Sitting at my desk, I stare blankly at the scratched wooden surface. The morning sun filters through the tall windows, casting long, sharp shadows across the classroom floor. My mind drifts back few hours ago.
I am actually glad someone invited me to lunch.
Eating alone in a massive, crowded cafeteria on the second day of high school is a quick way to cement a reputation as a permanent outcast. Tal saved me from that specific social failure.
The other guys in Class D whisper about him in the hallways. They call him a madman. They think he is an irresponsible idiot who blew his entire one-hundred-thousand-point allowance on a video game console the moment he walked onto campus.
But sitting across from him while he choked down a plate of bitter, free boiled vegetables, he seemed perfectly fine. He actually gave me advice on how to act like a normal high school student. His method involved focusing my attention entirely on the physical development of the girls in our class. It is a crude philosophy, but biologically, it makes perfect sense for a teenager.
A sharp crackle of static bursts from the overhead speakers, cutting through the low murmur of the classroom.
"At five PM Japan Standard Time today, we will be holding a student club fair in Gymnasium No. 1. Students interested in joining a club, please gather in Gymnasium No. 1. I repeat, at—"
A girl with a sweet, highly practiced voice continues the announcement.
Club activities. I lean back in my hard plastic chair. I have never joined a club before. I end up asking Horikita about it, and despite her aggressive, prickly attitude, she eventually agrees to walk to the gymnasium with me after class. The fair turns out to be a massive, crowded spectacle.
We stand in the back. The Student Council President, a severe upperclassman named Horikita Manabu, commands the entire room with a terrifying, silent pressure. The moment he speaks, the girl standing next to me freezes completely. She looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
I decide not to join anything. Walking a lonely road seems vastly preferable to dealing with the exhausting politics of a sports team.
That brings us to today. The real main event of the week.
"Good morning, Yamauchi!"
"Good morning, Ike!"
The sheer volume of their voices practically shakes the windows. Arriving to class early, Ike Kanji wears a broad, slightly unhinged grin as he calls out to Yamauchi Haruki.
It is highly unusual for them to be here before the five-minute warning bell. Usually, they drag their feet into the room right at the last possible second.
"Whew, man! I was looking forward to today so much that I barely slept last night!" Ike shouts, slamming his hands down on his desk.
"Ah ha ha! This school is just the best!" Yamauchi yells back, matching his chaotic energy. "I can't believe that it's almost time for swimming! And when I say swimming, I mean girls. And when I say girls, I mean girls in school swimsuits!"
The few female students who are already sitting in the room physically recoil. They back away from Ike and Yamauchi's rabid excitement, their faces twisting in genuine disgust.
I remain seated in my chair, isolated and quiet near the back corner. I cannot just sit here forever. If I want a peaceful three years, I need to proactively work at joining a group of friends. Getting folded into the guys' circle is the most logical path of least resistance.
Fortunately, their loud morning greetings end. I slowly push my chair back and stand up, preparing to walk over and casually insert myself into their airspace.
"Hey, Professor! Come here for a sec!" Ike waves his hand frantically.
A chubby boy with thick glasses approaches them at a slow, deliberate waddle. Sotomura Hideo. For some reason, everyone already calls him The Professor.
"Uh, you called?" Sotomura asks, adjusting his frames.
"Professor, can you record the girls wearing their swimsuits for us?" Ike begs, leaning across his desk.
"Leave it to me. I'll pretend to be sick so that I can skip class and observe from the upper deck," Sotomura replies with absolute, terrifying sincerity.
I freeze in place. What are they planning?
"The Professor is going to rank the girls' breast sizes for us. If we're lucky, he'll get some pictures with his phone," Ike explains to Yamauchi, completely oblivious to the sheer social danger of his words.
Sudou Ken sits a few desks away. He physically draws back, looking at Ike like the guy has lost his mind. If the girls find out about a secret photography operation, the consequences will likely involve expulsion, or at least a severe physical beating.
Despite the highly degenerate content of their conversation, a small part of me feels jealous. They banter so easily. They have a shared, ridiculous goal that binds them together.
Having friends seems nice.
"Hey, Ayanokouji!" Ike suddenly calls my name. He beams at me, his eyes wide and slightly crazed.
"Wh-what is it?" I ask, stuttering slightly as I step closer to their circle.
"To tell you the truth, we're taking bets on the girls' chest sizes," Ike says proudly.
"We've come up with some probabilities," Sotomura adds. He pulls a sleek digital tablet from his bag and wakes the screen.
A highly detailed spreadsheet glows brightly in the morning light. The names of all the girls in Class D are listed in neat, color-coded rows. Beside each name sits a calculated probability ratio and a projected cup size. I stare at the screen. I honestly have zero interest in gambling, but I cannot let this opportunity to integrate go to waste.
Before I can ask how much it costs to join, a heavy canvas bag drops onto the desk right next to me with a loud thud.
"I'm in."
We all turn our heads. Tal stands there and wears a relaxed, incredibly confident smirk. He reaches into his uniform pocket, pulls out his smartphone, and taps the screen a few times. A sharp ping echoes from Sotomura's tablet, signaling a point transfer.
"Put me down for a thousand points," Tal says smoothly.
Ike's jaw drops open. He stares at Tal like he just saw a ghost. "Dude! You have points left? I thought you blew every single yen on that game console the other day!"
"I did," Tal says without missing a single beat. He leans against the desk, crossing his arms. "I practically starved last night. But I scraped the bottom of my digital wallet and found exactly one thousand points hiding in the couch cushions. A man has to have his priorities straight, Ike. Food is temporary. The pursuit of truth is eternal."
Yamauchi wipes a fake tear from his eye. "Bro. That is beautiful."
"So, who is the smart money on?" Tal asks, looking down at the glowing spreadsheet. "Hasebe?"
"Hasebe is the undisputed favorite," Sotomura declares, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The lenses catch the classroom light, glowing white for a second. "The odds sit at one to eight. Her center of gravity and the sheer strain on her uniform buttons provide empirical evidence of her dominance."
"Too safe," Tal dismisses the favorite with a wave of his hand. "I don't play for small payouts. Put my last thousand points on Mori Nene."
The entire group goes completely silent.
I look at the list. Mori is ranked near the very bottom. Her odds are astronomical.
Ike frowns, scratching the back of his head in utter confusion. "Mori? Seriously? Dude, are you blind? She's like… totally flat. You're just throwing your last points into a black hole."
Sotomura nods in solemn agreement. "Mori-dono lacks the necessary structural displacement. The math does not support your wager, Taru-dono."
Tal lets out a low, dark chuckle. He leans in closer to the group. The boys instinctively lean in to meet him, forming a tight, secretive huddle. I take a small half-step forward to hear him.
"You guys are looking at the surface," Tal whispers. His tone sounds like a veteran detective revealing a massive conspiracy. "You are trusting your eyes. But the eyes deceive. Look at her posture. Mori wears her cardigan slightly oversized. She hunches her shoulders forward about three degrees when she walks. It is classic optical camouflage."
Ike blinks rapidly. "Optical… what?"
"Camouflage," Tal repeats heavily. "I call it the Compression Effect. The school blazer is stiff. If a girl wants to avoid unwanted attention, she utilizes a highly restrictive sports bra and poor posture to flatten her silhouette. But under the water, in a tight swimsuit? The camouflage dissolves. The truth is unleashed."
Yamauchi gasps, his hands flying up to cover his mouth.
"I'm telling you," Tal continues, his voice dropping to an intense, raspy whisper. "There is a hidden treasure buried under that cardigan. A sleeping dragon waiting to break free. When Mori steps out of that locker room, the entire hierarchy of this class will shatter."