[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 30

A weird person has latched onto me.

How can I be so sure? Well, if someone wandering around the central plaza in the middle of the school wearing a school swimsuit isn’t crazy, then what are they? Even the swim club kids, who are obsessed with swimsuits, don’t wear them 24/7 like this.

Thanks to this, all eyes are on us, and I can’t even read the newspaper or do anything else. No one I know has passed by, so I haven’t had to leave my spot yet, but no matter how I think about it, if I move, this weirdo will probably follow me.

What do I do about this?

“Why are you looking at me like that? Wearing the school-designated swimsuit isn’t exactly illegal, you know?”

“…”

“You don’t seem to agree… Well, it’s really comfortable, I swear. Why don’t you try wearing one?”

“…”

For now, I’m not responding at all.

Usually, ignoring people like this makes them lose interest and leave, but this one has been bombarding me with questions I’d rather not understand for a solid 15 minutes. In my head, I’m chanting, No, stop, don’t do this on repeat.

Seriously, why the hell are you doing this to me?

The student, noticing my bewildered expression, flashed a bright smile. My face refused to cooperate, so I just kept my dumbfounded look. And then their smile got even wider.

What the hell.

They seem to find my reactions amusing and keep showing interest, but with what feels like a literal pervert standing next to me, I’m losing my mind.

“…Um, Urawa-san.”

“Oh, finally taking an interest in me? Have you thought about wet clothes or something?”

“…No, that’s not it. Why are you sticking to me like this?”

“Well, just because, I guess? When a new student suddenly shows up at your usual spot, it’s kind of intriguing, isn’t it?”

Let’s just not talk.

Astonishingly, this person’s name is Urawa Hanako. She’s a second-year student at our Trinity General Academy and even has a student ID—though I have no idea where she’s keeping it. There aren’t that many places on a person’s body to hide something…

Anyway.

This friend, whose name might as well be read as “delinquent” instead of Urawa, seems to find my reactions endlessly entertaining. What’s slightly suspicious is that every time I open the newspaper, she effortlessly reads articles filled with kanji. And she somehow manages to dig up scandalous gossip that doesn’t align with social norms.

Even at Trinity, which values both academics and athletics, there aren’t many students who can fluently read kanji like that. Most of those who can are part of high society, specifically the upper echelons of the Tea Party.

What I’m trying to say is, Urawa-san might be a much bigger deal than she seems. With that in mind, I’ll upgrade her title to “Urawa-san” from now on.

The problem is, if Urawa-san is such a smart person, why is she here messing with me?

“…How would I know?”

“Huh?”

“…Nothing.”

I really wish it was nothing.

***

“Hanako, thanks for treating me. But I was pretty shocked to hear you’re at risk of failing. You don’t seem like the type.”

“What do you mean by ‘the type’? Are you talking about this swimsuit?”

“No, definitely not that.”

How many times have I had to deny something today alone?

Ugh, I got swept up in this glowing madness. My mistake was not sticking to complete silence and actually starting a conversation. Now we’re on a first-name basis, we’ve exchanged MomoTalk IDs, and I’m completely drained.

The silver lining is that I got to eat the famous 4-foot-tall mega parfait from the café next to the Tea Party building. It’s ridiculously huge, so I had to share it with Hanako, but getting to taste something sweeter than cocoa after weeks is what matters.

It lives up to its reputation, with a glass packed full of ingredients. Layers of ice cream topped with heaps of cereal, various snacks, and fruits. The highlight is the star-shaped pretzel sitting on a cream puff.

If I keep eating this, I might actually get diabetes.

Screw it, I don’t care. I’m finishing this today, and from now on, I’ll just carry insulin around. If I get diagnosed with diabetes, the Knight Order will probably come running at the speed of sound, shouting, “A diabetic at Trinity?!” to treat me. If I collapse, I’ll just head straight to heaven.

Hanako is happily savoring the parfait. Despite what comes out of her mouth, she eats so wholesomely.

“Hehe, this is my first time trying this café’s parfait. The ice cream has such a unique texture. It’s a bit squishier than others, maybe? Unfortunately, it doesn’t have that musty smell or fishy taste…”

“Hold on. You should probably stop there.”

“Oh, Hikari-san. How did you know what I was going to say next? It starts with ‘lust’—want to guess?”

“If you don’t want to get dragged off by the Justice Realization Committee, let’s keep it down. Talking weird stuff while eating ruins the vibe.”

“Hmm… there’s that superstition, isn’t there? Speaking of vibes, I think lust is a kind of blessing too.”

It wasn’t the vibe that was ruined—it was my appetite. Who talks like this while someone’s eating ice cream? My stomach’s churning, and everything I ate feels like it’s crawling back up my throat, screaming.

By the way, what a weird kid. At Trinity, Hanako might be the only student who can proudly admit she’s at risk of failing. Our friends are so good at gossiping that failing is a topic you don’t bring up unless it’s with someone you really trust.

She might be more famous than I thought. When we walked into the café, the owner’s reaction wasn’t “Who’s this lunatic?” but more like “Oh, that kid’s back.” That’s practically regular status at the Sisterhood level.

This is the downside of living at the checkpoint since middle school. I’ve become a socially awkward second-year with fewer connections in town than Ritsuko-chan or Sayuri-chan. Sob.

My stomach’s full anyway, so I put down my spoon and gave the rest to Hanako.

“You’re giving me all of this? I can eat it, but don’t you feel like you’re missing out, Hikari-san?”

“I’m at my limit. One more bite, and I’ll get a diabetes diagnosis. By the way, tell me more about this failing thing. I’m most curious about that. Like I said earlier, you don’t strike me as someone who’d fail.”

“…I’ll talk about it after I finish this. That okay?”

I nodded, and Hanako, looking relieved, scooped up a big bite of ice cream.

The pervert’s lips curled up. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the kind of expression you’d see in a shady magazine. It was a pure, almost childlike, teenage girl kind of smile. How does such a vulgar mouth produce such an innocent face?

It was a full ten minutes before Hanako spoke again.

“…I’m sure you know what kind of temporary club the Supplementary Lessons Department is.”

“Yeah. If you suck at studying and do a bunch of weird stuff, you get transferred there at some point. They knock some sense into you and tell you to live properly. Some of our kids have been through it too… Oh, I didn’t mention my club.”

“I know your club is the Checkpoint. And you’re the head of it, right? That’s practically a club president.”

“…Did I tell you that?”

“No, I just hear a lot of things. You’re not super famous, but you show up in Chronos School’s news a lot, Hikari-san.”

“Yeah… Damn Chronos jerks. If it weren’t for them, we’d have a bigger budget.”

When I’m handling business at the Checkpoint, the radio’s always on, so I rarely catch Chronos News. But on the internet, Chronos and other media academies often report on the Checkpoint’s activities. Of course, there’s just as much coverage on the Justice Task Force or the Knight Order, so it’s not a big deal.

The real problem is that most articles about the Checkpoint focus on “excessive suppression.” Did the protesters bribe them or something? They keep harping on about “high-level acts of violence” and criticizing us. Thanks to that, our budget nearly got slashed in half.

It’s a bit harsh to say, but Chronos needs to be torn down and rebuilt to get its act together. If they scream about press censorship, I’ve got nothing to say, but I’ve got a club ready to knock some sense into them. If a search turns up even a single bribe, that’s the day a complaint gets filed with the General Student Council.

If only they’d be a bit more friendly.

“I hate Chronos, Hanako. They’re just a bunch of people chasing money and scoops.”

“I feel the same way. They’re kind of like the Tea Party, aren’t they?”

“The Tea Party?”

“Huh? Oh… no, that was a slip of the tongue.”

Is that so.

Anyway, I hate the media. Most Checkpoint members do too.

Of course, I’m talking about corrupt media that don’t care about facts. Among them, Chronos, the biggest of the bunch, is basically a gathering of lunatics who enrolled because they didn’t want to study and spend all day indulging in delusions.

When will the holy savior of Trinity’s free and just media world finally appear? Where is the student council president who’ll sweep away Chronos’s rotten mess and restore its past glory?

Probably lounging at home, eating.

“Anyway, I didn’t do well on the exams. Seia-chan nagged me to study, but I didn’t listen. Then I got a notice saying I’m being transferred to the Supplementary Lessons Department.”

“Hmm. And?”

“That’s it. Just venting, I guess. High schoolers sometimes need to let off steam like this, right?”

Sure, but most people don’t vent to other people.

I’d relieve stress by loading buckshot into a shotgun and hunting birds in the forest or firing off rounds randomly. Or, you know, something more wholesome like reading a book or watching a movie.

By the way, Seia-chan? How many students in the world can casually add “-chan” to the name of someone who was once the head of Sanctus, even if she’s been assassinated? I think I’ve only ever met one person who called Nagisa-sama “Nagi-chan.”

She’s not, like, some hidden fourth faction leader, right?

“…She’s not, is she?”

“What? You mean the rumor that I prefer doing it during the day instead of at night?”

“No, no… that was a pointless question.”

It was a completely useless question. You can’t ask Hanako stuff like that. She’ll somehow steer it into talking about her weird tastes and heat up the whole atmosphere. And I’ll end up shouting, “It’s nothing!” again.

How does every conversation with her raise more questions? It’s not an exponential function—it’s growing geometrically.

Honestly, truly, Hanako is a weird student.

***

“So, Sakura-sama. I understand the Supplementary Lessons Department building is directly under the Tea Party’s control.”

“That’s correct, Hikari-san.”

“And the Tea Party’s hall is guarded by our Checkpoint.”

“That’s also true.”

“Then why does the Checkpoint have to guard the Supplementary Lessons Department building too?”

It’s been barely 45 minutes since Hanako dragged me to the Cathedral of Penitence, and I’m still reeling from the bombshell Sister Sakura dropped while lecturing Hanako.

Good lord, the Checkpoint has to guard Hanako’s club building too?

Why? The Tea Party hall is one thing—it’s practically a tradition—but why can’t the Tea Party handle the Supplementary Lessons Department themselves? Their faction leaders’ safehouses are perfectly guarded by Tea Party forces, so why is this place an exception?

“Nagisa-sama’s orders, so there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“…Fine, whatever. I’ll have to file a report. Thank you for letting me know.”

A report, my ass. All I’d write is a request for extra budget because of the Supplementary Lessons Department guard duty.

At this rate, I might end up having to stand guard myself. Ugh, I don’t want to get tangled up with Hanako. She’s not a bad person, but talking to her drains your energy like some kind of vampire.

Still, I’m a public servant—if they tell me to do it, I do it. When will this misery end?

I left with Hanako, who’d been thoroughly scolded by Sister Sakura for a long time. Every nun we passed in the hallway flinched—probably because of Hanako’s persistent swimsuit attire.

Hanako was grinning with a mischievous look.

“…You set this up, didn’t you?”

“Set what up? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“…”

Hanako’s smirk widened. She’s practically bragging about laying a trap.

Caught like a deer in a snare, I could only stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.