A heavy sigh escapes Renjiro's lips.
The noise inside the classroom resembles a crowded zoo right before feeding time. Desks scrape violently against the polished floor as students turn around in their seats. Voices overlap in a loud, unstructured mess of excited introductions and nervous laughter.
He sits in the very back row, tucked right against the window. His chin rests heavily in the palm of his hand. Cool glass presses against his left shoulder.
It does not make any sense.
He slowly blinks and watches a group of boys laughing near the front podium. He runs the numbers in his head again. The math completely refuses to balance.
If we follow standard logic, Mako possesses average academic ability. She studies hard but she easily forgets basic formulas under pressure. She likely scored right around seventy-five on the written entrance exams.
Knowing that, he took deliberate countermeasures. During his own exams, he carefully tracked his correct answers. He intentionally scored a fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, and fifty-five across the five core subjects. That average sits safely at the bottom of the barrel. He hoped to sink quietly into the lowest possible class, which was Class D.
A sudden movement catches his eye.
Mako sits at the desk directly to his right. She stops looking at the chalkboard and turns her head to face him. A bright, unbothered smile spreads across her face.
Why are we in the same class? Worse, we are assigned as seatmates. How did it come to this?
He stares at her smiling face. A dull ache forms right behind his eyes.
If the school places students based strictly on entrance exam results, a seventy-five average and a fifty-three average should never occupy the same room. The numerical gap is simply too wide. The system is broken.
Or maybe the entrance exam result is not the actual basis.
He shifts his gaze toward the door at the front of the room.
They probably put you in Class D even if you get a very high score on the test. They might put you in Class A even if your entrance score sits at rock bottom. The written test seems like a massive smokescreen.
The interview perhaps? Maybe the administration evaluates personality types. Maybe they look at middle school club activities or disciplinary records. I don't really care about the school's hidden mechanics. Figuring out the true purpose of the sorting system requires energy. My energy reserves are already completely wasted in this situation.
The chime of the school bell rings loud and clear above the door.
The sliding door at the front of the room rattles open.
A woman steps inside.
The loud chatter in the room dies down immediately. Students scramble to face forward in their seats. Renjiro keeps his chin resting in his hand, observing the new arrival with half-closed eyes.
She does not look like a strict disciplinarian. She wears a standard dark suit, but the jacket hangs open loosely.
A pale pink blouse rests underneath. Her light brown hair falls freely around her shoulders, styled with a slight, playful wave. She carries a small, brightly colored folder instead of a heavy clipboard or a thick textbook.
"Yoo-hoo! Good morning, everyone!"
Her voice is high, bright, and incredibly cheerful. She steps up to the teacher's podium and leans forward, resting both elbows on the wood. She kicks one leg up slightly behind her.
"Are we all in our seats? Wow, look at you guys! You all look super cute in your new uniforms!"
She claps her hands together. The sound echoes sharply in the quiet room.
Renjiro watches her closely.
An adult woman acting like a teenager. It feels unnatural.