“You’re the ones pranking the school, right?”
I felt Kurumi flinch behind me. My own throat clenched up hard.
I’d hoped my fears were unfounded, but clearly today was not our lucky day.
So it was our “pranks” that had brought Nanaougi here.
I’d had a vague feeling that was what this was about. The Stargazing Club was virtually unknown, with no active members. Nanaougi couldn’t have come to join the club. It was also a well-known fact that she belonged to no clubs or teams—even the student council. That meant she couldn’t be here to discuss the club’s activities or to threaten to shut us down.
That meant it was far more likely she was here for reasons unrelated to the club. And she’d said she wasn’t here for me, but for both of us.
With that much information, it was hard not to take the hint. Nanaougi knew we were the resistance leaders. That’s why she’d come here.
Shit. This is the worst possible scenario.
“…Natsume,” said Kurumi anxiously, grabbing my shirt.
I know. I’ll handle this.
But what could I do? I had no clue how she’d figured it out or what she was after. It was probably safe to assume that ridiculous pass she’d made at me before had been her way of sounding me out.
Nanaougi suspected we were behind the Painted Heads on Pikes, but I had no idea why.
I was at a loss. What should I do?
How much did she know about the other incidents? Was she just assuming the same culprits were behind everything? Or did she have proof we were involved in all of it?
I didn’t know. At the very least, I had to avoid letting anything slip. I didn’t want to dig my own grave any deeper.
I shook my head, trying to seem genuine. “No idea what you’re talking about. You must be confused.”
“Playing innocent? I guess that’s natural. It’s not something you can just come out and confess to.” Nanaougi chuckled. She was clearly very confident in her accusation.
Don’t let it get to you. Stay calm. It could still be a bluff.
Don’t give her an opening until she’s sealed off every escape route.
“Spare me the wild accusations,” I said. “You don’t have a shred of evidence.”
“I don’t, huh? I figured you’d say as much, so I brought proof.”
…No way. Our attack had been a perfect crime. We hadn’t left any physical evidence. We’d even used rulers to draw the words specifically so they couldn’t trace our handwriting.
We’re good. We’re fine. Whatever proof she thinks she has, it’s not definitive.
I kept my back straight and faced her down.
Her smirk never faded as her gaze raked over me. She was toying with me.
“I could produce that evidence and declare checkmate, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, I’d like to share my tale of woe and tell you about all the hardships I went through to get here.”
Nanaougi snorted a laugh and leisurely prepared to launch into her speech.
I wanted to drive her away as soon as possible… But I didn’t have a clue what she knew, and I wanted to get as much info as I could from her. I glanced at Kurumi, and we settled on hearing her out.
“I first learned of your existence with the stamp incident. You made stamps from the teacher’s insults and doctored the tests for the upper classes, right? That piqued my curiosity.”
Making those insult stamps out of erasers had been our first act of resistance. And it was true that I’d stamped quizzes from Class 2-1.
Aha. It seemed I’d just happened to target Nanaougi’s class.
“Since they were using Furukawa’s handwriting, I suspected the culprit must have him for math and be in a lower-ranked class—specifically 2-4 or 2-5.”
“…I see.”
“After that, I looked into each subsequent incident. The flyers labeling tables ‘Reserved for Good Students’ confirmed you must be in a lower-ranked class. The threats you posted looked sloppier the closer you got to the first-year area, so I suspected you had a younger accomplice.”
“And that led you to us?”
“No, at that stage, I still hadn’t narrowed it down that far. I still didn’t have any specific suspects.”
Of course not. We hadn’t made it that easy.
“For a while my investigation stalled, but then I caught a break. The broadcast during the school festival. That gave me the missing pieces.”
Nanaougi’s eyes narrowed.
“When I heard those patchwork rants, I was sure of it. Your recordings narrowed it down. They were all from Furukawa’s math classes, or Shimizu’s Japanese. Only Class 2-5 has them both. I figured that if a student from that class fled the broadcast booth, they must be the culprit.”
She’d recognized the teachers from the voices alone and pinpointed my class from the data distribution. I felt like she was calling out our carelessness.
I was starting to feel genuinely rattled—not just because of her expert analysis, but because she seemed downright obsessed.
“I figured your escape route would involve the emergency exit. With the uproar you caused, you could hardly take an ordinary route. The moment the broadcast started, I headed for the upper floors for a stakeout.”
A shockingly quick decision, but she’d been on the lookout for our next move. And given her brilliant mind and athletic abilities, it didn’t seem out of the question.
“And voilà! I caught a boy from Class 2-5 and a first-year girl running near the broadcast room.”
Nanaougi made that snorting laugh again.
“I didn’t expect you to jump off the roof, though.”
Crap. She saw that, too?
I’d had everything backward. She’d had her eye on us before summer vacation even began. And then, when we put our Painted Heads on Pikes plan into action, she’d simply assumed it was the same people at work.
It all added up, and that wasn’t good. I crunched the numbers in my head and found no grounds to argue. Anything I tried to say would just be a vain attempt to wriggle off the hook.
The more I thought about it, the faster my pulse started to race.
Goddamn it. There’s nothing I can say. My mind’s gone blank.