The next few days passed surprisingly peacefully for Kazuma.
At school, Yamada Yōichi looked like he wanted to cause trouble a couple of times, but with no test results out yet, he didn't have any real excuse. All he could do was come over, toss out a few half-hearted snide remarks, then slink away.
Frankly, Kazuma found Yamada far more annoying than those who just came straight at him.
He hadn't done anything major enough to warrant a punch—Kazuma himself would feel it was too much if he just hauled off and decked him.
But watching him skulk around like that was aggravating all the same.
It was like trying to sleep with a mosquito buzzing in your ear. You could get up, turn on the light, and go to war with it—but that'd just ruin your drowsiness. On the other hand, if you ignored it, it'd keep you stuck in that frustrating limbo between wakefulness and sleep.
In the end, you could only hope sleepiness would eventually win out.
And just like that, another week went by. Monday came, and so did the results of the mock exams.
The mock exams Kitakatsushi High School participated in were jointly run by several major nationwide cram school chains and two semi-official private testing organizations. Grading was done the old-school way—by post.
This system worked thanks to Japan's well-established postal network. While not quite on par with the 2020-era logistics of China, it was still world-class.
Of course, plenty of things weren't worth comparing to 2020 China—that'd be just bullying. (Line omitted per anti-superiority filter.)
Each student's report card and rating sheet came sealed in an envelope, one per person, to be picked up by name.
Until Kazuma actually opened his envelope, not even the school principal knew his exact scores. Of course, the principal and the academic dean would receive the school's overall statistics from the exam organizers—things like the school-wide average deviation scores.
If any student had performed exceptionally well, they'd know—but they wouldn't know who it was until the students opened their results and reported them.
As the class rep handed out the envelopes, homeroom teacher Tachibana-sensei sat to one side of the podium, perched on a stool, watching the students' expressions with interest as they opened their letters.
Kazuma could feel Tachibana-sensei glancing his way every so often.
Technically, Kazuma could have just stuffed the envelope into his bag and gone through the day without opening it—wait until he was home that night.
But that would violate an unspoken "school rule": these envelopes were meant to be opened on the spot, and then the results reported to the teacher.
Kazuma also hoped to get some extra guidance from the teachers—after all, he couldn't afford cram school. So he'd have to open it here and now.
The class rep herself brought the last two envelopes to Kazuma's desk—one for him, and one she kept.
Kazuma clicked his tongue.
Lately, the school was already buzzing with rumors about a rivalry between iinchō and Mikako. So far, Nanjo-san hadn't entered the rumor mill, as the students of Kitakatsushi hadn't connected the dots yet.
Judging by the way iinchō was acting, she seemed determined to lean into those rumors.
Kazuma didn't really know how to gently discourage her without hurting her feelings, so he pretended not to notice.
He looked at his envelope. His full name was printed on the front. He weighed it in his hand—it felt heavier than just two sheets of paper.
Meanwhile, iinchō had already opened hers and pulled out her report card and rating sheet.
Unlike the real university exams, where students typically picked just one or two schools to focus on due to scheduling conflicts, mock exams allowed you to list a string of preferred schools. The organizers would then evaluate your odds for each one.
Kazuma glanced up at iinchō's form. The text faintly visible from the back suggested she'd listed three schools.
But he couldn't tell what ratings she'd gotten for them.
Just then, Yamada Yōichi strolled over, swaggering.
"How'd you do, huh? Heh—I got A ratings for all my target schools!"
Kazuma frowned, restraining the impulse to punch him.
He glanced at iinchō—she was already looking at him.
Kazuma gave her a hopeful look, eyes practically saying: Your move, iinchō!
Clearly, she got the message. She lifted her gaze to Yamada, then, with a smooth flip of her hand, turned her rating sheet so he could see the front.
"Not bad—I've got all A ratings too."
Yamada's eyes locked on the first line: University of Tokyo Faculty of Law – Rating: A. His expression twisted.
An A was the highest possible rating. There was no "S" tier—after all, the big cram schools running these tests had to protect their reputations. If they overinflated ratings and students failed entrance exams, it would hurt their business.
An A for Todai Law? Just seeing that was enough to know iinchō was in the absolute top tier—her deviation score had to be sky-high.
Japan's deviation score system used 50 as the mean. Anything above 50 was above average.
Yamada peeked at her second choice and his face contorted even more.
Her second choice? University of Tokyo Faculty of Economics – Rating: A.
And her third? University of Tokyo Faculty of History – Rating: A.
"Hmph… that's not fair!" Yamada sputtered. "You're just listing different departments at the same school. It's easier to focus your studying that way—of course you got all A's! My list—!"
Before he could finish, iinchō calmly flipped to the second page.
"I also have teacher comments. Let me read them for you."
'Dear Jingūji-san: Your outstanding performance in this mock exam has greatly impressed the grading staff. We encourage you to remain diligent and humble, and to continue striving for excellence. Wishing you a bright future—The Grading Committee.'
She finished reading, then angled that page toward Yamada as well.
And added sweetly: "Do you have any teacher comments, Yamada-kun? Any blessings and encouragement from all the graders?"
Yamada was struck speechless.
Just as he was starting to recover, iinchō struck again—this time revealing her full report card.
At the top, in bold numbers: Deviation Score: 78.
Kazuma heard Yamada audibly suck in a breath.
Among Tokyo's public high schools, the top deviation scores were from the two affiliated schools of the University of Tsukuba—those hovered between 78 and 79.
Meaning iinchō's score would rank her first even in those elite schools.
In the even more competitive private schools, she'd be solidly in the topmost group.
Kitakatsushi was an "academic-focused" school, sure, but its average deviation score hovered around 73 at best—last year it had only reached 70.
Looking at the dumbfounded Yamada, iinchō coolly said—in English:
"Checkmate."
It was the term for cornering an opponent in chess.
(End of Chapter)