Chương 94: 37.Departure 37-1

After the plaza dispersed, my head had room for exactly two kinds of noise. First: the Student Council's polished garbage—honor, integration, midterm, finals, evaluation, cross-division applications. Second was more honest. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuck your entire administrative process. I walked back to the empty classroom behind the equipment building wearing my worst face. The moment I shoved the door open, three people I didn't particularly want to see today were already inside.

Jess was sitting on a desk, swinging her legs, looking like she'd just watched an excellent public execution and found it uplifting. Harvey was by the window, turning a pen in his fingers, wearing that dead-eyed expression that said whoever talks nonsense first gets thrown out first. Maki Kushima stood at the whiteboard, pen already in hand, apparently ready to run an actual meeting. … Perfect. We'd evolved from fighting to formalizing the fighting as agenda items. I kicked the door shut.

"Fair warning—my temper is shit right now." I dropped my pack on the front desk hard enough to rattle the legs.

"Anyone who feels like lecturing me today, write your will first." Jess raised her hand immediately.

"I'd like to offer a small observation."

"You can start by shutting up."

"That is the small observation." I genuinely wanted to tip her off that desk. Harvey stopped turning his pen and looked at me once.

"You done?"

"Not even close."

"Then sit and finish." The bastard had a real talent for making you want to punch him while being completely right. I dragged a chair over, flipped it around, and straddled it with my arms over the back. Felt like I was about to conduct an interrogation. Maki looked around at us and cut straight to it.

"Morning conflict first."

"Wow." Jess let out a low whistle.

"No warm-up? Not even fake tea?"

"Lower House doesn't have the budget," I said.

"Upper House doesn't serve tea at times like this either," Maki replied.

"That was almost humor," Jess said, looking genuinely surprised.

"Not humor. Fact."

"Somehow that makes it funnier." I pressed my fingers to my temple.

"Fine. Let's talk." I looked at Maki.

"You first. Why touch my pack without saying so?" She didn't dodge. Tapped the pen once against the whiteboard.

"Because I calculated you'd object."

"Excellent. You knew I'd be pissed and did it anyway."

"Yes." She answered so cleanly it threw me for half a second. This woman could even make being infuriating sound like a declarative statement. Maki held my gaze, voice still that paper-cutting flat.

"My assessment at the time was that efficiency outweighed procedure. Shared medical on you was optimal for the group."

"And you skipped me in the process." I gave a short, cold laugh.

"Very convenient."

"Yes." She paused.

"Which is why that part was my mistake." I frowned. She'd admitted it again. Fast, clean—which meant half the second wave of anger I'd been building had nowhere to land. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Jess twirled a pen and delivered commentary.

"You two are fascinating. One says you shouldn't have moved it, the other says I shouldn't have moved it without asking. Translation: the action was fine, but Hoshino needed scheduled time to be angry about it."

"Are you trying to die?" I turned on her.

"I'm taking meeting minutes." Harvey finally spoke, voice cold enough to drop the room temperature.

"That's not the only problem." We all looked at him. He dropped his pen on the desk.

"The problem is all three of you think you're right." His gaze moved across me, Maki, then settled on Jess.

"Hoshino hates being managed. Kushima hates inefficient detours. Jess thinks cracking jokes when things are about to blow up is a survival strategy." Jess raised her hand.

"Correction: at this point it's not just survival. It's art."

"It's noise," Harvey said. I almost laughed. Forced it back down. Harvey kept going, not wasting a word.

"This morning wasn't about who had the worst technique. It was about everyone trying to turn their habits into team standards. We've got twenty-four hours before you walk into that forest. If this doesn't get resolved now, you'll blow up again in there—uglier." The room went quiet for a beat. Wind came through from the training ground, carrying that heated plastic smell from the track. Somewhere in the distance another group was shouting. We weren't the only unlucky ones today. I stared at the desktop.

The anger was still there, but it had shifted—less wild, more compressed. Starting to find a direction.

"Fine." I looked up.

"Then we kill it properly." I raised one finger.

"Rule one: nobody touches anyone else's gear without saying so first." Maki nodded immediately.

"Agreed." Second finger.

"Rule two: any shared supply redistribution gets said out loud. Who carries what, why, and who reaches for it first when shit goes sideways."

"Agreed."

"Rule three: field disagreements defer to whoever's primary for that situation. We do not stand around arguing until we die together." Jess smiled at that one.

"I like this. Reads like our collective epitaph prevention clause." Harvey looked at me.

"How do we assign primary?"

"Divide roles first," I said. I took the pen from Maki, walked to the whiteboard, bit the cap off, and wrote four names. Hoshino / McCallow / Knox / Kushima Looking at it gave me the distinct feeling of tying myself and three categories of problem into the same coffin.

"I'll start with mine." I tapped my name.

"I handle point, direction changes, and immediate calls. Move, stop, reroute—I call it first." Jess hopped off the desk and leaned against the wall.

"Is this volunteering or claiming the best seat?"

"It's preventing the three of you from shouting different things simultaneously."

"Fair." Jess nodded.

"Plus your temper is the worst, so you're naturally suited to absorbing the first hit."

"Thank you for that insult."

"Always sincere." Harvey picked it up.

"I handle equipment, load distribution, carry operations, and field repairs." His tone was pure inventory list.

"Broken pack, loose strap, wrong weight distribution—I fix it. I don't babysit bad habits."

"Translation," Jess offered helpfully.

"If my strap snaps, he'll insult me three times before helping."

"Only if you're worth helping," Harvey said.

"This group's love language is genuinely something." I turned the pen toward Maki.

"You." She looked at the board, voice steady.

"Supply coordination, water, medical modules, route and time management. Shared consumption tracking, night watch rotation, weather assessment, and resource projection." I raised an eyebrow.

"That's a lot in one breath."

"Because they're interconnected." She paused.

"Also because none of you want to maintain spreadsheets." Too accurate for anyone to argue. Jess immediately moved on.

"What about me? I can't actually be on morale commentary duty." I looked at her.

"Flank observation, documentation, secondary comms, negotiation, and reminding me not to do something stupid when my brain overheats." Jess blinked.

"I like this. Especially negotiation—makes me sound almost legal."

"One more," Harvey added flatly.

"If Hoshino actually overheats, you're responsible for snapping her out of it."

"I've had practice," Jess said with complete confidence. I breathed slowly and did not strangle her. Maki copied the roles beside the whiteboard and sectioned off a new area.

"Ground rules?" I leaned against the board and looked at her.

"You first." No hesitation. She wrote the first one directly. No unauthorized movement.

"Leaving visual range, leaving camp, leaving designated route—must be reported," she said.

"Including nighttime bathroom trips. No exceptions." Jess raised her hand immediately.

"Supported. I refuse to chase Hoshino into the undergrowth at 3 a. m."

"Why am I your default example?"

"Because you look the most like someone who'd decide it's too much trouble and just wander off." …I couldn't fully argue with that. Infuriating. I took the pen back and wrote the second rule. Report all anomalies immediately.

"Heatstroke, blisters, dizziness, wet equipment, sleep deprivation, emotional overload—all of it counts." I turned back to them.

"Anyone who pushes through until it affects the group gets dealt with by me personally." Harvey gave a rare nod.

"That one's right." He walked over and added the third rule directly below. Contact / tracking / pre-storm warning: group safety first, then objectives.

"This isn't a heroics production," he said.

"Anyone tries to go solo—I'll break their legs first." Jess said quietly:"I'm not sure if that's a metaphor or a commitment."

"Either works," Harvey said. The room went quiet again. For the last rule, Maki didn't write. She looked at me instead.

"One more."

"What?"

"If there's a split decision—who has final call." I stared at the whiteboard for two seconds, temple starting to throb. Not because I didn't know the answer. Because it was obvious enough that I really wanted to pretend I didn't see it. Jess made a small sound, like she'd been waiting for this moment.

"Here it comes. The least popular but most practical rule." Harvey looked at me with characteristic bluntness.

"You." I turned.

"Why me?"

"Because you decide fastest," Harvey said.

"Not always clean, but you don't freeze." Maki was watching me too, voice level.

"And when they announced the midterm-finals connection, you were the first one calculating how the whole group would be evaluated." I frowned.

"How did you know that?" She paused half a beat.

"It showed." Shit. That was the worst kind of answer. Because you can't argue with someone for observing you. Jess nudged my shoulder with her elbow.

"Face it, Hoshino." She grinned without mercy.

"When things go wrong, everyone looks at you. Doesn't mean you're the most likeable. It clearly means you're the one people expect to open your mouth first."

"That's not a compliment."

"In this room it is." I looked down at the four names on the whiteboard and had a strong urge to snap the pen in half. Not because I didn't want the weight.