Classroom Of The Elite: Your Lie Last Winter

The majority of the freshmen attended the club fair. Voices overlapped in a blur of curiosity and restlessness.

I leaned against the wall near the entrance, away from the crowd, quietly reading the pamphlet.

“Most are predictable… but I didn't expect this many minor liberal arts clubs.” I mumbled.

Athletics took up the bulk of the listings — baseball, judo, swimming, basketball. The loud redhead from class would fit right in. There was soccer too. Hirata mentioned he planned to join.

Just as I turned to the next page, a shadow blocked part of the light.

“You still prefer inconspicuous places,” a voice said.

I looked up to find Matsushita Chiaki, a faint smile on her lips, hand behind her back as she stepped closer.

“I’m not good with crowds,” I said.

Matsushita shook her head lightly, “Same excuse as last time.” She stopped beside me, her gaze drifting to the stage.

Before she danced with Koenji, she had invited me once.

I declined.

I studied her for a moment. Finding it strange for her, Honami, and the other girl to attend this school.

She might've proved herself then. Still, something didn't sit right.

Whereas three names carried too much weight to have landed here by chance.

It wouldn't be surprising if Class C had its own heir tucked quietly into the mix.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“I lost them along the way…” she said.

A sigh escaped my lips. 

Closing the pamphlet, I straightened my back, preparing to leave.

“Wait!” she called, her voice filled with urgency.

I glanced at her over my shoulder.

“Jeez… can you stay for a moment,” she said, her arms crossed and eyes rolling. “There’s something I wanted to say.”

Then I returned to my spot.

“I want to apologize on behalf of them for earlier …” she said quietly.

And paused. 

Her unfiltered voice. Casual gestures. Light makeup. A sweet perfume that lingered faintly. It was a stark contrast to how she carried herself the first time we met.

“You know… Karuizawa-san’s a good person. She just has a sharp tongue.” 

“I’m not interested.”

She sighed, brushing her bangs aside.

“Why do I feel like you've gotten even stiffer?”

I didn't answer her question. Instead, I asked one of my own.

“Why do you even hang out with them?”

At my words, she clicked her tongue. 

“I guess the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree.” she said, her tone flattening. “... Here I was, thinking maybe we could talk like normal highschool students. But you're very much like them.”

She didn't bother hiding her disappointment in her eyes as she stepped away, leaving me behind.

I watched her leave, saying nothing. But she was right.