Chapter 10 Summary
The fluorescent lights of the classroom flickered just enough to make the shadows on the walls dance, as if the room itself were breathing. It was the first day after the mid‑term break, and the air was thick with the low hum of whispered speculation. The students of Class D shuffled into their seats, each carrying the weight of the previous exams like an invisible backpack. For some, the burden was a simple disappointment; for others, it was a burning resolve to prove themselves against the relentless hierarchy of the elite school.
Kiyotaka Ayanokoji slipped into his chair with his usual unassuming calm. He was the kind of presence that seemed to melt into the background, yet his eyes, dark and unblinking, observed everything. The other students barely noticed his arrival, their attention already fixed on the whiteboard where the teacher, Ms. Sakuragi, was writing the words “Group Project: Strategic Analysis of the School’s Resource Allocation” in bold, black ink.
“Class D,” she began, her voice smooth and authoritative, “your next assignment will be a group project. You will be divided into three teams, each tasked with presenting a comprehensive plan to improve the efficiency of the school’s resources. The project will be graded not only on content but also on teamwork, creativity, and the ability to persuade the faculty panel. The final scores will be added to your overall test scores, affecting your rank for the upcoming semester.”
A murmur rippled through the room. The mention of “overall test scores” sent a shiver down the spines of many. The ranking system was a constant, invisible pressure that dictated every decision, every friendship, and every betrayal. For some, it was a game; for others, it was a matter of survival.
Suzune Horikita, sitting near the front, lifted her head from the notebook she had been meticulously filling with notes. Her expression was a mixture of determination and calculation. She had always been the one who saw the school’s structure as a puzzle to be solved, and this project was another piece. She glanced at the other members of her class, her eyes lingering on Kei Karuizawa, who was already doodling a smiley face on the margin of her paper.
Kei’s smile was a thin, almost forced line. She had always been the one who tried to blend in, to be liked, to avoid conflict. Yet beneath that veneer, there was a fierce desire to be recognized, to be more than just the “friendly face” of Class D. The project could be her chance to step out of the shadows.
The teacher continued, “You will have one week to prepare. I expect each group to present a 15‑minute pitch, followed by a Q&A session. The faculty panel will consist of Ms. Sakuragi, Mr. Ma, and a surprise guest from the administration. I will assign the groups now.”
She tapped a list of names on the board, and the room fell into a quiet tension. The first group consisted of Kiyotaka, Suzune, and Kei. The second group had the more outspoken students, while the third was a mix of the quieter, more introspective members. The composition of the first group sent a ripple of curiosity through the class. Kiyotaka, the enigmatic prodigy who seemed to glide through the school’s challenges with minimal effort; Suzune, the strategic mind who never missed a detail; and Kei, the social chameleon whose hidden ambition was now forced into the spotlight.
Kiyotaka’s voice was barely audible when he spoke, “We should start by defining the parameters of the analysis.” His tone was calm, almost detached, but his mind was already racing through countless scenarios, evaluating each possible angle.
Suzune’s eyes narrowed, “We need to identify the inefficiencies in the current system. The cafeteria’s waste management, the library’s resource allocation, the dormitory’s energy consumption—these are all areas where we can make measurable improvements.”
Kei, looking up from her doodles, added, “And we should think about how to present it. The faculty panel will be looking for something that’s not just data, but also a story. Something that shows we understand the school’s culture, not just the numbers.”
The three of them fell into a rhythm that was both surprising and inevitable. Kiyotaka’s analytical mind paired with Suzune’s strategic precision, while Kei’s knack for reading people added a human element to their plan. They began to meet after school in the empty library, a place that smelled of old paper and quiet ambition. The library’s high windows let in the waning light of the afternoon, casting long shadows across the tables where they spread out charts, graphs, and scribbled notes.
Kiyotaka started by pulling up a spreadsheet on his laptop, the screen glowing with rows of data that seemed to dance under his fingertips. “The cafeteria’s waste is at 23 percent above the national average,” he said, pointing to a column. “If we implement a composting system and partner with local farms, we could reduce waste by at least 15 percent, saving both money and improving the school’s public image.”
Suzune leaned over the data, her mind already mapping out the logistics. “We’ll need to propose a budget, a timeline, and a monitoring system. The administration will want to see a clear ROI. Also, we should consider the student body’s reaction. If we involve the culinary club, we can turn this into a learning experience for them, which adds educational value.”
Kei’s eyes lit up. “What if we turn the composting program into a competition? Each class could earn points for the amount of waste they reduce. It would create a sense of ownership and make the project visible to everyone. Plus, we could have a showcase event where the best dishes made from compost-grown vegetables are served. It would be a win‑win for sustainability and school spirit.”
The three of them laughed, a sound that echoed softly in the quiet stacks. It was the first time in weeks that the tension of the ranking system seemed to melt away, replaced by a shared purpose. Yet beneath the camaraderie, each of them was also calculating the personal advantage they could extract from the project’s success.
Kiyotaka, who rarely allowed his emotions to surface, felt a faint stir of something akin to excitement. He had always been the one who observed, who solved problems without drawing attention. This project, however, required him to step into a role where his intellect would be on display, where his strategic mind would be scrutinized. He wondered how the faculty panel would react to his ideas, whether they would see him as a threat or a useful tool.
Suzune, ever the strategist, saw the project as a stepping stone. She had spent the first semester building a reputation as a competent leader, but she knew that the hierarchy of the school was fluid. A successful project could catapult her into a position where she could influence the school’s policies more directly. She also sensed that Kiyotaka’s involvement could either be an asset or a liability. If she could harness his analytical prowess while keeping his aloofness in check, she could dominate the presentation.
Kei, meanwhile, felt a surge of confidence. She had always been the one who tried to please everyone, to stay under the radar. Now, with the project, she could finally showcase her own ideas, her own vision. She imagined the applause of the faculty panel, the nods of approval from her classmates, and the subtle shift in how she was perceived. She also sensed that aligning herself with Kiyotaka and Suzune could elevate her status, but she worried about being eclipsed by their brilliance.
As the days passed, the trio refined their proposal. They visited the cafeteria during lunch, observing the flow of trays, the disposal of leftovers, and the conversations of the students. They interviewed the head chef, who expressed frustration over the amount of food that went to waste. They spoke with the culinary club president, who was eager for a chance to experiment with fresh, locally sourced ingredients. They even consulted the school’s maintenance staff, who hinted at the possibility of installing compost bins in the kitchen without drawing too much attention.
In the evenings, they met in the library’s quiet corner, surrounded by stacks of textbooks and the soft hum of the air conditioner. Suzune would sketch out flowcharts, mapping the process from waste collection to compost production, while Kiyotaka would calculate the projected savings, factoring in the cost of new bins, the labor required, and the potential revenue from selling surplus produce to the campus café. Kei would draft the promotional materials, designing posters that highlighted the competition aspect, the environmental benefits, and the fun of cooking with fresh ingredients.
One night, as rain pattered against the library windows, Kiyotaka leaned back in his chair and said, “There’s a risk we haven’t accounted for. If the composting system fails, the waste will still be there, and the faculty will see it as a wasted effort. We need a contingency plan.”
Suzune nodded, her eyes sharp. “We can propose a pilot program for one month, with a clear set of metrics. If the results are positive, we expand. If not, we have data to show why it didn’t work and suggest alternative solutions, like a partnership with a local waste‑to‑energy plant.”
Kei added, “And we can involve the student council. If they endorse the project, it gains legitimacy. Plus, they can help with the competition’s rules, making it fair and transparent.”
The three of them fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought. The rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the ticking of a clock. They were aware that time was slipping away, that the deadline loomed like a distant thunderstorm. Yet they also felt a growing confidence, a belief that their combined strengths could overcome any obstacle.
On the fifth day, the faculty panel arrived for a preliminary briefing. Ms. Sakuragi, Mr. Ma, and a stern‑looking administrator named Mr. Ishida entered the library, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The trio stood, their posture straight, their faces composed.
Ms. Sakuragi smiled, “I’ve heard good things about your group’s progress. I’m interested to see how you plan to integrate the school’s values into your proposal.”
Mr. Ishida, his eyes scanning the room, added, “Remember, the purpose of this project is not only to improve efficiency but also to demonstrate leadership and initiative. The panel will be looking for originality, feasibility, and impact.”
Kiyotaka cleared his throat, his voice calm, “We have identified three key areas where resource allocation can be optimized: waste management in the cafeteria, energy consumption in the dormitories, and the distribution of library materials. Our primary focus will be on the cafeteria’s waste, as it presents the most immediate opportunity for measurable improvement.”
Suzune stepped forward, her tone precise, “We propose a pilot composting program that will reduce waste by at least fifteen percent within one month. The program will involve the culinary club, the student council, and the maintenance staff, creating a collaborative environment that fosters responsibility and innovation.”
Kei, with a bright smile, concluded, “To ensure engagement, we will launch a school‑wide competition, rewarding classes that achieve the greatest reduction in waste. The competition will culminate in a showcase event where dishes prepared with compost‑grown produce will be served to the faculty and students.”
The panel exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. After a moment, Mr. Ma spoke, “Your proposal is thorough. However, we will need to see detailed budgets, risk assessments, and a clear timeline. Additionally, we expect a presentation that not only conveys data but also tells a story that resonates with the school’s ethos.”
The trio nodded, acknowledging the challenge. As the panel left, the three of them exhaled in unison, a mixture of relief and anticipation filling the room.
The next few days were a blur of activity. They drafted detailed budgets, accounting for the cost of compost bins, training sessions for staff, and promotional materials. They created risk matrices, outlining potential failures and mitigation strategies. They rehearsed their presentation, fine‑tuning each slide, each transition, each rhetorical flourish.
Kiyotaka, who rarely spoke unless necessary, found himself taking on the role of the data analyst, his spreadsheets now a tapestry of numbers that painted a vivid picture of potential savings. Suzune, ever the strategist, crafted the narrative arc of the presentation, ensuring that each point built upon the previous one, leading to a crescendo of persuasive argument. Kei, with her innate sense of people, designed the visual elements, choosing colors that evoked freshness and sustainability, and drafting slogans that would stick in the minds of the audience.
On the night before the presentation, they gathered in the empty classroom, the desks arranged in a semi‑circle, the projector humming softly. They ran through the entire pitch, each taking turns to speak, each offering feedback.
When it was Kiyotaka’s turn, he stood, his posture relaxed, his voice steady. “Our data shows that the cafeteria currently discards 2,500 kilograms of food waste each month. By implementing a composting system, we can reduce this by 15 percent, saving approximately 375 kilograms of waste and cutting disposal costs by ¥150,000 per month. Over a year, this translates to a reduction of 4,500 kilograms of waste and savings of ¥1.8 million.”
Suzune followed, “Beyond the numbers, this project fosters a culture of responsibility. By involving the culinary club and the student council, we create a sense of ownership among students. The competition incentivizes participation, turning sustainability into a shared goal.”
Kei concluded, “Our promotional campaign will feature the tagline ‘From Waste to Taste,’ highlighting the journey of discarded food becoming a delicious meal. The competition will be judged on waste reduction, creativity, and community impact, ensuring a holistic approach.”
They paused, the silence heavy with anticipation. Then, as if on cue, the lights flickered, and a low hum filled the room. The projector screen flickered to life, displaying a graph that showed a steep decline in waste over a simulated month. The visual was striking, the colors vivid, the data clear.
“Let’s see how the faculty reacts,” Kei whispered, a grin spreading across her face.
The next morning, the auditorium was packed. The faculty panel sat at the front, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. The rest of the school’s students filled the rows, murmuring among themselves, eager to see what Class D would present.
Kiyotaka, Suzune, and Kei took the stage, their steps synchronized, their confidence evident. The audience fell silent as the lights dimmed and the presentation began.
Kiyotaka’s voice resonated through the hall, “Good morning. Today, we present a vision for a more sustainable, efficient, and collaborative school environment. Our focus is on reducing waste in the cafeteria, a problem that affects not only our finances but also our responsibility to the community.”
He clicked to a slide showing a photo of a bustling cafeteria, trays piled high with food, and a graph overlay indicating waste percentages. The audience’s eyes widened as they recognized the familiar scene.
Suzune stepped forward, “We propose a pilot composting program that will transform waste into valuable resources. By partnering with local farms, we can turn discarded vegetables into compost, which will then be used to grow fresh produce for the school’s garden. This creates a closed loop, reducing waste and providing fresh ingredients for the culinary club.”
She gestured to a slide that displayed a flowchart of the composting process, each step illustrated with clear icons. The audience nodded, the concept taking shape in their minds.
Kei’s turn arrived, and she smiled brightly, “To ensure participation, we will launch the ‘Green Challenge,’ a competition among classes to achieve the greatest reduction in waste. The winning class will receive a special dinner prepared with produce grown from the compost. This not only incentivizes effort but also celebrates the fruits of our labor.”
She displayed a vibrant poster, the tagline “From Waste to Taste” emblazoned across it, accompanied by images of colorful salads and smiling students. The crowd murmured approvingly, the idea resonating with their desire for both competition and community.
The presentation continued, each member of the trio seamlessly transitioning between data, strategy, and storytelling. Kiyotaka’s charts were precise, showing projected cost savings and environmental impact. Suzune’s analysis highlighted the logistical feasibility, the training required for staff, and the timeline for implementation. Kei’s visuals added an emotional layer, showcasing testimonials from students who had already expressed enthusiasm for the project.
When the Q&A session began, the faculty panel fired off questions. Mr. Ishida asked, “What about the initial investment? How do we justify the upfront cost?”
Kiyotaka responded, “The initial cost of the compost bins and training is estimated at ¥500,000. However, the projected monthly savings of ¥150,000 mean that the investment will be recouped within four months, after which the program will generate net savings.”
Ms. Sakuragi inquired, “How will you ensure that the composting process does not attract pests or cause hygiene issues?”
Suzune answered, “We will implement sealed compost bins with regular maintenance schedules. The maintenance staff will be trained to monitor temperature and moisture levels, ensuring optimal decomposition while preventing any health hazards.”
Kei added, “We will also involve the student council in overseeing the bins, fostering a sense of responsibility and ensuring compliance.”
The panel seemed satisfied, their expressions softening. After the final question, Mr. Ma stood, clapping slowly. “Your proposal is thorough, innovative, and aligns with the school’s values of excellence and responsibility. We will consider it for implementation.”
The auditorium erupted in applause. Kiyotaka, Suzune, and Kei exchanged glances, a mixture of relief and triumph evident in their eyes. They had not only presented a solid plan but had also managed to capture the imagination of their peers and the faculty.
In the days that followed, the “Green Challenge” was announced school‑wide. The cafeteria installed the compost bins, the culinary club began experimenting with fresh produce, and the student council organized the competition’s rules. The atmosphere in Class D shifted; the students felt a renewed sense of purpose, their ranks no longer just numbers on a board but a reflection of collective achievement.
Kiyotaka found himself receiving quiet nods of respect from classmates who had previously dismissed him as aloof. Suzune’s strategic mind was praised in the student council meetings, her influence growing as she coordinated the competition’s logistics. Kei’s charisma shone as she hosted the weekly “Green Updates,” a short broadcast that highlighted each class’s progress, her smile now genuine, her confidence evident.
The project’s success also sparked a ripple effect throughout the school. Other classes began proposing their own sustainability initiatives—energy‑saving campaigns, library digitization projects, and mental‑health awareness programs. The faculty, seeing the positive impact on test scores and student engagement, began to allocate more resources toward student