Oh crap, Kazuma thought. I got too eager trying to step on Yamada Yōichi's face and ended up playing it wrong.
But what was done was done. It's not like the teacher could turn things around now. And anyway, Kazuma figured he wouldn't need to study English seriously anymore after this. He could just leave it at that.
At that moment, the utterly flustered English teacher turned and bolted. Just before leaving the classroom, he called back to the class rep, "Collect the test papers when time's up and bring them to the office."
"Eh? Uh, sensei, class isn't over yet," the class rep protested. "If the dean sees you leave now, won't you get in trouble?"
But the teacher was already gone without looking back.
The classroom instantly erupted in chaos.
"That was awesome!" someone shouted, clapping and egging Kazuma on.
Kazuma glanced at Yamada Yōichi, who was wearing a thoroughly sour expression amid the noisy crowd.
Yep. He's pissed. Which makes me happy.
The simplest and most direct joy was the kind built on someone else's unhappiness.
Grinning, Kazuma gave a thumbs-up. "Thanks, thanks. If anyone needs help with English from now on, feel free to ask me."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the class rep let out a thunderous roar: "QUIET, QUIET, QUIET!"
No wonder she played tuba—what a set of lungs.
Once the class had calmed down, the class rep said sternly, "If you keep making noise and the dean—or worse, the principal—comes in, what'll we do? Hurry up and finish your test. Five minutes left! And don't even think about cheating!"
The students hastily bent over their papers once more.
Meanwhile, the class rep climbed onto the podium, leaning on the lectern with both hands, glaring at everyone below.
Clearly, she had already finished her test.
With her braided hair and thick-rimmed glasses, she definitely looked like a top student.
Kazuma had also finished his test. With nothing else to do, and too little time left for a nap, he turned to gaze out the window.
**
Back in the teachers' office, Takanashi Kenta slumped into his chair, utterly dejected.
Tanaka-sensei, who had no last-period class, noticed and asked curiously, "What's wrong? Weren't you supposed to be teaching Class 3-B's English just now? If the dean sees you back early, you'll be in trouble. He's got everyone's class schedule memorized—sometimes even better than we do."
Takanashi let out a long sigh. "Do you know a student named Kiryu Kazuma in Class 3-B?"
"Ah, today's hot topic. Tachibana-sensei was furious earlier."
Tachibana-sensei, of course, was the homeroom teacher for Class 3-B.
"He told them repeatedly to think carefully when filling out their post-graduation pathway survey," Tanaka said. "But one hard-headed kid wrote University of Tokyo in all three choices. That was Kiryu Kazuma."
"No wonder Tachibana-sensei was upset," Takanashi agreed. "Kiryu's always been at the bottom of the class in Class B. I heard he was admitted as a kendo-track student."
"That's right. Tachibana-sensei had been preparing all the paperwork to recommend him for the police academy."
In Japan, aside from the standard university entrance exams, recommendation-based admissions were also common.
Public school recommendations, in particular, carried weight—since public school teachers were state employees, their recommendations weren't tied to school performance or profits, making them reliable.
Of course, it helped if the school's average deviation score was high.
In Japanese society, being recommended to a prestigious university basically meant a direct ticket into the elite social circle.
Later on, those students were expected to return the favor—hence why good high schools in Japan often had powerful alumni associations, filled with influential figures.
Previously, Tachibana-sensei had been seriously preparing to recommend Kazuma to a police-related school—these often recruited students with kendo backgrounds.
After all, frontline officers needed strong physical skills.
Japanese police had strict protocols around firearm use, and officers avoided drawing their guns unless absolutely necessary.
Any cop who pulled a gun recklessly wasn't a typical Japanese officer.
For kendo-track students like Kazuma, there were really only two main career paths:
One was to pursue mastery in kendo itself, though that was a tough road with little guarantee of success.
The more common path was to attend the police academy, become a detective, and work one's way up.
Of course, there was one other path that no teacher would ever mention.
To become yakuza.
The teachers were well aware of this, of course. That was why Tachibana-sensei had been working so hard on Kazuma's recommendation materials.
And now Kazuma suddenly wanted to take the University of Tokyo entrance exam—rendering all that preparation useless.
Tanaka-sensei shook his head. "I wonder what's gotten into Kiryu Kazuma."
Takanashi looked serious. "Maybe he hasn't lost it after all."
"Huh? What do you mean?" Tanaka-sensei asked, puzzled.
Takanashi proceeded to recount what had just happened during the English test.
Tanaka's jaw dropped. "What?! Seriously? Are you sure—"
"I'm sure," Takanashi sighed again. "And he even mocked my pronunciation. I admit it—I can't distinguish R and L in English. My right sounds like light. But that's normal for us Japanese, right?
A pure American accent... is that really such a big deal?
Is it?!"
Takanashi stared at Tanaka-sensei, demanding an answer.
Tanaka opened his mouth to reply, but Takanashi answered himself first. "Yes! It is a big deal! There's nothing more I can teach him in English!"
Tanaka gave him a complicated look. "You don't have to be so down on yourself. Even with perfect pronunciation, his grammar might not be great. Maybe he just got an American girlfriend and picked up the accent that way."
"I already checked his test," Takanashi said. "He got a perfect score. A perfect score! High marks happen all the time, but even the top students occasionally lose points over small mistakes. He got everything right."
Tanaka frowned. "Maybe he joined an amazing cram school?"
"What kind of cram school could take a student who's always failed English and turn him into a top scorer with fluent American English in just one winter break?"
Tanaka had no response.
Silence fell over the office.
Then the bell rang to signal the end of class.
After a moment, Tanaka ventured, "So... do you think Kiryu Kazuma actually has a shot at Todai?"
"At least in English, absolutely," Takanashi said. "Honestly, with that level, he should be aiming for Sophia University."
Sophia University was famous for its foreign language programs and had produced many diplomats and interpreters.
Even if he didn't make it as a diplomat, a graduate from Sophia University's English department could easily land a job in a big company's overseas division.
Tanaka scratched his head. "Wow, that good? I wonder how he's doing in other subjects... I'll check tomorrow. I've got a class with 3-B. I'll give him a little test."
With that, Tanaka pulled out a math textbook and began writing problems.
(End of Chapter)