The week ended in silence.
Not the peaceful kind—
But the kind that came after something exhausting had finally passed.
Midterms were over.
No more late-night studying.
No more quiet tension during exams.
No more pages filled under pressure.
The school slowly returned to normal.
Voices grew louder again. Laughter returned to the hallways. The weight that had settled over everyone began to lift.
But not completely.
Because one thing still remained.
Results.
"Today's the day…" Miyu muttered, slumping over her desk dramatically.
"I feel sick," she added, pressing her cheek against the surface.
"You say that every time," Reina replied calmly.
"This time I mean it."
Yuna gave a small, nervous smile. "I'm a little worried too…"
Rei sat quietly beside them, his expression as calm as ever.
"…You'll be fine," he said.
Miyu lifted her head just enough to glare at him. "You're not allowed to say that. You're one of the people I'm competing against."
"I'm not competing with you."
"That's even worse!"
Rei exhaled faintly, not bothering to respond further.
Across the classroom—
Shiori sat in her usual seat.
Her posture was straight.
Her gaze steady.
But unlike before—
Her pen wasn't moving.
She wasn't studying.
She was waiting.
It's just results.
The thought felt hollow.
Her fingers rested lightly against the desk.
Still.
Controlled.
But not relaxed.
No mistakes.
She had checked everything.
Reviewed everything.
Done everything she could.
There was nothing left to change.
And yet—
Her chest felt tight.
The classroom door slid open.
The teacher entered, a stack of papers in hand.
Immediately, the room quieted.
"Alright," he said, placing the stack on the desk. "I'll be returning your midterm results."
A collective tension filled the room.
Some students sat up straighter.
Others avoided eye contact entirely.
"Your overall scores have been recorded," he continued. "I expect you to review your performance carefully."
He began calling names.
One by one.
Papers passed forward.
Reactions followed—
Relief.
Disappointment.
Quiet frustration.
Rei leaned back slightly in his chair, waiting.
His name came.
"Hayakawa, Rei."
He stood, walking calmly to the front.
Took the paper.
Returned to his seat.
He didn't look at it immediately.
Across the room—
"Hayakawa, Shiori."
Shiori stood.
Her movements were precise.
Controlled.
She took her paper.
Returned to her seat.
For a moment—
Neither of them looked.
Then—
At almost the same time—
They did.
Silence.
Rei blinked once.
Shiori's gaze didn't move.
At the top of the paper—
Clear.
Unmistakable.
100 / 100
Rei let out a small breath.
"…Perfect."
Across the room—
Shiori stared at her paper.
100.
No mistakes.
No errors.
Nothing missing.
Exactly as she had aimed for.
Her grip tightened slightly.
Slowly—
She turned her head.
Rei was already looking at her.
For a brief moment—
Their eyes met.
No words were exchanged.
None were needed.
Because the answer was obvious.
After class—
The hallway buzzed with noise once more.
Students comparing scores, celebrating, complaining.
The usual chaos.
Miyu rushed toward Rei almost immediately.
"Well?!" she demanded. "How did you do?"
Rei held up his paper slightly.
Her eyes widened.
"100?!"
"Yeah."
"That's not fair!" she groaned. "You didn't even look stressed!"
Yuna peeked at the paper, her eyes soft with admiration. "That's amazing…"
Reina stepped closer, glancing at it.
"…As expected," she said quietly.
Then—
"…What about your sister?" Miyu asked suddenly.
Rei didn't answer right away.
Because—
Shiori approached.
Her steps were calm.
Measured.
She stopped in front of them.
Miyu blinked. "Oh, perfect timing. How'd you—"
Shiori held up her paper.
Silence.
"100…" Yuna whispered.
Miyu stared.
Then looked between them.
Then back again.
"…You're kidding."
Reina's gaze sharpened slightly.
Rei let out a quiet breath.
"…So," he said.
Shiori looked at him.
For a moment—
Neither spoke.
Then—
"…Looks like a tie," he finished.
A tie.
Later that evening—
The Hayakawa residence was as quiet as ever.
Their mother sat at the head of the table.
Rei and Shiori sat across from her.
Two identical papers rested before her.
Perfect scores.
She looked at them both.
"…Impressive," she said.
Acknowledgement.
"…However," she continued, "this does not determine anything."
Rei's gaze lowered slightly.
Shiori remained still.
"A tie," their mother said, "is no result at all."
Silence filled the room.
"Then we continue," she concluded.
Simple.
Final.
The decision had already been made.
Later that night—
The house was quiet once more.
Rei stood by his window, looking out at the dark sky.
"…A tie, huh…"
No victory.
No loss.
But—
Not relief either.
Across the hall—
Shiori sat at her desk.
Her result paper lay in front of her.
100 / 100
Perfect.
And yet—
Her gaze remained fixed on it.
Unmoving.
"…A tie…"
Her fingers curled slightly.
It wasn't enough.
It couldn't be enough.
Because if neither of them lost—
Then neither of them had truly won.
And somehow—
That felt worse.