Chapter 8: Reckoning at the Boardroom
The boardroom was nothing like Rei imagined. Polished mahogany walls rose around them like barriers, absorbing sound and judgment alike.
At the head of the long, gleaming table sat Chairman Hiroshi Takeda—stoic, unreadable, and rumored to have orchestrated the removal of more students than any other member of the regional educational alliance.
On either side of him were eleven other board members, most in charcoal suits, some with the telltale silver streaks of age, and others—like Matsunaga-sensei—with faces too familiar to be ignored.
Rei felt every eye in the room on her as she stepped forward. The recording devices were live.
The student body was watching from classroom monitors. Faculty too. There was no retreat.
She placed the files on the presentation table. They echoed.
"Begin your statement," Chairman Takeda said, voice dry.
Rei's hand trembled once, briefly, before she locked it behind her back. Her voice emerged sharp, controlled.
"My name is Rei Kisaragi, student of Shirasagi High."
"I was expelled from Saitama Third High under allegations of repeated violence, insubordination, and psychological disturbance. These claims were fabricated."
Takeda's brows lifted slightly. "You're asserting this body acted without cause?"
"No," Rei said, tone icier now. "I'm asserting this body protected corrupt officials, falsified disciplinary records, and targeted vulnerable students to uphold a false image of academic excellence."
Gasps from the watching council members behind her. Arisa remained still, her eyes fixed on the Chairman.
Rei opened Kota Miyazaki's binder, "Exhibit One: A series of communications between administrators at three different schools discussing 'containment strategies' for noncompliant students."
She passed out copies. Silence gripped the room like frost.
"Exhibit Two: A testimonial from a former instructor who admitted being pressured to write false reports to justify expulsions. His name is anonymous in this document but available upon request."
She clicked a button. The monitors flicked to a projection screen above. Pages scrolled.
She took a breath, "Exhibit Three: My own expulsion notice. You'll see the signatures were collected before the date of my alleged violation."
One board member stirred. Another leaned forward. But Rei wasn't done.
"We are looking at a coordinated campaign across multiple institutions—where problematic students were branded, removed, and discredited."
"Some transferred schools three or more times in two years. Others dropped out entirely. And some…" Her voice wavered, then hardened. "Some didn't survive the shame."
Takeda interlocked his fingers. "These are heavy accusations. Do you have corroborating parties?"
"I do," Rei said. "They're waiting outside."
She nodded once. The door opened.
Kota Miyazaki entered first. Then Aya Tomino, expelled the previous year. Then Riko Tanaka, who had been institutionalized after her third transfer.
One by one, they came in—students discarded by the system. They sat in silence behind Rei, like shadows given voice.
The boardroom trembled—not physically, but perceptibly. Chairman Takeda cleared his throat. "We will review this evidence."
"No," Arisa said suddenly. "You won't bury it in bureaucracy."
Eyes turned to her.
"This session is being streamed. Every student at Shirasagi is watching. Every teacher. Every parent. This is no longer behind closed doors. The people deserve to know how you've failed them."
Takeda's mask cracked—just slightly, "This is unprecedented."
Rei stepped closer. "So was what you did to us."
...
...
The meeting lasted four hours. The board asked questions. Some were reasonable.
Others were deflections in silk. Rei and Arisa countered each one with precision, with documents, dates, and faces no longer willing to be silent.
By hour five, the council began to fracture. Matsunaga-sensei attempted a denial. Kota interrupted her with a recording.
Another board member claimed ignorance. Arisa responded with council meeting minutes from six months prior, revealing his vote.
At hour six, Takeda stood.
"Enough."
His voice dropped into the silence, "We have heard your grievances. You will receive a formal response within five business days."
Rei met his eyes, "And if that response is silence?"
He didn't answer. But the message was clear: This war was not over.
...
...
Outside the room, the hallway felt too bright. The students they had brought with them didn't cheer. They didn't smile. They stood quiet. Resolute.
Arisa turned to Rei. "They're scared. But they're also watching. You did that."
"I didn't do it alone."
Ichika stepped beside them, hands in his pockets. "So what now?"
"We push further," Rei said. "We file petitions. We go to the press. We don't stop until this board is dismantled or forced to change."
Ichika gave a faint smile. "Queen of Thorns turned into Queen of Justice."
Rei looked past him—past the glass windows that overlooked the school courtyard. Students were walking, talking. Life went on.
But it had changed. She could feel it. And so could the shadows.
...
...
That night, the school forum exploded.
Hundreds of posts.
Screenshots. Memories. Anonymous testimonies. Students who had never dared speak began writing threads about teachers who mocked them, systems that failed them, secrets that buried them. A revolution had begun—not in fists, but in truth.
Rei scrolled through them, her heart heavy and full at once. She wasn't alone. She had never been.
In an undisclosed location, Chairman Takeda stared at a tablet. His assistant stood quietly beside him.
"Is it contained?" Takeda asked.
The assistant hesitated. "No, sir. It's spreading. There are inquiries from the ministry already."
Takeda said nothing. His eyes burned into the screen. Rei's face looked back.
"A child…" he muttered. "A child brought down our house of cards."
He leaned back, "Then we'll build it again. Better hidden."
His voice was calm. But the storm had arrived. And for the first time in decades, the system was trembling from within.
...
...
The next morning, news outlets had caught wind of the story. Social media platforms began trending with hashtags like #ReiKisaragiTruth and #ShirasagiVoices.
Even regional newspapers that typically stayed neutral started publishing editorials questioning the accountability of the educational board.
By the afternoon, Arisa received requests for interviews, and Rei's face was quietly making its way into headlines.
Ichika met her by the old basketball court, where few students ever lingered.
"You sure you're ready for this to go national?" he asked.
Rei exhaled. "No. But it's not about me anymore."
The ground under them felt different—charged. As if Shirasagi High itself had shifted. No longer just a school. Now, a battleground of ideals, integrity, and change.
More students began coming forward. Some were shy and unsure. Others were angry and loud. Rei spoke to each of them. She listened. Took notes. Sometimes she just stood quietly while they unloaded years of bottled-up frustration. Each story, a brick in the foundation of something bigger.
Not a rebellion.
A reckoning.
And Rei Kisaragi stood at the heart of it.