Academy Upper Echelon

A petition was opened to keep Kotone in the Academy, allowing her to change her representative business immediately. Everyone understood the pressure from millionaires was no mere challenge to scoff at.

Kotone was an idol, a student of the elite, image-obsessed Academy, the victim of domestic abuse, the heiress to a business with value, and she was actively trying to reclaim independence. The Academy would absolutely keep her. No, they would elevate her! Shift resources to her, while distancing her from her mother to avoid the scandal from bleeding into their reputation! Or so, those with a childish view of the world would assume.

The Academy’s Upper Echelon wasn’t so forgiving. This was the adult world. The Academy’s history was rigid, made of billionaires, not millionaires. The majority, around two-thirds of the Upper Echelon, maintained Kotone’s transfer out of the school, while the other third conceded her ability to change representative business.

At the very least, the petition’s legal weight fought to ensure a future where Kotone would return for the second trimester of her second year.

Kotone strutted the halls, perfect uniform, chin high, no longer her mother’s proxy, no longer anyone’s pawn. The Academy loved phoenixes above royalty. She burst out of a gilded cage and was starting to build her throne in the heavens.

She deposited herself firmly in this rarely-used mixed ‘Student Council and Upper Echelon Conference Room’. Those included were Tora, Wakami, Kotone, the Academy Director for the High School Division, various teachers, and me. In other words, walking money processors and strategists, magnates of wealth, character, education, and foresight.

The discussions over Fujishiro Kotone’s fate, in relation to the Academy’s matters, came underway, the deliberation headed by the adults.

“Fujishiro chose her mother’s agency as her representative business upon application. Henceforth, she cannot switch to her own agency while staying continuously enrolled. She must temporarily withdraw from the Academy to change her registered representation.” This rule was brutal and perfectly engineered to prevent opportunistic swaps or brand confusion mid-year. It also raised the stakes beautifully for all students. “Fujishiro applied under one identity, and now attempts to reinvent it mid-year. Such inconsistency disrupts our record-keeping and undermines the evaluation standard.”

“The abuse scandal endangers the Academy’s prestige. We mustn’t become a battleground for domestic disputes. Our name must remain above the scandal.”

“Allowing Fujishiro to stay sets a dangerous precedent. If she can change her business without withdrawing, others will demand the same. If we make the exception, we invite outrage. Every student would claim hardship to switch representation at will.”

The Academy was allergic to exceptions.

“Her mental state may not meet the ‘Academic Criteria.’ Our Academy requires high emotional composure, social functioning, performance under pressure. Given the instability and ongoing legal conflict, Fujishiro isn’t in a psychological condition suitable for continued enrollment.”

“If you would, offer a college-level exam right now,” Wakami countered. “I’m certain we all know her grades will prove her excellence.”

“Fair. Let’s review the many positives. Fujishiro is a PR asset now. As the abuse becomes known, even internally, we can reframe her as: ‘A strong, driven young woman fighting for independence from a toxic legacy. A student of the elite, facing hardship, and still performing.’ This saves our reputation. Kicking Fujishiro out would signal we protect abusers and neglectors, while punishing the victims.”

“We’d rather isolate the mother. Our wealth network cares about optics.”

“Indeed, Fujishiro’s mother is the liability. We’d best start systematically closing doors on the mother while preserving Fujishiro as the salvageable brand.”

“Salvageable?”

“My apologies. Fujishiro has significant value. Even with her family brand collapsing, Fujishiro has social capital. If she builds her new agency, especially one enhanced by students within the Academy’s inner circle, we gain from that proximity. And this returns us to our rules, the law, the foundations of our Academy. Fujishiro has to build her claim to the world. It’s embedded in the school code. The inabilities of students to declare the world as theirs doesn’t make them students of our Academy. It makes them a child. Temporary withdrawal is our most compassionate option.”

“It will be a pause for her recovery, an opportunity for personal realignment, a step to preserve everyone’s dignity. Don’t misguide us as suspending you quietly. This is all bureaucratic, frankly, a massive headache that makes me envy the simplicity of your youth. Leave the rest to us adults. Having shown tremendous composure and the exact grit we need to rally behind, we praise you, Fujishiro. If you perform academically and socially, we’ll reward you generously.”

Kotone would take a special two-week absence. Given that Golden Week is approaching, it wasn’t a big deal at all.

The Academy wanted to keep her. This much was certain. It was strategic PR preservation, legal protection obligations, brand-value calculation, and political pressure from students like Wakami, and, most importantly, because Fujishiro Kotone was Fujishiro Kotone, the Fujishiro Kotone she was now.

Wakami vouched for and sponsored Kotone’s return.

Kotone and I owed a significant errand to Wakami.

My red necklace was still around me.

“Now, as for you, Shinohara Rintarō…”