The sun was beating down harder now, the island heat baking into every inch of exposed skin as Class D huddled beneath the meager shade of palm trees. With Sae-sensei gone, reality hit fast: they were truly on their own.
Hirata, ever the reliable class rep, unrolled the inventory sheet.
"We've been provided with two large tents, several flashlights, cardboard for toilets, and some basic utensils."
Ike immediately jumped up, his voice echoing excitedly:
"Didn't the teacher say we could have barbecues and parties too? We're on a beach, baby!"
Sudo gave a loud laugh and slapped his back.
"Time to live the dream, boys!"
But Hirata's serious tone cut through the excitement:
"Only if we spend S-points. Whatever we use now will be deducted from our class points later."
This hit like cold water.
Off to the side, Ayanokōji, who had been quietly observing, muttered almost absentmindedly while looking at his wristband:
"And someone needs to use their authority if we want to unlock these watches."
Before anyone could respond, a voice whispered smoothly, carried by the sea breeze—
"Authority, huh? Already got it."
Everyone turned.
There he was again.
Haruto, walking out from the shade, hands in pockets, red-spotted shirt flapping gently in the wind like some sort of rebellious beach mafia boss.
Somewhere in the distance, even a background track of birds paused, stunned.
"God, Haruto's so cool…"
The inner monologue of three guys and maybe a couple girls echoed silently in unison.
But trouble was already brewing in paradise.
"I refuse to use a cardboard toilet!"
"This isn't survival; it's punishment!"
"Do they think we're savages?"
A cluster of Class D girls, including Kei and Kushida, had formed a discontent circle.
Haruto, observing their complaints, couldn't help but think:
"Are these girls on a beach trip or a survival test? This ain't Club Med."
Still, he didn't voice it.
Hirata stepped up, trying to ease the tension.
"If we want a proper readymade toilet, it'll cost around 20,000 S-points."
Just as Ike opened his mouth to argue—
A shadow walked forward.
Cool. Casual. Calculated.
Haruto.
He stopped right in the center, dusted imaginary sand off his shoulders, and said with a sly grin:
"Alright, girls. I'll make you a deal."
Eyes turned. Every breath paused.
"You each give me 1000 personal points per month after this test, and I'll get you that readymade toilet. No upfront cost."
Gasps. Whispers. Calculations.
Ayanokōji, from the side, raised a brow.
"Looks like Haruto had planned for all this…"
And in that moment, a faint memory flickered in his mind —
Banana peels floating in the sea.
Papers flying in the wind.
Traps laid long before anyone noticed.
A very, very slight smirk appeared on Ayanokōji's face.
Almost unnoticeable. Almost.
Back at the scene, Kei and Kushida tried to charm Haruto out of the high price.
"Come on, Haruto-kun, be reasonable~"
"We're all friends, right? Right?"
Haruto narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking between them. He sighed, dramatically.
"I can't stand watching girls beg. Fine. 900 points. Or I'll offer the deal to Class C."
Immediately—
"WE'LL TAKE IT!"
No hesitation. Every girl nodded furiously.
Then, Haruto turned toward the hungry-looking boys now crowding around the food stash.
He pointed at Hirata, then raised his voice:
"Do you all want real food? Burgers? Grilled chicken? Sausages? No dry rice crackers and instant miso?"
All the boys' eyes gleamed.
"YES!"
At the back, Ayanokōji whispered to Horikita, with a tiny shake of his head:
"Looks like we've got a better leader than you."
Horikita glared at Haruto, who was now laying down on a log like a king on a throne, banana in one hand, survival plans in the other.
The island had become a chessboard.
And Haruto was already playing four moves ahead.
In Forest,
As the Class D group trudged deeper into the unknown jungle, sweat beginning to drip and complaints echoing from every direction, Haruto strolled beside Horikita, flashing the smuggest grin since Koenji discovered his reflection.
"Big sister~ please take the lead," Haruto cooed dramatically, gently pushing her forward.
"I believe there's no greater leader than you!"
Horikita flinched at the unexpected praise, clearly suspicious.
From behind, Hirata raised an eyebrow.
Haruto leaned back, cupping his mouth to mutter in a voice only the wind and Hirata could catch:
"That's what you get for beating me in that last exam, you score-devouring beast."
Everyone continued forward, half-marching, half-doubting their life choices. That's when—
"AHAHAHAHA! TARZAN MODE: KOENJI!!"
With the subtlety of a crashing meteor, Koenji leapt up into the trees, swinging from vine to vine like a manic gymnastic gorilla with glittering hair and zero shame.
"WHAT THE—"
Gasps spread through Class D like wildfire.
But none gasped harder than Haruto.
His eyes gleamed. His heart beat faster.
"So it begins…" he whispered.
And the next moment—
He vanished.
Even Ayanokōji, who had seen elite martial artists move, couldn't follow what happened. There was no sound. Just a blur.
A second later, Haruto was standing on a branch above everyone. Wind dancing through his hair. One foot planted. Eyes closed.
"My golden finger… has arrived," he whispered as if the anime gods had bestowed him divine justice.
Then—BOOM. He appeared before Koenji, who had just Tarzan-flipped down.
BANG!
A light scuffle. A ridiculous blur. And suddenly Koenji was on the ground, blinking.
Koenji sighed dramatically, brushing off invisible dust.
"Do you wish to race, friend?"
But before Haruto could reply, distant voices yelled his name.
Koenji flipped backwards onto a tree branch.
"Never mind. I must collect money and win the world."
Then he was gone again, surfing trees while yelling:
"Faster you snails! Your mothers will cry at this pace!"
Class D stood dumbfounded.
"WHAT IS THIS—"
"WHY IS KOENJI A MONKEY—"
"DID HARUTO JUST TELEPORT—"
The boys, sensing a challenge to their pride, suddenly exploded into a chaotic race.
Ike: "I won't be outdone by banana boy!"
Sudo: "Move! I saw that tree first!"
Yamauchi: "This is my moment!"
All of them. Charging. Tripping. Leaping. Grunting.
A banana peel even flew past someone's head.
At the side, Ayanokōji jogged casually, utterly unfazed, voice flat:
"I've already given up."
Horikita, dodging a stampeding Ike and ducking under a flying Sudo, murmured to herself:
"Is this a test… or a picnic from hell?"
From the branches above, Haruto stood again, arms crossed, a banana in one hand, his heart screaming only one thing:
"Let the survival show begin."
**
The air shifted.
Golden rays filtered through Haruto's tinted glasses, the world reflected through their sheen like a tactical HUD. He slowly strolled toward the beach, where waves greeted him like old friends and wind ruffled his shirt with cinematic rhythm.
He knelt with exaggerated flair and plucked a single leaf from the sand.
Then… he let it go.
The leaf danced in the air.
A soft spiral.
And the next instant—
POOF.
He vanished.
Somewhere else, in a forgotten corner of the beach near overgrown bushes, green garbage bins lay lazily like beached sea creatures.
Haruto materialized there, standing like a ninja general surveying a battlefield.
He raised both hands.
Snap. Snap.
One by one, students of Class D arrived, still adjusting to Haruto's absurd command system.
Horikita, arriving with a suspicious glance, crossed her arms.
"Why are these garbage bins just lying around?"
Haruto placed a hand over his heart and gasped in mock horror.
"Sister Suzune, please... do not insult our sacred daily necessities."
He pointed at a bin lovingly.
"This... is our food. Our hope. Our toilet paper."
Horikita blinked twice, trying to reboot her logic processor.
"Everyone except Hirata," Haruto suddenly barked.
"Bring these bins to base. Move with purpose!"
Confused grumbling followed, but his tone brokered no argument.
Then, Haruto turned to Hirata, who had just arrived with calm grace.
Haruto extended a finger like a villain making an offer.
"You, my trustworthy hero. Come with me."
And then—BLIP!
They disappeared into the depths of the jungle.
Trees towered. Birds fled. Humidity wrapped them like wet blankets.
"Hehehe…" Haruto chuckled, his face now shadowed sinisterly.
"Hirata. Map this location. Mark the sun's direction. Remember the scent of moss."
Hirata blinked, uneasy.
"What is this place?"
Haruto's smile grew wider.
"This… is the heart of chaos."
He pointed toward a murky pond nearby.
"Check the turbidity of that water. Make sure no dead animals are rotting. Identify any possibility of phatenogenic contamination. Then wait for me."
Poof.
Gone again.
Hirata stood there alone, completely baffled.
"Did he just… assign me a biology project mid-survival test?"
Back at the beach—
A certain blonde girl with a sharp tongue, Kei, stepped up with hands on her hips.
"Oi, Haruto. Where's Hirata?"
Haruto slowly turned, adjusting his fake earpiece like a spy.
"He's on a classified operation. For the sake of this class. Don't follow."
"Eh…?"
Then, he walked toward the green garbage bins now hauled in like sacred treasure. One by one, he opened them—
Banana peels. Crumpled paper. Empty wrappers. Rotten juice boxes.
But then—
CLANK.
From beneath the garbage… he pulled out metal rods, screws, toilet parts, and foldable plumbing kits.
Class D stood frozen.
"Behold!" Haruto declared.
"Your premium pre-assembled toilet. Imported via divine banana ship."
Girls stared, speechless.
Boys' jaws dropped.
"Now… I must ask." He turned with glowing confidence.
"These parts cost points to assemble. Do you want to spend precious class points—
—or shall I, the one-man repair unit of Class D, do the work for free?"
No one spoke.
Then Kei and Kushida exchanged glances and muttered,
"He's insane… but efficient."
Haruto began putting real trash back into the bins, muttering loudly:
"We must not pollute nature. Green life is sacred. Recycling is justice. Long live the planet!"
Everyone just stared at him in bewildered awe.
Even Ayanokōji, sitting on a rock sipping from a juice box, raised an eyebrow slightly.
"That guy…" he whispered,
"is either a genius or the next global threat."