Day 5
The sun peeled through the thinning veil of clouds, casting slow golden strokes across the dew-kissed canopy. Mist clung to the earth in ghostly tendrils, swirling with every faint breath of wind. Not even the birds had stirred—so early was the hour Lloyd chose to move.
His footsteps were near-silent, yet deliberate, slicing through the underbrush with surgical precision. Days prior, he'd memorized the island's layout in its entirety. Dozens of branching paths sprawled in all directions, but five in particular led directly to the beach—where the school held mandatory roll call at precisely eight.
A satchel swung gently at his side. At each junction, he stopped, knelt, and opened it with mechanical grace. One by one, he laid its contents upon the ground, his movements exact and emotionless. His expression remained unchanged—eyes hollow, detached—like an artist laying traps no one else could perceive.
Then, without pause, he advanced to the next path.
By the time he finished, the sun had fully breached the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and lavender. Its rays spilled over the treetops, rousing the island from slumber.
---
At 7:20, Class D began their quiet walk through the forested trail. The morning air was crisp and fragrant, laced with the earthy scent of damp soil and tropical flora. It should have been peaceful—comforting, even—but there was something unnatural in the stillness. Something... wrong.
Hirata walked ahead, his usual sunny optimism dimmed but intact. He smiled at those who met his gaze, offering a stabilizing presence. Horikita, as always, wore a mask of indifference, her eyes scanning the path with razor-sharp focus. Ayanokoji trailed behind, ghost-like in his movements, the faintest furrow of thought on his brow.
In a week plagued by tension and subtle sabotage, this calm felt like the eye of a storm.
Then—
A scream ripped through the silence.
"What the hell!! What the hell is this?!"
Horikita's head snapped toward the sound. Around her, students froze mid-step, startled like deer caught in a trap.
"Who the hell's yelling like that?" Kei Karuizawa asked sharply, a quiver of unease lacing her voice.
"I don't know," Horikita replied, her tone crisp, "but we're going to find out."
As they reached the edge of the beach, the forest gave way to a scene of chaos.
Cards. Dozens of them. Scattered across the sand like fallen autumn leaves.
Each bore a name. A title.
Leadership cards.
Ike crouched, grabbing one. "What the... This is... this is a leadership card!" His voice rose in disbelief. "It's got Yahiko's name on it!"
"Class A's leader?" Horikita murmured, her breath catching. Her eyes darted across the beach—every card a revelation. Every secret laid bare.
Sudo and Yamauchi sprinted ahead, scrambling like scavengers, clutching cards and shouting names. Sakura remained rooted to the spot, her hand trembling as she held up a card:
Horikita Suzune – Class D.
A drop of sweat trickled down her temple. Her stomach turned to ice.
Ayanokoji stepped beside her, his gaze resting briefly on the card. "Horikita," he said quietly. "What do you make of this?"
His voice was calm, but his posture had changed—tighter, more alert.
Horikita took the card from Sakura and examined it. "These... these are accurate," she said, tension sharpening her tone. "Every name. Every class. Whoever did this knew exactly who the leaders were." Her jaw clenched. "And didn't even try to hide it."
Ayanokoji didn't respond. His eyes were already scanning the surroundings, noting every movement, every reaction.
Then came a guttural roar of frustration.
"Damn it!! Fuck—how?!"
Ryuen's boot slammed into the sand, sending a spray of grains into the air. His face contorted in rage, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging at his temple. He looked ready to tear the world apart.
Horikita narrowed her eyes, watching him. Ayanokoji remained silent, observing with that eerie stillness.
"It seems we're not the only ones losing brain cells," Horikita muttered under her breath.
"All the class leaders—exposed," Ayanokoji said flatly. "This wasn't careless. It was precise. Strategic. And the fact that he didn't keep the information to himself makes it worse."
"Public psychological warfare," she whispered, the weight of it sinking in.
Just then, Class B arrived. Ichinose's usual glow was dimmed by a rare frown, concern etched in her features. "Something's wrong," she said as she approached. "We came to check if we were the only ones."
Ryuen rounded on her like a predator, voice seething. "You fuckers. What the hell are you planning?!"
Kanzaki stepped forward, calm and collected. "Ryuen, baseless accusations won't help. I didn't even know who your class leader was. Why would I reveal my own?"
Then, without a word, he shifted slightly—just enough for Ryuen to catch the signal.
A flicker of recognition passed through Ryuen's eyes. His jaw tightened. For a moment, his fury seemed to dissolve into calculation.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue, then turned away sharply, his classmates falling in behind him.
"…Would the plan still work?" one of them whispered.
Ryuen silenced them with a glare, but Ayanokoji had already heard. His brow arched, curiosity sharpening to suspicion.
So… Ibuki was the play. Sneaking her out with the card. Now that's useless.
Lloyd anticipated this.
Moments later, Katsuragi arrived. Calm. Composed. Holding a single card between his fingers.
"Looks like your leaders were found out," he said blandly.
A heavy silence fell.
Was it a bluff? A façade to suggest Class A remained untouched?
Ayanokoji doubted it. He had seen Ryuen react to Yahiko's card. If Katsuragi thought that subtle lies would preserve his standing, he underestimated his audience.
"We should move," Hirata said, steadying the group. "Roll call is still our priority."
"Yes," Horikita nodded. "We'll regroup afterward."
At the back of Class A, Sienna stood still. Her expression serene, but her eyes blazed with fury. Her knuckles were white at her sides.
Lloyd.
This had his signature. No theatrics. No glory. Just cold, methodical sabotage.
She exhaled slowly, calming herself.
He'd stripped her of leverage—exposed her puppet, Yahiko, to public scrutiny. Now, Katsuragi would have to remove him from leadership. The future plans she'd built were unraveling.
She drew a breath and steeled herself.
I'll rebound. A new proxy will take his place. Yahiko... will drop out.
And Lloyd?
He always followed orders.
---
10:09
The sun had barely risen above the treetops, gilding the treeline in pale gold. Within Class A's camp, tension buzzed like static.
Sienna stood near the edge of the encampment, posture perfect, arms folded behind her back. Yahiko stood behind her, eyes locked on the ground, mulling over the words she had dropped on him.
"You think it'll work?" he asked, hesitant. "Just act that way? Think it'll be enough to fool Katsuragi? Feels wrong."
"Once you show them the rash, they'll have no choice but to believe it," Sienna replied softly.
Yahiko scratched at his leg, wincing. "It itches like hell. This part's swollen bad."
She offered a gentle, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Yahiko. I really am. If I were class leader, you wouldn't have to go through this."
He looked at her, his eyes softening. "It's fine. This is for the good of the class, right?"
She nodded, her resolve firming. "I'll speak to Katsuragi. Explain everything."
But she already knew Katsuragi would reject it.
---
Later
Sienna approached Katsuragi with an air of controlled urgency.
"Katsuragi. We need to act. Yahiko can't continue. With the leak, we're exposed. We have to replace him before someone exploits it further."
Katsuragi's eyes met hers—steady, unreadable. "We don't have valid grounds. Leadership changes require cause. This isn't enough."
She didn't blink. "So we wait? Until Class D makes a move we can't counter?"
"We hold," he said firmly. "Until we have justification."
Sienna gave a short nod and withdrew, though her thoughts churned. There would be no justification—not from his narrow definition.
She would create one.
---
Evening
By the stream, Yahiko adjusted his bandage. Sienna approached quietly.
"Yahiko," she said gently. "People are starting to talk. You're in pain. You're a target."
He chuckled faintly. "I'm fine. Just needed to soak it."
She touched his arm. "You trust me?"
He nodded. "Always."
"Then meet me at the waterfall in an hour. I need your help. It's... sensitive."
He agreed without hesitation.
Later, aboard the ship, Yahiko scratched at his leg as the nurses treated him. Sienna stood nearby as Mashima-sensei approached.
"You know the consequences of a student dropping out," he said.
"I do, sir."
"Then I trust you've already chosen the next leader?"
"Ai Morishita," she answered without pause.
Minutes later, a new card was handed to her. She bowed and returned to camp.
---
By the time she reached the beach again, the news had spread.
Yahiko had officially dropped out due to medical concerns.
Sienna stood before Class A, delivering the news with practiced calm. "His injury worsened overnight. I escorted him for treatment."
Katsuragi stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "One of my men saw you. Yahiko didn't fall. You manipulated him."
Sienna blinked. "He was in pain. The nurse can confirm that. Are you accusing me of helping a classmate?"
Her expression was wounded—just enough to spark sympathy. The students around them murmured in her defense.
"I acted for the class," she said simply. "We were vulnerable. Now, we're secure."
Katsuragi looked around. The eyes that met his no longer aligned with his. They aligned with her.
Not because they admired her—but because they knew she was right.
And that was all she needed.
The air was thick with tension. A low murmur rippled through the crowd like wind through tall grass—soft, persistent, but clearly leaning in one direction.
Katsuragi planted his feet, trying to reassert his authority, but the momentum had already slipped from his grasp. The students didn't rally behind him. Their eyes averted, their silence sharpened into quiet endorsement—for her.
Sienna stood unmoved, poised as if sculpted from marble. She let their support wash over her like waves breaking on rock—constant, relentless, unable to erode her.
"I acted in the best interest of the class," she said, her voice smooth but laced with quiet iron. "If Yahiko had stayed, we would've been exposed. I eliminated the risk. I ensured our safety."
There was no apology in her tone. Just cold logic, honed sharp.
Katsuragi's gaze swept across the students. No one met his eyes. Their loyalty wasn't to Sienna—they simply acknowledged the results. Her maneuver had worked. Ruthless? Yes. But effective.
"Fine," he bit out, a layer of frost in his voice. "Then tell us—who's the new leader?"
Sienna tilted her head ever so slightly, like a cat watching a mouse debate its next step. "I'd rather not say. Not until we find who leaked Yahiko's identity. I trust you, Katsuragi… but I can't afford another exposure."
His jaw clenched. "You think there's a traitor among us?"
"I think we should tread carefully."
He smacked his lips in frustration, his expression faltering—just for a moment. Enough for her to see.
Privately, Sienna allowed herself the faintest smile. Control was like a wire: nearly invisible, yet wrapped tightly around everything.
Later, she drifted quietly toward Ai. Her steps barely stirred the grass beneath her shoes. She moved like wind in silk.
Without a word, she slipped a small, folded card into Ai's hand. Ai blinked, glancing down, suspicion prickling behind her eyes.
"You made me the class leader?" she asked, her voice low.
"Yeah. You're the closest to me. Why not?" Sienna's tone was almost playful—disarmingly casual.
Ai hesitated, lips parting as if to challenge it. But the question hung in the air and vanished.
"…Huh."
Ai Morishita. Now the hidden blade tucked beneath Sienna's sleeve. Even Katsuragi wouldn't anticipate this move. Her leadership was invisible—but total.
__
Cladd D camp
The Class D camp buzzed with restless energy. The sky above was smeared with twilight, the air damp from the day's fading heat. A campfire crackled in the center, casting shadows that danced on the students' faces.
They were gathered in a loose circle, tension bleeding through the silence.
Hirata stood at the center, hands calmly folded. "Given the way things have escalated, we'll need to appoint a new class leader," he said, his voice tempered and measured. "Horikita… are you okay with this?"
Suzune Horikita nodded, her expression unreadable but voice composed. "It's not a problem. I just hope… you all manage."
Kei snapped to attention, folding her arms with a scoff. "You hope we manage? Who do you think you are?"
"Kei," Hirata said gently, lifting a hand. "Calm down."
The sharp edge in her posture melted, like a switch flipped. She grumbled but fell silent.
Yukimura pushed up his glasses, eyes narrowing. "Wait, isn't there a rule against removing a leader without a legitimate reason?"
"It's fine," Horikita said, a rare note of hesitation in her voice. "I… wasn't doing well either. It's better this way."
From the shadows, Ayanokoji sighed quietly, leaning against a nearby tree. The bark was rough under his palm, grounding him. His eyes flitted across the group—watching, processing, calculating. Always.
Hirata gestured toward Ibuki, who lounged near the edge of camp like a lioness waiting to pounce. "Ibuki, would you mind giving us a moment?"
Ibuki groaned, rising lazily to her feet before walking off, arms stretched overhead. No resistance—just annoyance.
Ayanokoji's thoughts ticked like gears. She's of no use now. If she stays, she becomes a liability.
Just then, Whis raised his hand with an odd casualness, like he was volunteering to ask a question in class.
Hirata turned to him. "Yes, Whis?"
Whis' voice was thoughtful, not accusatory. "Since Horikita herself doesn't know how her identity was compromised… is it possible there's a mole among us?"
Gasps. Mutters. Paranoia trickled in like cold air under a door.
"I'm not a fan of throwing accusations," Hirata said quickly, holding up his palms. "But if that's true, do you have a plan to prevent it from happening again?"
"Yeah," Whis said, his grin lopsided. "Pick three candidates in secret. Shuffle a stick between them—pass it around discreetly. Whoever ends up with it becomes the leader. That way, only a handful know who it is. Even the mole won't be able to tell."
A moment of silence. Then, murmurs of approval. Yukimura nodded slowly.
"I see. That limits the exposure to only four people. The fewer who know, the smaller the target."
"Exactly. Even the rest of us won't know," Whis added with a shrug.
Ayanokoji narrowed his eyes slightly. His brain clicked through the implications, already adapting. Interesting…
"Alright," Hirata said, clapping his hands together softly. "Does everyone agree with Whis' suggestion?"
A chorus of "Yeah"s echoed around the fire.
The decision was made.
But as the flames danced and the plan set into motion, Ayanokoji watched quietly from the fringe of it all.
The game just changed.