Counterpoint: A Classroom of the Elite Story

The auditorium is already half-filled by the time Ayanokoji steps inside. He takes a seat midway down the hall, easing into a sparsely occupied row where Ike and Yamauchi are seated. He can hear them go on about what they can buy with their Private Points, but he pays them no mind, as he is more interested in the fabric of the seats.

He settles in, his fingers pressing into the cushion. "Would you look at that, actual cushioned seats. I was worried they'd have the stiff plastic kind that leaves your spine in ruins. They even have the school logo stitched into the fabric," he muses.

He leans back, his hand resting along the smooth, wooden armrest. "They're wide enough that no one has to fight for elbow room too," he notes.

His eyes move without haste, scanning the rows ahead. As he waits, more students file in. He notices a cluster of girls entering together, their pace slowing to scan the seating arrangements. Kushida is at the center of their motion, her voice weaving naturally into the noise of the auditorium. She points toward a section of empty seats, a quick gesture accompanied by a bright smile. Whatever she says earns quick smiles and soft laughter from the others. They ascend, the others following her lead with an ease that suggests they've already fallen into her rhythm. She glances back every few steps, her gaze sweeping over her companions as though silently checking to make sure no one feels left behind. Her voice continues to flow, weaving between comments and laughter. When they reach the row, Kushida steps aside and gestures lightly with her hand, her smile steady and inviting as she motions for the others to go in first, her eyes briefly scanning the surrounding seats, ensuring everyone finds their place. The girls shuffle past her, offering brief nods and quiet words of thanks. She follows after them, gracefully slipping into the row with a fluid ease that avoids disrupting the settled students around her.

When she takes her place at the end of the cluster, her attention shifts seamlessly between her companions. She leans in slightly to catch a whispered comment from one of the girls, her response immediate and accompanied by a bright laugh that ripples out like sunlight catching water. Her hands move as she speaks, in small, deliberate gestures that punctuate her words without overstating them. When another girl nearby adjusts her seat awkwardly, Kushida lightly taps her shoulder and murmurs something that earns a quick, appreciative smile.

Ayanokoji observes the girls quietly from his seat. His mind goes back to her introduction before homeroom, when she declared she wanted to be friends with everyone in the school. "Watching her now, it doesn't seem like an empty platitude. Her gestures, her words, the way she pauses to ensure her friends feel comfortable... it all aligns with what she claimed. She'll have no problem reaching that goal. For someone like me, who just wants to stay out of trouble, it's hard not to feel the distance between her world and mine," he thinks.

Ayanokoji's gaze drifts from Kushida, continuing its sweep across the auditorium. His eyes settle further down the row, drawn to a figure seated alone near the edge. Her back is straight, shoulders squared in a posture that suggests unwavering composure. Students around her chat in subdued tones, but she doesn't glance at any of them, like the auditorium and its noise don't exist in her periphery. "Ah, there she is. So she doesn't have any friends in the other classes either," he notes.

When two students shuffle past her to take their seats, she glances at them in a quick, fleeting look, devoid of engagement, before returning to her forward-facing position. Ayanokoji watches in silence. "I bet she's picking apart every word being spoken around her, silently judging everyone, just like she did during homeroom," he muses.

Another boy moves past her with his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. His friends sit clustered toward the middle, and the only available seat is one left vacant beside her. When he settles into that seat, the girl rises, her hand brushing her skirt, before collecting her bag. Without a word, she moves one seat further away. The boy glances at her, confused for a moment, but she doesn't so much as acknowledge him. She settles into her new spot, her posture unchanged, as if nothing occurred.