That afternoon, as usual, Fujii Mikako darted over to Class B to find Kiryu Kazuma for lunch.
But the moment she stepped inside, she was greeted by a bizarre sight: Yamada Yōichi was giving Kazuma a shoulder massage.
Fujii Mikako knew Yamada Yōichi well enough—after all, the guy had once tried to pursue her and had been mercilessly rejected.
She had no interest in that type. Cheerful kendo boys were far more her style.
And now that very kendo boy was sitting there letting Yamada Yōichi treat him like some kind of servant.
From what Mikako understood, Yamada was the kind of guy who strutted around with his nose in the air because of his good grades. There was no way he'd stoop to doing something so subservient.
She even glanced out the hallway window to check if the sun had risen in the west today. Nope—perfectly normal.
Just then, Kazuma noticed her—well, of course he did. Mikako was one of the most beautiful girls in the year, after all.
He opened his mouth to greet her, but before he could say anything, the class rep blocked Mikako's path.
The class rep was also considered a beauty by school standards—though from the chatter Kazuma had overheard among the boys, her thick braided hair and chunky black-framed glasses were seen as "dowdy" or "old-fashioned."
But Kazuma's aesthetic was different. In his original era, that braided hair with a blue blouse and black pleated skirt would've been called "Republican-era student style."
As for the glasses? Definitely not a downside. They had character—way more charm than some generic influencer face.
And besides, the class rep played the tuba. To handle such an instrument gracefully, her chest muscles had become... rather well-developed, to say the least.
"Fujii-san, who are you looking for?" the class rep asked.
Mikako gave her a strange look. "Isn't it obvious? Of course I'm—"
"Kiryu-kun, correct? What's your relationship with him?"
Mikako froze. Anyone would be caught off guard by such a blunt question.
"Uh... I... what's that got to do with you?" she finally shot back. "And what's your relationship with Kazuma that you think you can question me?"
At this point, not only Kazuma, but even Yamada Yōichi had stopped massaging and was staring toward the doorway.
Kazuma himself was baffled. What's going on? I don't remember unlocking the class rep's route! In dating game terms, I haven't even raised her affection level yet—why is this suddenly turning into a battle for affection?!
Then, the class rep calmly adjusted her glasses. "I'm also aiming for the University of Tokyo. Kiryu-kun is my fellow comrade-in-arms. Is that reason enough?"
Kazuma groaned internally. That's such a Showa-era line! Wait—actually, it is 1980. We're still in the Showa era. Nine more years to go before Heisei...
Mikako blinked. "What? Comrades-in-arms for Todai? That makes no sense! I'm Kazuma's... um..."
She hesitated. After all, she and Kazuma hadn't officially entered a romantic relationship yet.
In Japan, these things were tricky. No matter how close two people were, unless there was a proper confession, they weren't considered a couple.
Just then, the class rep gave another small push to her glasses. "Ah, I see. I understand."
Kazuma stared at her in disbelief. You "understand"? Understand what? Mind cluing me in? I sure don't!
Are you thinking, "Now that I know you two aren't dating, it's fair game for me to pursue him"? Please don't tell me this is turning into some melodramatic soap opera...
Before he could finish that thought, the class rep turned to him with a serious expression. Her clear gaze behind those lenses locked onto him.
"Kiryu-kun," she said in a gentle but firm voice, "getting into the University of Tokyo is the ultimate challenge. It's several times harder than getting into Keio or Waseda. Without sufficient determination, you will fail."
Keio and Waseda were the top two private universities in Japan—better regarded than most national universities.
But Todai—Tokyo University—stood above them all. Not because of rankings in any particular field, but because of its unique status.
Japan's so-called "Tokyo Six Universities" included five prestigious private schools: Meiji, Keio, Waseda, Rikkyo, and Hosei. Only Todai was a national university.
Todai's predecessor was Tokyo Imperial University, founded during the Meiji Restoration as Japan's first university, personally designated by the Emperor. In this feudal-tinged society, Todai remained a cut above.
It was similar to the status of old noble families in modern Japan.
In rural areas, you'd find large families who seemed like ordinary farmers, fishermen, or local firefighters—but upon closer look, they'd have proper family crests. And when an elder passed away, the funeral procession of black cars could stretch from one end of the valley to the other.
That was Japan: a semi-feudal society in modern clothing.
Kazuma, having some knowledge of this, knew the class rep's point was valid.
Acing a couple of in-class quizzes didn't mean he was ready for Todai. Subjects like Japanese literature and history still required careful attention.
Not that he'd ever underestimated the challenge.
"You're right, class rep. I'll stay humble and keep working hard. But... you're aiming for Todai too?"
She adjusted her glasses again. "Originally, no. During winter break, I took part in a national mock exam organized by my cram school and got an A rating for Sophia University, so I'd written Sophia on my application."
In Japan, reputable cram schools held nationwide mock exams, calculating deviation scores and acceptance probabilities.
An A rating meant very high odds of passing.
Sophia wasn't on the same level as Keio, Waseda, or Todai, but it was still a prestigious school—a clear path to social mobility.
With her credentials, the class rep could easily graduate from Sophia and marry into wealth.
So Kazuma asked, puzzled, "Then why switch to Todai now?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "Because of you."
A wave of whistles swept through the classroom.
But true to her tuba-playing nature, the class rep's voice rang clear through the noise: "Yesterday, when I saw you write 'University of Tokyo' on your application, I thought you were joking and told you to take it seriously.
"But this year, you proved to everyone you were serious.
"If even the lowest-ranked student in our class dares to aim for Todai, why shouldn't I?"
When she finished, the entire Class 3-B fell silent.
Kitakatsushi High was a public school, but a good one. Japanese high schools used individual admissions, much like universities.
Anyone accepted here—aside from special sports admissions like Kazuma—had been a top student in junior high.
They all took pride in their academic ability.
The class rep's speech struck them like a hammer to the heart.
"Yeah," Yamada Yōichi spoke up first, the same guy who'd been massaging Kazuma moments ago. "Why shouldn't I aim for Todai? In my last national mock exam, I got a B rating!"
A B rating meant a 50-70% chance of acceptance. In Japan's cutthroat system, many would still shy away from applying.
But now, the class rep had shifted everyone's perspective.
"Me too! I got a B!" another student said excitedly. "There's still a year left—if I work hard, who knows?"
"Anything's possible!"
"That's Todai we're talking about! Once you graduate, you'll be an elite among elites!"
"Ohh! I feel my soul igniting!" someone even burst into full chūnibyō mode.
"Target: University of Tokyo!" The vice-rep dashed to the podium, shouting, "Next spring, see you at Budokan!"
In Kazuma's previous life, anyone who followed Japanese entertainment knew that holding a concert at Budokan was the highest honor for a singer.
But Todai's entrance ceremony was also held there every spring.
That one line from the vice-rep sent the class's energy soaring.
The entire Class 3-B erupted in cheers.
Meanwhile, Fujii Mikako stood in the doorway holding her bento box, utterly bewildered. "What the heck...?"
She wasn't the only one confused.
Kazuma stared in shock as new status tags appeared over his classmates' heads.
The tag read: "See You at Budokan"—meaning "See you at Budokan next spring."
But Kazuma noticed something odd: though everyone had the buff, some were blazing with dramatic effects, while others were more subdued.
Also, each buff had a countdown timer—with varying durations.
Yamada Yōichi's buff burned brightly but had only 179 seconds left.
Literal three-minute enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, the class rep's buff was plain, with no flashy effects—but the timer read: 331 days, 14 hours, 16 minutes, and 41 seconds.
Kazuma was genuinely impressed.
She's the type who follows through.
Right now, that very determined class rep was staring straight at him, as if to say: This is the passion you started—don't you dare back out.
Just then, Kazuma noticed Mikako signaling him to sneak out and join her.
He grabbed his bento—handmade by Chiyoko that morning.
All the while, the class rep kept her gaze locked on him as he quietly left the classroom.
(End of Chapter)