The rest of Friday morning settled into the familiar, mundane rhythm of high school. Or at least, as mundane as it could be at Shuchiin Academy.
First period was Mathematics, followed immediately by the weekly assessment tests. According to Shizuku-sensei, these Friday quizzes were a Shuchiin tradition designed to weed out the slackers before the weekend even began.
For the average first-year student, the test was brutal. It covered advanced calculus concepts that most public schools wouldn't touch until the third year. I could hear the collective grinding of teeth from my classmates the moment the papers were passed back. Even Utaha Kasumigaoka, sitting directly in front of me, let out a soft sigh of annoyance.
For me, however, it was a nostalgic review session.
In my past life, I had been a fiercely ambitious university student majoring in finance and economics. I had eaten complex calculus for breakfast to survive my corporate internships. Translating that knowledge into a high school math test was like riding a bicycle.
I breezed through the front and back of the test paper in less than fifteen minutes. I spent the rest of the period discreetly checking my system panel, enjoying the steady, painless rhythm of my newly upgraded Level 5 Constitution, and mentally preparing for the brutal physical training I had agreed to with Karla Kure tomorrow.
When the bell finally rang, Shizuku-sensei collected the papers. She had a fast-grading system, rapidly scanning the sheets at her podium while the class held its collective breath.
"Alright, brats, listen up," Shizuku-sensei called out, tapping the stack of graded papers against her desk. "I'm not going to waste time reading out everyone's mediocre scores. I'm just going to announce the top score for the week so the rest of you know what standard you're failing to meet."
The classroom went dead silent. Everyone naturally shifted their gaze toward the center row.
Kaguya Shinomiya sat with perfect posture, her hands folded neatly on her desk. She didn't look arrogant, merely expectant. As the heir to the Shinomiya conglomerate, being at the absolute pinnacle of academia wasn't just a goal; it was a baseline requirement for her existence. She had likely never lost a test in her life.
Shizuku-sensei pulled the top paper from the stack, her eyes scanning the name. She paused, blinking twice in genuine surprise. She looked up, her gaze bypassing Kaguya completely and landing directly on me in the back corner.
"Well, color me surprised," Shizuku-sensei muttered, a smirk breaking across her face. "Top score this week goes to the guy who spent the first three days of the semester bedridden with a fever. Ren Ichijou. Ninety-nine out of one hundred."
A collective gasp echoed through Class 1-A.
"Shinomiya," Shizuku-sensei added, glancing at the second paper. "You're right behind him with a ninety-eight. Good work, both of you. Come grab your papers."
Kaguya froze.
From my vantage point in the back, I could see her shoulders stiffen so rigidly they looked like they might snap. Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head to look at me. Her crimson eyes were wide, a mix of absolute shock and raw, unfiltered disbelief.
Someone had beaten her. The famously frail, sickly older brother of the Shuei-gumi—a boy she likely assumed was just a fragile spectator—had just casually dethroned her by a single, agonizing point.
I stood up and walked down the aisle to collect my paper. As I passed Kaguya's desk on the way back, I didn't stop, but I slowed my pace just a fraction.
She was glaring at me, her icy facade completely fracturing under the weight of her competitive pride. I met her gaze, gave a very faint, deliberate smirk, and slightly angled my test paper so she could clearly see the red '99' circled at the top.
Kaguya's breath hitched. Her hands gripped the edges of her desk so tightly her knuckles turned white.
I walked back to my seat and sat down, incredibly amused. Fighting Grade 4 curses was terrifying, but provoking the prideful Ice Queen of Shuchiin Academy? That was just entertaining.
"Show-off," Utaha whispered from the desk in front of me, though I could hear the distinct amusement in her voice. "Careful, Ichijou-kun. I think her glare just dropped the room temperature by ten degrees."
That single smirk was the spark that ignited a powder keg.
For the rest of the day, Kaguya Shinomiya declared a silent, intensely violent academic war against me. Every single class became a battlefield.
During English Literature, the teacher asked for a complex translation of a Shakespearean sonnet. Kaguya's hand shot up instantly, delivering a flawless, textbook translation.
The moment she finished, I raised my hand and offered a translation that captured the exact same meaning but adapted the poetic meter perfectly into conversational Japanese.
The teacher praised my answer as "profound." Kaguya looked like she wanted to snap her expensive fountain pen in half.
During Science, we had a pop quiz on chemical reactions. Kaguya finished in twenty minutes, setting her pencil down with a sharp, triumphant *click*. I set my pencil down thirty seconds later, but when the grades were announced, I had edged her out by half a point because I had balanced a secondary equation she had deemed unnecessary.
By the time the final bell of the day rang, the atmosphere in Class 1-A was suffocating. The entire class had realized they were just collateral damage in a monstrous intellectual crossfire between the Shinomiya heiress and the Ichijou family's phantom.
I packed my briefcase, feeling mentally drained but physically stable. It had been exhausting keeping up with a recognized genius, but my college memories and my newly bolstered adult-level stamina had pulled me through.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and looked toward the center of the room.
Kaguya was standing by her desk. She wasn't glaring anymore. The shock and irritation had melted down into something much more dangerous: absolute, razor-sharp focus. She looked at me not as a weird anomaly, but as a genuine rival. An obstacle she absolutely had to crush.
I gave her a polite nod, turning to leave the classroom.
I might have just painted a massive, Shinomiya-sized target on my back for the rest of my high school career, but I didn't mind. Dealing with a hyper-competitive, brilliant girl was a luxury compared to what awaited me tomorrow.
Saturday was looming. And with it, Karla Kure and a training session that might actually kill me.