---Notice---
Yes, I was gone for a long time this time, I was finishing up finals and term papers.
Thanks to all those who supported the story during my absence. Do not worry, I may be iffy upload-wise, but I have no plans to drop this story.
My Discord (Best server in the world): discord.gg/uK93tKKU
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"Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical." ~Blaise Pascal
President Horikita spoke, his tone relaxed. "If that's all the information, then I suppose the only thing left to ask is what each class truly seeks from this trial. Is it justice—or compensation?"
He glanced from face to face, scanning each of us.
Horikita turned to her classmates and her homeroom teacher. For a brief moment, it was as if she'd only just realized Class D held leverage in a school-wide conflict—an unfamiliar position for her class. Her answer came without hesitation.
"I want justice. Class B's Ishizaki should be punished for his actions. Bullying is something I refuse to tolerate."
It was the obvious choice. Demanding compensation from Class B was like fining billionaires a million dollars—an inconvenience, sure, but hardly a real punishment. Even demanding 20 million points from us might be seen as an act of mercy. Most students had no grasp of the true consequences of expulsion, or whether buying a classmate back with 20 million points truly offset the damage done. In Horikita's eyes, Class B could serve as the perfect test subject.
Then Ryuen spoke, voice calm but edged with mockery.
"I want compensation. I've already informed Horikita of my demands. But, given the situation, I'm willing to settle this with her directly. Seems to me both our classes are at fault for something here."
He was confident—too confident. But it was a bluff, and everyone could see it. Ryuen understood that he held no real advantage here. If both Classes B and D were punished, his would be hit harder. There was no proof Horikita broke Kinoshita's legs, much less that it was intentional. Class D's case, on the other hand, was airtight in a sense.
Horikita didn't need time to reply.
"I'm not interested in settling with you, Ryuen. This matter will be resolved here, by the student council. Isn't this the threat you were holding over me? What's the problem now?"
Ryuen clicked his tongue in irritation. "This will backfire on you," he said sharply.
"Oh?" Horikita replied, now the one to mock. "And just how's that?"
"There's no reason to believe this situation will go the way you want it to. The student council is undeniably biased—at least partially—towards Class B," Ryuen said, shooting a glance in my direction. "And if you plan to keep pushing, then so will I. I'll show you what persistence really looks like, even if it drags me to my grave. I've never met a single person more stubborn than me."
It wasn't just a threat. It was a promise. Hurt my class, and I'll make sure yours suffers tenfold—no matter the cost.
But Horikita remained unmoved, her tone sharp as ever.
"I'll take my chances. I'd like to see how far that persistence gets you when Classes A and C smell blood in the water. If they sense weakness in Class B, they'll tear your class apart without hesitation."
Ryuen smirked, but there was a twitch in his jaw. "I have to say, Horikita. The bastard pulling your strings? He's good."
Before the tension could escalate any further, President Horikita raised a hand, silencing the room.
"At this point, further debate is pointless. If Class D demands deliberation and this is all the evidence presented, then I will proceed to deliver a judgment."
"Wait," I said, stepping forward. "May I speak?"
He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "If you have something of value to add, then by all means."
"This decision feels premature," I said. "We're not talking about some minor infraction. The outcome here could impact our classes for a long time."
President Horikita paused, considering my words. "That's true. Normally, in situations like this, both classes would be granted time to investigate the events leading up to the incident. But this case is different. It's volatile. Both sides claim they were set up—and if we allow too much freedom, what's to stop either of you from fabricating worse offenses to avoid punishment?"
He folded his hands behind his back, gaze steady.
"Even so, I might have allowed the situation to evolve further—if there were any credible counter-evidence. But there isn't. Especially in Class D's case, where their claim stands on solid ground."
"What if there was credible evidence that the allegations against Class B are false?" I asked, calmly.
Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. Every eye in the room turned to me like I'd fired a gun in a silent hall. Horikita's gaze, specifically sharpened. There was no surprise in her look, just suspicion… and maybe something closer to caution.
"What? Is that really so hard to believe?" I continued, unbothered by the attention. "There's definitely a reason to question Class D's testimony."
"You're bluffing," Horikita said.
President Horikita turned toward me next, measured and neutral. "Yagami… I'd like to take you at your word, but I can't exactly do that. If you have something substantial, elaborate."
"Of course." I didn't hesitate. "What I mean is that while Class B might not have presented counter-evidence yet, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. The truth is still out there—specifically, in the very place this entire incident centers around: the bathroom where Hirata was allegedly assaulted. All the proof is still there."
A flicker of uncertainty ran through the room. I pressed on.
"People usually think of evidence as something obvious—photos, recordings, confessions. But evidence is broader than that. Sometimes the crime scene itself is the evidence. President Horikita," I turned toward him. "Would I be correct in assuming that the bathroom where the so-called assault occurred has been closed off since the incident?"
"Yes," he said after a beat. "That wouldn't be wrong. It's being treated as a sort of crime scene, after all. But from what we've heard, there doesn't seem to be much in there that would change anything."
"I respectfully disagree. The fact that it's secluded makes it the most likely place to find real answers. It's untouched, you see," I gestured casually, "the school—including classrooms, the cafeteria, and bathrooms—is cleaned every afternoon. This morning, everything was freshly cleaned. And most students were out all day at the sports festival, leaving the school nearly empty."
I looked around the room, watching the realization start to flicker in a few faces.
"Ishizaki reportedly led Hirata to a far isolated bathroom. Class D claims it was to avoid being interrupted during an assault. But if that bathroom was at the far end of the building, away from the main entrance… then that location would have been pristine. Too clean to hide what really happened."
My voice remained calm, but my pace sharpened.
"Think about our shoes. We've spent all day outside—running through dirt, mud, sand. Now, imagine stepping onto a freshly cleaned, polished bathroom floor. What do you think would happen?"
I pointed down.
"Footprints. Obvious ones. If someone was assaulted, if there was a struggle, if Hirata's face was slammed into a mirror like Class D claims, then the floor would tell that story. Footprints. Smears. Movement. Distinct locations."
I turned slightly toward Horikita and Ryuen, my eyes observing both of them.
"Class D claims Hirata was attacked near the mirror. Ishizaki claims he never went near that spot—that he remained by the back wall. Two completely different positions. That means the pattern of footprints, especially if we match them to shoe sizes, should tell us who's lying."
Horikita visibly faltered. The shift was immediate, subtle, but telling. Her posture lost its stiffness, her shoulders sinking ever so slightly. The confidence she typically had grew distant by the second. She realized she was no longer in control of this narrative.
And that was exactly what I needed.
The argument I made may have sounded unconventional to some, but it wasn't far-fetched. The cleaning schedule took place every afternoon, and with nearly all students occupied with the sports festival outdoors, it was plausible that the school was left spotless throughout the morning. That bathroom, tucked away in a distant wing, was likely untouched. A preserved scene. One that could undermine everything Class D was banking on. Class D's accusations could backfire given all this.
"If Ishizaki really stayed by the back wall like he claims," I continued, keeping my voice composed but deliberate, "his footprints—his specific prints—will be clustered there. But if only Hirata's prints appear near the mirror, and Ishizaki's don't… then the claims made by Class D start to fall apart. Completely."
I let the next line come out slowly, like a knife sliding into soft flesh.
"The tiles will decide whose story survives."
The silence in the room deepened. Even the usually loud Ryuen didn't interrupt.
Then I turned to President Horikita.
"I wonder," I asked, as though posing a casual question, "what would be the consequences if Class D really did frame Class B for such a heinous act?"
I said it with polite detachment, but the implication was surgical.
If Class D fabricated this story, they hadn't just lied—they'd weaponized the justice system of the school. They'd abused the council's authority. That went beyond mere manipulation. It was an offense that threatened the credibility of the entire institution.
President Horikita didn't respond immediately.
And that pause alone… was its own kind of victory.
"Well, that would be a separate matter, handled after this case—if your theory is confirmed," President Horikita replied after another pause, his voice calm but firm. "To put it simply, false accusations are serious. Especially when done knowingly. Your claim implies that multiple members of Class D may have colluded to frame Ishizaki. If proven true, the penalty Class D would face would be severe, especially since they currently have no points to absorb the punishment through a deduction in class standings."
A quiet tension filled the air after his words.
"I see," I said. "Then I guess we should get started with this investigation, right? This issue may be more serious than any of us initially imagined."
President Horikita gave a single nod, then addressed the room. "The student council will inspect the bathroom where the incident occurred in ten minutes. Before that, does any student wish to revise their statement? Honesty will be taken into account when determining punishment. If anyone has second thoughts, this is the time to speak."
Silence.
The room went still. No whispers. No nothing. The ball was now in Class D's court—to push forward or retreat. And it was clear from their expressions: this was no easy decision.
Of course, I'm no psychic. I'm not all-knowing. I can't be 100% sure there'll be any definitive evidence at the scene to support Class B's story. Many things could go wrong. Maybe Hirata or Ishizaki's shoes weren't dirty enough to leave visible prints. Maybe others did use that bathroom earlier, leaving behind noise in the form of unrelated footprints. It's unlikely, given its distance from the sports festival grounds, but not impossible.
Still, the question remains: Can Class D afford to take that risk?
Can they justify gambling on the possibility that a single overlooked speck of dirt or pattern of footprints might corroborate Class B's story?
More importantly, can they justify continuing their attack when the potential fallout could break them?
The answer was obvious.
They couldn't.
Not logically. Not without stakes in their favor. Especially when the only reward was a symbolic win, a grudge match against Class B, offering no strategic value in return.
Right on cue, Horikita's voice rang out.
"Wait."
It cut through the room, causing every head to turn.
She understood it. If we went to that bathroom and found any prints, any trace of physical alignment with Class B's version, Class D would be finished. If there were no traces, Class B would suffer. It was a gamble—and she hated gambles.
After a short silence, she exhaled slowly.
"Class D is willing to compromise with Class B," she said at last.
Ryuen was the first to react, his grin instant.
"Oh?" he said, clearly enjoying the turn. "And what do you have in mind?"
"Exactly what you wanted earlier… Class D will drop the matter involving Hirata and Ishizaki," Horikita replied, steady once again, "if Class B agrees to drop the matter regarding Kinoshita and myself."
Ryuen gave a short laugh. "That won't do. I—Class B—has the upper hand in this situation."
He wasn't wrong. It was clear now Ishizaki had been set up, and the odds were higher that some form of evidence would back that up. Maybe not enough for a definitive acquittal, but enough to put pressure on Class D. Enough to use that doubt as leverage.
This wasn't about truth. This was negotiation and extortion dressed up as compromise.
"...What is it you want?" Horikita asked.
In a matter of minutes, the tables had turned. What was once Class D's upper hand now belonged to Class B.
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I could really use some opinions. This is my first time writing in a while, so I'm not sure if it feels, reads, or sounds right... Please share your honest thoughts, and once again, thank you all for reading.