Chapter 3: A New Stage

Chapter 3: A New Stage

Chapter 3:

A New Stage

A FTER SPRING BREAK , which somehow seemed both long and short at the same time, had ended, the opening ceremony was finally here. On that day, we moved from the first-year classroom that we had grown so familiar with and into a new classroom for second-year students. At first glance, the chairs and desks all looked the same. But at the same time, they felt different, somehow.

The first thing that we saw awaiting us when we arrived at the classroom was a message written on the blackboard.

“Sit in the same seats you were assigned in your first year and wait.”

Up until last year, what students referred to as a blackboard was, well, something that teachers used chalk to write on. However, the blackboard in front of us wasn’t really a blackboard at all. A large monitor had replaced the blackboard, hanging on the wall. Judging from the fact that it shone like it was brand new, I was guessing monitors had only just been brought in this year.

The students who arrived at the classroom after me also seemed quite surprised when they saw the new blackboard. I decided to take my seat as instructed, heading toward the spot in the far back of the room, near the window. Later in the day, the opening ceremony would be held in the gymnasium. After that, the homeroom instructors would spend about two hours going over the schedule and the requirements for this year, and then we would be dismissed later in the morning.

Since spring break had only just ended, some students still seemed to be in a bit of a daze. Friends who hadn’t seen each other for a while were talking animatedly about things like what they were up to during the break. While I was randomly surfing the internet on my phone looking for information, someone called out to me.

“Hey.”

It was my classmate, Miyake Akito. He was one of the people in the small group of friends that I had gotten close with.

“I was a little worried ’bout you, since you didn’t come to hang out with the group all that much during the break,” said Akito.

That was certainly true. I hadn’t really interacted at all with the group during spring break. Or rather, I suppose, I should say I’d been negligent because I had been so busy dealing with various other issues.

“I mean, there’s no rule that says that we have to meet up or anythin’ of course, but Haruka was pretty worried. And Airi especially was concerned about you, it seemed like.” Akito was basically advising me to be mindful of the feelings of the girls in our group.

“Sorry. I’ll plan to hang out with you guys occasionally,” I replied.

“That’d be good. I was feelin’ a little lonely without you around myself,” said Akito.

I did feel a little bit uneasy, hearing that from a friend. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. Akito gave me a light wave, as if to tell me he wasn’t planning on hanging around my seat for long, and then returned to his own desk.

I really felt like I had made some good friends. I mean, he even went out of his way to give me some friendly advice.

After he had left, I didn’t feel like fiddling around with my phone anymore, so I decided to listen in on what the other people in class were saying. The topic of conversation had shifted from what people did over spring break to the new students. Tomorrow was the entrance ceremony, when new first-year students would arrive.

Last year, we Class D students had gotten carried away by the good treatment we received from the school at first and been tripped up as a result. But that was understandable. We were given one thousand Class Points immediately upon enrollment, the equivalent of one hundred thousand yen. Students were incredibly excited by the large amount of money that they thought they’d be receiving every month, and many went on buying sprees, getting all kinds of things they wanted. Furthermore, tardiness and absences were common, and many students had private conversations or took naps in class.

The serious students, on the other hand, were focused only on themselves, not on paying attention to what was going on around them. I was sure there were many reasons for their lack of attention to the others, but the school’s apparent neglect of the problem children was probably the biggest one. After all, if the teachers weren’t giving them any warnings, then the students surely didn’t need to do so. Or so they thought.

But I supposed you could say that was just the first “special exam” this school had for us. The school was testing us, to see if we could realize that the education we were receiving here was different from the compulsory education we received in elementary school and junior high. And Class D had gotten the lowest possible evaluation in that special exam. Quite spectacularly so.

In the following month, May, our Class Points had dropped to zero. Meaning the number of points we received in our accounts that month suddenly plummeted to a happy zero as well. After that, Class D faced a series of trials and tribulations throughout the year. But after our class had hit rock bottom, our scattered, disparate classmates slowly started to mature, and the class became more unified. At one point, we even managed to make it up to Class C. But unfortunately, because of what happened at the year-end final exam, we were demoted back down to Class D.

However, our class had managed to regain two hundred and seventy-five Class Points by the end of the year. While there was still a huge gap between us and Class A, the most important aspect of our attempt to reach for the top was just how many Class Points we could gain over this next year, our second at this school.

“Good morning!” said a rather energetic girl, her voice carrying across the room.

The girls in the classroom reacted as soon as those words were said. They gathered around the speaker, who was the leader of the girls in our class, Karuizawa Kei. The number of girls around her kept increasing. Before I knew it, they’d resumed the same conversations they’d just been having

Also, it was just the other day that I had started dating Kei, our class’s queen bee. The only person who knew that fact right now, aside from me, was Kei herself.

As I reminisced, while listening to the conversations around me, a surprised shout—no, more of a shriek—reverberated throughout the classroom. When I looked up to see what was happening, I immediately realized what the shock and awe was all about. You could say it was an exceedingly natural reaction to have upon seeing what the girl who had just quietly arrived at school looked like.

The girl, despite attracting the attention of everyone around her, didn’t react at all to everyone’s surprise. Instead, she went to take her seat, right next to mine. Her formerly long, beautiful black hair was gone. It was now rather short, not even shoulder length.

She had reconciled with her older brother, Horikita Manabu, and decided to say goodbye to her past self, cutting her hair to reflect that decision. It was precisely because I knew that that I wasn’t surprised right now, but I supposed that if this were my first time seeing her like this, I would probably have reacted similarly to those around me.

“S-Suzune…? You, your hair… What happened to your hair?!” shouted Sudou Ken, flustered. He abandoned the conversation he’d been having with his friend and ran over toward Horikita. Sudou was one of our classmates, and he was also in love with Horikita.

One other person, a girl, seemed perplexed by Horikita’s transformation and approached her in a similar fashion. “Horikita-san, you’ve…had a complete makeover. I’m so surprised!” she said.

Kushida Kikyou. Another of our classmates, and someone who had attended the same junior high as Horikita.

“Is it really so strange that I cut my hair?” Horikita shot glances not only at Sudou, but at the many other students who were staring at her.

“W-well, no, it’s not like, strange or anythin’, it’s just surprisin’ is all… It’s like, with this hairstyle, you’ve got a completely different look and all… Well, um, it’s not like I’m saying it doesn’t work for you or anything! I think you look good with short hair, too. D-don’t you think so too, Kushida?” said Sudou.

While the sudden change in her appearance certainly had quite the impact, from Sudou’s point of view, things like the length of her hair were trivial. If anything, he welcomed his crush’s new look with open arms, showing that he was quite happy about it. However, Kushida couldn’t really hide her discomfort when Sudou suddenly put her on the spot, asking for her to agree.

“Yeah, I suppose. Yeah. I think it looks good on her. But… Did something happen?” She must not have wanted to explain what she thought in detail, because she shifted the topic of conversation to asking about the reason Horikita had cut her hair.

“Wait, whaddya mean, did something happen? Like what?” asked Sudou, jumping at Kushida’s question before Horikita could respond herself.

“Well, for example… maybe she had her heart broken, or something,” said Kushida.

“B-B-B-B-broken?!” stammered Sudou.

“If I had to say anything, it’s an expression of my determination,” replied Horikita, without skipping a beat, as if trying to banish the words heart and broken from the air.

“O-okay, I see. Yeah, there’s no way you’d have your heart broken or something, right?” said Sudou.

Despite saying that, he seemed like he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Now that we’re second-year students, I’m going to fight to make sure Class D rises to the top. And I want to do what I can to make that happen,” said Horikita.

“I see, okay. Well, in that case… Maybe I’ll try the opposite, grow my hair out,” said Kushida.

She made it sound cutesy, but the words somehow also conveyed how she really felt, deep down. She was upset that her hair was the same length as the person she hated. I didn’t think anyone would assume she was being serious about growing her hair out long, but she might actually do just that. I couldn’t help but imagine the raging emotions hidden inside what she’d just said.

“If you’re satisfied, could you both return to your own seats?” snapped Horikita.

She clearly didn’t want people to stand around and gawk at her this much, whether her hair was long or short. Though Horikita’s new look had certainly had a significant impact on the people around her, she seemed to be rather unhappy with the attention it was getting her. She looked like she was in a bad mood now, but fortunately enough, the bell rang soon afterward, bringing the chatter to an abrupt end.

3.1

S EVERAL DAYS HAD PASSED already since the opening ceremony ended. The weekend came and went, and it was now Monday. A peaceful life here at school. A regular routine that repeated itself over and over. The most momentous change at the start of this new year was that the blackboards were now digital and all our textbooks had been replaced with tablets. Last week, we’d looked down at our hands, which held the new tablet devices that had just been handed out to us.

The fact that the textbooks we were using had all been replaced by tablets illustrated just how remarkable the spread of e-books was. Each student was given their own tablet, and newly installed high-speed charging devices were in the back of the classrooms. We were also provided with portable battery packs as well, in the unlikely event that our tablets died in the middle of class. We were forbidden to bring the tablets themselves back to the dorms, but we were allowed to transfer any data we needed over the school’s network, to access it from our rooms.

The annoyingly high number of textbooks we needed to lug around were now all stored neatly inside this twelve-inch tablet, as data. Not only did this mean we could freely work with graphics and photos, but the tablets were also an effective response to globalization, allowing us to openly communicate back and forth with people from other countries, such as in English class. Considering that this school was overseen by the government, it seemed they were lagging somewhat behind in implementing these changes.

However, it remained unclear for now whether or not these changes were necessarily the correct decision. I supposed we’d understand their impact better after seeing how these children grew, and how they integrated into society in the future.

The scope of our studies as second-year students would be more difficult than in our first year, of course. I didn’t know exactly how this school compared to other high schools in that regard, but it was safe to assume it was above average, at the very least. I wondered how much students like Sudou and Ike would be able to keep up with their studies on their own. If we wanted to make sure not a single student got expelled, it might be more essential than ever for us to support each other.

At any rate, while the biggest change came in the form of the digitization of our study materials, there were a number of other things to note. If I had to mention one, it would be the ability to change seats, by way of using your Private Points to secure the spot that you want.

I moved from my old spot near the window toward a seat on the opposite side of the classroom, in the back by the hallway. Apparently, the seats near the hallway were generally unpopular because of all the people coming and coming, but it didn’t really bother me all that much. Also, while I’d been occasionally passing new students more and more often of late, I obviously still hadn’t actually talked to any of them yet, not being involved in any club activities. As a result, nothing about my personal situation had really changed.

I supposed that wasn’t so strange, considering that when I was a first-year, the first time I actually had a proper conversation with a senior student was for a special exam, since that student had access to old test materials. At any rate, the first few days of the new school year had been quiet.

“Is everyone present?” asked our homeroom instructor Chabashira, striding into the classroom at almost the exact moment the bell rang.

As our morning homeroom began, she stood at the teacher’s podium with a serious expression on her face. That, coupled with the fact that we didn’t have any classes for first and second period today, made me predict something was going to happen. Apparently, this brief moment of peace was about to come to an end.

“Sensei, is there a special exam?” asked Ike, before our homeroom instructor made her announcement.

It sounded like he was asking out of a sense of eager restlessness, rather than because he was messing around. And Chabashira understood that, which was why she didn’t seem to object to him asking. In the past, every time a special exam was announced, most of the students understandably felt anxious. But now those special exams were unavoidable obstacles we had to overcome on our path to the top. And our class was getting ready to face those challenges.

“I’m sure you’re worried about that, but before we get into that discussion, there’s something I’d like for you to do. Something that will be particularly important to how you lead your lives here at this school in the future,” said Chabashira.

She took out her cell phone, continuing to speak while showing it to us.

“Please take out your phones and place them on your desk, everyone. If anyone has forgotten their phone, I ask that you go and retrieve it immediately… But it seems as though no one has forgotten their phone,” said Chabashira.

Cell phones were essential everyday items. You might even say they were the most important objects of all, being something you kept on you at all times.

Before long, Chabashira had verified that thirty-nine phones had been placed out on the desks. She resumed speaking once more.

“First, I’d like you all to go to the school’s official website and install a new application. It should be available for download at this time. Though the official name for the app is ‘Overall Ability,’ it will just show up as ‘OAA’ on your phone after you’ve installed it,” explained Chabashira.

A live-action demonstration video with text captions popped up on the blackboard screen and started to play. I supposed this was one of the conveniences now afforded to us, thanks to the digitization of our classroom. After following along with what Chabashira told us and what the instructions on the screen showed, I installed the app on my phone. It created an icon that had both the acronym “OAA” on it as well as what looked like an illustration of the school.

“After you’ve finished installing the app, please put down your phones. Please raise your hand if there’s something you’re having trouble understanding.”

The process was quite simple. Everyone was used to handling a phone, so no one struggled with this, and things proceeded smoothly.

“You Class D students aren’t the only ones being asked to install this app. Right now, everyone in school, across every grade level, is being asked to do so. This app is truly remarkable. It will certainly benefit the students of the Advanced Nurturing High School in a multitude of ways in the days to come. But ‘seeing is believing,’ as they say, so please boot up the app,” said Chabashira.

I tapped the icon and launched the app. When I did so, my phone’s camera automatically came on.

“By scanning your student ID with your camera, the initial setup will be completed automatically,” explained Chabashira.

Following her instructions, I held my student ID card out in front of the camera. It scanned the information on it, like my profile photo and student ID number, then continued the login process.

“Now, you should all have successfully created your own individual accounts. Moving forward, you won’t need to log in anymore. But because your account is tied to your phone, we do ask that you take extra care not to lose it.”

After finishing the login process, several different options were displayed.

“This app holds personal data for the entire school. For example, if you select Second-Year Class D, your names will be displayed, in standard order. Try it out,” said Chabashira.

Sure enough, profile pictures and full names for all thirty-nine students were displayed, in order.

“You are free to look at any profile, but it would probably be a good idea for you to tap on your own name first,” said Chabashira.

I tapped on my name, just as she had suggested. I had expected that I’d see only basic information like my date of birth, but that didn’t seem to be the case. What was displayed were items and number values that I haven’t ever seen before.

2 – D Ayanokouji Kiyotaka

First Year Results

Academic Ability: C (51)

Physical Ability: C+ (60)

Adaptability: D+ (37)

Societal Contribution: C+ (60)

Overall Ability: C (51)

“S-Sensei, uh, my results look like they’ve kind of turned into, like, stats in a video game or something!” shouted Ike.

“That’s right. These are your own individual performance scores, calculated by the school based on your achievements through the end of your first year here. You aren’t the only class who is able to access this information. It’s possible for students to view performance scores for students in other classes as well. In fact, any student in any grade level can do so. This system was adopted because it was deemed to be important for the future of your education,” said Chabashira.

In other words, the app’s purpose was to provide an overview of everyone’s individual performance scores, represented as numerical data. It also seemed like it could be used to send public messages to all students.

There was a question mark in the upper-right part of the screen, along with the word “Description.” When I pressed it, detailed information about each item was displayed.

Academic Ability: Calculated mainly based on scores on written exams, etc., given throughout the year

Physical Ability: Calculated based on evaluations from physical education classes, activity in clubs, and evaluations from special exams, etc.

Adaptability: Calculated based on your ability to adapt to society around you. This includes things such as how many friends you have, your position in your social circle and your communication skills, whether you can think on your feet, etc.

Societal Contribution: Calculated based on a variety of factors, such as your attitude in class, including any lateness or absences on your record, whether you’ve exhibited any problematic behavior, contributions made to the school via membership on the student council, etc.

Overall Ability: Student’s overall abilities are derived from the four values above. However, the effect that the Social Contribution score has on this calculation is reduced by half.

*Note: Method for calculating overall ability

(Academic Ability + Physical Ability + Adaptability + Social Contribution x 0.5) ÷ 350 x 100 (Rounded up to the nearest whole number)

I see. Based on the criteria, it made sense that my adaptability score would be lower than the others. And when it came to the number of friends I had and my communication skills, well, I wasn’t exactly flourishing there. If the other scores were evaluated based on what they typically saw from me, those numbers seemed reasonable, too. There were also fields for my scores for my second- and third-year evaluations in addition to my first year, but those were currently blank.

“Right now, only the scores for your first year are displayed. But now that you’ve begun your second year, your new evaluations will be given to you as they are assessed by the school, the scores being updated as time goes on. Scores will be updated at the beginning of the month, just like with Class Points. For example, Sudou, your current academic ability score is E. However, if you happened to get a perfect score on the next written exam, you would be given an A+ on your second-year evaluations page,” said Chabashira.

Which meant our second-year evaluations would be separate from the first-year evaluations. Our scores for this year would be evaluated based only on the events of this year. This also meant our scores over the course of the year were constantly being recorded. Even if Sudou got a perfect score in a written exam in April and got an A+ for his academic ability score, if he got a zero on the next written exam after that, he’d end up with a C rating.

That was how things would be over the course of the year. And then, our final average scores would be calculated at the end of the year. One of the things worth noting about this app was that we weren’t just able to check scores for our own class, but could look up the other classes, too. Up until this point, I couldn’t know anything about students I’d never interacted with unless I directly went out and gathered that information. But now, with only a glance, I could see names, faces, and what kind of scores someone had, regardless of what grade level they were in.

Incidentally, the data for the new first-year students seemed to be based on information from their third year of junior high and from their entrance exams. So, academic ability, physical ability, and societal contribution rankings aside, it was possible their current adaptability scores might not be all that accurate.

A handy tool for checking grades… Well, no. There was no way that was all there was to it. It was obvious this was going to play some kind of key role.

“I’m sure that the students who got rather unsatisfactory results aren’t thrilled about the idea of having their records retained like this. However, those students simply need to come to terms with the fact that they were the ones who spent their first year that way,” explained Chabashira.

Basically, the closer your precious academic and physical ability scores were to E, the more disgraced you would be.

“However, your first-year scores are nothing more than a past record. They will have no effect whatsoever on how you are assessed in the future, as second-year students. Which means it’s especially important that those of you who got disappointing results in your first year take this opportunity to reevaluate your priorities. By visualizing your scores this way, we’re hoping you’ll be encouraged to grow into your best selves,” she added.

I supposed that if our individual scores were going to be continuously recorded in an app that anyone could see from this point onward, many students would want to make an effort to make themselves look better. I was sure that would be effective to a certain degree when it came to prompting students to get their grades up, as Chabashira had said, but…

“Sensei, why is the evaluation metric for societal contribution a little bit different from the other three items, though?” asked Hirata Yousuke.

The effect of our societal contribution score on our overall ability score was half as much as the others. Hirata had his concerns about that, which was why he asked that question.

“Academic ability, physical ability, and adaptability. The school considers those three categories to be extremely important. Societal contribution, on the other hand, is a little different,” said Chabashira. “It is fundamentally based on ‘morals’ and ‘manners.’ It’s an assessment of how you conduct yourselves as students, examined from every possible angle. Things like how influential your voice is in a group, or how often you’re correct. Things like how you talk to and behave in front of your teachers, and whether you have any tardy arrivals or absences on your record. Whether or not you comply with various rules. Because these are basic skills and common courtesies you should naturally be striving toward anyway, their impact on your overall ability score is reduced.”

So unlike the other three categories, which you couldn’t dramatically improve overnight, we could greatly improve our societal contribution scores if we changed our attitudes from this day onward. That was the difference.

“This app is impartial. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a higher or lower-level class. Everyone is assessed similarly. Right now, if a student has a high overall ability evaluation, it’s safe to assume that person has successfully achieved something worthy of praise.”

The list was arranged in order by name, but there was a ‘sort’ feature, too. So I didn’t need to look at each student one by one to know who had the highest overall ability scores in Class 2-D. After trying out the sort function, I saw Yousuke had the top score.

2-D Hirata Yousuke

First Year Results

Academic Ability: B+ (76)

Physical Ability: B+ (79)

Adaptability: B (75)

Societal Contribution: A- (85)

Overall Ability: B+ (78)

You could understand Yousuke’s excellence with just one glance at his scores. These scores were nothing to scoff at. He was above average in every area. If he hadn’t openly exposed the weakness in his heart towards the end of our first year, his scores might have even been a little higher.

On the other hand, after choosing to sort students in descending order of overall ability, I saw Ike held the number one spot. His overall ability score was 37. He was actually tied with Sakura Airi, who also had an overall ability score of 37.

Sudou, who was considered by many to be the most likely candidate for the lowest score, actually appeared to have scored better than several students.

2-D Sudou Ken

First Year Results

Academic Ability: E+ (20)

Physical Ability: A+ (96)

Adaptability: D+ (40)

Societal Contribution: E+ (19)

Overall Ability: C (47)

His academic ability and societal contribution scores were quite low, thanks in part to his unruly behavior in the first year. However, his high physical ability assessment was enough to compensate for that, letting him avoid being the worst-ranked student. I did a little digging in the app and found he was the only student in our grade level that had gotten an A+ assessment in the physical ability category.

Sudou’s academic ability had improved since he had started school here, and he’d also been demonstrating mental and emotional growth. It seemed likely his scores would greatly improve from this year onward.

“Also, though this has nothing directly to do with Class D, a certain exception has been made for someone in your grade level. Sakayanagi Arisu, from Class 2-A, will have her physical ability score set at the same value as the student with the lowest score in the grade level,” explained Chabashira.

Sakayanagi Arisu had a physical disability that required her to use a cane to walk around normally. Meaning, even if she wanted to exercise, it wasn’t something she could really do. I supposed it wasn’t like they could entirely omit her physical ability score and still calculate her overall score, so it was a reasonable decision to place her at the bottom of the rankings.

At any rate, this tool for visualizing abilities might be considered essential to implementing the true meritocracy Nagumo had been advocating for.

“I’m sure this app will serve as a valuable tool, not just in getting you to change the way you see your grades, but also by getting you to interact with your fellow students, since you’ll be able to familiarize yourself with their names and faces regardless of grade level. However… Well, in my opinion, that’s not all. This is just my personal speculation, but… I’m thinking students who fail to keep their overall ability score above a certain level may be hit with a certain penalty , or something to that effect,” said Chabashira.

“Penalty… Wait, you couldn’t mean expulsion, do you…?”

“That is a possibility. But, as I just said, that’s just my personal speculation. It may not be true. Still, I think it’s fair to assume that the closer your overall ability score is to E, the greater the risks you face,” said Chabashira.

At this current point in time, Ike and Airi had the worst scores in class, with an overall ability score close to E. If they spent this year like they had the last one, they’d be in imminent danger.

“I’m sure some of you might have issues with how the school has evaluated you vs. how you have evaluated yourself. However, this is just the school’s current evaluation of you. If you’re unhappy about it, then show them what you’ve got. Do your best this year to convince the school to change their minds about you. Remember, the school isn’t all-knowing and omnipotent or anything,” said Chabashira.

“B-But how are we supposed to show them, sensei?!” wailed Ike, raising his hand in a panic after having confirmed that he was indeed ranked at the bottom.

“Well, here’s one way. There is admittedly a difference in accuracy when it comes to evaluating the physical abilities of a student who does participate in club activities vs. a student who does not. If you’re feeling confident in yourself, try joining a club,” said Chabashira.

She was saying that students who directly demonstrated what they could do to the school were more likely to be given more favorable treatment. However, students were still evaluated on a case-by-case basis. If one of them tried to show off too much, or too carelessly, it could lead to problems.

“It’s almost like we’re each fighting individual battles,” muttered Horikita, under her breath.

Chabashira didn’t miss what Horikita said. It seemed like the introduction of this app completely negated the kind of battles we’d been fighting so far—together, as a class. I was sure Horikita wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“Well, that’s both incorrect and correct. This system, which is to be introduced starting this year, was proposed by the current student council president, Nagumo Miyabi. School administrators approved and adopted it,” said Chabashira.

So Nagumo’s dream of creating a system where individuals were assessed on their own merits had been realized. I was guessing the reason he didn’t make that many moves last year was because it took quite a bit of time and effort to get this app off the ground.

“But the fundamental concept remains unchanged. The school is expecting you to work together as a class, just as you’ve done so far. Please don’t forget that point, and continue to do your best, day after day,” said Chabashira.

After we finished installing the app and Chabashira finished giving us her explanation, our first period was to an end. Now that we had recess, students began to stare at their phones, noses glued to their screens. I was sure they wanted to see their own scores, as well as the scores of their classmates and students from the other classes.

“Well, I really don’t like that they’re treatin’ me like I have less common sense than Kouenji, of all people!” shouted Sudou after looking intently through the app, glaring at Kouenji as he did.

After I heard him say that, I decided to check for myself, while still keeping my ears open (though he was speaking so loudly that I could overhear pretty easily anyway).

2-D Kouenji Rokusuke

First Year Results

Academic Ability: B (71)

Physical Ability: B+ (78)

Adaptability: D- (24)

Societal Contribution: D- (25)

Overall Ability: C (53)

Given the fact that Kouenji had demonstrated a fair amount of proficiency regularly during class and on tests, he had scored highly in both academic ability and physical ability.

“What? Come on, dude, it’s like, whatever, right? ’Sides, you’re wayyyy better than he is when it comes to physical ability, man,” Ike grumbled, his jealousy clear in his voice, since he didn’t excel in any particular area.

“That’s prolly only ’cause Kouenji doesn’t take anything seriously. Though I hate to admit it,” said Sudou.

Just as Sudou had suggested, Kouenji’s physical abilities were exceptionally high. Off the charts even. He had potential equal to or greater than Sudou’s, but he wasn’t involved with any clubs and his participation in things like physical education class was wildly irregular, since it depended largely on his mood. If he wasn’t personally interested in something, he would skip it without a moment’s hesitation, or might even suddenly abandon it. It also wasn’t all that uncommon for him to just not lift a finger in the first place.

In contrast, Sudou always took things seriously, no matter the task. The results he achieved in that arena had put him at the top of the class. It was no wonder there was a huge gap in their assessments, even though they had similar physical ability.

The part that Sudou got tripped up on was societal contribution. In other words, the category that was all about manners and morals. In that regard, Kouenji, who was being singled out by Sudou right now, was just as much a problem child as Sudou. It seemed Sudou was really unhappy with the fact that he’d scored lower than Kouenji, even though it was only by a small margin.

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand why he might want to complain, but… I was guessing the reason Kouenji had scored higher than Sudou in societal contribution was because he hadn’t had as many opportunities to act to the detriment of the class or the school in general. It was no surprise that Sudou, given his suspension and violent outbursts and such, had scored lower.

Even though Kouenji had heard everything Sudou was saying, he acted as though it had nothing to do with him. He hadn’t even bothered looking at the OAA app more than what was strictly necessary, while everyone else seemed totally engrossed by it.

I supposed that after spending more than a year here at this school, the thing that had changed the least was probably Kouenji.

Anyway, we could now visualize what our grades were like for our first year. This move by the school—the introduction of this app—presented both advantages and disadvantages. For example, the existence of an overall ability category now provided a provisional ranking for the students in class. If a rather inconvenient special exam took place now, it wouldn’t be necessary to answer the question of who should step forward as a candidate for possible expulsion. The students with low overall ability scores would be the ones we’d focus on.

Ike—and Airi, since she was tied with him at dead last in the rankings—had to be very anxious right now. Like they were on pins and needles.

3.2

S ECOND PERIOD BEGAN , the topic of the OAA app still lingering in the back of our minds. We were probably about to get to the other topic at hand. Receiving a full explanation about that other thing . Or so the students were thinking—and that prediction was quickly proved correct.

“And now, I’ll provide an overview of the next special exam,” said Chabashira, immediately launching into the topic as if she were starting a normal lesson. “This is your first special exam as second-year students, and it’s going to involve some unprecedented new ventures, the likes of which have never been seen before. Such as the introduction of this app.”

Was that Tsukishiro’s influence? Or was it Nagumo’s? At any rate, it seemed the school system was also undergoing some major changes.

“The crucial thing for you to know is that this will be a written test in which you second-year students will be partnered up with the new arrivals, the first-year students,” said Chabashira.

“Partnered up with… first-year students…?”

Up until this point, we’d hardly done anything that cut across the boundaries between grade levels. There were some exceptions, like the school camp, but that had still been part of the normal framework of inter-class competition. Had those walls been taken down with the introduction of OAA, then?

“In this special exam, you’ll be mainly assessed on your written test-taking skills and your communications skills,” said Chabashira.

Our academic and communication skills. At first glance, the two things didn’t seem to go together.

“The importance of this written text really needs no further explanation. But until now, the school has never had such in-depth interactions between students of different grade levels, except for things like the sports festival and the school camp. Which is precisely why the school has determined that its students’ communication skills were not as well-developed as they could be,” said Chabashira.

“B-But, we’re still competing against other classes in our grade, right? I dunno, it’s just like, something about this feels off,” said Ike, who looked a little unhappy about the fact that the first-year students were going to be heavily involved.

“I understand how you feel, but try thinking about it objectively. When you first go out into the world and join society at large, the people you encounter won’t just be new, fresh-faced graduates like you. Some might be in their second year in the workforce. You’ll even be competing with veterans who’ve been out in the world for twenty or thirty years. People much older or younger than you could come to be your rivals,” said Chabashira.

“That’s… Well, yeah, I guess I can picture that.”

“While other parts of the world are embracing meritocracy, many Japanese companies continue to be bound by systems of seniority and permanent lifetime employment. If you think it feels strange to interact with students older or younger than you, you should really change your perspective. To put it in terms that might be easier for you to understand, there’s a concept called ‘skipping grades’ that’s a widespread practice in places like the United States, England, and Germany. It’s not unusual for small children to study together with high school or even college students. Can you imagine and accept the idea of elementary school students here in this classroom, learning with you, in the same fashion?”

My classmates let their imaginations run wild, just as Chabashira had prompted them to do. And I was sure they still couldn’t understand it. It must have felt impossible or strange to them, and it was certainly true that skipping grades was rarely done in Japan. In fact, while there were certain conditions that had to be met in order for someone to skip grades, I was sure many people didn’t even know that it was possible to do so.

The idea of skipping grades didn’t really fit with the current status-quo in Japan, where learning was treated as something that you did in an equal or egalitarian manner, along a set, linear path. And so, the system wasn’t entirely accepted here. Personally, I had no resistance to the idea. There was no such linear learning style in the White Room.

However, I was also certain what Chabashira was saying right now wasn’t everything. Imitating what other countries were doing wasn’t sufficient; Japan needed to have an educational system that fit Japan’s social climate. Chabashira probably knew this, too, but I was guessing she had no choice but to explain things to us in accordance with the orders she had received from higher up.

“There will probably be cases in the future where you’ll be competing against first-year and third-year students. But this time, you’ll be cooperating with one another. Please keep that in mind,” said Chabashira.

Was that why we were having this special exam that required both written test-taking skills and communication skills? Some students were cocking their heads to the side in apparent confusion, perhaps because they were unable to imagine what the rules would be like.

“The best way to understand how this will work is for you to think back to one of your special exams from last year. It’s probably easier for you to wrap your heads around this test if you think of it as an improved, modified version of the Paper Shuffle exam, where you had to find a partner from among your classmates,” said Chabashira.

The Paper Shuffle had been a special exam where we had to form pairs with a classmate and then handle taking a test together. Essentially, we wouldn’t be partnering with someone from our own class this time, but rather with first-year students, from the sounds of it. Even though that seemed like the only difference, it was a huge one.

“You are free to decide which of the first-years you want to partner up with, from any class. The partner selection period is about two weeks, starting today and lasting until the end of the month. You’ll have time both to carefully select your partners and devote yourselves to your studies,” said Chabashira.

With how this special exam worked, it was no wonder we were being made to install the OAA app at this stage. The first-year students obviously wouldn’t be familiar with the names and faces of their seniors, and the second-year students wouldn’t be familiar with the names and faces of first-years. In the Paper Shuffle, where we’d picked partners from among our classmates, we were able to do so freely, with nuance and coordination, precisely because we were choosing from among people we knew well. This made it easy for a student who was poor at academics to make it through with someone else’s support.

This exam, however, was different. It operated on the premise that both students would be looking for an excellent partner. Moreover, instead of partnering up with students in our grade level, we’d be partnering with first-years, who we had no relationship with. The first-years and second-years were each working with their own unique set of circumstances, too. We each had our own things to deal with.

More importantly, it took a considerable amount of time to build a relationship of trust from nothing. If we wanted to build such a relationship without this app, then two weeks would most certainly not be enough. With the OAA app, however, we could take some shortcuts by being able to recognize names and faces based on what we saw in the app. Moreover, since we could get a rough sense of everyone’s current academic ability, it would be easy for us to use it as reference when looking for partners.

“On the day of the written test, you will be tested on five subjects. Each subject is worth one hundred points, for a total of five hundred points. And the most important rule is… Well, this time, there are two areas in which you’ll be competing. As a class and as individuals,” said Chabashira.

She held her finger up to the blackboard, bringing up the display for the results of the special exam.

Class Rewards For Each Grade Level

The winning class will be determined based on each class’s average score, which will be derived from the scores of all members of the class and the scores of all their partners. The Class Point rewards are fifty points, thirty points, ten points, and zero points, in descending order of average score.

Individual Rewards

Winners are determined based on the combined scores of each pair of partners. The top five pairs will receive 100,000 Private Points each as a special reward. Pairs who score in the top thirtieth percentile will each receive 10,000 points. In the event that a pair has a total score of 500 points or less, the second-year student will be expelled, and the first-year student will not receive any Private Points for a period of three months, regardless of how many Class Points their class has.

In addition, any student determined to have manipulated their scores, such as by purposefully answering questions incorrectly, will be expelled, regardless of their grade level. Similarly, in the event that a third party is found to have forced another student to lower their score, that third party will be expelled.

“I’m sure you already have an inkling of this, but in this exam, students with excellent academic ability will be highly sought after,” said Chabashira.

If we didn’t have the OAA app, we wouldn’t have been able to see those kinds of details. But with the release of this app, students’ abilities were now on full display for everyone to see. The worse a students’ academic ability score, the harder it would be for that student to find a partner. It was clear that the students who had concerns about their grades were likely to be left behind.

Smart students would, naturally, try to team up with smart partners and aim for the top rewards. Students who struggled with their grades would similarly seek smart partners in order to survive. If two poor students, of which there were many, ended up teaming up, they might very well score under the five-hundred-point mark. If that happened, the second-year student would face the harsh reality of expulsion.

Second-year students understood how this school worked and had developed more than a few friendships within their classes. They would probably try to help their classmates, even if it meant giving up on the higher-level rewards. The first-year students, however, would naturally struggle to unite their classes for now. As a result, they wouldn’t give all that much thought to the fact that a student they didn’t know very well, whom they weren’t really friends with, would have to go three months without getting any Private Points. It wouldn’t seem like all that big a deal to them.

It would be just like that time a year ago, when almost everyone in our class was thinking about abandoning Sudou… No, actually, it would be even worse than that.

“Partnerships are established based on mutual acceptance from both participants, and they are finalized via registration in the OAA app. It will be possible for you to select a partner from this moment onward, but keep in mind that once your partner has given their consent and the match has been confirmed, you will not be allowed to dissolve the partnership afterward for any reason,” explained Chabashira.

That made it all the harder to choose quickly, unless the other person’s academic ability was especially high. A hasty decision could lead to regret down the line.

The monitor refreshed, then displayed information related to partnerships.

Methods and Rules for Determining a Partner

Students are allowed to send a partner request per day to the person they wish to partner with, using the OAA app. If the partner request is not accepted by the other party, your ability to send a fresh request will be reset at 24:00.

If the other party does accept your partner request, the partnership will be confirmed, and you will not be allowed to cancel the partnership afterward.

*Note: The only exception to this rule is certain extenuating circumstances, such as if the other student has been expelled or is seriously ill.

Once a partnership has been confirmed, the OAA app will be updated at 8:00 a.m. on the following day, and both students will not be able to accept any new partner requests.

*Note: The names of who students have partnered up with will not be shown in the app.

With these rules in place, you couldn’t just send out a large number of partner requests at random. And even if you did send a request to a specific person, that request might end up going to waste, because that person might already have partnered with someone else that day and you wouldn’t know until the app updated at 8:00 a.m the following day.

I didn’t know if a student would really accept a partner request from someone they didn’t know too well, though. Most likely, these rules were put in place as a measure to make it impossible to know who had teamed up with who. It would make it too easy to estimate the strength of each class if the details of the partnerships were shown right from the start, I supposed.

“Sensei! But it’s like, there’s no way there’ll be a single kouhai who’ll want to partner up with me, though! Are you seriously saying that a complete moron like me has to somehow make this work with just my communication skills?!” wailed Ike.

His lamentation was entirely justified. The chances of someone needing a student with poor grades, like him, were quite low until that someone ran out of options for other students they wanted to team up with.

That is, if you were doing things the proper way, of course.

“Don’t worry. The school has taken certain things into account to ensure no one gets left behind, no matter how many students fail to find partners. In the event that you are unable to pair with someone before the special exam is held, pairings will be selected randomly at eight in the morning on the day of the test,” explained Chabashira.

Ike held a hand up to his chest after hearing what could be interpreted as a measure intended to provide us with relief. But that moment of relief was short-lived.

“That being said, students who fail to find a partner will not be treated the same as students who did find partners. Therefore, any pair created via the method I just described—the one where you run out of time and have someone chosen at random for you—will be subject to a penalty of five percent of your total score,” said Chabashira.

The entire class let out wails of agony after hearing about the five-percent penalty. While the system they had in place meant you could still take the exam, you’d still suffer a painful setback.

“Sensei, three students have been expelled so far from our grade. Won’t that mean there will be three extra first-year students?” asked Yousuke.

Upon hearing such a trivial question, Chabashira answered him in an indifferent tone.

“The three extra students will be compensated in the form of having their points doubled. However, they will also be subjected to the same five percent penalty for not finding a partner I mentioned previously, so I’m sure not many of them will be happy about the thought of being left alone.”

So each of those three people would be taking the exam alone, filling both roles of their respective pair themselves. I supposed it would be fine if three first-year students with excellent academic skills were alone, then.

However, I couldn’t afford to only worry about Ike and Sudou during this exam. Because this special exam was most certainly going to be exceptionally difficult for me.

The reason it was going to be so difficult was the part where you’d get expelled if your total score was five hundred points or below. To put it another way, that meant my partner, who would be quite important to me clearing the special exam, had to get at least one point. Even if I got a perfect score in all five subjects, if my partner scored a zero, then expulsion would be unavoidable.

Under normal circumstances, this would be a dangerous and extremely pointed rule. Since first-year students faced no risk of expulsion themselves, they could purposefully botch the test or get a low score to force their second-year partner to be expelled… But the school had devised another rule to stop that kind of thing from happening.

“In addition, any student determined to have manipulated their scores, such as by purposefully answering questions incorrectly, will be expelled, regardless of their grade level. Similarly, in the event that a third party has been found to have forced another student to lower their score, that third party will be expelled.”

You could say that part was both incredibly important and indispensable to this special exam’s legitimacy. It was a measure put in place to prevent malicious behavior, like someone trying to extort Private Points out of another student by threatening to purposefully throw the exam. With this rule in place, you couldn’t blatantly cut corners on the test. Also, the average students would be safer.

However, while these rules would normally be enough to put my worries to rest, they were not adequate to make this test a sure thing this time. That was because…for a student from the White Room, it was a different story.

The student from the White Room was operating on the premise that they were going to get expelled eventually, anyway. That rule wasn’t going to stop them. If that student successfully managed to pair up with me, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to purposefully score a zero on the test. Meaning, if I happen to choose the student from the White Room as my partner, that’s it, I’m out.

Once the special exam began, there was a one-in-one-hundred-and-sixty chance or higher that I’ll get expelled. Now, if there was a rule that stated something like, “In the event a student’s partner is expelled due to some form of dishonest behavior, the other student in the partnership will be treated as having gotten a passing grade, without further penalty,” that would be good. However, as far as I could tell, no such guarantees were present. The fact that no one had bothered to bring that point up was a result of the self-serving assumption that no student would purposefully go out of their way to do something that would result in their own expulsion.

Well, no. It wasn’t just that. In the unlikely event that a student did do such a thing, the school would probably take immediate action to deal with it. I was sure they’d probably decree that expelling a student who’d simply been the victim of someone else’s cheating would be too harsh.

But I was also sure that if I, and only I, were the one in such a situation, that man would enforce the punishment. He’d say it was my fault for pairing up with a student who didn’t take the exam seriously.

He’d purposefully put a small loophole in the rules to let him react to things as he needed in the moment. The image of Tsukishiro flickered in the back of my mind. These were most definitely rules that he had produced. There was no way he would miss the opportunity presented by this special exam. If I hemmed and hawed and lagged behind the other students in choosing a partner, it would mean people other than the new White Room student would be partnering up, increasing my chances of ending up with the White Room agent.

It would be nice if I could act quickly to pair up with a student whom I didn’t think was from the White Room, but my academic ability, as rated by OAA, was C. I wasn’t exactly in a position to pick and choose partners as I pleased. But even if I tried to pick a first-year with a poor score in that department, they probably wouldn’t allow me to pair up with them, unable to shake their uneasiness at me being ranked C in terms of academic ability.

In that case, I would probably have to find a partner who was also around C-rank in academic ability and wouldn’t mind pairing up with me. But it was possible that my opponent was already lying in wait, anticipating me doing so, ready to ambush me.

As soon as I heard the rules explained, I was certain this test was going to be a bigger challenge than any I’d faced before.

“Sensei, about how difficult is this exam going to be?” asked Horikita, raising her hand and posing a critical question.

“To be perfectly frank, there are going to be many extremely tough questions on this exam. You could say it will, without a doubt, be one of the most difficult exams that you’ve ever taken. But…that’s only if you’re aiming to get a high score, though. This test is designed in such a way that even a student with an academic ability ranking of around E can get at least one hundred and fifty points without any prior preparation. If you study for a few days, you’ll probably get around two hundred points. And, well, this is only a rough approximation, but…”

Chabashira directed our attention to the screen, which displayed a list of estimated scores split up by academic ability ranking.

Academic Ability E: 150 – 200 Points

Academic Ability D: 200 – 250 Points

Academic Ability C: 250 – 300 Points

Academic Ability B: Around 350 Points

Academic Ability A: Around 400 Points

“If you prepare for this test properly, you should score somewhere around the numbers shown here. But don’t forget that if you get overconfident and neglect your studies, you might obviously end up scoring lower,” said Chabashira, before quickly adding that we shouldn’t get too confident about the numbers we saw displayed on the screen. “Also, as I’m sure you can see if you look at the part where a student with A-ranked academic ability gets around four hundred points, it’s unlikely for a student to get over ninety points in every subject, let alone perfect score on this exam.”

That was probably a direct reflection of what she’d said earlier about this being the most difficult exam we’d faced so far. In any case, if two students with an academic ability near E-rank were paired up, they would most definitely be in danger of being expelled.

“Well, then, I’ve finished providing an overview of the special exam to be held in April. Please buckle down and prepare yourself for the challenge,” said Chabashira.

She went on to verbally explain the scope of the test questions. Apparently, according to her, we should be all right as long as we thoroughly went over the material that we had learned in our first year.

3.3

O NCE THAT WAS OVER and we entered the break between classes, many students inevitably huddled around Yousuke. Upon seeing that, Horikita also immediately got up from her seat and went over to join them. I decided I’d listen in on their conversation for the time being.

“Wh-wh-wh-what do I do, Hirata?! My academic ability ranking is E! I’m totally up the creek without a paddle, man!” Ike wailed, clutching his head, begging Yousuke for help.

Yousuke scanned his eyes over the entire class as he thought of a way to calm Ike down. “Okay, first, just calm down. Then let’s try and come up with a plan of action.”

“Yes. There’s no need to panic,” added Horikita.

“B-but, dude!!” wailed Ike.

“This definitely isn’t an easy exam, that’s for sure. In order to ensure that you get a score of five hundred and one points or higher, a student with an academic ability rank of E needs to be paired up with a first-year student of B rank or better. To put it another way, if you’re paired with a student of B rank or better, you should be able to fairly safely pass this exam.”

Horikita explained that what Ike needed to do to get through this test wasn’t all that complicated, perhaps to calm him down.

“Besides, we’ve already worked together and overcome similar tests in the year we’ve been here. If we stay as united as we have until now and make sure to fully prepare, it’s not impossible for you to get over two hundred and fifty, or even three hundred points,” she added.

“Yes. It’s exactly like Horikita-san says. If we all work together, I’m sure we can all pass this exam without a hitch,” added Yousuke.

The combination of what Horikita and Yousuke were saying gradually made everyone else around them start to calm down, little by little.

“The important thing is to not pick a partner lightly. The only instance where you’d be able to make a split-second decision would be if a first-year student with an academic ability ranking of B or better is willing to partner with you,” said Yousuke.

It was certainly true that once a student decided on a partner, they couldn’t undo it. You had to be absolutely certain that you were picking a partner who could put you both over the five-hundred-point threshold.

“As for those of you who have academic ability rankings of B+ or higher, I’d like for you to not rush to any conclusions. It might be important to keep a certain number of good students available if we’re going to save everyone. At any rate, regardless of whether you’re academically capable or not, please make sure to consult with either Hirata-kun or myself if anything does come up,” said Horikita.

She’d said only the bare minimum she needed to right now, asking for everyone not to panic and make any rash decisions. The honors students like Keisei and Mii-chan nodded along without hesitation, showing that they would cooperate. I supposed Horikita could have taken on the responsibility of negotiating partnerships for everyone in class, but that would be difficult to carry out the process smoothly. Since there were rivals competing for partnerships, this would also be a fight against time.

“I think I’ll try negotiating with some of the kids in soccer, for the time being. There are some first-years in there who are good students, and I think we might be able to get some partnerships set up,” Yousuke replied after listening intently to what Horikita just said, directing his comment at her.

Throwing more people at the problem was also a satisfactory solution.

“If you’re okay with that, then yes, please do. Your help would be invaluable,” said Horikita.

An activity related to club activity wasn’t really in her field of expertise. Yousuke smiled warmly, nodding.

“Also, I think we should hold a meeting for the students who have an academic ability ranking of C- or lower, just in case,” he said.

“That sounds like the right call to me. Let’s work together to try and find partners for everyone,” said Horikita.

Just being able to explain the plan of attack to everyone in class right away, like this, would probably make all the difference. That way, they could address all areas of weakness, and everyone in class would have some peace of mind, knowing they weren’t being abandoned.

“Horikita-san, just one more thing—”

“There are some students who have an academic ability ranking of C or better who aren’t particularly good at holding dialog. I intend to follow up with those who would struggle to form a partnership for reasons other than their academic scores,” said Horikita.

They were quick-witted enough to understand each other without even needing to go into detail. They were perfectly in sync, with the only the bare minimum amount of discussion required.

“Thank you. That would be great,” replied Yousuke.

Horikita and Yousuke continued making plans without any hiccups, continuing to sort out the situation in a way they both agreed with. Though they had clashed once before, they were working together almost unbelievably well right now, not just because Horikita was becoming a more amicable person, but also because of Yousuke’s flexible way of thinking.

“By the way, Sudou-kun. How are things with the basketball club? I’m sure some first-year students must have joined, right?” said Horikita, seeking Sudou’s opinion, since he was rather enthusiastic about his club activities.

However, when she asked him that question, he averted his eyes, seeming somewhat embarrassed.

“Y-yeah, but…” said Sudou.

“But?” asked Horikita.

“Well, it’s only been a few days since we’ve started club stuff, but well, we’ve been takin’ a pretty, y’know, Spartan approach. Or like… Well, you know,” said Sudou.

“You mean you’ve been hard on them, then?” said Horikita.

“Well, yeah, I guess you could put it that way. I mean, basketball is pretty hardcore,” said Sudou.

I supposed the point he was making was that he might already be in a position where people disliked him. Of course, that was precisely because he took basketball so seriously. The first-years would be very divided on whether they liked or disliked a senior who was strict when it came to practice.

“I understand. Just concentrate on your studies for the time being, and try not to think about the special exam.” Horikita decided to give Sudou a stern warning, since it might backfire on him if he went ahead and did something careless.

“O-okay,” said Sudou.

3.4

O UR LUNCH BREAK came next. After I had finished eating, Horikita called me out into the hallway.

“This isn’t something we should discuss in the classroom. If we talk here, we’ll know if anyone comes by,” said Horikita.

“Okay, so? This is about the upcoming special exam, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, it is. We’ve been told by Chabashira-sensei that the coming special exam will be quite challenging. It will certainly be an ordeal for students with less academic ability, but for you and me, it will be the ideal setting for our competition,” said Horikita.

She must have wanted to address personal matters first, because she opened right with that. Horikita and I had promised each other something over spring break. Namely, that we would compete to see who could get the highest score on a written exam, in one particular subject. If I won, Horikita would join the student council. If Horikita won, I would, freely and without reservation, employ the skills that I had been hiding over the past year for the sake of the class.

We had been advised that it would be difficult for even a student with A-rank academic abilities to score ninety points or higher in one subject on the test. If the difficulty level was that high, it was unlikely we’d both end up getting perfect scores and thus have a tie.

“I trust you have no issues with that?” said Horikita, confirming that I had no objections about settling the matter in the upcoming written test.

“Of course not.” Since there was nothing for me to gain by pointlessly delaying things further, I agreed with her request like it was a matter of course.

“Glad to hear it. Well, I suppose we can move onto the next topic of discussion right away, then.”

Horikita, satisfied that I had reaffirmed the promise we had made, pulled out her phone. She then launched the OAA app we had just installed that morning.

“I looked up the number of honors students in the first-year classes who have an academic ability ranking of B or better. There were seventeen in Class A, thirteen in Class B, thirteen in Class C, and eleven in Class D,” said Horikita.

A total of fifty-four, then. You could say that was a pretty reasonable percentage of students.

“In our class, there are only four students who are ranked E for academic ability. If you include students ranked D, that’s a total of twelve people. So, we’re in a position where we have more than enough manpower in the first-year classes to cover those students,” said Horikita.

“The question, then, is how many of those honors students we can draw over to us in Class D, I suppose.”

Even though there were fifty-four students, it was inevitable there would be a mad scramble to snatch them up. If we dropped the ball, it was possible they’d all be stolen out from under us.

“Yes. The class that is able to secure many of those fifty-four students will naturally be in an advantageous position, while the class that partners with a large number of D+ or lower-ranked students will simply be at a disadvantage,” said Horikita.

That app that was just introduced to us came equipped with some very extremely useful features. The class that used those features well would be most likely to win.

“Sakayanagi-san, Ryuuen-san, and even Ichinose-san… I’m sure all of the classes will be making their move starting today,” said Horikita.

Of the leaders, Class A’s Sakayanagi would most likely launch her attack right away. All she had to do was take advantage of the fact that she was in the class with the fewest students who were worried about their level of academic ability, and work hard to bring as many of the smartest first-year students over to their side as possible. Even from the perspective of a first-year student, the stability of Class A was something that could immediately be understood just by looking at the OAA app. If they worked with Class A, they could easily rake in the top-tier rewards.

We, on the other hand, didn’t have that luxury.

“First and foremost, we should be prioritizing helping our classmates who are ranked E and D in academic ability to find partners of higher rank,” I replied.

Horikita nodded lightly in agreement.

“I wouldn’t call it complete or anything, but I’ve produced a list of people to prioritize finding partners for. I think Sudou-kun should be the one we take care of first.”

“Hold on a minute. It’s true that Sudou’s academic ability ranking is E, but do you think that’s really what we need to do?” I asked.

Sudou’s grades when he first started school here were exceptionally bad, and he’d received an E-ranking as a result. However, in the latter half of the first year, we saw his academic performance slowly begin to improve little by little. Meaning it wouldn’t be surprising at all if he were actually a little bit better now than he used to be.

“Yes, I suppose you’ve got a point… It’s true that he’s matured quite a bit, compared to how he was before. Even during spring break, Sudou-kun spent a lot of time wrapped up in his studies, trying to improve areas that he was lagging in before,” said Horikita.

“Were you having study sessions with him?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. I don’t have the kind of time to hang around him every day. He’s learned how to study by himself, to a certain extent. I just drop in and check his progress once every few days, and then head back,” said Horikita.

“Huh…”

I thought he was putting in an effort because Horikita was with him. Honestly, that was some really impressive dedication on Sudou’s part.

“To be honest, I think Sudou-kun’s ranking has probably gone up a little bit… I feel like even when compared to other students, he’s gone up to D or D+,” said Horikita.

Of course, that was nothing more than a simple and optimistic estimate. But speaking as someone who knew what Sudou was like a year ago, he had definitely matured quite a bit.

“If I remember correctly, the old Sudou used to panic a lot when we heard about special exams, and he’d get really upset. He’s calmed down a lot,” I told her.

Then again, he did kick up a fuss about stuff like scoring worse than Kouenji in the societal contribution category.

“So, even though by your reckoning he’s a D or better, you still think he’s a higher priority than Ike?” I added.

“His personality and appearance both played a big part in my decision. What he said about the rather heavy-handed attitude he’s been taking with the new students in his club also caught my attention,” said Horikita.

It sounded like she had arrived at her decision not because she was playing favorites with Sudou, but because she had properly analyzed the situation.

“Let’s suppose you’re a first-year student who doesn’t know anything… Who do you think would be easier to team up with, Sudou-kun or Ike-kun? Assuming that they have the same exact grades, on the surface,” said Horikita.

“Well, I guess I’d have to say Ike,” I replied.

Sudou’s gigantic height, imposing physique, red hair, and stern tone certainly made a frightening first impression. If I had to pair up with someone who had the same academic ranking as him, I would want to pick Ike, thinking he might be easier to deal with.

“Forget about finding someone with a high level of academic skill—simply finding any partner at all for him might be a challenge,” said Horikita.

Which was precisely why she had placed him at the top of her list of students to help, I supposed.

“I understand. If at all possible, I’d like to pair him up with a first-year student who has an academic ability ranking of B- or better,” I replied.

“Yes. If we do that, I think he can definitely make it through. I’d like to move quickly. Can you help me?” asked Horikita.

“Help? I can’t really think of any way that I can help, though.”

“You can just stick by me and tell me what you think. I just want someone that I can trust by my side,” said Horikita.

“Meaning, you trust me?”

“Of those of our classmates who can move around freely, I trust you,” she replied.

Based on how she phrased that, I wasn’t exactly sure if that meant she trusted me a lot or a little…

“Or are you perhaps worried that you won’t be able to beat me if you take even a single minute away from your studies?” she asked.

That attempt at provocation was actually rather counterproductive. She was just giving me the perfect excuse to get out of helping her by claiming I needed to study in my room because I was apparently nervous

“Yeah, I’m very worried—”

Just when I was about to graciously take advantage of the excuse I’d been given, my phone started to vibrate. There was a public message from the leader of Class 2-B, Ichinose Honami, posted in the OAA app for everyone to read.

“We just got permission to hold a meet-and-greet for first- and second-years in the gym today from 4 to 5 p.m. If you’ve got time to spare, please stop by!”

The message was a godsend for the students who were struggling to figure out how to get in touch with the first-years.

“Just as I’d expect from Ichinose-san. Well done. It’s just like her to think of everyone, not just her own group,” said Horikita.

While it was unclear exactly how many people would be attending this meet-and-greet, I could imagine a fair number of people would be there. It was highly likely that partnerships might be formed right then and there. But rather than joy, I could see a hint of something like frustration on Horikita’s face. She might have been thinking of a similar strategy.

“What’s the matter? The special exam’s only just started, right?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I suppose that our first order of business has been decided,” said Horikita.

I guessed she meant we were going to be attending the meet-and-greet after class today. And, before I knew it, I guessed it had been decided that I was helping her. Well, I supposed it wasn’t that big a deal if all I was doing was tagging along, but…

Horikita shot me a look, as if she knew what I was thinking and was testing me.

“All right. I’ll go,” I told her.

“Oh, my. Are you really going to lend me a hand, then? I thought you’d been avoiding me lately, but… Well, you’re being quite cooperative, aren’t you?” said Horikita.

Wow, that was impressive. The person who was aware of the fact I was avoiding her just openly calling me out about it like that.

“I was just thinking of keeping a close eye on you to see what kind of strategy you come up with,” I replied.

“I see. I might have been a bit hasty in using the word ‘cooperative’ then.”

Even so, Horikita seemed like she was satisfied with my answer. That answer was just a pretext, though. This was a test where I had to put on an act if I was going to survive. There were some things that would be easier for me to deal with if I were working together with Horikita.

“In that case, you can think of what I’m about to say next as me just talking to myself. While it’s true that getting Sudou-kun and Ike-kun over the threshold to pass this exam is a major prerequisite, this special exam is based on the idea of competing to snatch up the best students. So naturally, we need to pay close attention to what Ryuuen-kun and Sakayanagi-san are doing… Meaning, we need to be mindful of their strategies,” said Horikita.

Although what she’d just said was completely obvious, the old Horikita wouldn’t have thought this far ahead already. She would probably have only concentrated on making sure Sudou and the other students made it through, and neglected to keep track of the enemy’s strategy. However, this time around, she was being extremely cautious right from the start.

“Of course, I don’t know exactly what those two are going to do at this current point in time. But I think Private Points will be a key part of it,” said Horikita.

Meaning cash. Horikita was saying that at this school, the power of Private Points spoke for itself. As of right now, there was no connection whatsoever between the first-years and the second-years. Which meant that the best way to wrap up any negotiation quickly was to use Private Points.

“I don’t know exactly how much financial muscle Class A and Class C have at their disposal, but if we’re competing to recruit students, I’m sure buying people out or bribery will be their go-to strategies,” said Horikita.

“Yeah. Points will be the easiest thing for the new students to understand.”

It was easy to imagine people paying out a number of points corresponding to how well students could perform academically. However, if all sides carelessly threw wads of cash around to fight this battle, then our stores of Private Points would be depleted in no time. That was especially true for Class D, since we’d been in a financially stagnant situation for the past year. We didn’t even need to run an actual comparison to know that our sum of points—or rather, our financial power—fell far short of what the other classes had.

“Under normal circumstances, we should also invest some money to secure a certain number of students,” I added.

The only thing that could compete with money was, essentially, money itself. Playing the money game was necessary to see who could offer more. However, the fact that Horikita seemed somewhat frustrated about the message Ichinose had posted earlier must have meant…

“First, let’s do some reconnaissance at the meet-and-greet. If an opportunity presents itself, we might move quickly, but otherwise, I don’t intend to rush. That’s fine with me,” said Horikita.

Perhaps she hadn’t firmly settled on a plan of action yet, because she didn’t go into more detail about her plans.

“By the way, Ayanokouji-kun. Am I correct in assuming that you can find a partner on your own?” she asked.

“Would you find me one if I asked you?” I replied.

“Speaking objectively, your academic ability is C. So basically, it should be fine no matter who you partner up with. It should be easy enough for me to manage while I’m already dealing with other things, though,” said Horikita.

“Well, if I run into any trouble, I’ll come to you.”

I could rule out any first-year students who decided to partner with Horikita or Yousuke as White Room agents. It wasn’t out of the question for me to try asking them at the last minute, before the pairing was finalized, if I could switch in to replace them. However, if my opponent knew everything ahead of time, they would probably take into the account the possibility of me making that choice when I was in trouble. Since all I could do was try to predict their actions and then to outmaneuver them, it was difficult for me to say I had a one-hundred percent chance of evading them with that method.

More importantly, I was sure the first-year student wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about being forced to swap partners after they had already decided to partner up with Horikita or Yousuke. They wouldn’t agree to that easily.

“You’d best not take too long, though. It’s not like there’s nothing for you to be worried about. A five-percent penalty for running out of time isn’t a small price to pay,” said Horikita.

“Yeah, that’s true,” I replied.

While I wasn’t exactly planning to take my time, I was worried about the person from the White Room. I was sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whoever it was had already blended in amongst the first-years.