The Remake Project: The Programme

The hallway was quiet, obviously. It was mid-afternoon; everyone had just come back from break. The staff member walked at a pace that suggested this wasn’t urgent, which calmed his nerves.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“Yeah.”

She glanced at him and opened her mouth slightly, but where are you supposed to go with a “yeah”?

The vice-principal’s office was at the end of the second-floor corridor. Arata had been inside it exactly once before, just a few months ago. A teacher had referred him for an academic assessment he hadn’t asked for and hadn’t particularly needed.

He remembered sitting in the chair across from the desk and watching the vice-principal read through his file with an expression that moved slowly from professional neutrality to mild discomfort. That had been a fine meeting.

He entered without knocking.

“Kurosawa, good to see you. Sit down, please.”

The vice-principal folded his hands on the desk. “I’ll be straightforward with you. We’re running a new programme. It’s still in its early stages, but the premise is simple enough. We identify students who are performing well academically and place them with students who are struggling, with the participants sharing a living environment for a set period of time.

“The hypothesis is that academic habits are largely environmental, and that consistent proximity to discipline, structure, and a functional study routine can produce measurable improvements in students who have otherwise failed to develop those habits on their own.”

Arata nodded.

“We’d like you to participate as one of the high-performing students. The project will run until the end of the academic year, with the first formal review taking place once the midterm results come in. At that point, we’ll assess whether the paired students have shown measurable academic improvement and determine whether any adjustments to the arrangement are necessary.

“If the project is completed successfully, there’s a stipend involved, and the programme will also be noted on your academic record.”

He slid a single sheet across the desk. A few paragraphs of information, bullet points, and a request for consent. “That kind of thing tends to stand out, you know.”

Arata read through the paper before lifting his eyes back to the vice-principal. “So, how many of them?”

“That’s still being confirmed. As soon as we have the numbers finalised, we’ll get back to you.”

“But it will be a small group,” the vice-principal added, adjusting his spectacles. “You won’t be managing a whole classroom, if that is your concern.”

“I wasn’t expecting to.” Arata slouched back and let his eyes drift upwards.

…

“So, how are their results?”

“Not good.”

Arata leaned forward and looked the vice-principal straight in the eye. “Yeah, obviously. That’s why they’re in the programme.”

“Yes, that’s true. They’re… significantly below passing in most cases.”

“Hmm…” Arata’s gaze flicked between the ceiling and the paper.

He picked up the pen, held it for a moment, then set it back down.

“I have a condition.”

The vice-principal raised an eyebrow. “A condition?”

Arata leaned forward, propping his elbows onto the smooth wood of the desk. He interlocked his fingers, resting his chin against his hands so that his mouth was masked behind them. He looked more like a corporate executive than a student.

“I want a fixed bump to my internal marks across every subject. Regardless of how the programme goes.”

The vice-principal leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Kurosawa, your academic record is already exceptional. The stipend alone is a considerable incentive for a student in your position, and the programme itself would reflect very well on you in any future recommendation. I’d encourage you to consider whether an additional grade adjustment is really necessary, given what’s already on the table.”

“I didn’t ask if it was necessary, did I?”

…

“Look,” Arata said, putting his palms flat on the desk. “You came to me because I’m probably your best option here. Wouldn’t hurt to give me a little more of an incentive, would it?”

The vice-principal held his gaze for a moment, then exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Kurosawa. That would be falsification of your academic record, which would be a serious violation of the—”

Arata stood up. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.” He headed for the door.

“Wait!”

He turned around.

The vice-principal was standing now. “There is discretionary credit attached to the programme. Under normal terms, it would be awarded on successful completion.”

“Uh-huh.”

He lowered his glasses slightly. “I may be able to have it applied to your internal assessment across all subjects, regardless of the project’s success or failure.”

“Across every subject?”

“Potentially.”

“Regardless of their results?”

“…Yes.”

“Hm.” Arata took his seat again.

The vice-principal did the same, then cleared his throat and looked down at the consent form. “Give me a moment to… think about what I can give you.”

“Alright.” Arata waited for him with his arms folded, slowly rotating back and forth in the swivel chair. He had nowhere else to be. Well, he had class, but that wasn’t the point.

Eventually, the vice-principal reached for a slip of paper, wrote something on it, folded it once, and slid it across the desk. He turned his head away.

“That’s all we can offer, Kurosawa. It’ll apply to every subject, regardless of their results.”

Arata unfolded it.

“Eh… It’s okay, I guess.” He folded it back up and reached for the pen. “I’ll take you up on the offer, then.”

“Before you sign, one more thing, Kurosawa.”

He looked up. “What is it?”

“The arrangement is binding for the full duration of the programme. If you wish to terminate early, that requires mutual agreement from both registered parties.” He clasped his hands together. “Just so you’re aware.”

“Yeah.” He signed the consent form, then shook the vice-principal’s hand. “See you.”

Arata stood up, opened the door and walked out.

HAH. I played him so well.

________

To: Ibuki Shiraishi

Re: Application (Group Slot, 5 Participants)
Date: October 2nd

Dear Ms Shiraishi,

We are pleased to inform you that your application to The Remake Project has been formally accepted.

Your group has been assigned one high-performing student. The programme will begin on October 5th and remain in effect until the end of the academic year.

Your request to house the assigned student at your current residence has also been approved, provided that a separate room is made available before their arrival.

Your continued enrolment remains subject to the academic conditions previously communicated.

Regards,
Academic Support and Development Office

________

The letter had arrived that morning, slipped through the door sometime between Nagisa leaving for her shift and the rest of them waking up. Ibuki had almost missed it.

She stood at the kitchen counter and read it once. Then she read it again, slower, starting from the top.

One high-performing student.

One? Really?

She lowered the letter slightly and stared at nothing.

She had assumed there would be at least a few of them. Two or three, maybe. A small group of “high performers” spread across a small group of struggling students, everyone paired up neatly, the whole thing running like a study group. She wasn’t a massive fan of the idea, but she was willing to give it a shot.

But one? For five of us? Who exactly is this…

Well, we could easily fit one more person in here, and if this person knew what they were doing, it shouldn’t be a problem. This is a school programme, it’ll be fine.

She folded the letter, creased it once along the existing line, and slid it into her jacket pocket.

________

The night before, she had gathered her own results first, laid them out on the dining table, and then gone around asking each of her sisters for theirs. The whole process was not particularly enjoyable.

Mizuki had handed hers over without being asked twice, surprisingly. The maths paper was at the bottom of the stack. There were two dried droplets on the front page, enough to warp the paper slightly. Ibuki didn’t ask her about it.

Homura had given her everything too, though she asked an alarming number of questions regarding Ibuki’s intentions. Well, for Homura, it was completely expected.

Nagisa had only three. Maths, social studies, and Japanese. She said she didn’t know where the others were, which may or may not have been true. Ibuki had decided not to push it.

Kasumi had nothing. When Ibuki asked, she had looked up from whatever she was staring at and said she thought she’d scored somewhere between ten and twenty in most of them. She then went back to whatever she was doing.

By the end of it, the dining table looked like this:

Mizuki: Maths 34, Social Studies 36, Japanese 31, English 28, Chemistry 33

Homura: Maths 22, Social Studies 27, Japanese 39, English 24, Chemistry 27

Nagisa: Maths 16, Social Studies 20, Japanese 40, ???, ??? (thanks a lot sis)

Kasumi: “10–20s” (whatever that means??)

Me: Maths 32, Social Studies 36, Japanese 34, English 39, Chemistry 29

She had sat with it for a while after the others had gone to bed. The passing mark was 50, and not a single number on that table cleared it.

0/25(?). Impressively atrocious. The quiz results from a few weeks prior had confirmed that it wasn’t a fluke.

She didn’t sleep too well that night.

________

The application had been submitted days ago, which was the easy part. Telling them would not be as easy.

She waited until everyone was home that evening, then called each one downstairs on her phone. It’s not like anyone would hear her shout anyway.

It took a bit, but eventually, they were all there.

“Please sit down, girls.”

“This better be important.” Homura reluctantly sat down, while Nagisa was already settled. Kasumi sat on the far end of the couch, and Mizuki followed suit.

Ibuki put her glasses on and gripped the letter with both hands.

“So…” She cleared her throat. “There’s something I need to tell you all.”

No response.

“I’ve already told you that the school sent out a letter saying that… if we don’t get our grades up soon, we could face disciplinary action.”

“Just say we’re going to get expelled.” Homura cut in.

Ibuki sighed.

“I-I’ve been looking into this thing the school has been running. They call it the Remake Project. So basically what they do is, th-they take students who are struggling, and they pair them with students who are doing really well, and they all live together for some time. The whole idea is that, if you’re around someone with better study habits, eventually those habits sort of… transfer. Yeah.”

She had a look at each of their faces.

“What are you suggesting, sis?” Nagisa asked. It wasn’t much of a question. She already knew what Ibuki was going to say.

“I’ve just… I’ve been really worried about it because like, we all saw the numbers, and the quiz results weren’t any better. So I just kept thinking, okay, something has to actually change, you know? Like ACTUALLY change, not just us saying we’ll study harder next time.”

“Yeah…” Mizuki’s voice was faint.

Ibuki took a deep breath.

“I’ve signed us up.”