When Takakai opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the floor.
The small bedroom's plush carpet made for a decent sleeping surface - arguably more comfortable than a hard mattress. That wasn't what gave him pause.
The girl currently using his chest as a pillow, however, was another matter entirely.
Shinomiya Kaguya.
The ice princess who always maintained such perfect composure now lay sprawled across him, breathing softly in deep slumber. Her long black hair spilled over his body, strands brushing against his neck with feather-light touches. The signature red ribbon was missing - lost during their escape when his bullet had grazed it during the confrontation with the Black Shadows.
Come to think of it, Kaguya was technically the first anime girl I encountered in this world... and we shared a bed right from the start too.
As he observed the peacefully sleeping girl, memories of their first meeting surfaced. Back then, Kaguya had been all sharp edges and cold elegance. While she hadn't changed much since, Takakai had briefly wondered if adopting the ribbon meant she'd embrace her original work's comedic personality. No such transformation occurred, leaving him mildly disappointed at what he'd jokingly considered "false advertising."
In his current circle, Maki and Fujiwara had become close companions. His relationship with miko remained nebulous but held clear potential. Only Kaguya maintained distance, never fully integrating with the group.
Takakai understood why.
The scars of her upbringing made trust difficult. Even survival necessities forcing teamwork couldn't quickly undo decades of conditioned isolation.
Yet now, here she was - sleeping vulnerably atop him.
Does she feel safe with me? Or with Hayasaka unavailable, am I simply the only lifeline left?
As sleep's haze cleared and these realizations crystallized, any initial awkwardness faded, replaced by weary resignation.
What a troubled kid... We haven't even found Hayasaka yet, and Kaguya's already... Well, at least she's still functional.
While recognizing the unhealthy coping mechanisms, Takakai lacked the expertise to address them. For now, dungeon analysis took priority.
Time to organize intel.
Keeping perfectly still to avoid waking Kaguya, Takakai began mentally reviewing their findings.
First, comparing the two rule sets they'd obtained:
The Daytime Management Regulations and Nap Room Rules were both authentic pre-dungeon documents - created by living people for a functioning school.
Both contained glaring peculiarities.
First common point: An obsessive emphasis on keeping students within teachers' sight at all times. Any deviation required immediate searches, even halting classes. This implied something dangerous happened to unsupervised children.
Second common point: Strict prohibitions against supernatural rumors - blanket bans in daytime rules, specifically targeting nap room stories otherwise.
Such heavy-handed restrictions practically invited rebellion. What child wouldn't grow curious about forbidden topics? Takakai suspected these rules deliberately fostered beliefs about unseen dangers and hidden truths.
Third common point: Vague allowances for corporal punishment. Given Fujioka's "teachers," Takakai doubted Shirasawa's staff showed restraint. The line between discipline and abuse would be thin indeed.
Now, the divergences - likely the most insidious elements:
The daytime rules' final entry required children to verify parents' facial features before leaving, with an odd 10-minute wait if the child cried.
The nap room rules mandated teachers remaining past 1:50 PM be replaced.
These clauses pointed ominously toward parents and teachers respectively. With current information, Takakai couldn't decipher the exact implications, but nothing good awaited down either path.
Then there were the Black Shadows.
What role did these entities play? Rule-breakers' punishers? The "dog-making" sorcerers the children feared? The chaotic scribble-people Takakai had glimpsed? Whatever their nature, they undoubtedly stemmed from the researchers' atrocities.
Most perplexing was the dungeon's reset mechanism.
Why did Shirasawa Elementary feature such a brutal system where minor missteps triggered memory-wiping reboots? The psychological toll was monstrous - as Kaguya's experience proved. Without his bullet-counting method, even tracking resets would be impossible.
How did this relate to an elementary school's operations? Were memory experiments conducted here? The connections remained frustratingly elusive.
Simply put - they lacked sufficient data.
Their first dungeon day had been largely wasted on repetitive exploration. While Takakai avoided Kaguya's deadlock trap, he'd only surveyed a handful of areas.
Deeper investigation was needed - but the reset mechanic made efficient progress nearly impossible.
So far, Takakai had confirmed:
In Yoshitaka's starting bedroom, hiding under beds and checking wardrobes triggered delayed resets.
Kaguya's room punished bed-hiding and window-opening, the latter acting instantly.
Superficial exploration seemed safe, but thorough searches risked hidden violations.
How should we proceed—
"Mmm..."
The weight on his chest shifted as Kaguya stirred awake.
Ruby-red eyes blinked drowsily... then widened in dawning horror as they met Takakai's gaze.
A beat of silence.
Then comprehension.
"Morning. Sleep well?" Takakai grinned, giving a little finger wave.
"Eh... EHHHHHHHHHH?!"
Kaguya's shriek of embarrassment echoed through the safe room.