Omake

Yokozawa was still fuming as he washed the dishes. He had noticed the bandage on Hiyori's hand as soon as she walked through the door, and bullied the story out of her.

"Wow, who would have thought she had that in her?" Kirishima mulled out loud, still lounging in his chair at the kitchen table. "She really is your daughter after all."

There was the tinkle of broken china as Yokozawa accidentally shattered a dish.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Listen, Kobayashi, there's nothing you can do about your failing grade," Kamijou explained, his expression completely neutral.

"But professor, I don't understand," the freshman pleaded. "I had been doing so well!"

"Your recent work shows a lack of understanding, depth, or really anything remotely resembling intelligent thought. In other words, your writing is simply sub-par," the professor said flatly. "Look, it's nothing personal. Why don't you ask Dean Miyagi? I'm certain he'll back me up on this one."