Practical Classroom: Kaoru Hanayama's Classroom of Merit

With the coach's shout of "Dismissed!", the tense atmosphere finally eased.

The male students rushed to the shower room as if fleeing, while the female students, concerned about their wet hair, walked up the stairs to the changing room.

Hanayama was also preparing to slowly turn around from the poolside.

Right then and there.

—Sizzle.

The specially made black swimsuit that covered her entire body was ultimately unable to support Hanayama's extraordinary physique.

A vertical tear about 20 centimeters long appeared near the zipper on the back, exposing what had been hidden to the air.

There lies the proof of the ultimate path.

A part of the tattoos from the chivalrous journey, intertwined with countless tragic knife wounds.

If an average high school student saw this, they would probably panic instantly, and it could even escalate into a dropout or other disturbance.

Huashan's response was incredibly swift.

He didn't turn around, but instead remained facing everyone, and suddenly stopped moving.

Then, maintaining an unusual sense of balance, with a chillingly smooth gait, he began to walk backwards toward the locker room.

The male students, who had just witnessed overwhelming sexual violence, explained it as an incomprehensible daily ritual unique to the strong, and no one dared to point out the unnaturalness of it.

However, everything has its blind spots.

Karuizawa Megumi, who was going back to retrieve a forgotten item, walked down the steps to the side of the women's changing room alone, and happened to be in a blind spot diagonally behind Hanayama.

Her gaze was naturally drawn to that huge figure from behind.

Through the torn fabric, one could glimpse dark blue ink lines and the bulging of reddish-black flesh that resembled a centipede crawling.

"...Huh?"

Karuizawa's thoughts went blank.

That was definitely not a designed tattoo; you can understand that instinctively.

Those are the true marks of Asura that can only be etched amidst violence and murderous intent.

Then, Huashan, which had been retreating, suddenly stopped.

He didn't turn his body around, but simply tilted his thick neck slightly.

Their gazes met abruptly in mid-air.

There was no verbal warning.

But it was just a fleeting glance.

I know you saw it; that meaning was like a heavy lead weight slamming into Karuizawa's mind.

Huashan immediately looked away and disappeared into the depths of the locker room as if nothing had happened.

Karuizawa was left alone, his shirt soaked with cold sweat, slumped against the wall, panting heavily.

One o'clock in the afternoon.

Swimming lessons have ended. This is a bench beside a forest path behind the dormitory, in a blind spot of the surveillance cameras, where the atmosphere is filled with the lazy vibe of a weekend.

Kaoru Hanayama sat there quietly in a casual manner.

Shh, shh, a series of hesitant footsteps gradually approached.

"Um...that..."

It was Karuizawa Megumi who arrived at the designated location.

Her usual tough, sexy persona had completely crumbled; she hunched her shoulders and trembled like a small animal.

Huashan simply sent a brief message on her terminal, asking her to chat briefly.

But for Karuizawa, this was practically a death sentence.

Karuizawa's mind was filled with flashbacks of the tragedy at the swimming pool a few hours earlier, and that cold gaze.

(They'll be killed... to keep quiet, they'll be beaten half to death...!)

Fear took over her in that instant.

As if they had planned it beforehand, the two simultaneously pulled out their school-issued terminals from their uniform pockets and thrust them forward.

"Please, please spare me! I'll give you all my points!"

"Take this hush money."

In the confined space, the two voices overlapped.

"...Huh?"

"……Um?"

As a yakuza aesthetic, Kayama would never do something like exploiting weak women and children for money.

When faced with an ordinary person who accidentally sees a tattoo secret that should never be known, it's better to pay a fair price to shut them up than to threaten them with violence.

This is his benevolence and righteousness.

"...Um, excuse me. Shouldn't...I be the one paying you?"

"I don't have the perverse pleasure of robbing the weak. You saw it. So I paid. Don't tell anyone. That's all."

Huashan stated the facts briefly in a low voice.

(...hush money, give it to me...?)

It wasn't extortion or violence; the other party was simply offering to pay him.

Faced with this unexpected situation, Karuizawa's mind, which had been blank with fear, began to rapidly restart.

She originally intended to establish contact with Yosuke Hirata.

She settled into the position of the girl who was at the center of the class, gentle to everyone, and had a voice, thus gaining a shield to protect herself.

But Huashan's performance today changed everything.

(As for Hirata-kun... that won't work.)

That irrational violence was so overwhelming that even a delinquent like Sudo was blown away like trash in the face of a true monster.

If pure malice or violence, which even Hirata's language cannot communicate, were to strike him, could that gentle boy protect him?

The answer is no. She deeply realized that a shield of gentleness is no different from scraps of paper in the face of real violence.

So, if I don't go to Hirata, but instead ask Hanayama in front of me to pretend to be my boyfriend...

Karuizawa secretly glanced up at Hanayama's face.

That face, etched with countless scars, as if carved from rock.

(impossible!!!)

Karuizawa's thoughts vanished in an instant.

To present this kind of character with a fake romance, which is unique to high school girls and resembles playing house, she can only imagine the other person being unhappy and then snapping her neck on the spot.

So, without angering him, the only remaining option to get him to protect you is to acknowledge his overwhelming superiority as someone at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

"No, that's not right! I should be the one paying!"

Karuizawa's hand, still trembling as he held the terminal, approached Hanayama with an unprecedentedly desperate expression.

"I will absolutely not reveal Hanayama-kun's secret! So... please allow me to pay you protection money every month!"

"...What?"

Hua Shan's single eyebrow twitched slightly.

"If it's money, I'll pay every month! So... when I get into trouble with others, or encounter difficulties... could I borrow Hanayama-kun's name...? Just say that you're my backer... as long as people think that, that's enough!"

Huashan gazed into the eyes of the girl who was desperately pleading before him.

What dwells there is neither vanity nor malice, but simply pure cowardice.

The Yakuza will not offer meaningless sympathy.

However, the code of chivalry also does not condone the cold-blooded rejection of the weak who come seeking help in accordance with the rules.

If the girl doesn't accept the money, she won't be able to believe she's safe and will likely continue to be tormented by fear.

"...Ten thousand."

Huashan, somewhat annoyed, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a match, and muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Just hand over ten thousand. Then we'll call it even."

"Is ten thousand... enough!?"

With disbelief in his eyes, Karuizawa hurriedly operated his terminal and transferred 10,000 points to Hanayama's account.

The money has moved.

At this point, in the logic of the Yakuza, the contract has been established.

Hanayama slowly exhaled a puff of white smoke, looked down at Karuizawa, and cast the sharpest gaze and the heaviest pressure he had shown since entering the academy.

"Don't get me wrong. If you get into trouble, you can hide behind me."

"Ah... um!"

"However, if you intentionally bully others, this contract ends here. I will hold you accountable, understand?"

Those words were devoid of any gentleness; they were nothing short of the intimidation typical of hot-blooded gangsters.

"Yes, yes...! I would never do such a thing...!"

What welled up in Karuizawa's heart was not fear.

Rather, it was the absolute sense of security he derived from the fact that he had drawn clear boundaries for himself.

(As long as I follow the rules, this person will definitely protect me to the very end...!)