Chapter 39 – Chaotic Method
Kotarō had never actually seen Aizawa debate.
He'd heard stories. Haruka once called him "brilliant in ways that make no sense until ten seconds after he sits down." Souta said, "His logic feels like a dodgeball game where all the balls still land." Mikako, less generously, said, "He should come with footnotes and a sedative."
Now he stood at the podium. And smiled.
A calm, confident smile.
Not fake. Not performative. Real.
Then he began.
"Madam Speaker, judges, Government team—thank you." He bowed.
"The motion today asks if we should prioritize creativity over standardized testing."
Pause.
"Before we discuss that, let's talk about pencils."
(Kotarō Internal)
"Okay. That's new."
Aizawa spun a #2 pencil between his fingers like it was part of his soul.
"This tool is the great equalizer, right? Students across the nation fill bubbles with it. But it's not just a testing tool. It's the thing you used to draw dragons in third grade. It's the thing you snapped in half when you got a question wrong. It's memory, pressure, potential."
He twirled the pencil once.
"Standardized testing tells you how fast someone can fill circles. Creativity tells you how far they want to go."
He let the pencil rest.
The speech wasn't linear.
He jumped. From art classes being cut from public schools to Japan's ranking in innovation indexes. From anecdotes about a student who built a robot for his cat, to metaphors about jazz musicians.
But he landed every time. Each turn came back to the motion. Every detour snapped back with a clear purpose.
(Kotarō Internal)
"This isn't a speech. It's jazz. But somehow, every note fits."
Kotarō didn't mean to react. But halfway through the second point, he exhaled sharply and let out the smallest laugh.
It wasn't mockery. It was disbelief.
Haruka, sitting just behind him, turned slightly. She didn't ask anything. Just watched him for a second longer than necessary. Then smiled.
Aizawa closed:
"We're not saying throw away tests. We're saying stop pretending they're the only thing worth measuring. Because when you measure only what fits in a scorecard, You lose the kid who paints. You lose the one who asks questions no one else thought to. You lose the spark."
He bowed again.
Silence. Then polite applause.
Aizawa sat down like nothing happened.
(Kotarō Internal)
"I came in expecting a mess.
And got a monologue that bent sideways and still hit the mark."
Beside him, Mikako stood. She hadn't said a word since the start of the match.
She adjusted her cuffs. Stepped forward. And said, quietly:
"Well, that was different. Let's respond properly."
(Kotarō Internal)
"First time seeing Mikako in action.
Can chaos be countered by blueprints? Guess I'm about to find out."
Chapter End