Chapter 6 Summary
The hallway of Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School hummed with the low murmur of students shifting between classes, the clatter of lockers opening and closing, and the occasional burst of laughter that seemed to echo off the polished tiles. It was the first week after the new semester began, and the air still carried the faint scent of fresh paint and new textbooks. For most, the routine felt ordinary, but for the members of Class D, the day ahead promised a shift in the delicate balance of power that governed their lives.
Kiyotaka Ayanokoji stood at the far end of the corridor, his posture relaxed, his eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of his glasses. He watched the flow of his classmates with a detached curiosity, noting the subtle ways they adjusted their uniforms, the nervous fidgeting of those who seemed to anticipate something beyond the ordinary. He had learned early on that observation was a weapon as potent as any physical skill, and today he would need it more than ever.
A soft voice called his name, and he turned to see Suzune Horikita approaching, her expression as composed as ever, the faint crease between her brows hinting at the calculations already turning in her mind. She moved with the precision of a chess piece, each step measured, each gesture purposeful.
“Morning, Kiyotaka,” she said, her tone even. “You’ve heard about the Class D exam, haven’t you?”
He inclined his head slightly, the faintest smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I have. It seems the administration finally decided to test us in a way that actually matters.”
Horikita’s eyes narrowed, not in anger but in concentration. “The first school test is supposed to be a simple assessment of our academic abilities, but I suspect there’s more to it. The ranking reveal at the end will determine our privileges for the next term. If we can’t secure a higher position, we’ll be stuck with the same limited resources.”
Kiyotaka’s gaze drifted to the bulletin board where a notice had been posted: “Class D Exam – 10:00 AM, Classroom 3B. All students must attend. Rankings will be announced after the test.” The words seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency.
“Do you think the test will be straightforward?” he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.
Horikita considered the question for a moment, then shook her head. “I doubt it. The administration loves to hide their true intentions behind a veneer of fairness. I suspect there will be hidden abilities tested, perhaps even elements that require strategic planning beyond the textbook.”
A sudden burst of laughter erupted from the doorway, and Kikyo Kushida stepped into view, her bright smile lighting up the corridor. She carried a stack of textbooks in one arm, her other hand clutching a small notebook filled with doodles and notes.
“Did someone say ‘hidden abilities’? I hope they don’t mean we have to use our secret ninja skills,” she teased, winking at Kiyotaka. “I’ve already prepared a cheat sheet for the math section. You know, just in case.”
Kiyotaka glanced at the notebook, noting the meticulous diagrams of probability trees and the faint scribbles of strategic notes. “Your preparation is thorough, Kikyo,” he replied. “But remember, the exam isn’t just about memorization. It’s about applying knowledge under pressure.”
Kushida laughed again, a sound that seemed to lift the tension in the hallway. “Pressure is my middle name. Besides, I’ve heard Yōsuke Hirata is planning to use his athletic prowess to gain an edge. He’s already talking about how he’ll sprint to the front of the line and grab the best seats.”
At that moment, Yōsuke Hirata appeared, his lanky frame moving with a casual swagger. He wore the school’s sports jacket over his uniform, a confident grin on his face. He tossed a basketball into the air, catching it with ease before slipping it back into his bag.
“Hey, everyone,” he called, his voice booming. “Don’t worry about the test. I’ve got a plan that’ll make sure we all get the top spots. It’s simple: we’ll work together, share answers, and the teachers won’t even notice.”
Horikita’s eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and calculation. “Your ‘plan’ sounds like cheating, Hirata. The administration will see through any attempt to manipulate the system.”
Hirata shrugged, his grin never wavering. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll be too busy dealing with the chaos we create to notice a few swapped sheets. Besides, the whole point of the first school test is to see who can think outside the box. I’m just… thinking outside the box.”
Kiyotaka observed the exchange, his mind already cataloguing each participant’s strengths and weaknesses. He noted Horikita’s analytical mind, Kushida’s meticulous preparation, Hirata’s confidence and physical agility, and his own own ability to remain unseen, to blend into the background while pulling strings from the shadows. He felt the familiar stir of anticipation that came with a new challenge, a puzzle waiting to be solved.
The bell rang, its sharp clang echoing through the corridors, signaling the end of the break. Students began to file into the classroom, the air thick with a mixture of nervous energy and whispered speculation. The doors to Classroom 3B swung open, revealing rows of desks arranged in a precise grid, a large whiteboard at the front, and a single projector humming softly.
The teacher, a stern-looking woman with silver hair pulled back into a tight bun, entered the room. She placed a stack of exam papers on her desk and surveyed the class with an expression that seemed to weigh each student’s potential.
“Good morning, Class D,” she began, her voice crisp. “Today’s exam will assess your knowledge across a range of subjects: mathematics, literature, science, and social studies. You will have ninety minutes to complete the test. The results will be used to determine the class ranking for the upcoming term. Remember, this is not just a test of academic ability; it is also a test of your ability to work under pressure and to demonstrate strategic thinking.”
She paused, allowing the words to sink in. “You may begin.”
The room fell into a hushed silence as the students opened their papers. Kiyotaka’s eyes flicked over the first page, noting the familiar format of multiple-choice questions, short answer prompts, and a few essay sections. He glanced at the clock on the wall; the hands pointed to ten minutes past ten.
Kushida’s pen moved swiftly across the paper, her handwriting neat and precise. She tackled the math problems with confidence, her mind calculating probabilities and algebraic solutions with ease. Horikita, meanwhile, read each question carefully, her brow furrowed as she considered the underlying logic behind each problem.
Hirata, true to his nature, glanced around the room, his eyes scanning for any opportunity to gain an advantage. He caught a glimpse of a student near the front who seemed to be scribbling furiously, and he made a mental note to observe later.
Kiyotaka, however, did not rush. He let his eyes linger on the margins of the paper, noting the subtle variations in the ink, the faint smudges that hinted at previous attempts. He recalled a conversation he had overheard the previous night in the library, where a senior student mentioned that the administration sometimes includes “hidden abilities” tests—puzzles that require lateral thinking, riddles that assess a student’s capacity to infer information from limited data.
He turned the page, and his gaze fell upon a seemingly innocuous paragraph: “In a sealed room, there are three switches, each controlling a different light bulb outside the room. You may toggle the switches as many times as you like, but you may only open the door once to check the bulbs. How can you determine which switch controls which bulb?” The question was a classic logic puzzle, but its inclusion in a formal exam suggested that the teachers wanted to see who could think beyond rote memorization.
Kiyotaka’s mind raced, but his expression remained unchanged. He wrote his answer calmly, outlining the steps: turn on the first switch, wait, turn it off and turn on the second, then open the door. The heat of the first bulb would indicate its switch, the lit second bulb would correspond to the second switch, and the cold, unlit third bulb would be linked to the third switch.
He glanced at the other students. Horikita’s pen hovered over the same question, her eyes narrowing as she considered the solution. Kushida’s hand moved quickly, her answer already penned. Hirata, meanwhile, seemed to be looking for a shortcut, perhaps hoping to copy someone’s answer.
The minutes ticked by, and the room filled with the soft rustle of paper, the occasional sigh, and the faint tapping of pens. The exam’s difficulty escalated, moving from straightforward calculations to more nuanced essay prompts. One question asked students to analyze a passage from a classic Japanese novel, interpreting the protagonist’s motivations and relating them to contemporary societal pressures. Another required a detailed explanation of a scientific principle, demanding both factual recall and the ability to apply the concept to a hypothetical scenario.
Kiyotaka answered each question with measured precision, his responses concise yet thorough. He noted the subtle cues in the teacher’s tone, the way she emphasized certain words, perhaps hinting at what she valued most in the answers. He also observed the behavior of his classmates, noting how they reacted to each section.
When the final bell rang, the teacher collected the papers, her expression unreadable. She placed the stack on her desk, then turned to address the class.
“Your results will be posted on the bulletin board in the main hallway by tomorrow morning. The ranking reveal will be accompanied by a brief discussion of each class’s performance. I expect you all to reflect on your strengths and weaknesses and to use this experience to improve.”
She dismissed the class, and the students poured out of the room, their faces a mixture of relief, anxiety, and anticipation. Kiyotaka lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning the empty classroom, the faint echo of the projector’s hum still resonating in the space. He felt a faint smile tug at his lips, as if he had already anticipated the outcome.
Outside, the hallway buzzed with conversation. Horikita stood near the bulletin board, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the empty space where the results would soon appear. Kushida approached, her notebook clutched tightly, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“Did you feel the test was fair?” she asked, her voice low.
Horikita shook her head. “Fairness is a construct. The administration designs these evaluations to separate the adaptable from the complacent. I suspect they’ll reward those who can think strategically, not just those who memorize facts.”
Kushida nodded, flipping through her notes. “I think my preparation paid off. I’m confident I did well on the math and the logic puzzle.”
Hirata arrived, his swagger unchanged, though his eyes flickered with a hint of nervousness. “So, what’s the plan now? We wait for the rankings, right? I’m hoping my… ‘teamwork’ approach will get us somewhere.”
Horikita’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Your ‘teamwork’ might get you a few points, but it won’t be enough to climb the ranks if you rely solely on others. You need to develop your own hidden abilities, Yōsuke. The test was designed to expose who can adapt under pressure.”
Hirata chuckled, though the sound lacked its usual confidence. “Maybe I’ll focus on my physical training next time. I could use my stamina to stay awake during long exams.”
Kiyotaka, who had been listening from a distance, stepped forward. “You all have strengths,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But the real advantage lies in understanding the system. The ranking reveal will be more than a list of numbers; it will be a statement about how the school perceives each of us.”
Horikita turned to him, her eyes sharp. “And what do you think the school perceives about you, Kiyotaka?”
He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth barely moving. “I think they see a student who blends in, someone who doesn’t attract attention. That’s exactly how I prefer to operate.”
Kushida laughed softly. “You’re always so mysterious, Kiyotaka. Maybe you’re the hidden ace we need.”
He inclined his head, acknowledging the comment without revealing any deeper thoughts. “Perhaps. But remember, the true test isn’t the exam itself; it’s what we do after the results are posted.”
The next morning, the bulletin board was filled with a neatly printed list, each name accompanied by a rank and a brief comment on performance. The top of the list was dominated by Class A and B, as expected, but the lower sections revealed a surprising shift within Class D.
At rank one, a name that had previously been overlooked: Yōsuke Hirata. His comment read, “Demonstrated strong strategic thinking and effective collaboration.” The second place went to Kikyo Kushida, praised for her meticulous preparation and analytical skills. Third place was occupied by Suzune Horikita, noted for her exceptional problem-solving abilities and leadership potential. Kiyotaka Ayanokoji appeared at rank four, his comment simply stating, “Consistently performed at a high level across all sections.”
The revelation sent ripples through the class. Students whispered, some in awe, others in disbelief. The ranking had not only altered the hierarchy but also exposed hidden abilities that had previously gone unnoticed. The shift in positions meant that the top three would receive additional resources: access to a private study room, extra tutoring sessions, and a modest increase in their allowance for school supplies.
Horikita stared at the board, her mind already racing through the implications. “This changes everything,” she murmured. “We now have the leverage to request better materials, to influence the teachers’ decisions. We must use this to our advantage.”
Kushida clapped her hands together, excitement evident in her voice. “We finally have a chance to prove ourselves! With the extra resources, we can improve our class’s overall performance.”
Hirata, still processing his unexpected rise, grinned broadly. “I told you my plan would work! Looks like my ‘teamwork’ paid off after all.”
Kiyotaka observed the scene, his expression unreadable. He felt a faint sense of satisfaction, not because of his own rank, but because the dynamics of the class had shifted in a way that would force the administration to reconsider their assumptions about Class D. He knew that the true battle was just beginning.
Later that afternoon, the class gathered in the empty study room that had been allocated to the top three ranks. The room was modest, with a large table, a few chairs, and a whiteboard. It was a space that could become a hub for strategic planning, a place where ideas could be exchanged without the prying eyes of the teachers.
Horikita took the lead, standing at the whiteboard and writing down a list of objectives. “First, we need to secure additional textbooks for our subjects. Second, we should arrange a tutoring schedule with the top students from Class A. Third, we must develop a system for sharing information about upcoming tests and assignments. Finally, we need to identify any hidden abilities among our classmates that we can cultivate.”
Kushida nodded, pulling out her notebook. “I’ve already compiled a list of resources we can request. I’ll draft a formal petition to the administration, highlighting our improved ranking and the benefits of granting us these resources.”
Hirata, still brimming with confidence, added, “I can talk to the sports department. Maybe we can get access to the gym after school for extra training. That’ll help us stay sharp physically, which is just as important as mental preparation.”
Kiyotaka listened, his mind cataloguing each suggestion, each potential advantage. He realized that the class’s newfound status could be leveraged not only for material gains but also for psychological influence. The administration, eager to reward high-performing classes, would likely grant them more autonomy, more freedom to shape their own learning environment.
He stepped forward, his voice calm. “We should also consider the long-term implications. The ranking reveal is just one data point. If we can maintain or improve our position, we’ll have sustained access to these resources. That means we need a plan that ensures consistency, not just a one-time boost.”
Horikita turned to him, a faint smile forming. “You’re right, Kiyotaka. We need a strategic framework that can adapt to future challenges. Let’s outline a schedule for weekly reviews, where we assess our progress and adjust our tactics.”
Kushida wrote down the suggestion, her pen moving swiftly across the paper. “We can also create a shared document where each member logs their strengths and areas for improvement. That way, we can pair up for peer tutoring, maximizing our hidden abilities.”
Hirata chuckled