Chapter 5: Alliance

At the one o’clock event, the restricted zones did not expand— only the appearance of fresh supply drops scattered across the map.

Having suffered a direct defeat against Class B, we immediately began moving east. Our objective was to make contact with Class D, which had clustered around M10. Ryūen’s class, meanwhile, confirmed our retreat and then split once more into three groups, dispersing southward to sweep up the abundant supplies scattered across that region.

The wildcard remained Kōenji. After launching his unexpected attack earlier, he spent the hours around midday wandering alone near B8 and B9. For all anyone knew, he might be enjoying a leisurely swim in the ocean.

One fortunate development for us, Class C, was the appearance of ammunition supply crates at K12 and L13. Even in the midst of retreat, we had supplies we could reliably secure, allowing us to recover them without undue risk.

Then, at 3:00 p.m., the third event of the day was announced. On the analyst’s tablet, an entire new ring of outer squares was shaded gray.

Just as most had predicted, the usable area was shrinking in concentric circles.

In response to this, an hour later, Class A made their move. Having scoured the northern territories, they began to converge toward the center between F and G sectors, positioning themselves to move into the safe zone ahead of the five o’clock restriction and those that would follow.

And Class D, equally wary of the encroaching perimeter, seemed to have judged a northern route too risky. So, they hastily began moving back toward the center via N13 and N14.

At this rate, it was only a matter of time before their path intersected with ours.

We halted as a group, taking one last moment to confirm our positions.

Seeing the lingering unease on some faces, Hashimoto stepped forward to address them.

“Good thing Ayanokōji brought up the alliance when he did,” he said. “If the idea of an alliance hadn’t already been on the table, there’s no way it would’ve come together at this stage of the exam.”

Had it been Ichinose, she might have seriously considered an alliance, even in a dire situation. Hashimoto, however, didn't betray a hint of that thought. Instead, he praised my proposal as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even so, there were plenty among us who hadn’t fully bought into it yet.

“But will it really work?” one student asked, voicing the group’s fear. “What if they just deliver the finishing blow while we’re wounded?”

“Relax,” Hashimoto replied easily. “Ayanokōji’ll handle the negotiations. That said, we’re obviously the weaker side here. If Class D makes demands, we’re probably going to have to swallow most of them.”

Given that we were the ones asking for help, most of the class had little choice but to swallow their misgivings and come to terms with the situation.

“...Honestly, I’m still not completely sold on this,” another classmate admitted. “But if I’m being real, Class C has never been particularly good at this kind of exam. Going up against people like Ryūen or Sudō, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d eventually get outplayed. If we’re going to end up third or fourth anyway, then forming an alliance— whatever it takes— to secure second place doesn’t sound entirely wrong… but…”

He trailed off.

Of course, it didn’t change the fact that aiming for first place would effectively be abandoned. It wasn’t something anyone could celebrate without reservation.

Even so, walking away with second from this position would be more than acceptable compromise.

“But if we’re the ones conceding the win,” someone else chimed in, “can we really trust Ichinose to hold up her end of the bargain in the next special exam?”

This seemed like a point better addressed by me than Hashimoto, so I stepped in.

“If you’ve watched Ichinose even a little, you should know she’s someone you can trust,” I said. “And more importantly, there’s no real benefit for Class D to betray us just because we give them a win in this exam. Taking first place once won’t suddenly elevate them to Class A. On the other hand, cutting off an alliance so casually would come with consequences far greater than they could afford. A class built on trust would collapse from the inside.”

That was precisely why, I explained, they would never terminate the alliance unilaterally.

“…I see,” he murmured.

By lowering the immediate reward, we were instead reducing the risk of falling into the lower ranks.

And if the goal was to push the current A and B Classes into those lower positions, then it wasn’t a bad strategy at all. Even if the label of “Class D” clung to us temporarily, what mattered more was narrowing the gap with the top.

“So, Class D and C form an alliance and take first and second place,” a student summarized. “If that outcome is guaranteed, then we’re on board with the alliance. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s good enough.”

Results over pretense. Whether it’s an alliance or not, the single most important objective was ensuring that we didn’t lose.

And in that brief span of time, my classmates had thought it through, and chosen to accept it.

The pallor that had drained from everyone’s faces after the clash with Class B began, little by little, to return.

Still, people were unpredictable creatures.

Hashimoto, who had volunteered to persuade the others about the alliance, himself hadn’t fully dispelled his doubts. The moment the surrounding eyes drifted away, he stepped closer to me and lowered his voice.

“This is really going to work, right?”

“What, are you still uneasy about the alliance?” I asked, casting him a sideways glance.

He grimaced, clearly uncomfortable, and looked away.

“…Nah. Forget I said anything. You’re the one who said you’d accept expulsion if we lose. If I don’t trust what you’re doing after that, what’s the point?”

Given his naturally suspicious nature, Hashimoto's reaction was understandable.

“It's fine.” I said. “In fact, you speaking up so proactively is a plus for me, not a minus. If you have any concerns, you can voice them as much as you want, and you can always consult me.”

“You think so? Well, it helps me out if you say that…”

After that, we continued walking, taking breaks along the way, for another 30 minutes.

As we drew close to the boundary between L13 and M13, word came from the commander: Class C and Class D were now practically within sight of each other.

“We’ll stop here for now,” I said. “I’ll go ahead alone and settle things.”

I handed my weapon to Matoba. Hashimoto followed suit, as if steeling himself, and passed his over as well.

Then hurried footsteps approached, and he fell into step beside me.

“I’m coming with you, and don’t try to stop me,” he said, his voice firm. “If they open fire without warning, maybe I can at least act as a shield. If you— the leader— survive, then we still have a chance to win.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

If Ichinose intended to betray me, she'd wait until after luring all of Class C in under the pretense of alliance. The chance of them opening fire now was virtually zero.

Still, there was no reason to dismiss Hashimoto's courage and conviction, so I granted him permission to accompany me.

“So, we’re completely defenseless now,” Hashimoto noted. “If they shoot, we’re done for.”

“It wouldn’t be any different even if we were armed,” I replied. “Trying to resist against overwhelming numbers would only end the same way.”

“…True enough.”

Amid the anxious glances of our classmates lingering behind us, we began moving toward Class D’s position.

After pushing through the forest for another five minutes, the two of us finally reached our destination.

“—Stop.”

A wall of figures emerged from between the trees. They must have been tracking the two blips on their GPS inching steadily toward their position.

Led by Kanzaki, ten boys from Class D stood shoulder to shoulder, a human shield for the classmates hiding behind them. Ten guns were leveled at us, their muzzles unwavering.

“Well, look at this welcoming party,” Hashimoto quipped, a dry laugh escaping him. There was no hiding from this, let alone escaping.

“We have no intention of attacking,” I said calmly, raising both my hands. Hashimoto mirrored the gesture, showing we were empty-handed.

“Hard to say,” Kanzaki replied from the line. “You could still have allies hiding nearby.”

“No chance,” Hashimoto shot back. “You’re watching the GPS nonstop, aren’t you?”

“That only holds if your commander isn’t using a tactic,” came the immediate counter. “You know that as well as we do.”

“Nah, you can only either fake the entire GPS or fake an individual's GPS, one or the other, ya know?” Hashimoto retorted. “There’s no way to just freeze everyone else’s signals while letting just a few move freely.”

“But up to three individuals can be handled separately.”

He had a point. They couldn’t deny the possibility that we’d used an ‘Individual GPS Jam’ tactic on three hidden allies, positioning them in ambush somewhere behind us.

Class D’s real fear wasn’t the two of us, but three armed, invisible enemies. It might not be enough to turn the tide of the entire exam, but it was the one real shot at inflicting serious damage.

“And what are three people gonna do against your numbers?” Hashimoto pressed.

“If you were to disable the global GPS at this very moment, that number wouldn't be limited to three. Am I wrong?”

“...Touché.”

Kanzaki’s sharp reply made it clear he’d considered countless ways we could be deceiving them.

1

“But in reality,” Hashimoto continued, “we have no intention of clashing with Class D. All we’re asking for is the chance to talk.”

“There’s no need for that.” Kanzaki took a step forward, his gun still raised. “Ryūen caught you off guard, and you lost again in this morning’s fight, didn’t you?”

“So you got a good look at us at our worst, huh,” Hashimoto said with a sigh.

“If we took the two of you out right here, the odds of us ending up last would drop significantly. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

“Perhaps, if you’re only looking at this one exam,” I said. “But defeating us is no guarantee you can win against Class A and Class B. The goal should be a high rank, not simply avoiding last place. Surely you understand that much without Ichinose having to spell it out for you.”

1

Even if Kōenji had landed a blow, Class B had already earned valuable combat experience. It was doubtful Class D could press any advantage with numbers alone against them.

“Let’s work together,” I said. “If we do, Class C and Class D can form a group of nearly fifty.”

“…An alliance, huh?”

Kanzaki’s expression hardened.

“And what if we trust you, only to be betrayed? That would put our entire class in jeopardy.”

Despite his harsh words, I didn’t sense an unyielding hostility from him.

“That’s why I should refuse,” he went on. “At least, part of me wants to say that and send you away. But… I can trust you, right?”

The atmosphere shifted.

It was clear— he already understood exactly why we were here.

Ichinose, acting as commander, must have sent word ahead.

“We need Class D’s help right now,” I said plainly. “And we believe we can become a strength that Class D needs as well.”

The moment I finished speaking, Kanzaki lowered his weapon.

As if that alone were the signal, the other boys behind him followed suit, lowering their guns in unison.

“Bring the rest of your classmates,” Kanzaki said. “We’ll talk— just like you asked.”

“Well, I’m glad we didn’t get shot,” Hashimoto muttered. “But still… you’re being awfully cooperative. Almost too much so.”

Unable to imagine the exchange that must have already taken place between Ichinose and Class D, Hashimoto couldn’t shake the suspicion that this might be an elaborate trap.

“Ichinose told us that Class C might approach us sooner or later,” Kanzaki explained. “And she warned us not to attack— no matter what— unless you fired first.”

“…Seriously? She actually saw this coming?” Hashimoto’s eyes widened.

“She also mentioned the possibility of an alliance. With that in mind, a request for cooperation wasn’t exactly a long shot.”

As Hashimoto’s gaze flickered from Kanzaki to me, I gave a slight nod in return.

Several hours before Class C and Class D would make contact and attempt to form an alliance—

Class B and Class C were locked in a struggle over supplies in the G11 area.

Ichinose watched the battle unfold quietly on her tablet.

From the tense standoff at close range to the outbreak of fighting, the exchange itself lasted only a brief span of time. Yet it was decisive enough to produce a clear victor— and a clear loser. After confirming Class C’s ragged retreat southeast on the GPS map, Ichinose picked up her tablet and rose from the camp chair beside her tent.

It was now the second day of the exam. She checked the GPS with every five-minute update, tracking Class C’s movements as obsessively as she tracked her own Class’. In doing so, her mental image of their leader, Ayanokōji, grew sharper with each passing hour. After Class B’s surprise attack had crippled them on day one, Class C had been forced onto the back foot, pinned down in the southern area near their base.

And this latest attack, a desperate attempt to secure even a single supply drop, had also ended in failure. From an outside perspective, it looked like they had stumbled into two major blunders in succession.

Watching this, what did Ichinose think?

What lingered most strongly was Ayanokōji’s uncharacteristic lapse in caution— and the clumsy manner in which the battle had been fought.

“From our perspective, it helps that they’re clashing with each other,” came a voice over the radio. “But it’s really rough for Class C huh.” Their designated VIP, Kobashi, continued, “We should just keep our distance for now, right? Stick to the plan?”

That was the safest approach. Every class maintaining space, focusing solely on collecting supplies. Engaging in combat only when absolutely unavoidable.

It was the better option—the orthodox strategy.

“If things keep going like this… Class C might lose,” Kobashi murmured.

“That’s not true.” Ichinose replied softly.

“Huh? Not true? What do you mean—”

Ichinose smiled softly, her voice calm as she replied over the radio.

“Ayanokōji-kun won't lose. No, I won't let him lose.”

With that, she began explaining once more, in careful detail, the conversation she had already had with Ayanokōji about an alliance.

“...You mean we're going to help Class C?” Kobashi asked, her surprise evident.

Without denying the question, Ichinose continued in the same tone.

“If we absorb Class C, we become the largest force on the island. Even someone as aggressive as Ryūen-kun wouldn’t recklessly attack a group of over fifty people. The same goes for Class A.”

If that happened, Classes A and B would be forced to turn on each other. If first place was out of reach, they would shift their focus to securing second— by dragging the other down to third.

“I need you to pass this on to everyone in the class, make sure they understand,” Ichinose instructed. “Tell them Ayanokōji-kun will be making contact with Class D soon. When he does, we are not, under any circumstances, to attack first.”

Even through the crackle of the radio, she could picture Kobashi rushing off to find Kanzaki, relaying the message with frantic gestures. He might want to object, but Ichinose knew he wouldn't.

Trusting that her class was prepared to receive their visitors, she rose from her chair and gazed at the icon representing Class C’s current location.

“…Yes.”

Ichinose hugged the tablet to her chest, her thoughts drifting naturally toward Ayanokōji.

“I get it, Ayanokōji-kun. I understand what you’re thinking.”

5

More than anyone else, she was always trying to synchronize her thoughts with his.

“Ichinose-san?” Kobashi’s voice returned. “Kanzaki-kun wants me to ask… just to be sure, is this really for the good of our class? He’s worried, seeing how badly Class C has been doing…”

“That’s an unnecessary worry,” Ichinose replied without hesitation. “Because Ayanokōji-kun is—”

Her voice lowered slightly as she spoke into the radio, calmly sharing the conclusion she had already reached.

Hesitantly, with a caution that bordered on outright suspicion, the students of Class C integrated into Class D’s campsite. I figured it would be difficult for our groups to warm up to each other quickly; in the worst-case scenario, I imagined this wary truce lasting until the exam’s end. But my expectations were swiftly, and pleasantly, proven wrong.

This was the unique strength of Class D— the culture of trust Ichinose had so carefully cultivated.

Faced with the guarded members of Class C, who were reluctant to lower their defenses, Class D’s students struck up conversations, treating them with an easygoing familiarity as if they were back on campus. They actively sought to bridge the gap between students who rarely interacted.

In a situation where their superior numbers gave them every right to take charge, they treated us as absolute equals. That simple act began to unlock the hearts Class C had kept so firmly closed, and their vigilance began to dissolve with surprising speed.

Of course, complete trust wasn't forged in an instant. And yet, they projected such an earnest sincerity that you couldn't help but feel that if this was the class that was going to betray you, then maybe that was a loss you could accept.

“Class D’s charm… it's really something else, isn’t it?” Shiraishi remarked, her voice filled with a quiet awe as she watched our classmates begin to mingle.

“I’m surprised too,” I replied honestly. “It’s a kind of strength you’d never notice just by looking at rankings or exam results.”

“For an alliance to function,” Shiraishi continued calmly, “the relationship must be equal. If those with power try to suppress others from above, or if one side grows overly submissive, or if suspicion spreads unchecked, it collapses instantly. Against Class A or Class B, this would have been impossible.”

“Word that Class C and D have joined forces has likely already been passed from their commanders to their VIPs,” I added. “At this point, opposing the combined C–D alliance, now the largest force on the island, won’t be easy.”

Even so, this was no time to relax. If anything, it demanded even greater vigilance.

“How do you think the top two classes will judge this situation?” Shiraishi asked.

“If we’re talking purely about wishful thinking,” I answered, “I’d want them to clash somewhere far from us— where we remain untouched. Even if our alliance holds a numerical advantage, if either Class A or B challenges us directly, we’d lose more than half our people. Then the remaining class could sweep in and claim victory.”

But that logic applied to everyone.

From any class’s perspective, being the first to strike was a dangerous gamble.

Naturally, no class would find it easy to make the opening move.

Day two, 6:00 p.m.

Along our route, we’d secured nutrient blocks, two kilograms of white rice, canned goods, and a set of five new plastic bowls and cups— thoughtfully packaged with five pairs of disposable chopsticks.

The matter of who would get the white rice was decided by a fair game of rock-paper-scissors, with one condition: winners had to accept their prize. I was one of them, and I gratefully accepted my portion of the warm meal.

The evening sky was bleeding into orange behind me as a wisp of white steam curled up from the lid of the mess tin nestled in the campfire. Sweat beaded on my hand as I judged the heat, waiting. Soon, the faint crackle of scorching rice echoed through the quiet forest before fading to silence.

I lifted the lid, and a fragrant cloud of steam billowed out. Under the fading sun, the freshly cooked white rice seemed to glow.

Just as I reached for my chopsticks, Shibata— who had been watching from a distance for some time— pressed his lips together and finally walked over.

“H–hey, Ayanokōji. Sorry to bother you before dinner, but… got a minute?”

“It's fine,” I replied. “What's up?”

“Uh… well, since we’re allies now and all? I just wanted to… y’know, say hello properly, I guess…” he stammered, his eyes darting about as he vigorously scratched his head. “Look, I know this is a bit out of line, but… um…”

“Go ahead,” I said. “You don’t need to hold back.”

At that, his evasive eyes finally met mine.

“What I wanted to ask is—!”

2

Just as he seemed to steel himself and open his mouth wide, footsteps approached from behind.

“Sorry, Shibata. Could you give us a moment?” The voice was calm but firm. “I need to speak with Ayanokōji.”

Kanzaki appeared beside us, an empty mess tin in one hand. He had been taking the lead in distributing food earlier.

“O–oh! Yeah, yeah, no problem at all!” Shibata said hurriedly. “See ya later, Ayanokōji...!”

As if fleeing, Shibata dashed away from the spot.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

“I forgot to mention something important. Regarding the chain of command from here on out— Ichinose instructed us to leave all decisions entirely to you.”

I see. I appreciate it— but are you personally okay with that?”

“Whether I’m okay with it or not is irrelevant. Ichinose is our leader. There’s no one left in this class who would question her command.”

“That’s some impressive loyalty,” I remarked. Or perhaps their fangs had simply been pulled, and they no longer cared about such trivial matters. Either way, as long as things proceeded smoothly, I had no reason to complain

Even after delivering his message, Kanzaki made no move to leave my side.

“Is there still something else?” I asked.

“…There is,” Kanzaki replied after a brief pause. His gaze hardened, as though he had finally decided to voice something he had been holding back. “There’s one thing I can’t make sense of.”

He took a breath, then spoke carefully.

“Why did you propose an alliance with Class D— an arrangement that offers you so little? I don’t understand why you would go out of your way to extend a hand to us, giving us a chance to rise.”

“There isn’t some grand reason,” I said. “We were hit by a surprise attack from Ryūen’s class and lost nearly half our members in an instant. Without this alliance, finishing last in this special exam would’ve been unavoidable. If that’s the case, then the alliance clearly had meaning.”

“That’s hindsight,” Kanzaki countered immediately. “You’d already been planning this with Ichinose long before the uninhabited island exam— no, before we even advanced to third year. At that point, I don’t see why Class C needed an alliance at all. Someone like you should’ve been able to rebuild on your own and contend with Classes A and B.”

Kanzaki knew my father, Atsuomi Ayanokōji. Just as his own father revered that man, Kanzaki did as well. Inevitably, that admiration extended to me— the son who carried the same name. His expectations were elevated accordingly.

“You’re giving me too much credit,” I said lightly.

“I’m not an idiot,” Kanzaki replied. “Not just because of who your father is— but because I’ve watched you for over two years now. Like it or not, it’s obvious. You have the ability to overturn the tide of battle on your own.”

“That's a strange thing to say. I was ambushed by Ryūen and lost half of my classmates. And just this morning, I took an all-or-nothing gamble and not only lost six more people but also failed to secure any supplies. If that’s not being overestimated, I don’t know what is.”

“Of course people aren’t perfect,” Kanzaki said. “Anyone can misjudge a situation. More importantly, Class C simply isn’t built for direct combat in the first place.”

“Which is exactly why an alliance can be seen as insurance,” I replied. “Even if Class D rises a little, it doesn’t hurt Class C all that much. And there are other benefits. If Class D doesn’t show signs of growth within the year, Horikita and Ryūen will just focus their attention back on us. From our perspective, it’s easier if their attention is divided. We’re not helping you for free.”

While Class C was a step ahead in overall ability, the reality was that we were the ones who needed help now, and Class D had been the ones to provide it.

“Class D is still developing,” I said. “You should have faith in its potential.”

“Developing?” Kanzaki echoed. “When it’s a full lap behind?”

“We have time,” I replied. “If we can secure first and second place in this special exam, the gap above us shrinks to something almost negligible. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“It still feels impossibly out of reach… And yet, Ichinose clearly believes it. She thinks that with you, we can actually aim for that level. Despite repeated failures, her faith in you hasn't wavered.”

That trust was likely the reason she had been willing to hand over full command.

I finished the last of the rice, then quietly placed the lid back onto the mess tin. Rising to my feet, I stepped alongside Kanzaki.

“It’s not enough for Ichinose alone to aim for Class A,” I said. “You need to be facing the same direction she is. More than anything, you need confidence— and resolve.”

“Confidence and resolve…” Kanzaki murmured.

“If you still don’t understand,” I continued, “then you need to take a good look at the view from here. You might want to deny it, but the unique strength that only this Class D possesses is on full, amusing display.”

Before us, students from Class C and Class D were talking freely, their earlier wariness already gone, laughter and casual conversation drifting through the camp.

“You should try to understand more how incredible it is to be trusted.”

Class D held the numerical advantage. If they had wanted to, they could have wiped out Class C with a single well-timed ambush.

If it were Class A instead? Or Class B?

There would have been no room for relief. Everyone would have slept with one eye open, never knowing when they would be stabbed in the back.

“Why don’t you come by the gym sometime?” I said suddenly.

“…That came out of nowhere,” Kanzaki replied, frowning. “How did we get there?”

“It’s what you’d call a distance that’s close— and yet so far,” I answered. “You should start by getting to know what kind of person Ichinose really is. Not from afar, but up close.”

I might not get a positive response right away, but simply planting the idea in his mind should be enough for now.