chapter1 · 006-ep6

Episode 6: The Arrogant Awakener

The homeroom teacher stood at the lectern and swept the classroom with a stiffer face than usual.

"Good morning."

The reply was smaller than usual.

Well, naturally.

The class's air was still stuck where it had been, and the world had been in chaos since Saturday.

The teacher looked us over, then let out a small breath.

"...As you all know, Saturday was a bit of an ordeal."

Calling it "a bit" felt like a serious stretch to me.

Dungeons sprouted across the world, Awakeners appeared, and the news talked about nothing else for two days straight.

But as a teacher, this was probably the only way he could put it.

"The school doesn't have the full picture yet either. But we want to confirm what can be confirmed at this point."

With that, the teacher held up a single sheet.

"So to start today, I'm having you all fill this out."

The papers came around, front row first.

I took mine when it reached me and skimmed it.

The contents were simple.

Whether you've Awakened.

Your confirmed Level, if known.

Whether you have an attribute.

Anything else you'd like to declare to the school.

"Write it honestly. I'll collect them one at a time. Some of you won't want neighbors reading over your shoulder."

That part, well — it's consideration, presumably.

At minimum, far better than doing an "Okay, Awakeners, hands up~" in the middle of the classroom.

I picked up my pen and looked down at the sheet.

Awakener.

Level 6.

No attribute.

...I obviously wasn't writing down that I have an achievement list.

There's no field for that anyway.

And I'm not honest enough to volunteer everything here.

I'd keep quiet about my Skills, too, for now.

I doubted telling the school came with any upside.

I'd barely finished writing when it happened.

"Hey, Teach."

Sakagami Yūdai raised his hand with a masterfully listless air.

Oh no. Here we go.

I probably wasn't the only one thinking it.

The classroom's air tilted his way, just a little.

"So like — if we write this honestly, do we get anything good out of it?"

The phrasing alone was already awful.

Less asking than testing, that kind of feel.

The teacher's brow creased.

"Less 'something good' than this is so the school can stay informed."

"Huh."

Sakagami lazily waved his sheet and slumped deep into his chair.

"Then isn't it basically pointless to fill out?"

The classroom's air got heavier still.

The teacher, for his part, kept his voice level.

"There is a point. So submit it, please."

"No, but still —"

Sakagami went on in a weirdly light tone, without even laughing.

"What's the deal with making us hand over what's basically personal info when we get zero out of it?"

Ugh.

That's the angle he's taking.

It felt less like rebellion and more like he was enjoying stumping the teacher.

The teacher strengthened his voice a notch.

"Sakagami. That's not what this is. Right now, as a school—"

"You say 'as a school,' but—"

Sakagami cut the words off mid-sentence.

He hadn't shouted.

But the classroom's attention swung his way anyway.

"If something happens, can you take responsibility?"

The teacher jammed up, just for an instant.

Sakagami didn't miss it.

"Then honestly, being told 'write it honestly' is kinda scary, you know?"

Light tone, and not giving an inch.

I hate that kind of thing.

He's not even making a valid point — he just steamrolls you with delivery and atmosphere.

The teacher tried to answer, hunting for words for a moment.

"...In any case, submit it, please."

"I'll think about it~"

With that, Sakagami left the sheet on his desk and leaned back into his seat.

That alone told you everything.

He thinks he's the one holding the strongest position in this classroom right now.

And honestly, he's probably about half right.

Sakagami was a pretty overbearing guy to begin with.

Huge voice, huge attitude, the type who isn't satisfied unless he's the center.

But today he was worse.

Clearly, measurably worse than before.

The fact that he'd Awakened might as well be a driver's license, judging by his face.

The teacher can't push him head-on.

Nobody else says a word.

It's been all of two days since Saturday, and it's already come to this.

The Awakener title is way more trouble than I'd imagined.

After that, the teacher went around collecting the sheets one by one.

When he reached my seat, he didn't say anything in particular.

I handed mine over.

The teacher's eyes dropped to it for just a second, and he moved on to the next desk.

Watching that, I got to thinking a little.

The survey tells them who's an Awakener.

Level, attributes — probably, to some degree, those too.

Of course the school wants to know.

But.

Suppose they do know — is there anything the teachers can actually do about it?

No, more than the school — does it go further up? Like, say, to some corner of the government?

If so, that's a little unsettling.

In the end, that whole day was in no state for classes.

Even after homeroom, the classroom never settled, with school announcements and follow-up notices one after another.

What the school wanted to know about Awakeners.

That we were to keep away from dungeons.

That depending on circumstances, even the format of attending school might change.

That they'd be coordinating with parents as necessary.

It was nothing but that kind of talk, and almost nothing resembling class content ever made it onto the blackboard.

In the middle of it, the teacher said one thing clearly.

"At this point, no closure orders have come from the national government or the prefectures. Accordingly, from tomorrow onward, we will in principle hold regular classes."

I see.

Wait, so there is school after all.

The world's been flipped upside down, and apparently we're supposed to keep showing up while it stays that way.

Once the announcements ran their course, the teacher cleared his throat.

"That's it for today."

The classroom's air loosened a little.

"This afternoon, go home and stay there. No detours on the way. Keep away from the dungeons. Until formal instructions come from the school, refrain from acting on your own."

What he's saying is reasonable.

But that reasonableness isn't landing in this classroom right now.

Everyone's fixated on the "you get to go home" part, and Sakagami doesn't even look like he's listening anymore.

Not that I'm one to talk.

Today I'll just head straight home.

Can't get into a dungeon anyway.

...Well, maybe I'll at least peek at the park, and if it looks even slightly doable...

Surely a little leniency wouldn't—

Thinking thoughts that leaned pretty firmly toward "bad idea," I slipped out of the classroom.

---

As after school came and the students of second-year Class 3 trickled out of the room,

the boy Sakagami had marked that morning was still there.

Sitting quietly at his desk.

Hands folded, elbows planted, just waiting for something.

"Look at you, actually staying put instead of running."

Sakagami Yūdai, calling out from behind, came around to the front of the boy's desk and flicked his chin.

"Rooftop."

The boy's shoulders jumped.

"...Huh?"

"Just gonna borrow your face a little."

It was a light voice.

The boy had no choice but to stand.

And then they reached the rooftop.

Sakagami Yūdai stood before the boy, backed up against the fence.

Behind him, three more of the upper-caste crowd, wearing the same smirks.

A sports-club guy, a guy who looked seasoned in fights, and a guy who just seemed to enjoy riding with whoever was strongest.

They were the ones among the second-years who'd become Awakeners.

Every one of them had a rotten look on his face.

"Perfect for a test."

Sakagami shrugged.

The boy's face stayed pale and wordless.

"You'd best at least clench your teeth."

The next instant, Sakagami's fist sank into the boy's stomach.

A crushed sound.

His back hit the fence, and he crumpled where he stood.

"Whoa, weak."

"Yūdai, what's even the point of this?"

The short-haired guy snorted, sounding bored.

"I mean, figured maybe we'd get XP."

Looking down at the boy curled on the ground, Sakagami frowned.

"Ahh, nope. Nothing."

"Figures. Guess non-Awakeners are worthless, then."

Another of them said it.

"Oh, by the way — heard you do get some XP from Awakener-on-Awakener fights."

"It was making the rounds on social media last night."

"Ooh, nice. Should we just beat the crap out of each other?"

But Sakagami, after a moment's thought, shook his head.

"No, that works too, but..."

And then he crouched right down and lightly grabbed the hair of the boy sprawled on the ground.

"I wanna get this school under our thumb first."

At those words, the guys behind him exchanged looks.

"We did just become Awakeners and all."

"Nice."

"I'm in."

"We can pound 'em in order. The third-years above us are annoying anyway."

Laughter.

Still holding the hair, Sakagami lifted the boy's face a little.

"You."

The boy looked at Sakagami with terror-soaked eyes.

"By tomorrow, go steal the sheets everyone wrote in morning homeroom out of the staff room. Every class's worth."

It seemed to take him a little while just to process what he'd been told.

"...Huh?"

"Didn't hear me?"

Sakagami's voice was light.

Light, and with no way out.

"Every grade's. The ones the Awakeners wrote — I want those."

The boy's face went even paler.

"I-it's impossible..."

"Why?"

"If they catch me..."

"Then don't get caught."

He said it like it was nothing.

And then Sakagami grinned.

"You can do it, right?"

The boy couldn't answer.

But the answer had already been decided, with or without one.

He couldn't refuse.

To every eye in that place, that much was plainly visible.