Thus, The Weight of Words

I stared at Hashimoto's phone for a moment longer, the faint glow of the screen casting shadows across my thoughts. It was all there—the picture, the undeniable proof—and yet, a nagging sensation refused to let me bask in the discovery.

No, this wasn't just luck. It wasn't a coincidence.

I'd moved exactly as Sakayanagi wanted me to.

Her voice echoed faintly in my memory, the calm certainty in her tone when she "offered" Hashimoto's assistance. At the time, I thought I had the upper hand. I assumed I was analyzing her every word, every glance, staying conscious of the situation. But in reality, she'd already laid out the entire path. And I'd walked it willingly.

The realization didn't sting as much as it intrigued me.

This wasn't manipulation, not in the way I had always imagined. It was something more subtle, more precise. Sakayanagi didn't push me; she simply placed the pieces where they needed to be, guiding me with just enough hints to make me think I was in control.

And the truth? I hadn't even realized.

I handed Hashimoto his phone without a word, my mind running through the conversation I'd had with her. Calculated. Not just to steer me but to teach me something, whether she intended it or not.

If I was going to navigate this competition of people like Sakayanagi, I couldn't merely observe anymore. My observations, my instincts. They weren't enough.

I needed to be sharper. Smarter.

"Boss?" Hashimoto's voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up. His expression was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

I let out a small breath, half a sigh, half something else. "You ever feel like you're not seeing the whole picture? Like you're just scratching the surface while someone else already knows what's underneath?"

Hashimoto smirked, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Happens all the time. The trick is knowing when to stop scratching and start digging."

I stared at him, surprised by the wisdom buried in his usual nonchalance. Maybe that's why Sakayanagi trusted him.

He grinned. "Hey, boss, don't overthink it. You're probably good at this stuff. You'll catch up."

Catch up. It was actually a bad way to put it.

Sakayanagi's actions weren't a reason to feel discouraged. She'd shown me how far ahead she was, and now it was my turn to step up.

I leaned back slightly, staring at the schoolyard for a moment before letting out a wry chuckle. "You've really found yourself a scary person to serve, haven't you?"

Hashimoto laughed, his tone light as if I'd just made the most obvious observation in the world. "Hime? Yeah, she's like that. Always a dozen steps ahead. Honestly, it's not worth trying to keep up. She's a genius, after all. You shouldn't let it bother you too much, boss."

"Genius, huh?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's not about catching up to people like her. I already know my limits."

Hashimoto raised an eyebrow, his grin faltering slightly. "Oh? Then what's the issue?"

I met his gaze, my expression hardening. "It's not about matching their level. It's about seeing the bigger picture even when you're forced to move on their board. You can't let yourself be blind to the person pulling the strings from above. If you can't even recognize that much, you're just walking in the dark, clueless about what's really happening around you."

Hashimoto whistled softly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Not bad, boss. Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"Not really," I muttered. "If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here with you of all people realizing just how easily I've been played."

"Ouch!" He chuckled again, the smugness returning. "Well, that's just part of the game, isn't it? You're learning. And hey, at least you know now. That's better than most."

"Maybe," I admitted, staring ahead yet looking at nothing. "But knowing isn't enough. I need to do more than just recognize the strings. I need to figure out how to pull a few of my own."

Hashimoto's grin widened, his casual demeanor never faltering. "Careful, boss. That kind of talk? That's how people like Hime got to where they are. You might end up scarier than she is someday."

I exhaled sharply, staring at the can of MAX COFFEE in my hand like it held all the answers. "If this is what ANHS is like on a daily basis, you're all sick. Sick people."

Hashimoto burst out laughing, the kind of carefree laugh that only someone completely unfazed by anything could manage. "Come on, boss, you can't tell me you're not having a little fun with it."

I rolled my eyes. "If I had to constantly think about the hidden depths of everyone's words every day, I'd have landed myself in a hospital bed by now. You people are exhausting."

"Well, I can already tell this little partnership of ours is going to be a blast. You're pretty entertaining, boss."

I gave him a flat look. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I see exactly what you're doing."

"What am I doing?" he asked, feigning innocence, though his grin gave him away.

"You're trying to worm your way onto my good side," I said, my tone blunt. "Save yourself the effort. It's not happening."

Hashimoto's laugh only grew louder, the smugness practically radiating off him. "Oh, boss, you wound me. But hey, at least you're fun to mess with. That's a rare find."

I shook my head, taking another sip of the coffee.

Hashimoto tilted his head slightly, his curiosity returning. "Hey, boss, just throwing this out there… you're in that Service Club thing, right? Why not just ask your clubmates for help? Seems like the kind of situation they'd be good at handling."

He wasn't asking out of genuine concern, of course. No, this was Hashimoto fishing for information, and I had no intention of giving him anything substantial.

But the truth? The truth was a lot more complicated than that.

The idea of involving Yukinoshita in something like this was… laughable, at best. Not because she lacked intelligence—far from it. But Yukinoshita, at this stage, saw everything in neat, orderly categories. A situation like this, with its layers of manipulation and deception, would've been nothing more than an academic exercise to her. She'd approach it with a rigid, logical framework, completely blind to the chaos lurking beneath the surface.

And Chaos didn't play by the rules.

In the time I'd known her, it was clear she was sharp, almost unnervingly so. But her analytical skills were still… raw. Unrefined. She wasn't the type to adapt quickly to something so messy and unpredictable. Not yet, at least.

Dragging her into this would only highlight those gaps, and I didn't need to see her struggle. Not for something like this. Not when it won't matter once everything is over.

Hashimoto's voice cut through my thoughts. "No answer, huh? That's interesting."

I glanced up at him, my expression neutral. "Don't get too excited. It's not a mystery worth solving."

He smirked. "Fair enough. But, you know, I get it. Sometimes, it's better to keep certain people out of stuff like this. Too much hassle, right?"

I didn't respond, letting the silence hang between us. He wasn't wrong, but he didn't need to know why.

Hashimoto chuckled, clearly enjoying the game he thought he was winning. "Man, you're fun, boss. Always keeping people guessing."

Eventually, my phone vibrated with the unmistakable sound of a notification breaking the quiet.

I straightened up, slipped the can into a nearby trash bin, and turned to Hashimoto. "We're moving. Let's go."

Hashimoto gave a lazy salute, his smirk never leaving. "As you command, boss."

I shot him a sideways glance. "And make sure you're not seen with me. Not even for a second. Stay behind, and keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself."

His grin widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "What kind of guy do you think I am? Don't worry, I'm a professional. No one will even notice I'm there."

I didn't bother responding, already turning away. His confidence was irritating, but at least he was competent. For now, that would have to be enough.

ㅤ

ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ

ㅤ

The faint echo of my footsteps filled the stillness as I stepped into the meeting place. The air was thick with anticipation, though the room itself was nothing special. Bare, unadorned, and unremarkable.

I tapped my shoe against the floor in a rhythmic pattern, stealing a glance at the clock. Right on time. Now all that remained was to wait.

"Why did you call me here?"

The tapping stopped as a sharp, cutting voice pierced the silence.

I turned toward the sound, greeted by the familiar sight of Horikita Suzune's unimpressed glare. Her arms were crossed, her posture rigid, and her tone left no room for misunderstanding—she wasn't thrilled about this meeting.

Don't worry, I wouldn't wish for anyone to be in my position as well.

"You better have a good explanation," she added, her tone clipped and unwavering. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning in my message. I outlined how the workload for the Special Exam would be divided. There was no reason for us to meet face-to-face."

Ah, that message. Blunt, precise, and distinctly her. It had been her polite way of saying she didn't want me anywhere near her plans—or her, for that matter.

Yet, here we were.

I leaned back casually against the wall, crossing my arms. "You did make yourself clear. I just didn't care."

Her expression darkened immediately, her eyes narrowing as if she were calculating the logistics of strangling me on the spot.

"This isn't a game," she said, her voice sharp with a cold finality. "We're partners, whether I like it or not. If you're going to ignore what I've established, you'd better have a good reason. So, explain yourself. Now."

If she wanted a reason, I could provide one. Though from her perspective, I was little more than a roadblock—a nemesis she neither asked for nor needed. Not that I could blame her. I'd made sure to upend her delusionally constructed world not long ago, all in the name of snapping her out of her illusion.

Still, that wasn't why I'd called her here.

I exhaled, my gaze lingering on her. For all her pride and composure, there were cracks beneath that polished surface, cracks she worked tirelessly to patch up after our last confrontation. And yet, here I was, about to press on one of them.

Not because I enjoyed it. Far from it. But sometimes, unpleasant truths couldn't be ignored.

"You know," I began, my voice flat, "that tomorrow you're going to be expelled from this school, right?"

Her reaction was subtle but telling. The faint tremor of her lips. The way her fingers tightened their grip on her crossed arms. To the untrained eye, she might've seemed calm, composed even. But I caught the signs beginning to show.

For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze locked onto mine as though trying to determine if this was some cruel joke. When the silence dragged on, I spoke again.

"You know, don't you?" I repeated, my tone as neutral as before. "Tomorrow, you'll be expelled. By your own class, no less. There's no way you haven't noticed. Not after spending so much time in that classroom."

The weight of my words settled in the air between us, unrelenting and sharp.

Her eyes flickered, and her breathing wavered ever so slightly. But even now, her pride refused to let her crumble entirely.

"Why…" she finally managed, her voice quiet but threaded with anger. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

I tilted my head slightly, keeping my gaze locked with hers. "Because you need to face it. Pretending it isn't happening won't make it go away. If you keep ignoring the obvious, you'll only end up proving them right."

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she muttered, her voice laced with bitterness.

"I don't think I'm that clever," I replied, meeting her accusing stare without so much as a flinch. "Never have."

She didn't respond right away, her sharp gaze narrowing as if trying to find some hidden meaning in my words. There wasn't any.

After a moment, I continued, my voice steady but not kind. "You've tried to do something for your class. I'll give you credit for that. You sacrificed more than you probably wanted to—your time, your pride, even your peace of mind—to help them with tomorrow's exam. That much is clear."

Her expression remained unreadable, but I noticed the faint shift in her posture. For someone who'd rather see me buried under a pile of bad karma, she was listening. And that meant something.

"But," I added, my tone cutting through the air, "you acted far too late. No amount of effort can erase your bad reputation in a matter of hours. Building a good one overnight? Impossible."

The faint tremor in her breathing returned, but she didn't look away. She was holding her ground, even if it was shaky. Good, it means she acknowledged my words.

"If it were that simple," I finished, my voice carrying a faint edge, "then this world would be even more twisted than it already is."

Despite everything, Horikita Suzune was still fighting to hold on, refusing to let the truth break her entirely.

And that was the kind of stubbornness I could respect.

"You know," I said, shifting slightly because of the back pains, "despite everything you've done, you've actually managed to overcome your antisocial tendencies. For all the walls you put up, you've at least tried to do something that matters for once."

Her eyes flickered, a reaction I wasn't expecting. There was something in her gaze—something I couldn't quite place, a mix of disbelief, frustration, and maybe even a trace of something deeper.

"Do you really believe that?" she said, her voice sharp, almost accusing. "You're the one who's been trying to tear me down from the very start. And now, you think you can simply act like you care? It doesn't make sense."

I met her gaze steadily.

"I'm not trying to comfort you," I replied, my tone biting, "and I never said I wanted to. Maybe you should stop holding onto that script in your head, constantly twisting my words to fit your own narrative. I'm simply stating facts."

Her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing with confusion and frustration.

"I never said I wanted to destroy you," I added, "So stop making me into some villain you have to play against in your head. And if you can't even understand that, maybe you should stop listening to whatever version of me you've invented in your mind."

Her eyes narrowed even further, and she straightened up, her voice a little colder. "Then what do you expect me to do? What should I be doing?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" I asked, my voice tinged with irritation. "I'm not some goddamn guide to your plans. I'm not going to tell you what to do, especially not when you keep asking stupid questions."

"Why don't you try thinking for once?" I continued, my voice dropping slightly, but still edged with fake frustration. "Stop looking for answers from people like me or anyone else. You want to help your class? You want to get your reputation back? Then start thinking for yourself."

I paused, letting the words sink in, watching her glare at the floor.

"You managed to do that before, didn't you?" I said, almost to myself. "When you made those probable test questions for idiots, you actually put your effort into something worthwhile. You didn't wait for someone to tell you how to fix things. You just did it."

"How do you—"

"So do it again," I interrupted, "Stop relying on someone like me who wronged you apparently, or anyone else for that matter. Make the choice to act on your own. Take control, instead of just letting others dictate everything."

Horikita's expression hardened at my words, her fists clenching at her sides as she looked away, "What's the point? I'll still be expelled tomorrow. What difference does it make?"

I couldn't help but scoff.

"Is that really all your resolve amounts to?" I asked, my voice carrying a mix of disbelief and something that could almost be mistaken for contempt. "You're already giving up, huh? Just like that?"

Her shoulders were slumped as if the weight of it all was already crushing her.

"Who knows," I added, shaking my head, "maybe tomorrow something will happen. Maybe it won't be the end of you after all. You've been wrong before, haven't you? This could all turn around in an instant."

She didn't say a word to that, though I noticed the flicker of something in her eyes—maybe hope, maybe doubt. Either way, it was more than I'd gotten from her so far.

I turned to walk away. I wasn't going to stick around to try and convince her anymore. She needed to figure this out on her own.

"I've said enough," I muttered to myself, already halfway to the door. "Think, Horikita."

And with that, I left her standing there, alone with her thoughts, as the silence in the room swallowed the rest of my words. Whether she would take them to heart or not, was up to her now.

As I stepped out of the room, I found Hashimoto waiting for me, leaning casually against the wall, a wide grin stretched across his face. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked at me, clearly enjoying something I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be a part of.

"Well, well," he said, his tone laced with mock surprise. "Didn't know you had it in you to throw such sharp words at someone. Thought you were about making people bend to your will, not actually dishing out reality checks."

I didn't bother answering him immediately. His grin only widened, and I could practically feel his judgmental gaze following me.

"Honestly," he continued a slight chuckle in his voice, "I thought you'd use this opportunity to get Horikita on your side, twist her around to suit your own plans. But here you are, telling her she could do something 'incredible,' when she doesn't even realize the situation's already been dealt with."

I paused, my fingers instinctively curling into a fist. His words were irritating, but I wasn't in the mood for a back-and-forth.

"Does it matter to you?" I muttered, my voice flat. "Why don't you save your theories for someone else?"

Hashimoto seemed undeterred, the grin never fading. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with something unreadable, before shrugging his shoulders.

"Just saying," he replied nonchalantly. "You've got a strange way of handling things. But hey, maybe you know something I don't."

I ignored him, letting the silence linger for a moment before I broke it with a terse remark.

"We've wasted enough time. It's time to deal with the culprit."

Hashimoto's grin only grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a knowing glint. "Boss," he said with a teasing tone, "you're scary when you get like this."

I didn't respond, but the corner of my mouth twitched.