Usually this building housed the camp counsellors, but at the moment only Kaoru College was running amuck inside it. 

Daichi lost Surya at the beginning of the game, and sort of meandered around the second floor before growing insanely absorbed. He was defeating first-year after first-year by sneaking up on them before they could steal any of his three ribbons. 

Honestly, he was killing it at this game. 

He instigated a full-blown war on the second floor, then went to wreak havoc on the third. He found four first-years crouching in the bathrooms and two making out in the cupboard. He picked them all off like flies, going out of his way to give them a scare.

Then suddenly, while he was busy combing through one of the rooms, he heard an odd scraping noise. 

He straightened, turning, and squinted across the room, but his eyesight was just horrid. Forced to come closer, he aimed his flashlight at the trunk at the foot of the bed, which was latched shut with a card still wedged under the lid. 

After an incredibly delayed pause, however, the card vanished inside, and Daichi nearly rolled his eyes. 

He opened the trunk and stared down at Akira of all people, who was stuffed inside like a crumpled jacket. He pointed his flashlight away from Akira's face when Akira lifted his hand to shield his eyes, though Daichi was sorely tempted not to.

"Care to explain?" He asked instead.

Akira propped himself up with his arms. "Thanks for releasing me."

"You were very subtle with the card," Daichi told him. "Aren't you getting out?"

"Of course! I just, right now, I can't feel my legs."

Without thinking much of it, Daichi reached down, taking him under the arms like he was a child, and lifted him. His hands gripped Daichi's forearms tightly, his eyes rounding, until Daichi lowered him onto the edge of the trunk. 

Who'd stuffed him inside it? This wasn't as vicious as being force fed Erik's paint, but it was just as outrageous. 

Daichi himself was somewhat accustomed to being bullied, which was the reason he learnt how to defend himself. Should he suggest that Akira fight back? But Akira was a lot smaller than the other basketball players and too absentminded. It might be better to talk to a professor about this. 

"It was my fault," Akira suddenly blurted when the silence grew unbearable, and he threw out his arms like he expected Daichi to arrest him in handcuffs. "Sticker, p-please. I've been found."

"I don't want to give it to you." Daichi waved his sheet of stickers. "This was too easy."

"I could run away?" Akira offered. 

"Somebody else might catch you and I don't want to give away my point." It surprised Daichi when Akira grinned crookedly up at him, and he frowned. "What?"

"You're more competitive than I thought."

Whispers came from outside the door, and Daichi held a finger to his lips. He crept to the doorway, and as a few first-years came skulking passed, he leapt out to smack their arms with stickers. They protested loudly, but he waved them on their way before they noticed who he was obscuring behind him. 

Daichi turned to Akira, who was busy rolling his ankle. "Were you really going to break out of this trunk with a card?"

Akira proudly whipped it out. "Oh, yes. If you swipe it a certain way, you can flip the latch."

"Seriously?" Daichi came forward. "Can you show me?"

Akira began explaining it to him. Then, utterly clueless, he climbed back into the trunk for a demonstration that Daichi encouraged. He even shut it on himself, and Daichi bent to latch it. The card appeared, scraping vigorously, and the latch really did flip. He tried lifting the lid, but it didn't budge an inch. And he went very quiet. 

Finally, he asked, "Are you –sitting on it?"

Daichi stretched out his legs. "That I am."