Yamada Yōichi looked utterly crestfallen.
Seeing his expression, Kazuma was just about to give iinchō a thumbs-up when Yamada suddenly seemed to grab onto a lifeline. He glared at Kazuma and fired off a question.
"And how did you do, Kiryu-kun? As one of the only two people in this class aiming for the University of Tokyo—and the class rep's close comrade—surely your deviation score must be at least 76, right?"
Kazuma figured Yamada's own deviation score was probably around 75.
As for his own? He hadn't even opened the envelope yet.
This was his first time taking a Japanese high school mock exam. He had no real sense of how the scores translated to deviation scores, nor could he even make an educated guess based on how he felt about his answers.
At that moment, the entire class's attention shifted to him.
Yamada's little clique all wore gleeful, popcorn-in-hand expressions.
Even Tachibana-sensei was watching, clearly curious.
With the spotlight on him, Kazuma had no choice but to open the envelope.
He slowly tore open the rather heavy envelope.
The first thing he pulled out was the grade report. A bright red number immediately caught everyone's eye:
Yamada burst out laughing. "Hahahahaha! Only sixty-six? Did they misprint it—was it supposed to be seventy-six?"
Kazuma glanced at Yamada, about to study the score report more closely, but iinchō snatched it away.
She scanned it and commented, "As expected, Japanese literature dragged you down. History… surprisingly okay? Math and English are excellent. Geography, physics, and chemistry… also not bad?"
This mock exam was designed for all students planning to pursue higher education, so the subjects covered were very comprehensive—nothing was left out.
Of course, the actual university entrance exams wouldn't cover this many subjects.
Also, Japanese exams weren't as lengthy or dense as the ones back in China, so it was possible to fit all these tests into a two-day schedule.
Iinchō continued, "Mm. A deviation score of sixty-six is actually quite respectable—better than I expected."
Yamada sneered. "Hmph. No need to sugarcoat it. For someone like him, always at the bottom of the class, aiming for Todai is pure fantasy. No need to even check the school match rating—it's obviously a C."
Kazuma pulled out the school match rating form.
Sure enough—a big fat C sat squarely in the rating box.
He'd only listed one school—not to show off, but because he had no choice. It was either get into Todai or go solo against the Kanto Union.
Yamada's grin widened. "See? Told you it'd be a C!"
His little clique joined in the jeering.
Up at the lectern, Tachibana-sensei sighed and shook his head.
But Kazuma continued rummaging through the envelope.
He'd noticed as soon as he received it that it felt heavier than it should—didn't seem like it only contained two sheets of paper.
Sure enough, he found something else inside.
Several high-quality sheets of paper, folded in half, which explained the thickness.
Iinchō suddenly let out an excited girlish squeal. "It's teacher comments! Notes from the exam graders!"
Frankly, the sudden burst of girlishness from iinchō threw Kazuma off. His attention shifted to her.
Had he not been distracted, with his current combat proficiency level, there's no way Yamada would've managed to snatch the letter from him.
But Yamada zipped back to his clique, triumphantly holding the letter aloft, and began reading it aloud in a mockingly dramatic tone.
"Dear Kiryu Kazuma-kun, greetings. I am Yoshida from Asahi Education. I apologize for the unsolicited letter."
Yamada paused, turning to Kazuma with exaggerated glee. "Wow! Such a polite teacher! Even apologizing for bothering you~ Heehee."
Iinchō took a deep breath.
Kazuma could tell she was about to unleash her lion's roar, so he quickly reached out and stopped her.
She blinked in confusion. "Why?"
"Let him keep reading," Kazuma replied, smiling serenely as he gazed at Yamada with a benevolent look.
He had a bold hunch about what was coming and wanted to let Yamada dig his own grave.
Yamada frowned slightly, sensing something was off. But one of the girls in his clique, Makino, egged him on. "Come on, Yōichi, keep reading! We wanna hear the rest!"
Reluctantly, Yamada pressed on.
"In the recent joint mock exam co-hosted by our institution and partner organizations, you listed your first-choice school as the University of Tokyo Faculty of Law, and only that one."
The letter continued, "Several of us grading teachers believe this choice is rather unrealistic.
"Your Japanese literature level is… frankly difficult to comment on. Even with a full year of diligent study, it would likely still fall short of Todai's standards."
Yamada lit up with glee and forgot his earlier misgivings. He looked up and jeered at Kazuma.
"See? Even the teachers say your Japanese is too awful to mention! A whole year of cramming won't help! And you still think you can get into Todai?"
From the lectern, Tachibana-sensei spoke up. "If you're going to read it, read it properly. If not, return it. No adding your own commentary."
At Kitakatsushi High, a school focused on university prep, the teachers' words carried weight. Yamada meekly continued reading.
"Although your math and English scores are excellent and require little additional effort, these strengths likely cannot compensate for your weaknesses in Japanese literature and history."
He paused again, glancing at Kazuma, but under Tachibana-sensei's gaze, refrained from further commentary and read on.
"Additionally, we noted that your physics and chemistry scores were also excellent. While not quite at the level of your math and English, with focused review, we believe you could achieve very high proficiency in these subjects as well."
"Considering these factors, we sincerely advise you to abandon the unrealistic goal of Todai—" Yamada emphasized "unrealistic" with relish and shot another smug look at Kazuma. "—and instead, we recommend you apply to…"
At that point, Yamada stopped, staring at the letter in disbelief.
Kazuma grinned.
Just as I thought.
He'd suspected from the start that this letter was going to suggest switching to a science and engineering track.
In his past life, China's college admissions had heavily favored STEM—choosing sciences opened far more doors, even allowing for some crossover into humanities fields like journalism.
But going the humanities track locked you into humanities majors only.
So back then, whether in competitive provinces or weaker ones, the sciences had always been the stronger choice.
By the year he'd transmigrated, it was said that fewer students were choosing science. But that wasn't his concern.
What mattered was—he was very strong in the sciences. Visibly so.
Kazuma stood up, putting on a curious expression.
"What's wrong? Why'd you stop reading? Come on, what did Asahi Education's teacher suggest I switch my application to?"
(End of Chapter)