To be honest, Natsukawa Kanade wasn't particularly worried. In his opinion, Kaguya Shinomiya was a rational person—one who wouldn't be easily swayed by absurd rumors, even if one of the people spreading them happened to be a close colleague of hers.
But still, wouldn't it be better if such rumors didn't exist in the first place? After all, even if Kaguya didn't believe them, others might, and once misunderstandings started piling up, they could get out of control. If his reputation ended up taking a hit because of this nonsense, it would be more than just inconvenient—it would be downright unlucky.
"I'll just trust you guys on this," Kanade sighed, rubbing his temple as if warding off an impending headache. "But seriously, things really aren't what you think they are."
Despite his insistence, the two culprits across from him merely exchanged knowing glances and flashed identical OK signs, their expressions dripping with unspoken implications.
"..."
"..."
Kanade felt his soul leave his body for a moment.
But whatever. The process might have been questionable, but at least he had achieved his goal.
With that out of the way, he wasted no time and hurried back to his original mission—delivering sustenance to a very particular golden retriever currently whining about hunger. Since Eriri was still waiting for her food, he didn't dawdle, making his way back to her with a loaf of bread and a carton of milk in hand.
Hikigaya and the others, meanwhile, had no intention of following him back. They had absolutely no desire to return and be caught up in unnecessary drama.
The walk back was quiet, almost suspiciously so.
When Kanade finally reached Eriri and handed over the food, he couldn't help but watch her nibble on the bread with a mix of amusement and exasperation. The sight of her eating in small, deliberate bites made him feel like he was taking care of a particularly high-maintenance pet.
"You know," he muttered, resting his chin on his hand, "watching you eat really makes me feel like I'm raising a spoiled golden retriever."
Eriri, predictably, kicked him under the table. "Shut up, idiot."
After that, the two of them continued chatting idly for a while before heading off to their respective classrooms. Despite this being an extracurricular school trip, it wasn't all fun and games—there were still lessons to attend.
Of course, considering that they were at Forest School, the subjects they were covering weren't the usual math or history. Instead, the curriculum was packed with lectures on sociology and parenting, of all things.
As anyone who has ever been a student knows, studying—regardless of the subject matter—is rarely exciting. More often than not, it boils down to memorizing the knowledge compiled by predecessors and regurgitating it when necessary. It wasn't exactly thrilling.
That being said, there were always a select few who could find enjoyment in academia, the kind of people who sought out breakthroughs and innovation. The students of Shuchi'in Academy, however—
Were not those kinds of people.
For most of them, academic achievement was either a means of demonstrating their superiority or something that came naturally thanks to their privileged upbringings. Effort? Who needed that when you were born exceptional?
At least, that was what Kanade had always thought. But the current classroom atmosphere seemed to be proving him wrong.
Because for some reason, everyone actually looked… motivated?
Something wasn't right.
Everywhere he looked, students were actively engaging in class discussions, nodding enthusiastically, and paying rapt attention to the lecture. Their faces practically screamed, "I'm a model student!"
Kanade narrowed his eyes.
Yeah, there was no way they were suddenly this passionate about sociology.
Then it clicked.
Of course.
They weren't actually interested in the lesson. They were just impatiently waiting for the highlight of the day—the upcoming Test of Courage.
Ah. Now it all made sense.
The Test of Courage was a time-honored tradition in Japan, a thrilling challenge designed to measure one's bravery. Typically set in locations like graveyards, abandoned shrines, or eerie forests, the event was all about walking through a designated "haunted" route, with participants either braving the course solo or in pairs. And because humans were naturally afraid of the dark and the unknown, these challenges tended to be quite effective.
Of course, half the fun came from the participants who took it upon themselves to act as the "scare team," dressing up in horrifying costumes and jumping out at unsuspecting victims. It was a game of fear and excitement, and for many, the highlight of any overnight school trip.
At Shuchi'in Academy, this tradition had been meticulously upheld for generations. Not only was it an excellent way to blow off steam, but it also helped the students channel their restless energy into something somewhat productive.
Of course, the event hadn't always been smooth sailing. There had been… incidents.
In the past, some students had gotten so obsessed with the Test of Courage that they outright refused to focus on classes, treating everything else as background noise. There had even been cases where students went on strike, protesting the school's scheduling decisions because they wanted the event to happen sooner rather than later.
Naturally, the masterminds behind those rebellions had been "persuaded" to withdraw from school, but the administration had learned its lesson. To prevent history from repeating itself, the school eventually transferred the responsibility of organizing the event to the student council, allowing the students themselves to plan it in an orderly fashion.
In theory, this was meant to keep things under control.
In practice?
Well… Let's just say that the Shuchi'in student body had a tendency to take things to extremes.
Kanade sighed, massaging his temples as he glanced around the room. No one was even pretending to pay attention to the lesson anymore. They were too busy whispering amongst themselves, speculating about tonight's event and making bets on who would scream first.
In order to prevent another student rebellion from derailing the schedule, a new regulation was introduced—anyone whose academic performance didn't meet the required standards during Forest School would be banned from all extracurricular activities. Worse, they'd be forced to stay behind for remedial tutoring sessions once the trip was over. A fate more terrifying than any ghost lurking in the woods.
Over time, additional rules were tacked on. Students who performed well in each subject could earn bonus points on their final test, and those who aced the test outright would be granted a prestigious privilege—the right to choose their own role for the Test of Courage. Not only that, but they could also select a partner of their choice.
The official reasoning behind these policies? A delicate balance between learning and leisure. A way to ensure that students remained engaged in their studies while still having fun.
That was what the past student councils claimed, anyway.
Which brought Kanade back to his current predicament.
When he returned to class, he was greeted by a bizarre and slightly unsettling sight—his normally apathetic classmates were practically fighting to answer the teacher's questions. For the first time in his life, Kanade realized that too much enthusiasm could, in fact, be terrifying.
Seriously, from an outsider's perspective, this scene looked less like a group of elite students engaged in an academic competition and more like the indoctrination ceremony of some kind of bizarre cult. A classroom full of fervent believers, eyes alight with determination, furiously nodding at the teacher's every word. If Kanade didn't know any better, he might have assumed someone had drugged their lunch.
What really cracked him up, though, was the fact that despite their excessive enthusiasm, only a handful of students would actually succeed in earning the coveted right to choose their own partner.
As mentioned before, teenagers have one thing in common—overflowing brains filled with a certain genre of impure thoughts. Even though securing a spot in this "elite club" was incredibly competitive, it wasn't enough to deter them.
After all, who wouldn't want to walk through a dark, secluded forest with someone they liked? Even if they didn't have a particular crush, there was always the option of choosing a close friend and making the most of the experience.
And let's be honest—many students in the past had been caught red-handed trying to take advantage of the "romantic atmosphere." Fortunately, they were mostly well-behaved, and the most scandalous things to happen were limited to hand-holding and the occasional kiss. Still, the student council kept a watchful eye to prevent things from escalating into a full-blown teenage soap opera.
But here's the thing—what if you didn't have a crush? Or weren't interested in playing the couple game?
Simple.
You became a ghost.
Dressing up as a spirit and scaring the living daylights out of others was a completely valid and, for some, deeply cathartic alternative. After all, what could be more satisfying than disrupting the lovey-dovey atmosphere and sending couples screaming into the night? Revenge against the romantically blessed—delivered in the form of cheap jump scares and eerie whispers in the dark.
Kanade, for one, was seriously tempted by this option. After all, once disguised as a ghost, no one would recognize him. He could vent his frustrations freely without consequence. A win-win situation.
However, there was one thing that worried him—the first-years.
Ishigami, at least, was reliable. As a member of the disciplinary committee, he would likely keep things from spiraling too far out of control.
But Iino Miko…
That was another story.
Kanade could already imagine it. If things got even a little chaotic, Iino was bound to have a meltdown. Maybe she'd start a moral crusade right then and there. Maybe she'd demand the immediate suspension of the Test of Courage. Maybe she'd call for new, stricter regulations to prevent any "inappropriate behavior."
Kanade sighed.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was hope that things didn't go horribly, spectacularly wrong.
And knowing this school, that was a pretty big ask.