Uninhabited Island Exam, Day Seven, Early Morning.
Katsuragi Kohei stood at the center of camp, conducting the final roll call since their landing on the island.
"Kamuro Masumi."
"Present."
"Hashimoto Masayoshi."
"Present."
"Yamamura Miki."
"Present."
"Sakamoto-kun."
"Present."
The roll call proceeded steadily, each response clear and crisp. When the last name was called, Katsuragi closed the roster with quiet satisfaction. Coincidentally, a printing error still marked Sakamoto's name—a minor imperfection on an otherwise flawless record.
All of Class A stood neatly arranged in the center of camp. No one absent. No one left behind.
Morning light fell upon the orderly shelters, the clean and tidy cooking area, the platforms they had personally cleared and reinforced. Katsuragi's gaze swept across the place they had called home for six days, and a wave of indescribable emotion welled within him.
Seven days ago, this had been nothing but a desolate highland—overgrown with weeds, scattered with rocks. Now, functional residential areas, storage zones, and dining spaces were arranged in orderly fashion. Drainage ditches crisscrossed the terrain. Drying racks stood ready. Handmade pottery adorned the camp.
This was no longer merely a camp. It was unmistakably a "resort attraction" capable of astonishing any newcomer.
Many Class A students wore expressions of reluctant fondness. Every plant left standing, every brick placed, every tool crafted embodied their sweat and wisdom. The sense of accomplishment that came from transforming desolation into a habitable place was something no classroom learning could replicate.
"Everyone did very well." Katsuragi's voice broke the brief silence, drawing their thoughts back to the present. "But the exam is about to end. We need to look forward."
Just then, steady footsteps sounded.
Their homeroom teacher, Mashima Tomoya, appeared at the camp entrance. He maintained his usual stern demeanor, but as his sharp gaze swept across the entire camp, an almost imperceptible flicker of surprise and admiration passed through his eyes.
As Class A's homeroom teacher, he knew precisely how difficult it was to construct and maintain such a camp in an uninhabited island environment. What shocked him further was that, according to system records, Class A had not used a single private point to purchase any modern tools or supplies throughout the entire exam. They had created all of this from scratch—relying entirely on their hands and their collective wisdom.
Mashima approached Katsuragi and extended a thin folder. "Katsuragi-kun. This is the 'Leader Guessing' form for the final day. Before the exam ends at noon, fill in the names of the other class leaders your class suspects and return it to me."
Then, with genuine approval, he added, "You all... built this place very well."
Katsuragi accepted the folder with a slight bow. "Thank you, Sensei. This is entirely the result of our class's collective effort."
Mashima nodded, said no more, and stepped aside to wait.
Katsuragi opened the folder. Inside lay a simple form requiring the names of the leaders of Classes B, C, and D. He pondered for a moment, then lifted his head, searching for the figure who always provided crucial insights.
"Where is Sakamoto-kun?" Katsuragi frowned slightly, scanning the assembled students. Sakamoto had been present during roll call—how had he vanished in an instant?
He turned to Kamuro Masumi, who always seemed attuned to Sakamoto's movements. "Kamuro-san, have you seen Sakamoto-kun?"
Kamuro looked equally puzzled. She shook her head. "He was just here... and then he disappeared. In the blink of an eye."
She habitually searched for his tall figure but found nothing. This sudden vanishing act seemed almost routine for Sakamoto, yet it never failed to leave an air of mystery.
Katsuragi considered for a moment. With Sakamoto's abilities, there was no danger on this island—they had thoroughly explored every corner. He had likely gone for some form of "final reconnaissance" or possessed his own unique way of saying goodbye.
Katsuragi made his decision.
He turned back to Mashima-sensei and extended the blank form. His voice was firm, resolute.
"Mashima-sensei. Class A forfeits the opportunity to guess the leaders of the other classes."
Mashima glanced at Katsuragi, then at the Class A students behind him. Not a single voice rose in objection.
He didn't ask further, simply taking back the form in silence. With such a commanding advantage, choosing not to take risks was indeed the wisest course.
Time passed, nearing noon.
By the blue coastline, the salty sea breeze brushed gently against the shore. Students from Classes A, B, C, and D—following instructions—lined up on the beach in four relatively orderly formations. After seven days of outdoor survival, each class bore visible traces of fatigue on their faces.
The homeroom teachers stood at the forefront of their respective class queues. The atmosphere was solemn, everyone waiting for the moment when the exam would officially end at exactly twelve o'clock noon.
Yet at the very front of Class A's queue, the position where the class's soul figure should have stood remained conspicuously empty.
Sakamoto still hadn't appeared.
Students from other classes noticed, and whispers began to rise.
"That monster from Class A isn't here yet?"
"Where's Sakamoto? Messing up at the crucial moment?"
"Could something have happened to him?"
Ryuuen Kakeru narrowed his eyes, a cold, unreadable smirk playing on his lips. His gaze shifted between Class A's formation and the empty sea beyond. He seemed already certain of his victory.
Horikita Suzune remained expressionless, her gaze calmly fixed on the distant horizon.
The Class A students themselves showed only mild puzzlement—mixed, curiously, with what appeared to be habitual anticipation. Their homeroom teacher, Mashima-sensei, didn't even urge them to account for the absence. He simply watched his watch in silence, as if waiting for a pre-arranged signal.
Just as the watch hands were about to converge, with only a few tens of seconds remaining until noon—
"Look! In the sea! What is that?!"
In Class D's queue, Yamauchi Haruki suddenly pointed at the ocean and exclaimed.
Every gaze snapped toward the water.
In the distance, on the vast blue sea, a tiny black dot first appeared. Then it grew rapidly, approaching the shore at an incredible speed!
As the distance closed, everyone finally made out the astonishing sight—
It was a person.
The figure stood tall and straight, his uniform utterly still despite the sea breeze. It was Sakamoto.
Even more impossibly, he wasn't swimming. He was standing on the surface of the sea, riding the waves.
Looking closely, one could see that beneath his feet lay not water, but a massive, sleek, black-and-white form—
An orca.
Sakamoto, like a sea god astride his divine mount, walked upon the whale, his posture utterly composed. He pushed up his glasses; the lenses caught the scorching midday sun, rendering his eyes invisible behind the glare.
The moment he reached the shallows—where the orca could go no further—Sakamoto moved.
He lightly tapped the orca's broad head with his toe, using the leverage to launch himself into an elegant leap. In the air, he completed a fluid, perfect backflip.
Almost simultaneously with his leap, a wave—propelled by his rapid movement—surged toward the shore. It swelled considerably, rushing directly at the four formations lined up on the beach.
Gasps escaped the students. Instinctively, they tensed to retreat.
But when the swell reached just a few meters from the front row's feet, it seemed to strike an invisible wall. Its force dissipated instantly, collapsing into powerless white foam. It gently lapped at the sand, not a single droplet splashing onto any student.
At the same moment, Sakamoto's figure traced a graceful arc through the air.
He landed precisely in front of Class A's queue—in the very spot that had been left empty for him.
Whoosh—!
Behind him, on the sea, the massive orca released a long, ethereal cry. It seemed a farewell. Then its great body swayed elegantly, sinking beneath the waves and disappearing from sight.
The entire coastline fell silent.
Everyone stood frozen, too stunned to speak by the mythical entrance they had just witnessed.
Only Mashima-sensei, the instant Sakamoto landed, glanced down at his watch.
The hands pointed precisely to twelve o'clock.
He pushed up his glasses and muttered under his breath, "Cutting it close again... this guy."
Then he lifted his head, faced all the students, and announced in his characteristic serious voice:
"Time's up! The Uninhabited Island Outdoor Survival Special Exam—is officially over!"