniuses out of ordinary people?"

"Yes. Their ultimate goal is to raise someone who can lead Japan, and Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is their strongest candidate."

"Is this real…?"

The more Hikigaya listened, the more absurd it sounded. Who in their right mind would come up with such a Cold War-era plan?

No wonder Ayanokouji seemed so strange—he was more of an actor playing a high school student than actually being one.

According to Haruno, the organization's methods were inhumane, akin to those secretive organizations in movies that raised their subjects as tools, disregarding human rights entirely.

And this genius, raised in such an environment, was supposed to lead Japan…

Hikigaya suddenly wondered which country would be best for him to emigrate to.

"But Haruno-san, if they're trying to create geniuses from ordinary people, how do they identify the difference between the two? Just by testing IQ?"

Hikigaya asked, puzzled.

The concept of a genius was too broad, and IQ could only be one of many factors, not the definitive measure.

"IQ is part of it, but the main factor is the parents," Haruno replied. "If both parents are ordinary, and their parents were also ordinary, then the child is considered a suitable candidate."

"…That's ridiculous! You can't just create a genius by forcing someone to mutate." Hikigaya couldn't help but scoff.

Many geniuses have parents who are far from extraordinary, and conversely, genius parents often have average children. There are countless examples of this in real life.

Just look at parents who get frustrated helping their kids with homework—many of them are university professors or high-income professionals, yet they struggle with their children's poor performance.

Hikigaya sincerely believed that if Japan wanted to produce more geniuses, studying genetics would be a more reliable approach.

"Yeah, it's ridiculous," Haruno said, her expression turning bitter. "In my opinion, that organization is just a scam created by some self-important politician trying to gain political capital. It's truly laughable."

"…I see."