The air was crisp and cool as the buses came to a stop, one after another, in front of a sprawling training facility nestled deep in the mountains. The massive complex, owned by the school, stood like a fortress — its steel gates gleaming under the morning sun. It was quiet except for the murmurs of confused first-years stepping off the buses, still uncertain about the "mental development" special exam that awaited them.
As the students filed into the facility, Sae Chabashira's announcement from the bus replayed in everyone's mind — six gender-based groups, cross-year collaboration, leaders chosen by consensus, and the terrifying penalty of expulsion for whoever dragged their group to last place.
It was, in short, the most dangerous kind of exam: one that could tear alliances apart from the inside.
Once everyone settled in, the boys were directed toward a massive indoor gymnasium where folding chairs had been neatly arranged in lines. The atmosphere was tense, even before the briefing started. The second and third years immediately began clustering together — veterans of past trials who already understood how to survive such exams.
Meanwhile, the first years, still new to this system, stood scattered like lost sheep. There was hesitation in their movements, uncertainty in their voices.
Then, with the commanding confidence of someone used to leading, Class A's group stepped forward.
"Attention, everyone," announced Katsuragi Kōhei, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "Class A has already formed a large group of fourteen members. We are willing to take one student from another class — but only one. You have five minutes to decide who it'll be."
A collective murmur spread through the gym.
"Just one?" someone whispered.
"What's their game this time?" another muttered.
Even among the usually composed first-years, confusion spread quickly. Class A was infamous for playing their cards close to the chest — but making such an open declaration was a move that had everyone suspicious.
And then, casually, with both hands in my pockets, I decided to make my entrance.
I strolled over to Katsuragi's group, my expression bored, and my tone lazy."Well, since no one's jumping at the offer, I'll take the slot. Saves everyone the trouble, yeah?"
Katsuragi raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by my straightforwardness."Miyamoto Sōshi, was it? From Class C?" he asked."Yeah, that's me. Don't mind me, just trying to make sure you don't get lonely with only Class A faces around," I replied, smirking.
For a brief moment, the students nearby exchanged looks — some impressed, others thinking I was insane. After all, joining a Class A group without knowing their agenda was like stepping into a lion's den willingly.
Katsuragi gave a short chuckle. "Very well. We'll take you in. But be aware — we play to win."
Of course, the other classes weren't going to sit still after that. Almost immediately, Satoru Kaneda from Class D and Ryūji Kanzaki from Class B began talking strategy, their voices low but firm.
"Class A's trying to isolate themselves while baiting us," Kaneda muttered. "Exactly," Kanzaki agreed. "If they win, they gain all the credit. If they lose, they can blame the outsider they took in. We can't allow that."
A few moments later, Hirata from our class joined their circle, his usual calm expression replaced with determination."If we coordinate, we can ensure Class A doesn't monopolize the top ranks. Cooperation across the three remaining classes could level the playing field."
The plan was bold — unite the other classes against the strongest one. But even with all the logic behind it, I could sense hesitation in the air. No one truly trusted anyone else in this school.
Still, before anyone could comment further, someone raised an awkward point.
"What about Ryūen? No one's taking him in."
The room went quiet. Ryūen, lounging on a bench at the back, smirked as if he enjoyed the attention."Heh. What's wrong? Scared I'll burn your precious group from the inside?"
No one dared to reply.
So, I sighed, rubbed the back of my head, and stepped forward again."Well, this is awkward. Alright, I'll handle it."
Ryūen looked at me curiously. "You? Handle me?"
I turned toward my class. "Akito Miyake, you're volunteering to take Ryūen in, right?"Miyake froze, caught off-guard. "Wha—wait, since when—""C'mon, don't make me look bad. You'll get the first-place bonus if you can stomach him for a few days," I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Everyone stared at me like I'd lost my mind, but Ryūen just chuckled darkly."Interesting. I don't hate that deal."
I glanced over at Ayanokōji. "Kiyo, take care of Yukimura for me, yeah? He's too serious for his own good."
He gave a small nod, his usual unreadable expression unchanged. "Got it."
Once the small groups were set, the next stage arrived faster than expected.
The gym doors opened, and in walked Miyabi Nagumo, the charismatic and dangerous student council president. His presence alone silenced the hall.
"Alright, first years," he said with a charming smile. "We're going to skip the boring waiting period. Let's form the large groups right now."
Everyone turned toward him, unsure if he was serious. But Nagumo wasn't someone who waited for permission.
He proposed a "drafting method" — first-year groups would choose which second- or third-year group they wanted to join, like a sports draft. Naturally, everyone obeyed without protest. Defying Nagumo was never wise.
The first pick went to Matoba's group, the one composed of fourteen Class A students. Without hesitation, they selected Manabu Horikita's group, the group led by the former student council president himself. A match of elites, as expected.
Then came the turn for the remaining first-year group — the one led by Yukimura, which included Ayanokōji, Kōenji, Hashimoto, Totsuka, Ishizaki, Albert, and a few others.
Their pick was obvious: Nagumo's group.
Nagumo smirked as he leaned back, clearly amused."So, you've chosen to walk into the lion's den. I like that."
But then his eyes narrowed slightly."By the way, Yukimura — you haven't chosen your leader yet, have you?"
The group stiffened. It was true — they hadn't decided.
Nagumo gestured lazily. "You'd better do it quickly. This exam won't go easy on those without a strong center."
After Nagumo left, the first-years circled up. The tension was thick as the topic of leadership came up.
"Let's make this fair," Hashimoto suggested. "Rock-paper-scissors?"
A few nodded in agreement — but one person leaned back and laughed.
"Ridiculous," Kōenji Rokusuke said, his trademark grin widening. "Why should I, the embodiment of perfection, risk leadership through a children's game? I'll pass."
Everyone groaned in unison. Of course he'd refuse.
Before they could argue, Nagumo — still lingering nearby — decided to drop a bomb.
"Oh, by the way," he said casually, "I did a bit of digging on Kōenji. He's been offering graduating seniors cash in exchange for transferring their unused points to him. Planning to buy your way into Class A, weren't you?"
The gym went completely silent.
Kōenji, unfazed, smiled wider. "Business is business, is it not? If the system allows it, why not exploit it?"
Nagumo's tone hardened. "Except the system doesn't allow that. If you continue, I'll report it directly. Consider this your warning."
For once, even Kōenji's grin faltered slightly. He crossed his arms but didn't reply.
Finally, Yukimura stepped forward. "Enough of this. I'll take the responsibility. I'll be the leader."
No one objected. It wasn't that they trusted him completely, but among everyone present, he was the most logical choice. His calm demeanor, fairness, and intelligence made him a suitable candidate — even if he lacked charisma.
That evening, the newly formed mixed-year group moved into their assigned dorm building. It was a simple but spacious setup — rows of bunk beds, shared bathrooms, and a single lounge area.
As everyone claimed their beds, Hashimoto turned toward Ishizaki."Hey, by the way… can Albert understand English?"
Ishizaki shrugged. "Kinda? Depends on his mood."
Hashimoto leaned closer. "And that rumor about you overthrowing Ryūen — that true?"
Ishizaki frowned, glancing at Albert, who stood silently by the door like a loyal bodyguard."It's true," he muttered, "but… let's just say not everyone believes it."
Hashimoto smirked. "Yeah, can't blame them. You don't exactly look like the type to overthrow a tyrant."
Ishizaki clenched his fists, but Yukimura intervened. "That's enough. We don't need to start fighting before the exam even begins."
The room fell quiet again.
Meanwhile, I passed by their dorm window, glancing inside as I headed back toward my own assigned building with Class A. My thoughts drifted briefly to Ayanokōji's calm face and Yukimura's serious expression.
"Don't die too soon, you guys," I muttered with a grin. "Wouldn't be fun if the exam ended without a little chaos."
The bus exhaust still lingered faintly in the cold mountain air as we followed the directions toward the dormitory building assigned to our large group. The corridors echoed with the chatter of dozens of students, voices mixing—Class A's quiet authority, the younger students' curiosity, and the subtle tension of those from the lower classes who knew one misstep could cost them dearly.
The dormitory we were guided into was simple, functional—wooden floors, the faint smell of polish, and the unmistakable sharpness of new bedding. Inside stood a row of wooden bunk beds, stacked neatly in pairs to fit sixteen people. The space was clean, symmetrical, and far too quiet for the number of people who would be sleeping here tonight.
I scanned the room lazily, eyes flicking toward the window at the far end. Beyond the glass, I could see the dark green forest rolling away beneath a clear sky. The trees swayed gently, forming a tranquil scene that didn't match the underlying dread of the coming exam.
"Hmm," I murmured, walking toward the farthest corner and climbing the ladder to the top bunk. The wood creaked under my weight. The view here was good—isolated, quiet, close enough to the window that I could crack it open and feel the cold mountain air brushing against my face.
Yeah. Perfect.
The lower bunks might be easier to access, but they came with the risk of constant disturbance. Up here, I could watch without being watched.
The others from Class A filtered in soon after. I could feel their eyes on me—mild irritation mixed with restrained politeness. I didn't have to look to know what they were thinking.
This outsider took the best spot without even asking.
They exchanged a few silent glances, but none spoke at first. It wasn't until a tall, bespectacled boy—Shinji Matoba, if I remembered right—approached the lower bunk of mine and tilted his head up, smiling that perfect Class A smile.
"Miyamoto-san," he said, his tone polite but edged with faint tension. "As we agreed earlier, just do your best for the duration of the exam. If you have any thoughts or concerns, we'll do our best to accommodate them. Let's try to get along, shall we?"
His words were courteous enough, but the implication was clear.
You're a guest here. Don't act like you own the place.
I stretched lazily, resting my elbow on my knee as I leaned back against the wall. From above, I looked down at him like a lazy cat on a perch.
"It seems students here have to do everything themselves," I replied casually. "So I'll leave it all to you. I won't be participating in the usual group work or the exam discussions. Pretend I don't exist."
A pause.
Matoba blinked. "...What?"
Katsuragi's frown deepened. The other Class A students, mid-conversation, turned their heads toward me.
"Miyamoto," a short-haired boy said sharply, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I shrugged, smiling faintly. "Means exactly what I said. I'm not doing anything. You guys handle the test, I'll just sit this one out."
For a brief moment, the air in the dorm thickened. Matoba's friendly facade cracked.
"Miyamoto-san," he said slowly, "you do remember the rules, don't you? If you intentionally sabotage the group, Katsuragi will have no problem dragging you down with him. He won't hesitate."
"I'm aware," I replied calmly. "But the rule says only the group in last place faces expulsion. As long as your Class A brains manage to keep the average above the school's threshold, you'll be fine. And with Horikita Manabu, Katsuragi, and all you other geniuses here, there's no way you'll fall below the average... right?"
Silence.
Then a few faces hardened.
"You're deliberately trying to mess with us," Matoba said quietly. "On purpose."
"Yep." I grinned. "Easier to hold back than to study hard, isn't it? And who knows, if Class A ends up dropping to fifth place, that's forty-two class points gone for you... while Class C only loses three. A fair trade if you ask me."
Katsuragi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're playing with fire, Miyamoto."
"Fire's warm," I replied, smirking devilishly. "Besides, if you're confident, then you've got nothing to worry about, right?"
The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, Katsuragi turned away.
"Do as you please," he said coldly. "But don't expect protection if things go south."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
With that, I stretched out on my bunk, hands behind my head, and closed my eyes. The faint sound of muttering continued below—Class A discussing quietly, already beginning to form strategies and rank members by ability. I didn't care. For now, I had the best seat in the room and a plan that might shake their perfect little tower.
When evening came, the scent of warm food filled the cafeteria. The hall buzzed with hundreds of students eating, talking, and discreetly sizing each other up. It was the first and only hour of the day where boys and girls were allowed to communicate freely, meant to "encourage intelligence sharing" — though everyone knew it was also a test of restraint and social skill.
I took my tray and scanned the room lazily before spotting Ibuki sitting alone near the far side. She was stabbing her food with a fork, clearly annoyed about something.
I walked over, setting my tray down across from her.
"What's wrong? You look like someone stole your dessert."
She shot me a glare. "You're late. I almost thought you'd ditched dinner."
"Me? Ditch food? Unthinkable." I grinned, grabbing a piece of bread. "You miss me that much?"
Her fork stopped mid-stab. "Don't make me regret sitting here."
I chuckled, leaning back. "Admit it—you did miss me."
She turned away, muttering something about "idiots from Class C," but her ears were faintly red. I took that as a victory and dug into my meal, letting the noise of the cafeteria wash over us.
Across the room, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji sat quietly, keeping his distance from Kei Karuizawa. He knew that any interaction now would attract unnecessary attention from Sakayanagi or Nagumo, who were likely observing every move. Instead, he chose a seat near Honami Ichinose, the ever-popular Class B leader.
From his vantage point, he could see and hear everything clearly. Ichinose was surrounded by her classmates, all talking at once about the challenge of forming groups.
"Honami-san, how are you still smiling through all this?" one girl asked.
Ichinose laughed softly. "When you've got to quarrel, you've just got to quarrel. We'll figure it out eventually."
Even though she looked exhausted, her voice was full of life. She leaned forward on the table, resting her chin on her arms, a rare unguarded expression crossing her face.
That's when she noticed him.
"Kiyotaka!" she called out, her voice bright and melodic, enough to turn several heads.
Ayanokōji blinked. "Ah... hey."
Her sudden friendliness caught him off guard. Ichinose wasn't the type to drop her composure in public. Seeing her like this—relaxed, vulnerable, smiling genuinely—was... unusual.
Realizing how she might look, Ichinose straightened hurriedly. "Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," he interrupted softly. "You don't have to push yourself."
Her eyes widened for a moment before softening. "You're... really strange sometimes, Ayanokōji-kun."
"I get that a lot."
The two talked briefly about the difficulties of team formation. When Ayanokōji mentioned Ryūen's reputation, Ichinose's face turned sympathetic.
"It must be hard," she said quietly. "To be disliked by everyone."
Ayanokōji didn't reply, but he thought privately that it was a strength, not a weakness, to bear such isolation.
As he stood to leave, he offered a quiet piece of advice. "Don't push yourself too hard, Ichinose."
She smiled faintly. "I'll try. But being energetic is kind of my only good point, you know?"
He gave a small nod, then walked away. She waved after him as he disappeared into the crowd.
I leaned back after finishing my meal, watching Ayanokōji leave from afar. He moved like a shadow—unassuming, unreadable.
"You know," I said to Ibuki, "if this whole thing goes south, I bet that guy will be the only one left standing."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He's the type who never shows his hand. Always calculating, even when he looks lost." I poked at the remains of my food. "Kind of annoying, actually. Reminds me of how you act when you're mad."
She glared again. "Say that one more time and I'll throw my tray at you."
"See? Exactly like that."
She groaned, muttering something about how she should've chosen another table. But she didn't move.
As we ate in companionable silence, the cafeteria began to empty, the one-hour interaction period nearing its end. I stretched, feeling the drowsiness of the long day catch up.
"Well," I said, standing up, "guess it's back to the dorms. Big day tomorrow. Mental development exam, huh? Let's see who breaks first."
Ibuki rolled her eyes. "Don't oversleep again, idiot."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
As we left the cafeteria together, the night outside was pitch black, the mountain wind howling softly through the trees. Somewhere, deep within the facility, plans were being made, alliances were shifting, and the first sparks of the exam's chaos were beginning to glow.