Chapter 2: Signs of Momentum

Chapter 2: Signs of Momentum

Chapter 2:

Signs of Momentum

T HE END OF THE SECOND SEMESTER was finally in sight. The fun of the school trip had come and gone, like a fleeting dream, and now winter vacation was just around the corner for the second-year students. Winter was the season that signaled the end of the year, and brought with it premonitions of partings of ways.

It was quite chilly, perhaps because the low for today was one degree Celsius. Other students trotted past me on the way to school, exhaling clouds of white as they talked to each other about the cold.

Every day, I closely observed these nonchalant, casual morning scenes, etching them into my memory. I supposed that those who lived only for the moment might wonder why someone would pay so much attention to interactions like these. But what if you knew that they’d only be around for a limited amount of time? What if you knew you would only be able to see these things for one more year? Surely, this world of everyday occurrences would then seem like a glittering gem.

As I was staring intently at these exchanges, waiting for a certain someone to arrive, I received a message.

“Come to the student council office after class today.”

It was a text from Nagumo, worded so strongly that I felt as if I had to comply, whether I liked it or not.

“Student council office, huh?” I muttered to myself.

I wasn’t entirely keen on the idea, but I couldn’t refuse it so easily, considering what was to come in the future. Besides, he had cooperated with me during the Cultural Festival, even though there was a conflict of interest. I responded with a short message, simply telling him that I understood, and then turned my screen off.

As I went back to watching the students and scenery, I spotted Kushida walking to class by herself. I didn’t speak up or offer a greeting or anything, but when I looked over, she waved at me with a smile. So, I raised my hand in response, and then—

Just moments before we passed by one another, she shot me a glare.

“What…? First thing in the morning?” I asked myself.

She was the one who’d just greeted me, and I waved right back, so why did she need to glare at me? She must have been confident no one would see it if she gave me a look like that, but I didn’t really remember doing anything in particular to warrant it. I suppose it would make sense to assume it was simply because she didn’t like me, after everything that had happened, and there was nothing I could do about it. Still… What an unpleasant bait-and-switch. My pleasant morning mood was soured.

Just then, an out-of-breath Kei came running up to me. “Sorry, Kiyotaka!” she shouted. “Didn’t mean to make you wait!”

“You’re only a few minutes late, if that. You don’t have to worry so much about it,” I replied.

“But still… I mean, wasn’t it cold, waiting outside?” she asked, looking puzzled. We normally met up in the dormitory lobby.

“It’s all right. More importantly, though, it looks like you still have bedhead.” It was an uncharacteristic mistake for her—she must have been in a big hurry.

“No way! Oh gawd!” She held her head in embarrassment. Then she started hurriedly combing her fingers through her hair in an attempt to fix it. But no matter how many times she tried, some of her bedhead hair kept springing back up with a pyon .

“Ugh, what am I gonna dooo…?!” she wailed.

“You don’t have to worry about it that much, do you?” I said. “I mean, people like Hondou and Ike have come to class with way worse bedhead than that.”

“Don’t lump me in with guys like them! Ugh, I’ll just stop by the bathroom when I get to school…”

Flustered, Kei covered up her hair with her hand as she walked on ahead. Well, I supposed there were worse things to worry about than looking presentable.

2.1

I ARRIVED AT THE CLASSROOM by myself, without Kei, and then walked over to my seat.

Yousuke called out to me when he spotted me. “Good morning, Kiyotaka-kun.”

“Oh, hey, morning,” I replied.

He was surrounded by girls. I was happy that he greeted me, but the “Give me back my Hirata-kun!” looks that the girls were shooting my way were painful. I wondered what he wanted.

“I know this might just be me being a worrywart,” Yousuke said, “but if there’s anything I can do to help, please talk to me.”

That same offer again. “Haven’t you been telling me the same thing every day lately?”

I could guess what he was worried about—the group of three people who seemed to keeping an eye on us from a distance. Yousuke was likely concerned over the fact that I was no longer part of that group, just because I had been in the past. The only thing I knew for certain, though, was that Yousuke had been anxious about that issue since before the school trip, and still was, even now that it was over.

“If something does happen, I’ll tell you,” I said to him. “Thanks. If at all possible, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep an eye out quietly.”

Yousuke was the type of person who’d worry about things even when he said he wouldn’t. That was exactly why I let him know once again, very clearly, that I understood his feelings of goodwill toward me. I figured he was probably going to keep talking to me about this on a regular basis from now on, until my relationship with my old friend group was repaired.

“I’m just hopeless,” Yousuke sighed. “I guess I can’t stand it whenever I see instability in the class…”

Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, Yousuke sounded disgusted with himself and these feelings he couldn’t suppress. He just had an unfortunate disposition.

“Anyway, the girls are waiting for you,” I remarked. “I’m more concerned about that, personally.”

The longer we talked, the more intense the girls’ envious gazes became, as if demanding to know how long I was going to be monopolizing their Yousuke.

When Kei arrived at the classroom not long after, Yousuke had gone back over to the girls. The bell rang and Chabashira-sensei strode in. Thus, the curtain was raised on yet another new day of school.

“I suppose it won’t come as much of a surprise that you no longer get any forewarning for these sorts of things, but before your winter vacation begins, you’re going to be taking the final special exam of the second semester,” announced Chabashira-sensei.

Although my classmates had become accustomed to the experience of special exams by now, they were slightly more upset than usual by this announcement, as they seemed to have expected that we were just going to head right into winter break.

“Oh, whoops,” Chabashira-sensei said. “You do seem to be a little surprised this time around, after all.”

It must have come as a surprise because we’d just had the Cultural Festival and the school trip; a couple of big events in a row. From the school’s perspective, though, that was just the way things were, I supposed; a special exam was a special exam. However, there were only two more weeks left in the second semester, so I couldn’t imagine that this exam would be anything that required long-term preparations or countermeasures. What is it going to be like, exactly? I wondered.

“Okay. It’s not like I don’t understand why you might be feeling anxious,” Chabashira-sensei said, “but there’s no need to be so upset. This isn’t the kind of special exam I know you’re all most worried about, where students are expelled.”

So, that key factor, the possibility of expulsion, was going to be toned down in this particular special exam.

“But of course, there’s no getting around the fact that Class Point totals will fluctuate depending on who wins,” she added. “Now that you’re going to be chasing after Class A even more fervently, I know you can’t afford to lose this one.”

Just winning once or twice wouldn’t be enough for us to take the lead. We’d need sufficient fighting spirit to win every battle that lay ahead; otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to get ahead.

Chabashira-sensei went on, “There aren’t any complicated rules that you’re going to need to drill into your heads for this particular special exam. You’re going to be competing against another class in a one-on-one competition of academic ability.”

A competition of academic ability. That wasn’t a surprising exam for the students at this school. If anything, it was about as standard as you could possibly get. Even regular midterm tests and final exams were competitions, after all. However, considering that this was being billed as a “special exam,” it should go without saying that there would be some kind of unique rules which would greatly impact the outcome of the competition.

“The winner receives fifty Class Points from the loser—so, if you win, you get fifty Class Points, and if you lose, you lose fifty Class Points,” explained Chabashira-sensei.

It wasn’t a large number by any stretch. If anything, that would actually be a relatively small change in Class Point value.

Ike spoke up. “Wait, if this is a competition of academic ability between classes or whatever, then doesn’t that mean it’s just a bad idea to go up against Class A?!”

“You should be happy, Ike, precisely because Class A is who you and the rest of Class B will be competing against,” replied Chabashira-sensei, confronting us with the cruel reality. It sounded like our opponent had already been chosen. “It should be easy to understand; essentially, the matchups were decided based on the average test scores from last semester’s finals. First and second place from that exam will compete against one another in this exam, and the same goes for third and fourth place. Even with the presence of some special rules, there could be a substantial impact on the overall competition if Class A were to fight against one of the lower-level classes, since there is a significant gap in fundamental academic ability between them.”

As of the beginning of December, Sakayanagi’s Class A had a total of 1,250 points, and Horikita’s Class B had 985 points. If Horikita’s class won in a direct matchup, the gap between her class and Sakayanagi’s would be reduced by 100 points, thus bringing the difference between them down to 165 points. On top of that, Horikita’s class would surpass the 1,000-point mark for the first time since enrollment, which would be a major milestone.

On the other hand, Ryuuen’s Class C had 684 points, while Ichinose’s Class D had 655 points. If Ichinose won, then she’d go back to leading Class C again, but if she lost, then the gap between her class and Class A would be doubled. That would be a painful development. Regardless, though, there was no way this was going to be an easy fight, and we had never once been victorious in a competition of academic ability. The way Chabashira-sensei had said we were in first and second place made it sound like there was only a slight difference between Horikita’s class and Sakayanagi’s class, but the overall difference in academic ability was by no means small.

“The questions you’ll see on this test are from the usual subjects that are covered in your midterm and final exams,” Chabashira-sensei went on. “They will range from relatively easy to extremely challenging. This will be just as difficult as—well, no, actually , at least as difficult as your regular written exams, if not more so.”

Although there had been remarkable growth in terms of academic ability in this class, leagues beyond the other classes, it was unlikely that my classmates would outperform Sakayanagi’s, even if they made a desperate attempt to devote themselves wholly to their studies over the next two weeks.

“Now, though, I’m going to talk about how even you have a good chance of winning this thing,” said Chabashira-sensei.

The details of the special exam, as it was labeled, were displayed on the monitor.

2 nd Semester Finals Special Exam—

Cooperative Comprehensive Written Test

Overview

The entire class will complete a test with 100 questions total.

Rules

Students will solve problems one by one in a predetermined order. Each student is allowed to answer a maximum of five problems, and must answer at least two, regardless of whether they can answer them correctly or not.

A problem answered by one student cannot be corrected by another student, regardless of whether the answer is correct or incorrect.

Each student shall be given a maximum of ten minutes to answer problems, including time spent entering and exiting the room.

All students other than the student currently engaged with the test questions must wait in a separate room.

Only the student due to answer questions next is allowed to wait in front of the entrance to the room.

If a student exceeds the time limit, that student will be disqualified and will not receive any points.

Actions such as leaving an answer to a problem or a hint to a solution to a problem, whether in written or verbal form, are considered violations.

In the event such a violation is discovered, the exam will be terminated and a score of 0 will be given.

Special bonuses may be awarded based on the amount of time remaining:

1 hour or more: 10 points

30 minutes or more: 5 points

10 minutes or more: 2 points

All problems are to be scored based on the Academic Ability of the student answering them, regardless of difficulty level. (The student’s Academic Ability level is based on their Academic Ability score in OAA as of December 1.)

Academic Ability A: 1 point

Academic Ability B: 2 points

Academic Ability C: 3 points

Academic Ability D: 4 points

Academic Ability E: 5 points

So, it was an exam in which the number of points received increased or decreased depending on how well-equipped the student was to solve the problem, regardless of the question’s difficulty level. These rules were indeed unique—they’d definitely require us to take into account things we normally wouldn’t. OAA’s Academic Ability scores included + and – markers, but since there only seemed to be five categories, I guessed that meant that students who had a + were at a slight advantage in their respective categories.

“And there you have the unique rules for this written special exam,” Chabashira-sensei concluded. “At first, you might think that Class A would have the simple advantage here, as they have a high number of academically gifted students—but that means the percentage of students in their class with an Academic Ability score of B or better is fairly high. So, even if they answer every question correctly, the maximum overall score that they can obtain will be lower. Do you understand what I mean?”

While there were more than a few students in Horikita’s class who had shown remarkable improvement in their academics, it was also true that there were certain students who were still languishing at the bottom of our grade level, such as Kei, Satou, Ike, and Shinohara. Even though those students had a low chance of giving correct answers when solving problems, they could get as many as four or five points per question on this particular special exam as long as they got the answers right. As such, you couldn’t call this a pure contest of academic ability, and we weren’t necessarily at a disadvantage against Class A, either.

It was impossible to predict how this would turn out, or what the results would be, as the match exceeded the scope of our imaginations. There were added bonuses for time remaining, but whether we could actually earn those was questionable. The test was designed so that the timer included the time spent entering and exiting, starting as soon as you put your hand on the door, and there were thirty-eight people in Horikita’s class. In order to finish the exam with an hour remaining, we would need to have every individual finish with close to two minutes remaining—it was impossible.

The lower a student’s level of Academic Ability, the more likely they were to make careless mistakes, and the higher their risk of losing points by being distracted by the time limit. So, was the bonus for remaining time implemented more out of consideration for the students who had better Academic Ability scores in OAA, then? Well, even so, it would be dangerous to focus attention on trying to cut down time loss.

“So, we really do have a good chance of winning this special exam, don’t we?” said Horikita. It sounded like she had also quickly grasped that a path to victory was possible, now that we’d heard the rules.

“Exactly so,” Chabashira-sensei replied. “Of course, all the students in Class A are gifted academically, from top to bottom. They will probably score very well. And even though there are many students with an Academic Ability level around D in this class, with the potential to score very highly, if those students fail to answer any questions correctly, they’ll get zero points.”

Even so, our odds were much, much better than they would be in a head-to-head clash.

“I’d like to bring up an additional point regarding cheating, which is mentioned in the rules,” Chabashira-sensei said. “The rules prohibit speaking to each other—for example, when you’re in the classroom that is designated as the waiting room, or when switching places with a student who has completed their portion of the exam. There will always be students waiting on standby in the classroom, but do not even think about engaging in unnecessary conversation. I cannot recommend more emphatically that you keep from making any careless mistakes that will waste this exam for you.”

I was sure that the students would be mindful of the fact that surveillance was going to be strict.

“So, um, say someone is absent on that day… What happens then?” asked Ike.

“If one student is absent, then that will render two questions unanswerable, and if two students are absent, that will render four questions unanswerable, resulting in zero points for each. It’s treated the same as disqualification due to running out of time. The questions rendered unanswerable will be determined at random before the start of the exam. Furthermore, although chances of this happening are low,” Chabashira-sensei added, “if two classes end up with the same score, there will be no change in Class Points for either class.”

So, intentionally having one of your classmates absent was obviously not a viable strategy, as it would only put you at a disadvantage. And classes with a large number of students in them, such as Ichinose’s class and Ryuuen’s class, would have an advantage, because they would be given slightly more time to solve problems—but that would have no effect on the number of points any of them could earn by solving the problems. The impact of having a bigger or smaller class size would be minimal, though. The most efficient ideal would be for students with lower scores in OAA to answer five questions on the exam. Those students with lower OAA scores who could study could be your main force, or they could be an unexpected obstacle.

In any case, though, Sakayanagi’s class and Horikita’s class coincidentally had the same number of students, so this train of thought was meaningless.

“You should think things over and discuss ways you might be able to beat Class A amongst yourselves,” said Chabashira-sensei. She sounded like a mother watching over her children. “As for the appointed date for the special exam, you have until just before winter vacation begins. The scope of the test is enormous, so the school has decided that you’ll need that much time to prepare. It will be tough, but if you win, you’ll be that much closer to Class A. That’s all.”

With that, Chabashira-sensei brought this particular lecture to a close. The exact scope of the test was apparently going to be announced tomorrow.

Schedule

December 22: Special Exam Testing Day

December 23: Special Exam Results Announcement;

2 nd Semester Closing Ceremony

The exam was indeed immediately before the end of the second semester. The very last minute. Still, there were only three more weeks left before it was held. Students with a high level of academic ability typically had a different attitude toward studying than those who didn’t, so it was fine for them even if preparation time was kept to a minimum, but the key to victory here lay with the students whose academic abilities were at or below average.

“I examined each class’s OAA Academic Ability scores to see how things stand currently,” Horikita said. “Because we have so many more students who have Academic Ability scores of D and E, our class inevitably has a much higher maximum possible score. If we were to fight this battle in the ideal way, then our victory would be guaranteed.”

A class with more students with lower OAA Academic Ability scores could score more points; no matter how hard Class A tried, there was a limit to the number of points they could get. We could win if we simply exceeded their maximum possible score, even if only by one point. But this was all only armchair theory, really, and there was barely a paper-thin possibility of pulling this off. With nearly forty students participating, getting a perfect score would be close to impossible.

And if we took Chabashira-sensei’s tone and the special exam’s rules into consideration, there was every reason to expect that the ratio of difficult questions to easy ones would be high. If the problems on the exam were the kind that could be easily solved by students with Academic Ability scores of E and D, how could you call that balanced? It would be a completely absurd special exam in that case, one that would put a class at a greater disadvantage the more academically gifted it was.

It was inevitable that we were going to have to arrange some kind of whole-class study group, but it was doubtful that would be enough to lead our class to victory.

“It might also be important to determine who’ll solve how many problems, and who they’ll pass the baton to next, right?” Yousuke said calmly. He directed his question at Horikita, sounding as though he was looking to her for confirmation.

“Yes,” she agreed. “If we took the simple approach, the easy solution would be to have the students who are less advanced academically take the lead, sending them out first to solve as many problems as they’re able to. But…”

The time limit was ten minutes. The ability to read and understand a problem would also vary significantly based on an individual student’s capacities. If they were suddenly presented with a test that had as many as one hundred questions on it, they’d probably have a hard time picking out the easy questions.

If the more academically gifted students took care of the difficult questions first, then it would take less time for the less advanced students to find the right problems, and they would be able to focus on them calmly.

Who can solve what problems? And what problems can’t they solve? A strategy based on that information, which took command of the situation, would be one path to victory. There were probably several other methods as well, but ultimately, it was important to establish what strategy to pursue early on, and to get the class moving toward that.

Some of our classmates began talking amongst themselves.

“Chabashira-sensei said that it was possible for us to win, but…a disadvantage is still a disadvantage, right?”

“If they can score a lot of points for sure, I don’t think we’re going to beat them. I mean, it’s Class A we’re going up against.”

…And so on.

To date, Class A had never once scored below the other classes in terms of overall scores on written exams. Even with these unique rules, there was no changing the fact that they made for a tough opponent.

Horikita spoke up to address those students with grim looks on their faces. “Our opponent this time may be Class A, yes, but actually, this is really a battle against ourselves. Whatever strategy they might come up with, it doesn’t affect us. We don’t need to be particularly worked up over having Sakayanagi-san as our opponent.”

She emphasized strongly that we should be concerned with the internal, not the external.

“I will think as hard as I can and come up with a strategy,” she went on. “In the meantime, I would like you all to study as much as possible; whatever you can manage. Every second counts.”

Up until now—or rather, to be more precise, until just a few weeks ago—students had been working hard studying for their semester finals. Even though studying was the main duty of a student, having to start again so soon would be an exhausting prospect. Even so, not a single student expressed anything that sounded like dissatisfaction.

“We will back you up as much as we can, too,” Yousuke said to Horikita.

At that, students like Keisei and Mii-chan, the ones who could tutor in study groups and such, got up and started showing initiative.

“Hell yeah,” said Sudou. “I’m gettin’ fired up! Personally, this is kinda givin’ me mixed feelings about how my OAA score’s gone up, but I’m gonna make sure I pitch in, too.”

Sudou, who had originally had an evaluation of E in Academic Ability, had seen his score rise, and now it was a C+. He would score fewer points now than he would have before, with his older rating, but he had made a big leap forward in ability. I was sure that back when his Academic Ability score was still E, he would’ve had a hard time just solving the problems.

2.2

I SLIPPED OUT OF THE CLASSROOM just after discussion started at the end of class, and I arrived at my destination at almost exactly the scheduled time.

I’d been planning to just knock immediately, but I could hear loud voices coming from inside the room. It sounded as though there was a bit of an argument going on. However, because there was a thick door separating us, I couldn’t tell exactly what they were saying. I figured that if I stood there and listened for a while, I might be able to hear things clearly eventually, but since the appointed time was just moments away, I quickly discarded the option of eavesdropping. Instead, I headed into the student council office at the time I’d been instructed to do so.

“…Hello,” I called.

When I got inside, I saw that there were already two boys sitting down in the office. One of them quickly stood up.

“Sorry to have called you, Ayanokouji,” Nagumo said.

I tried casually saying something that a normal student might say. “I don’t mind, but it does make me a little nervous, seeing the president and vice president looking like they’re squaring off.”

“Sorry, but it doesn’t really look like you’re nervous.” Nagumo, still seated, crossed his legs and then curled his index finger, beckoning Kiriyama to come closer. Kiriyama moved to a position where he could stand slightly behind Nagumo and still remain easily in view for me. At that moment, Nagumo took his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly looked down at the screen. Less than a second later, he turned off the screen and pocketed it again.

The next person to speak was not Student Council President Nagumo, but Vice President Kiriyama. “We’re calling student council members Horikita and Ichinose here after this,” he said.

“Horikita and Ichinose?” I repeated.

If that combination of people wasn’t a coincidence, then they were just two second-year students who both belonged to the student council.

“Don’t be so hasty, Kiriyama,” said Nagumo. “Perhaps Ayanokouji would like to have a little chat with them, too?”

“Sorry, but it doesn’t look that way. He wants to keep this brief. It’s written on his face.”

I felt gratitude deep in my heart for Vice President Kiriyama’s sound judgment.

“Besides,” he added, “speaking personally, there are a lot of things I’d like to work on, in preparation for the upcoming special exam.”

“Special exam?” Nagumo shot a quizzical sidelong look at Kiriyama, not understanding his reasons. “But special exams held this late, in the second semester—aren’t they irrelevant to us third-year students by now?”

“Even so, I’d like to always be prepared for unforeseen circumstances. Many third-year students are more eager to get their hands on a ticket to the top than you think. What if a student comes along who wants to catch you napping?”

“Fools like that would have fallen a long time ago,” Nagumo retorted. “There isn’t anyone left who could make themselves my enemy.”

“I would hope not,” said Kiriyama.

There wasn’t much time left for the third-year students. As long as Nagumo held all the authority, they needed to somehow manage to get their hands on a ticket for twenty million points. They were still fighting that battle. It was no wonder that Nagumo was so optimistic about his lack of enemies. Since he was the one who held all the tickets that those students needed, obviously, no one could do anything to defy him. The third-years, Kiriyama included, had no choice but to quietly follow Nagumo’s orders, or else live in fear that they’d be deprived of their ticket to victory.

However, if you turned that statement around, it also meant that restraint did not apply to those who hadn’t been given a ticket. This was an exaggeration, but if those people could get Nagumo expelled and accumulate Private Points by doing so… Well, no, even if someone were to try something like that, it was doubtful whether there’d actually be any profit in it.

If Nagumo were expelled for certain, then the enormous number of Private Points he held would probably be returned to the school treasury. Without an agreement like that in place, Nagumo wouldn’t be able to protect himself. Meaning, in other words, his presence was tied to his funds, which existed for the sake of his rise to power. Without Nagumo’s own existing stash of Private Points, the number of Private Points a person could get during the third semester alone would probably only be enough to save one or two people at most.