Classroom of the Elite (LN)

Part 1

After school, the full-fledged discussion was finally just about to begin. Nobody moved from their seats as the bell rang with the exception of Hirata, who stood up immediately.

“Hirata-kun!”

“H-Hirata-kun!”

Several of the girls raised their voices and shouted out to him. Among them was Mii-chan.

But Hirata didn’t stop. It seemed like he didn’t care what would happen to the class anymore.

He was just going to school, attending his classes, and heading back home, as if he was trying to avoid getting involved with the rest of the class.

He was probably just going to repeat this cycle over and over again.

“Wait a second, Hirata-kun!”

“You guys are the ones who should wait.”

Mii-chan and the others tried to chase after him, but Horikita’s words stopped them in their tracks.

“We’re about to have a discussion. Do you want even more people to miss out on it?”

“B-but…”

“There’s nothing any of us can do for him right now. Hurry up and return to your seats.”

Horikita suppressed their desire to chase after him and motioned for everyone to return to their seats.

Right now, our top priority was getting everyone on board with establishing the class policy for the exam.

“Kōenji’s still here somehow?”

Given that Kōenji’s participation was entirely unexpected, Sudō’s voice was filled with surprise.

“Fufufu. I’m part of the class, am I not? Of course I’m here.”

Kōenji spoke shamelessly, as if everything he was saying was completely natural.

“However, I’d like to wrap up this discussion today. I’m quite the busy person myself.”

“That’ll be difficult. This special exam isn’t something that can be decided overnight. Even if we decide on the events today, we’ll have to persistently practice them in order to win.”

Horikita, taking a stand behind the teacher’s podium, completely shut Kōenji down.

Kōenji didn’t object any further and simply sat at his desk with a broad smile on his face.

For the time being, he seemed to be willing to hear her out.

“If that’s the case, it seems I’ll only be participating this one time.”

Kōenji didn’t waver even slightly. It seemed that, class policy aside, he had no intention of working through this together. Sudō silently began to stand up, but immediately sat back down after receiving a firm glare from Horikita. After all, if he were to start something here, the conversation would never move forward.

“Then, I’ll just have to do what I can to try and get you to participate next time too.”

Kōenji took Horikita’s warning with a smile and simply crossed his arms and legs.

This was his way of telling her to continue with the discussion.

“Uhm, Horikita. I’ve got a simple question about event participation I wanna ask you.”

“And what is that, Ike-kun?”

His hand raised, Ike spoke up.

“We’ll be competing in seven events, right? But, like, we won’t have a turn at it, will we?”

“What do you mean by ‘we won’t have a turn at it’?”

“Erm… Well, to put it simply, I mean those of us who kinda suck? Like, the students who aren’t particularly good at physical stuff or studying aren’t gonna have a turn to participate. It’s not like all seven events are gonna need a whole buncha people. If we pick events that only need a few skilled people to participate, a whole bunch of us won’t really have anything to do, right?”

There are nearly forty students in each class.

Even if we chose a few events that needed a lot of people, the final seven would probably only need twenty to thirty.

In other words, Ike seemed to be trying to say that, depending on the participation requirements of the selected events, nearly half of the class wouldn’t end up having to participate.

“I dunno about that. What if an event needs like, twenty people or something?”

Kei spoke up, slipping in her own opinion after Ike finished.

“You’re sooo stupid, Karuizawa. You can play football with like, eleven people on a team. What event could need more than that? I can’t think of a single one, can you?”

“Uhm~… Somethin’ like baseball?”

“Baseball only needs ten people, which is even less than football!”

“Baseball needs nine people.”

Horikita immediately cut in, sharply pointing out Ike’s inconsistency.

“…Well, my point still stands either way.”

“I dunno Kanji. American football needs eleven people like football does, and rugby needs fifteen.”

Sudō listed off a few events that would require more than ten people.

“Yeah, but like, do you want to force people to play rugby or something? I don’t even know the rules!”

While rugby was by no means a minor sport, it was in completely uncharted territory to people who weren’t involved with it. It’s not something regularly taught in gym class, and I’m sure that Class A was no exception to this either.

I could hardly imagine what it’d be like for us to start practicing rugby right now.

Besides, even if we submitted it as an event, it’s doubtful that it would be accepted, and it wouldn’t be very beneficial for anyone.

“So, that’s why I don’t think we’ll need to participate.”

“What’s your point here?”

“That… Well, I just don’t think we need to meet up like this or hold practice sessions moving forward or anything.”

“I understand that you want to take it easy. After all, it’s mentally taxing to do something you don’t want to do. Besides, it’d also cut down on your precious break time.”

“I-I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but you know…”

“Either way, I’ve determined that all of us need to work together.”

“How about you tell us why that is. I’ll do my best to support you if you can convince me.”

This time, Sudō was the one who spoke.

“Because how many people we’ll need to participate depends on the rules our opponent comes up with. For example, let’s say one of the events they propose is volleyball. Usually, volleyball is a competition between two teams of six, but the rules are allowed to change that to some extent. What if the match had a time limit of thirty minutes, and the rules stated that every ten minutes all of the participants had to change out with somebody new? I wonder what would happen then?”

“Erm… With six people changing out every ten minutes, that’s…”

Eighteen people with that alone. Nearly half of the students in each class would have to participate.

Moreover, because there were only six people needed at any given time, the rule would be simple and easy to follow for pretty much anybody. The school would most likely approve of it as well.

“What if there’s more than one event like this? Put simply, everyone would be forced to participate in two or possibly even three events. We need to be prepared for something like that.”

Of course, this all depended on the events and rules that Class A would come up with.

It was more than possible that they might mix in a few fake events like this, just to make it more difficult for us.

“I know this hasn’t quite clicked with all of you yet, but this special exam is more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

If we were to go over each event one at a time, we’d eventually come up with some ideas that seem rather ridiculous.

At this point, it wouldn’t be that unusual for there to be strange ideas for events like rock-paper-scissors or poker.

After all, getting those crucial four wins would be far more important than trying to make yourself look good.

Regardless of how impractical the suggestions might seem to be, picking out the right people for events we know they can win is what mattered most in the end.

“I don’t even plan on taking up too much of your time.”

Or rather, it might be better for her to say that keeping everybody stuck here doesn’t necessarily mean we’d come up with good ideas right away.

“So for today, I’d like to leave everyone here with some homework. If possible, I want you to come up with ideas for events you’re good at and events where you think you’d absolutely never lose, and give them to me by after school tomorrow. It doesn’t matter if it’s something you do alone or if it’s done in a team.”

One of the five events that we end up picking needed to be a one-on-one event. Odds are that every single class would put one forward with the unshakable confidence that they wouldn’t lose it. However, when looked at from another angle, the damage done if you didn’t win would be immeasurable. That being the case, students with special skills or talents that can’t be outdone by others were highly desirable in this situation.

“But, there’s no point unless it’s something the school’d approve of, right? I don’t really understand what their standards are.”

Events and rules that are overly obscure would be turned down by the school.

However, the lack of clarity when it comes to that was probably an issue for many students.

“Don’t worry about that right now. That’s something we can think about after we’ve heard all of the ideas. For now, just feel free to suggest anything that comes to mind.”

“Then, you’re saying you’d even be fine with stuff like video games or karaoke?”

“Yes. Anything.”

Horikita stressed this point once again, telling the class that they didn’t have to worry. I had no issues with how she was handling the situation.

It was important for us to start by finding out what everybody’s strengths were.

“What do we do if there’s nothing we’re really good at?”

Haruka chimed in with a question for Horikita.

“I don’t mind you not having anything if you’re not very confident in yourself. It’d be risky to use an event if you lack confidence in your ability to win it.”

I wanted them to come up with as many events as possible, but I wasn’t sure if we had enough time to be careful with our selection. For the time being, I didn’t have any issues with Horikita’s plan, so I felt like it would be alright to just wait and see what happens.

With that, the discussion ended for the day and everyone began to gather their things and leave. At this point, Kōenji spoke up again.

“You’re fine with ending the discussion so early like this?”

“If it’s this short, it’ll be easier for you to participate next time, won’t it Kōenji-kun?”

“When I say I’ll participate one time, one time is as much as I’ll participate.”

“…But, it’ll be problematic if you don’t do the assignment I gave you today. If you don’t, it would be rather hard to say you participated, wouldn’t it?”

“Come up with ideas for events I’m good at, was it?”

He put his hand to his chin and let show an unwavering smile.

“Yes. If you want to say you’ve participated, you at least have to do that.”

Horikita was looking to force him to participate a second time if he couldn’t.

Kōenji elegantly stood up from his desk before proceeding to announce something to Horikita.

“There’s simply nothing I can’t do. I am a perfect human, after all.”

“No matter who you’re up against or what the event is, you’re absolutely certain you’ll win. Are you sure about that?”

Her words were filled with one-part provocation, and one-part intrigue, as if she couldn’t help but look forward to how Kōenji would respond.

“I see. You want me to pledge that I’ll win any event I participate in, don’t you?”

“That’s right. If you can do that, you’re free to do whatever you want. You wouldn’t have to participate in any more discussions, and I won’t ask you to give your input on anything.”

“H-hey Suzune.”

Sudō spoke up, alarmed by her outrageous proposal, but Horikita just continued.

“But keep in mind, if you don’t participate or if you lose… I’ll be suspicious of anything you say, and your classmates’ distrust of you will skyrocket.”

Horikita’s idea wasn’t bad. With this, she was looking to make full use of Kōenji on the day of the exam. Kōenji is a top-notch student when it comes to both academics and physical ability. His only problem had to do with his personality. It would be better to bear with him now than have him not show up on the day of the exam or take his event frivolously.

The question was: how exactly would Kōenji respond? He stood from his seat and began to walk out of the classroom, but just before he walked through the door, he stopped.

“I’ll leave you with this. You’d best not think that you can bind me with words like that. While I am indeed an unrivaled genius who wouldn’t lose to anyone, it’s up to me to decide whether or not I use that talent for you.”

Put simply, Kōenji’s response was a no. It didn’t matter to him if he was suspected or if the class distrusted him. He was just going to do whatever he wanted.

With that, Kōenji turned around and walked out of the classroom.

“…Ordinary methods aren’t going to work with him at all, huh.”

“That guy… He’s gotta lotta nerve underestimating us like that. Spouting out nonsense that he’s some unrivaled genius who wouldn’t lose to anyone. I’d kick his ass at basketball if he had me as his opponent.”

I could fully understand why Sudō was speaking about him like that.

No matter how talented and brilliant a person is, it wouldn’t be accurate to call them perfect.

In fact, it raises a question. Would Kōenji win if he faced off against Sudō at basketball?

“If he puts in the effort on exam day he might show results, at least to a certain extent. I don’t know how much I was able to get through to him, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but…”

It was definitely hard to imagine Kōenji losing. After flaunting us with those grandiose words and that self-confidence of his, the thought of him losing, even for a moment, feels like putting the cart before the horse. Sudō was probably well aware of this too.

“…But, do you think he’s even gonna show up at all?”

“Who knows.”

While we can win if he takes it seriously, if he doesn’t, we won’t.