Ayanokōji's faced with reality the next day when everyone falls into their separate groups during lunch, chattering on without notice of his presence or lack-there-of. He doesn't really fit it so he kind of gets it, but after spending an entire afternoon with them, he hoped to at least exist.

"You're pitiful," his neighbor says, as if there's a difference between their situations.

"You're alone too."

"Yes. I prefer to be that way." Horikita says, taking a bite out of her sandwich and Ayanokōji can tell she plans to speak no further. Maybe he'll go to the cafeteria?

He pulls out his phone, shooting off a text.

Eat with me.

He doesn't have to wait long for a reply.

You could be nicer about it.

Where?

Where...? Ayanokōji hasn't ate at that many places and he hardly remembers the names of any of the restaurants except The Cafe. The cafeteria had been viable, but- well, Sakae won't care. Maybe.

He gets another text.

Sorry, forgot who I was texting. Let me be more specific. What do you want to eat?

Ayanokōji stares at his phone. He's pretty sure that's a dig.

Cafeteria?

You don't seem very sure, she replies. Why is she like this?

Meet me in the cafeteria.

Ay, Ay Captain.

Beneath his lids, Ayanokōji rolls his eyes. He stands to his feet, heading for the door.

Not three steps down the hallway, he's stopped. "Ayanokōji-kun!"

"Hm?" It was Kushida rushing up to him looking nervous–or some variation of it at least. She was in her seat before he stepped out the door. Had she been waiting for him to leave?

"Sorry to cut into your lunch time." She smiles faintly, her hands folded tightly together against her chest.

"It's fine." He reassures her, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to face her properly. It's not like he's in a hurry anyways. "Did you need something?"

"You're close to Horikita-san right?"

No.

"I wouldn't say that."

"But you're the only one she ever talks to." She says almost pointedly, linking her fingers behind her back, rocking on her feet, and clearly expecting to get something out of this conversa-...oh.

The way her arms are positioned pulls her shoulders back, emphasizing her assets.

Ayanokōji's powerless to do anything, but stare. Even if they're not the biggest in class, they're still very appealing, and right now they're just, Ayanokōji swallows, out there.

"...but she turned me down." She had been speaking? Ayanokōji raises his eyes only to immediately avert his gaze out the window when he sees the big sad eyes Kushida's flashing at him. "She said she doesn't want to be friends with anyone."

"Yeah... I think that's just how she is." He needs to get out of here.

"But I want to be friends with Horikita-san, too!"

Kushida steps to him, grabbing one of his hands from his pocket, stealing his attention a second time. Ayanokōji's train of thought stutters at their proximity, but not completely. The pleading crimson eyes and cute face capitalizing his vision are timed too perfectly—feel too practiced.

And yet–

"Won't you help me?"

"Help you? I don't..." He trails off because he can't say no. Not like this. Not to her face when she's looking at him like that.

"You... won't?" Her voice saddens a note and everything about it screams rehearsed.

No. It's one syllable, the only logical answer. This plan won't work and he knows it. Horikita won't change her mind for Kushida no matter how many times she asks. It's futile, he thinks, he knows, but that's not what comes out his mouth.

"I'll help," he says, to which Kushida cheers, all traces of sadness gone. She then goes off on a tangent explaining a very basic plan that's definitely not going to work, but she's smiling through the whole recount, proud.

He personally doesn't think she said anything to be proud of, but to each their own he guesses.

Besides, who is he to judge when he's the moron who agreed?

//

Sakae is sitting on a bench with headphones on outside the cafeteria when he finally gets there. Her head is full of ginger braids, glittering with gold ornaments and shells that sway with every slight tilt of her head.

It attracts attention from many of the students, and if he's honest, he'd be staring at her hair too if not for the more shocking sight of her wearing the school uniform. Ayanokōji hasn't so much as seen her uniform since the first day. He honestly thought she trashed it after orientation.

Seeing it now Sakae looks exactly like she did on day one but with wrinkles. Somehow he knows she hasn't washed it.

"You satisfied yet sir?" She asks, looking up at him from her phone.

"A few more minutes please."

She shrugs. "It's your lunch."

Her head drops back to her phone, finger scrolling, and Ayanokōji does find himself staring a bit more. She'd traded her sneakers for the khaki colored shoes that she wears to work – or maybe she decided not to change them coming from work? But ignoring that, for some reason, every passing student is ogling her.

Shamelessly.

A crowd noticing someone different from them will stare. That's just how humans react to difference. There's not a single person on campus who rings similar in his mind except Albert from Class-1C, and that's still a distant comparison since he and Tsujihara look nothing alike.

It happens at her work places too. And in the gym, but to a lesser extent. At six in the morning, committed gym rats have routines to do and no time for distractions.

The words are out his mouth before he can stop himself. "Maybe we should eat somewhere else."

Ethnicity in the white room wasn't a big thing since all the kids were bought from poor families. There were more than a few others visibly different from him, but other than a mental note, there was nothing to point out.

But for the rest of Japan that isn't dirt poor, how many people like Tsujihara exist in Tokyo? The country?

Tsujihara snorts. "It's your lunch."

Few enough to get stares, but high enough that the students staring and judging feel they can do so without getting called out for it- that Sakae won't call them out for it.

She copes well enough, he supposes. He can't recall a single day he's seen her without her headphones.

"Sakae..." He calls to which she scrolls on. He calls again, louder. "Sakae..."

"Hm...? You say something?"

The girl in question looks up, feigning confusion, pulling a headphone back to listen as if she hadn't heard him the first time.

Ayanokōji is utterly unimpressed with the act. "Get up already."

"Don't rush me, Cletus." Cletus? "You're the one that took forever to get here in the first pla..." She's cut by a yawn, and bends into a stretch so deep she trembles.

"Cover your mouth." He remarks to which she petulantly shakes her head, body still stiff. A few seconds later it relaxes and Tsujihara hunches a bit as her weight falls, eyes a little more awake than they were before.

He stares at her and she waves him off muttering, "early shift at the coffee shop."

Humming, he starts walking towards the cafe doors pushing one open and holding it for her to pass through. "Just don't fall face first into your plate."

She flicks him off.

In the cafeteria, eyes are more apparent, but no one comes up to them. The whispers are a range of things, and, again, he wonders if that's cause for concern – for the gossipers that is.

"Do people act like this everywhere?"

She shrugs. "You get used to it."

They meet eyes, him because she's lying, her to shrug a second time as if to say what can she do about it?

Ayanokōji can think of a few things.

They get their food and find an empty table in the back littered with crumbs, but that's a small price to pay for privacy. He spares a napkin to wipe them to the floor before they take their seats.

"So did you find out anything interesting?"

Sakae hums. "A lot. But as far as useful information goes, every class starts out with 1000 S points, hence the 100,000 yen and come May 1st, as well as June 1st as of this moment, Class-D will get nothing."

"I assume that doesn't ring true for the other classes."

"You'd be correct. And did you read the rules?"

Ayanokōji resists the urge to sigh. It only takes a moment for him to catch on to what she's talking about.

The mall has a no return policy. For food and such that's obvious, but for games, accessories, clothes, and everything else – even in the package or with the tags still attached – once you buy it, it's yours, no take backs.

He only ever indulged his taste buds, but several of the guy's bought video games and manga collections, and most of the girls went shopping every other day. He bets that roughly 75% of his classmates have less than 50,000 yen and a quarter of that group had less than 20,000.

And Sakae is the lone 4% with over 100,000 yen in her bank account because she skipped class everyday and juggled no less than 3 jobs.

"...Why did you let me pay for the food?"

"I'd never stop you from being a gentleman."

Of course she wouldn't.

"How much money is actually in your account?"

She looks at him and blinks enough times for him to know he's not getting a clean cut answer.

"I hit 8 digits by the end of the second week."

Ayanokōji doesn't bat an eye at the number. "I mean right now."

Sakae doesn't reply, but pointedly looks out the window. He catches the reflection in the glass right before the phone shuts off.

Over 25, 000, 000 yen in a casual three week window.

"The mall shares a bank account with the government that the government actively withdraws and deposits massive amounts from frequently. Our private points are probably withdrawn from it too."

That would make a lot of sense about carelessness. They can't suffer a loss. Not if Sakae can take millions of yen and they don't even notice. But they must have some sort of security system. It doesn't sound like she hacked her way to millions so–

"My starting pay was 1500 yen." She says before he can ask and it's easy to calculate with smaller numbers. She doubled her pay everyday. She conned them legally.

Ayanokōji remembers when Kushida caught him in the hall earlier, how she was so clearly trying to manipulate him with her womanliness and though he saw through it, he agreed anyway.

What strength would a regular man have against a Tsujihara?

None, he knows. And he hesitates to think he'd do any better. Tsujihara would never attempt the direct method with him, thinking him above it. And he is most of the time, but he's also a teenage boy. He vividly remembers the outfit she was wearing after orientation and the way her hair smelled in the elevator.

He also remembers his relief when she hadn't noticed how hard he got seeing her laid across his bed. Their conversation was of no help. His father had planned on giving her to him. Had he not stabbed her, had he been any more humane back then, she'd be his right now, and Ayanokōji can't say he wouldn't hate his father a little less for that.

"Horikita isn't going to like any of this when she hears about it." Sakae interrupts his thoughts.

He silently questions how she'd know that, but agrees. "She won't."

"She's going to want to do something about it."

"You'd be correct."

"And you're her only not-friend."

"She won't ask me for help." He says. In his mind's eye, Horikita's face superimposes Kushida's pouty expression in his memory and Ayanokōji is so disturbed he loses his appetite.

"Maybe not, but I bet you'll end up helping her one way or another." She continues, smirking. "It's just a matter of time."

"Stop talking before you speak it into existence." He says, to which her smirks broadens to show off a perfect pearly smile only he can see because of their seating. It's a smile born from the prospect of his future suffering, but that doesn't stop him from committing it to memory.

"I'm just saying, Horikita seems like the type to be attracted to competence and you're the biggest brain in the class. Probably our whole year. Don't you want a girlfriend?"

Honestly, he wouldn't know the first thing to do with a girlfriend. Before he can reply though, the bell rings signaling the end of lunch, and five minutes until their next class. An out.

"Don't look too relieved. We've got our first test this evening. You're not getting rid of me yet." Sakae cackles, taking her trash and tray to the bin.

Behind her, Ayanokōji drags his feet. He feels like he's walking toward his death.