Stars of Aoba
Aoba Academy. Home of the best young geniuses in Japan. The cream of the crop when it comes to academic success. Well, that’s what people would say around 4 months ago, back in early Spring. Now, however, Aoba has truly risen to the top spot in every category there is, from academics to sports, arts, and other fields alike. A true school of elites.
All of its success can be contributed to its crazy, yet incredibly ambitious Student Council, led by the first-ever freshman President in Aoba’s history, Kuroshi Ryuuro. The young man, upon rising to power, has managed to do the impossible of completely revamping Aoba’s system, incorporating a plethora of clubs and developing them into the powerhouse that they are today, all in the span of two months, before said clubs even officially open.
Why am I saying all of this, you may ask.
Well, that young man… is not me.
The name’s Tanaka. Suzuki Tanaka, average student… well, not anymore. Now I’m the General Affairs Manager of Aoba’s Student Council. And now, in the midst of the scorching summer heat, still having to wear this ridiculously hot long-sleeve because my new uniform hasn’t been shipped yet, I’m stuck in school.
I… actually, not me, but my friend was Ryuuro’s main competitor in the Student Council election, and I helped him with the campaign. Unfortunately, we lost, and to add insult to injury, because I had spent almost the entire semester on the campaign, my grades plummeted as a result. Not too bad, but enough to warrant my showing here, in the supplementary class. Which I’m fine with, by the way. It is the consequence of my own action after all. The only thing I can’t seem to understand, however, is that…
“Why the hell are you teaching us?”
Immediately, a piece of chalk flies towards my forehead with the speed of a slingshot bullet, and in front of me is a Ryuuro pissed beyond belief.
“Do you think I wanted to? I basically paid for everything with my own pocket money, from the building materials to the school expansion, club equipment, etcetera etcetera, and this is how that damn principal repay me? ‘Well, this is quite sudden, but since we’ve allowed you to rework our school so much, teaching the supplementary classes wouldn’t be too much to ask, right Ryuuro-kun?’ Wouldn’t be so much my ass, you damn geezer!”
“Then don’t take it out on me, man! And I thought your net worth is 1 billion? How much do you have left?”
“How the hell did it increase after all of that?!”
“Guys, guys!” Next to me, a pink-haired gremlin complains in agony. “It’s hot enough already, I don’t want my brain to be fried even more from all the arguing!”
“Speaking of which, why didn’t we install an AC already?” Behind me, a certain neon boy also joins in on the conversation.
“I tried to, but the closest they could manage is next week,” Ryuuro shakes his head in frustration. “I’ve already wrung them dry with all the other facilities. But I digress; the sooner we finish this lesson, the sooner we get to leave. So get on with it people.”
“By the way, that differential on the blackboard,” points Michinari. “Isn’t the final part 1/3?”
“… Indeed,” Rryuuro answers, however, his face doesn’t hide the disappointment already itching to show up.
“And why did you choose to use the differential method from the start? I know it’s a problem of calculating the area under a curve, but this can be inferred as a trapezoid since the curve is actually a linear function, right?”
“Yes, it is.”
Before my brain can digest the information that the two have just blasted through, a hand from behind me and a reassuring voice have already sounded the problem. “Uh… can you guys slow down a bit?”
“… Oh, I see what you’re doing now,” with a playful grin on his face, Michinari teases. “Sorry, bud, but that’s not gonna work with these guys.”
“Work? What work?” Unable to contain my curiosity, I ask.
“Genius-san here thought that by purposely giving us the wrong answer, one of us can correct him, therefore making us remember things better. And in a way, he is correct, but I don’t really count in this class.”
“Why are you in this class, actually?”
“I… uh… flunked all the other subjects,” the pink-haired boy lets out an awkward laugh while scratching his cheek in embarrassment.
“Anyway,” Ryuuro’s voice interrupts the conversation as we all are brought back to the reality before us. And said reality is unbearably hot and confusing. “We still need someone to correctly solve this problem. Someone not Kei, that is.”
Scanning around the classroom for a while to no avail (and who can blame us, really? If we’re so good we wouldn’t be stuck in supplementary classes in the first place), Ryuuro freefalls himself onto the chair, completely deflated of energy as if he’s been teaching for decades.
“Eh, I give up,” exclaims the genius. “Class is dismissed.”
“You do know that if we fail this class, there’s gonna be consequences, right?” I remind him of the task at hand. Not just for us, but for him as well.
“Don’t remind me,” Ryuuro rubs his temples in chronic pain. “I’m trying to think of a way.”
“Prez, can’t you just… teach us like normal?” From the back, an unfamiliar voice calls out. I don’t know too many people, but I think I’ve heard them in class D before.
You poor, naïve soul. If there’s anything that you should know about Ryuuro, it’s that the word “normal” doesn’t exist in his dictionary.
Meanwhile, the genius before us still sits in silence, his eyes closed as if pondering the matters of life.
“… Is he asleep?” Michinari reaches to me and whispers into my ears.
“Nah, he’s not the type to fall asleep. Not in this weather, at least.”
“I can still perfectly hear you guys,” Ryuuro answers, yet the guy still refuses to open his eyes.
The class returns to silence once more. Or rather, as silent as a normal class without a teacher is. Soon enough, the entire room is filled with whispers here and there, with all kinds of small talk being made by the reluctant members – only five of us in total, but the sound is like a swarm of bees flying in full force.
However, small talk can only fuel us so far. After a while, the tired mouths start to shut themselves, and eagerly replacing them are the grumbling stomachs of the exhausted students.
“Can we go home now?” A voice from below asks.
“Prez…” A similar one continues.
I was planning to be the straight man, but even I have limits to what his antics can bring.
“Hey, Earth to Ryuuro! Say something, you stupid genius!”
“That’s it!” Finally, after what can only be described as forever, Ryuuro eagerly sounds, slamming his fist down the table as if knocking the final nail in our fictional coffins. “I got it! Class is dismissed… Actually, hold on a minute.”
Without giving us so much of a reaction, he draws out his phone and dials a certain number.
“Hey, Mechanics… No, I just wanna hear your voice-of course I have a favor, who do you think I am? I have the initial sketch right here, lemme send you real quick…”
After rapidly typing on the screen for just a mere second, the young man calls again.
“How fast can you get it done? … A month? I need it now; make it a day… Don’t worry, I’ll cover the manpower; it’s for the supplementary classes, so I need it as fast as I can… At least a week? Fine… Okay, that’s a deal. See ya!”
“Well, that’s that,” finally turning to us again, Ryuuro gleefully concludes. “Class is dismissed for the rest of the week!”
Before we can even understand anything, the young man has already disappeared from the classroom faster than his brother beating the 100-meter world record, leaving only five confused faces behind.
“So… what do we do now?” Michinari asked.
“… Go home, I guess. And brace ourselves for what that guy has in store.”
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