Arc 2: The Academic Verdict
Time rewinds to the final week of April.
The air inside Classroom 1-D (which was still Class D at the time) felt dry and static. Only the sound of graphite scratching against paper and the ticking of the wall clock filled the silence.
Chabashira Sae sat at the front, resting her chin on one hand, her sharp eyes observing her students' every move like a hawk watching field mice.
"Remember," she stated flatly at the start of the exam period. "This is only a diagnostic test. It won't go on your report cards. But take it seriously if you want to know where your brains actually stand."
Seiji Koroizumi flipped over the test paper on his desk.
The first subject: Japanese (Kokugo).
Seiji scanned the questions. The beginning section was child's play—reading basic elementary-level Kanji, identifying simple sentence structures. However, as his eyes moved further down, the difficulty spiked exponentially. The middle questions demanded high school-level analysis of modern literature. And the final three questions... they were excerpts of classical Heian-era literary texts that required an understanding of historical context and archaic grammar typically only studied by university literature majors.
An interesting curriculum, Seiji thought with a faint smile. They're testing the ceiling, not the floor.
He filled in the answers with neat, elegant handwriting. Finished in 15 minutes.
The next subjects: Social Studies (Shakai) and Science (Rika).
The pattern was the same. Starting with general questions about prefectural geography and basic photosynthesis, then gradually shifting into international geopolitical analysis and complex chemical stoichiometry calculations.
Seiji glanced around. Sudou Ken had already laid his head on his desk, fast asleep. Ike Kanji was scratching his head in frustration, twirling his pencil as if it could summon the answers from the heavens. Horikita Suzune, on the other hand, was putting up a fight. Her brow was furrowed, a cold sweat dripping down her temple. She could handle the high school-level questions perfectly, but the university-level ones had brought her to a halt.
And then, the final subject: Mathematics (Sūgaku).
This was the "final boss."
Seiji read through questions 1 to 20. Basic calculus, trigonometry, probability. Standard. Then, his eyes landed on the final three questions.
Question 23: Proving the Fundamental Theorem of Algebra using complex analysis. Question 24: Stochastic Differential Equations. Question 25: A Topology problem that even a senior university student wouldn't necessarily be able to solve in a short amount of time.
Seiji let out a silent chuckle. This school is really going all out.
He turned his head slightly toward the back, to the desk in the corner. Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
The young man was staring at his test paper with an expressionless face. His hands were still. Seiji knew that, with the brain capacity forged by the "White Room", that topology problem was nothing more than a warm-up for Ayanokouji. But Ayanokouji's pencil wasn't moving toward the correct answer. He was deliberately leaving the column blank, or perhaps filling it with an intentional mistake.
He's choosing to be average, Seiji analyzed. 50 points. A safe score. A score that doesn't draw attention.
Seiji returned his gaze to his own paper.
As the former 'The Reaper' and a former teacher who wanted his students to surpass their limits, Seiji had a different philosophy. Hiding one's fangs was important, but sometimes, you needed to show a little glint of the blade to let the world know you weren't prey.
As a teacher, I have to set an example, Seiji thought. And as a student in this class deemed defective, I need to set the standard.
Seiji's hand moved. Swift. Precise. Accurate. He wasn't just writing the answers; he was writing out the proofs of the formulas with the pure beauty of mathematical logic.
Those final three "hell-tier" questions fell to his mechanical pencil in under five minutes.
He put his pencil down.
Perfect.
Back to the present.
May 1st.
The euphoric atmosphere from their promotion to Class C and the transfer of 91,000 yen in points slowly faded, replaced by a new tension as Chabashira taped the results of last week's diagnostic test to the chalkboard.
"As I already told you, this test doesn't affect your report cards," Chabashira said, clapping the chalk dust from her hands. "But, it is a mirror."
She picked up a red marker, then circled a few names at the top of the rankings.
"The results are quite... entertaining. Especially for a class that used to be called defective."
The entire class's eyes were fixed on the chalkboard.
At the very top of the list, a single name stood alone in an ivory tower.
Koroizumi Seiji
Japanese: 100
Mathematics: 100
Science: 100
Social Studies: 100
English: 100
Total: 500/500
"Insane..." Ike muttered, his eyes wide. "Hundreds across the board? Even those weird questions on the last page?"
"He's not human," Yamauchi whispered in horror.
Seiji merely offered a polite smile, as if his perfect score was just a coincidence because he had eaten a good breakfast that morning.
Below him, there was a rather significant gap.
Horikita Suzune
Total: 468 (Average: 93.6)
Yukimura Teruhiko
Total: 462 (Average: 92.4)
Kouenji Rokusuke
Total: 450 (English & Mathematics 100, the rest done half-heartedly).
Yukimura, the bespectacled student who prided himself on his intellect, clenched his fists. He had lost. Crushing defeat by the nonchalant Koroizumi, and a narrow loss to Horikita.
However, Chabashira didn't let them marvel at the high scores for long. Her red marker moved down, diving sharply to the bottom of the list.
"On the other hand," Chabashira's voice turned cold, as cold as the ice in the North Pole. "There is trash that isn't even fit for recycling."
She circled the bottom three names.
Sudou Ken. Ike Kanji. Yamauchi Haruki.
Their scores were a disaster. Averages below 30. Sudou's Mathematics even hit single digits if rounded down.
"Why is Sensei mad?" Sudou asked casually, resting his feet on his desk. "Didn't you say this was just a diagnostic test? It doesn't affect our allowance, right?"
"Correct," Chabashira answered. She walked over to Sudou's desk, glaring at the young man with an intimidating stare. "This test has no effect."
Then, she smiled. A smile that made the hair on the back of Sudou's neck stand up.
"But next month... will be the Midterm Exams."
Chabashira returned to the chalkboard, writing out a simple yet lethal formula.
Passing Mark = Class Average / 2
"This school has a simple rule," Chabashira explained. "Anyone who scores below the passing mark—a failing grade—on the Midterm Exams or the Final Exams..."
She gave a dramatic pause.
"...will be immediately expelled (Drop Out) from the school."
Silence.
Absolute silence. No one breathed. The word "Expelled" hung in the air like a guillotine ready to drop.
Sudou's face instantly went pale. His feet dropped from his desk. "E... expelled? You mean fired? Forced to transfer schools?"
"Yes. You would have to pack your bags, hand in your ID, and walk out of the school gates that very day," Chabashira answered mercilessly. "And looking at these diagnostic scores, Sudou... if this had been a real exam, you'd be finished. You, Ike, and Yamauchi would have become a memory today."
Cold sweat poured down Ike's back. "W-wait! That's not fair! We just got here!"
"The world isn't fair, Ike," Chabashira cut in. "You have one month. You have 91,000 points. You can buy anything you want—good food, games, comics. But my advice is... buy your futures. Study, or get out."
Chabashira gathered her files.
"Welcome to the real Classroom of the Elite. Enjoy your despair."
The classroom door closed. Leaving Class 1-C in existential dread.
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