someone’s challenge

Arisu's POV:

A week had passed since the confrontation between Class 1-C and Class 1-D, the aftermath of which still randomly popped in my mind. The spectacle with Sudo had provided its share of entertainment, but for me, it was little more than a means to gather useful information.

As I made my way toward the classroom, my thoughts wandered to the possibility that the other classes might pose a more significant challenge than once expected.

From the knowledge I had gained, it seemed as if this school had more than one interesting character.

When I entered the room, a sense of curiosity felt like it hung in the air. Students had gathered around the front wall, where a series of ABC blocks had been arranged in a scattered, incoherent matter. The blocks formed a jumble of letters, their purpose unclear, but their presence seemed to have captured everyone's interest.

Katsuragi, appearing at my side as if on cue, broke the silence. "What do you make of this, Sakayanagi?"

I took a slow breath, scrutinizing the odd display. "It seems like a message. Perhaps from another class, but I can't say for sure just yet."

The array of blocks seemed ordinary at first, but I quickly noticed something odd. Thirty-six blocks in total, each marked with a letter, but more significantly, each bore twos numbers in the bottom corners. The letters showed where

d-w-o-t-f-r-A-n-a-e-s-u-o-v-o-i-e-s-m-y-s-i-r-o-a-r-e-C-d-l-t-n-h-s-k-n

It took me only a moment to recognize the pattern: the numbers corresponded to the birthdates of Class A's students. One block bore the number 8 and 29, what would be Katsuragi's birthdate. Another had 4 and 24, which matched Masayoshi Hashimoto's birthday.

I began to arrange the blocks in my mind, considering how they might fit together to form a coherent message, but before I could delve deeper, Ryuzaki's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Class A.

Did you know

Monsters thrive on fear," he said, his tone calm and composed as he appeared between Katsuragi and me.

Katsuragi's surprise was evident. "Huh?!"

Ryuzaki didn't seem phased by the reaction as his eyes never left the blocks. "That's the message," he affirmed, thoughtfully tapping his lips as he glanced back at the blocks. I hadn't noticed him enter, but I suspected he'd been standing there for a while, observing quietly.

"How did you figure that out? And so quickly?" Katsuragi asked, clearly baffled.

Ryuzaki's response took him a few moments before speaking. "If you arrange the blocks based on the birthdates, from youngest to oldest, the text doesn't make sense, it's nonsensical, a jumbled mess at that. But if you reorder them according to the length of the month names, from the longest to the shortest, the message becomes clear."

His explanation was sound, and though I could have arrived at the same conclusion eventually, I couldn't help but acknowledge the impressiveness of his swift deduction.

"But what does it mean?" Katsuragi asked, frowning slightly at the cryptic phrase slowly starting to get it.

Ryuzaki paused, his gaze distant for a moment, before continuing. "It means exactly what it says. But it also means... nothing."

Katsuragi blinked, his confusion becoming more evident. "Huh?"

It took him a moment, but the realization dawned on him. The statement, while true in many context, —carried no immediate significance. The blocks, cryptic as they were, were not meant to provide any meaningful insight. Instead, they were a challenge, perhaps even a taunt.

I took another long look at the arrangement, quietly processing Ryuzaki's words. The blocks, if one followed the pattern he suggested, formed a message, but the challenge lay in decoding it. It wasn't about the message itself; it was about the person who had set it up, their desire to provoke or possibly get a reaction. I found myself smirking, in both interest and amusement.

"It seems to be a challenge," I said, my voice cutting through the silence.

Katsuragi, clearly still struggling to understand fully, shook his head. "But the text doesn't make sense. How is this a challenge?"

Ryuzaki's expression remained thoughtful as he interjected, his eyes narrowing slightly. "This wasn't set up by someone from our own class. Though the mastermind clearly enlisted someone to do their bidding for them. And I suspect this challenge is something all classes are receiving. It's likely directed at the most brilliant minds among us. Sakayanagi was right, this is no simple prank. It's a challenge, plain and simple. While the school could have orchestrated this, it seems unlikely. This feels personal, a test of reasoning, a game meant to reveal the intellectual prowess of its participants to see who the sender deems worthy to face him."

As Ryuzaki paused, I seized the moment to add my own thoughts. "By using our birthdates, they're asserting their knowledge of us, as if they hold power over our personal information. It's almost as if they're toying with us, showing that they know us better than we know ourselves or our fellow classmates. And I can only assume there was use of proxies to obtain the blocks, what could only suggest they're covering their tracks, making it hard to trace the source as they most likely would have a follow up in mind."

Katsuragi nodded slowly. "Could it be Ryuen?" he asked, his voice slightly cautious.

"Unlikely," I replied, shaking my head.

Ryuzaki didn't seem to think so either. "Ryuen is direct. He wouldn't go to such lengths to make a cryptic challenge. No, this is someone who prefers subtlety. It's designed to test intellect, to force the brightest to question the meaning behind it. With only thirty-six blocks, it's possible that it signifies four students who are already under his control, or perhaps four will be expelled soon. Though that's just speculation as if other classes did get it, and any had over forty then that debunks itself ." He paused again, rubbing his thumb against his lips. "And I do suspect we won't all receive the same message. The blocks may differ between us, depending on the birthdates, which would naturally alter the composition of the message."

"So, in short, we're dealing with someone who's trying to outsmart us," I summarized, my mind buzzing with the implications. "They've set this up as a test, to see who among us is capable of deciphering it. And I suppose we'll have to wait and see what their next move is."

Ryuzaki gave a curt nod, confirming my assessment. "Exactly. The message is clear: they know us, and they are watching us. This is a challenge from someone who sees themselves as above us, someone who considers us mere children to themselves."

With that, Ryuzaki glanced at the blocks one last time before turning on his heel and heading toward his seat. Katsuragi and I then followed suit to our own seats.

Ayanokoji's POV:

I arrived at class later than usually would, my thoughts occupied by recent developments surrounding the recent victory over Class C. As I stepped inside, something felt off within the current atmosphere.

Scanning the room, two things immediately stood out. First, there was an additional camera, positioned strategically to cover the front of the classroom. That weren't normally there, what was definitely interesting.

The second oddity was even more perplexing. At the front of the class, a series of ABC blocks had been affixed to the wall. On the surface, they seemed to serve no purpose, but as I took a closer look, I noticed something unusual: each block displayed a different birthdate, it seemed as if they were our birthdates.

Before I could delve deeper into my thoughts, a voice interrupted my train of focus.

"Oh, Ayanokoji," Kushida said, her tone light but laced with concern. "None of the boys or girls know anything about this. It's really got the class on edge." She paused, her eyes searching for an answer I didn't have. "What do you think?"

"I see," I replied, my gaze still fixed on the blocks. "Well, I don't know anything about it either."

Kushida, clearly looking for reassurance, pressed on. "Do you think this could be some sort of test by the school?"

I shook my head slightly. "Highly unlikely, given the setup."

Before she could respond, she was pulled away by a few of our classmates, each of them clearly uneasy as it seemed as if she was one many was relying on for an answer. The atmosphere in the class was tense, their anxiety more than evident.

I took my seat beside Horikita, who was already focused on the blocks at the front of the room. She was writing something down, her brow furrowed as she tried to piece the puzzle together.

"Do you know what it says?" she asked, glancing up for a brief moment before returning to her notes.

"Not a clue," I admitted, though my eyes continued to scan the board in front of me.

There were forty-three blocks in total, each with a different arrangement of letters:

i-o-s-d-n-h-u-d-w-r-o-s-o-c-i-s-t-y-a-d-n-i-a-g-i-a-f-n-s-i-m-l-m-i-r-k-a-e-u-o-n-d-l

I studied the letters for a moment, trying to discern a pattern. It was clear this wasn't just a random jumble of characters. It had a structure, a purpose. The format seemed to suggest some kind of ordering system, perhaps based on birthdates. But when I tried to arrange them that way, the letters still didn't form anything meaningful.

Next, I tried sorting them alphabetically by month, but that didn't yield anything either. Reversing the order didn't work either.

Then, it hit me. The solution wasn't in the number of letters, but in their visual length when written out, how long each month's name appeared when you spelled it out. It was a subtle detail, one that could easily be overlooked. Months like July and June, for example, had the same number of letters, but June was actually longer when written out or even when written out on a phone.

I rearranged the blocks again, carefully applying this new rule, and it took only a moment for the message to form:

Class D 

Did you know 

Dreams flourish in imagination

It was clear now: the message was a diversion, a riddle that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't a genuine puzzle to solve, it was meant to waste our time, well kind of.

I turned my attention back to the camera. It was now more apparent than ever that whoever had orchestrated this challenge wasn't simply testing our intelligence. They were watching how we reacted, perhaps evaluating our ability to decipher the puzzle or simply observing our frustration as some struggled.

This wasn't a task set up by the school. The camera was definitely new, placed here by someone else, most likely a fellow student, perhaps even a first-year. The school wouldn't need to add cameras for something like this. The question that lingered in my mind was whether Class D was the only target, or if this was something that affected other classes as well. Was this challenge just for first-years, or had it been sent to every year?

As I glanced over at Horikita again, I saw that she had made some progress, scribbling down a few sentences, though she seemed stuck. It wasn't particularly complicated, but she hadn't yet cracked the code.

I let out a quiet sigh, observing the class around me. Koenji, for all his eccentricities, could probably solve this if he chose to. But as usual, he was more interested in his appearance, looking at himself in the mirror, seemingly oblivious to the blocks on the wall. The rest of the class was just as clueless as horikita.

There was one student, however, who caught my attention for a very brief moment; Nene Mori. Unlike the others, who were merely perplexed or anxious, she seemed genuinely disturbed, it felt almost like an imperceptible worry. It didn't escape my notice, and I couldn't help but wonder if she knew more about this, though it could just her way of showing concern.

I looked away from her and back at the blocks. The question did ponder in my mind. Who had set this up? A third-year? A first-year? Whoever it was, they clearly had a childish streak in them, as evidenced by the nature of the challenge.

The way the puzzle was framed suggested that the person behind it was calling out to the other "elites" they deemed worthy to challenge. It wasn't just a puzzle, it was a test, a problem thrown down for anyone who could solve it. The use of birthdates and the cameras watching our every move was an attempt to assert dominance, to make a statement that they were above us, playing a game that was at a higher level of intellect than everyone's else's.

Whoever had planned this wasn't looking for immediate results per se. They were playing the long game, testing the students they deemed worthy, perhaps waiting until they had narrowed down the pool before striking again.

If there was a hidden message, I hadn't found it yet. But given the situation, it seemed very unlikely. The chatter in the classroom picked up again as now some students decided to either ignore the blocks or tried to decipher them.

"Say, Ayanokoji," Horikita suddenly spoke up, breaking my concentration. "Do you think this is something done by a student from our class?"

"No," I replied, my gaze still fixed on the blocks before giving my attention to her. "I don't think so."

She clicked her pen, frustration building as she glanced at the page in front of her. I noticed she had filled a page and a half with notes, but there was no solution in sight. Her subtle glances toward Kushida didn't go unnoticed by me, I can only assume she seemed to suspect that Kushida had something to do with this, but I didn't press the matter.

Before I could think further, Chabashira entered the room, her eyes immediately falling on the blocks. After a brief moment of slight confusion, she took them down without a word, her expression unreadable. This seemed to help further the idea that this wasn't done by the school but by a fellow student.

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my head on my hand as I narrowed my gaze at the new camera. It seemed we had no choice but to wait, to see if this was just the first move in a much larger game planned out by the person responsible.

***

The next chapter will be about the cruise ship and then the start of the island exam.

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