Class Plan

Early the next morning, as the morning light spilled into the hallway, Mashima Tomoya stood at the entrance of Class A and froze.

Inside the classroom, the students were gathered together to cross-reference forms. Some were handing out pens while others called out data, and even their chatter carried a rhythmic, tacit understanding—where had the tension gone from just a few days ago, when they were split into two factions and would turn red in the face over the simplest disagreement? It had only been two days since the rules were announced, yet that "it has to be me" rigidity had vanished, replaced by a genuine sense of unity.

A complex wave of emotion washed over him. In truth, from the very first day of school, he had seen that this year's Class A was extraordinary: the students had a solid foundation, and their eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence.

What was even rarer was that the class clearly had two people capable of leading—one excelled at planning and could always organize fragmented tasks with clarity; the other was skilled at rallying the atmosphere, able to unite everyone with just a few words. At first, he had secretly worried: how could one class accommodate two leaders? He feared they would be locked in a perpetual power struggle.

Unexpectedly, by only the second month, that concern had become redundant. Watching the natural division of labor in the classroom, with no one obsessing over "who is in charge," Mashima Tomoya couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth. This level of clarity was far smoother than he had anticipated. He gripped his lesson plan, his heart itching with excitement—he would have to share his joy with the other homeroom teachers once he returned to the office.

The afternoon sun cut diagonally into the Class A classroom, dispelling the midday lethargy, and the air was filled with the sound of enthusiastic discussion.

Katsuragi Kohei stood before the podium and tapped his fingertips against the desk. The fragmented chatter ceased immediately—he was preparing to summarize the results of last night's discussion.

"There are two key topics for this afternoon," he said, scanning the class with a clear, powerful voice. "First, how to handle the upcoming midterm exams; second, the monthly reservation of private points to prepare for emergencies."

After a brief pause, he continued: "After discussions between myself and two other classmates last night, we have first determined that we must establish long-term study groups and hold regular study sessions.

Everyone knows that in this school, academic grades are just as critical as special exams—just like this midterm, which carries the risk of expulsion. It will only get stricter from here on out, and no one can afford to be careless."

"Secondly, the matter of points." Katsuragi's tone grew more solemn. "To avoid scrambling when special situations arise in the future, we have unanimously agreed that it is necessary for everyone to reserve a portion of their private points each month. It may look like we are just 'saving' them for now, but in reality, it is leaving a fallback for the entire class."

As soon as he finished speaking, murmurs of agreement rose from below, and some students had already begun turning to their seatmates to discuss the direction of their study groups.

"The grouping for study sessions will follow two principles: either a high-achieving student will lead several mid-level students to help everyone shore up their weaknesses, or we will group by complementary strengths—for example, pairing someone who excels at math but struggles with English with someone who is the opposite. This will allow us to precisely target everyone's weak subjects—striving to ensure no one falls behind in any single area."

As Katsuragi spoke, he tapped the podium: "We have drafted a preliminary list of groups, which will be posted on the bulletin board later. If there are any issues, you can come to us for adjustments, but the core principle is 'being able to help one another'."

"Since the study groups are assigned, how will the monthly point reservation work?" someone asked, raising their hand.

"Reserving points means each person contributes a portion of their points every month as a class fund to handle emergencies and unified class expenses." Katsuragi paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "The three of us discussed it and ultimately decided that Morishita Ran will be responsible for keeping them."

"Eh—you're choosing me?" Morishita Ran suddenly lifted her head, her eyes wide and round, as if she had been handed a hot potato. Her face was a mask of confusion and bewilderment, clearly asking, "How could it be me?"

The room went silent for two seconds before someone couldn't help but chuckle. A girl in the front row turned around and winked at her: "Morishita Ran is so meticulous, she'll definitely manage it well."

"That's right," Katsuragi's voice chimed in at the right moment, breaking the small commotion. "Additionally, everyone will contribute 30,000 points each month. Uesugi Hara will be responsible for supervising the accounts. If you have any questions, feel free to communicate with them at any time."

Seeing that the division of labor was clear and quite reasonable, the others stopped discussing it.

Morishita Ran's gaze "whooshed" toward Uesugi Hara in the back. Suddenly realizing something, she turned around and blinked at him rapidly—her expression a mix of confusion and a silent accusation of "was this your doing?"

Her cheeks puffed out slightly, like an angry little hamster: "Uesugi Hara, was this your suggestion? Otherwise, why would they suddenly pick me?"

"Why would you think that?" Uesugi Hara watched her puffed-up cheeks, his lips curling into a smile, his eyes hiding a hint of amusement.

"I haven't really interacted with Katsuragi Kohei or Sakayanagi Arisu; I only talk to you most of the time." She counted on her fingers, her speech quickening. "And I heard from others that the person originally slated to hold the points was supposed to be you! You must have intentionally pushed it onto me! You were nagging me yesterday to be your temporary secretary to organize data, and today you're plotting against me—your scheme is way too obvious!"

Uesugi Hara raised an eyebrow, looking at her with interest: "I didn't expect your little head to be so sharp." He paused and admitted it frankly: "That's right, I arranged it."

Morishita Ran was choked by his blunt admission, forgetting the "accusation" she had prepared. She just stared at him: "You're really just going to admit it that easily?"

"Then what do you want me to do to earn your forgiveness?" Uesugi Hara looked at her angry but not truly upset expression, a smile blooming in his eyes. "How about I treat you to cake? From that place we went to last time."

"Hmph!" Morishita Ran turned her face away, though her fingers were quietly twisting the corner of her shirt. "Don't think a piece of cake can bribe me."

She paused, as if suddenly thinking of something, and whipped back around, holding up three fingers and waving them in front of him. "At least two—no, three times! At least three times!" Afraid he would try to bargain, she quickly added, "Not one less!"

Uesugi Hara watched her earnest "I won't be taken advantage of" look and couldn't help but chuckle: "Fine, three times it is. Shall we go buy today's portion now?"

Morishita Ran pursed her lips, but the corners of her mouth secretly curled upward, even as she stubbornly insisted: "Let's go then, who's afraid of who."

As soon as class business concluded, Uesugi Hara stood up and packed his things: "Let's go, time for dinner."

With that, Uesugi Hara set off with Morishita Ran, Kamuro Masumi, and Yamamura Miki.

The four of them were the newly formed study group, and Uesugi Hara was the leader—he had suggested this dinner, claiming it was "to get familiar with each other so we can be more open when discussing problems later," and even patted his chest, promising to cover all the costs.

Walking through the hallway, Morishita Ran curiously poked Uesugi Hara: "Kamuro Masumi is in our group too? I thought..." She didn't finish, but the meaning was clear—Kamuro Masumi usually followed Sakayanagi Arisu, so why would she join their group?

Uesugi Hara smiled helplessly: "I asked Classmate Sakayanagi before, saying Kamuro Masumi's grades needed improvement and asking why she wasn't leading her personally. And guess what?" He mimicked Sakayanagi Arisu's slow, leisurely tone: "'I have class business to handle, unlike you, who are so idle'—and she just dumped her on me."

Even Yamamura Miki, who had been quiet the whole time, couldn't help but curl her eyes, her voice soft and tinged with a smile: "Classmate Sakayanagi is so direct."

She twisted the strap of her school bag, perhaps feeling embarrassed about laughing in front of people she wasn't familiar with, and lowered her head, the tips of her ears turning pink.

Seeing this, Uesugi Hara took the opportunity to continue: "She's always like that. But Yamamura Miki, if you have anything you want to ask, whether it's about studies or anything else, feel free to say it."

Morishita Ran crossed her arms and huffed: "She has good taste, at least she knows we have me in our group!"

Kamuro Masumi let out a soft "hmph" from the side, the air escaping her nose with a hint of reluctance. She had already prepared a retort in her mind, wanting to say, "I wasn't just dumped here."

But as her fingertips tightened on her bag strap, she remembered her grades, which were indeed dragging the class down, and she swallowed the words back down.