Bab 14: The Stage is Set
By 9:30 AM, the gymnasium was alive with the bustling energy of the new freshman class. Students from all four first-year classes had assembled, their conversations blending into a steady hum that echoed off the high walls of the spacious hall. Without teachers to maintain order, the atmosphere was unrestrained, teetering on the edge of chaos. Laughter erupted in pockets, conspiratorial whispers filled the gaps, and a few students simply sat quietly, observing the spectacle.
On one side of the gym, four homeroom teachers stood in a loose line, each a stark contrast to the other in demeanor. They were the designated overseers of the chaos, though none seemed particularly inclined to intervene.
Tomonari Mashima, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-A, stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp, steely gaze scanning the room like a hawk. His imposing presence and unyielding expression seemed to dare any student to step out of line.
Hoshinomiya Chie, the bubbly and seemingly carefree homeroom teacher of Class 1-B, leaned casually against the wall, her cheerful expression betraying none of the cunning that often lay beneath. She occasionally exchanged whispered comments with her colleagues, her tone light but her eyes observant.
Kazuma Sakagami, the relaxed and easygoing homeroom teacher of Class 1-C, exuded an air of indifference. He stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he observed his students' antics.
Sae Chabashira, the stern and enigmatic homeroom teacher of Class 1-D, maintained her usual icy demeanor, her arms folded and her sharp eyes narrowing slightly at the most rambunctious of her students. Her presence was an unspoken warning that she would tolerate no nonsense.
The cacophony in the gym reached its peak just as the clock struck 9:30. At that precise moment, a figure emerged from the side of the podium. The sound of his footsteps, steady and deliberate, seemed to cut through the noise like a blade, drawing all eyes toward him.
The boy walked with an air of quiet authority, his movements measured and composed. He was not particularly tall, standing at an average height of around 170 cm, but his well-proportioned frame and impeccable posture lent him an aura of sophistication. Dressed in the standard high school uniform, his clean black hair framed a calm and intelligent face. Black-framed glasses added to his composed and intellectual appearance, completing the image of someone accustomed to command.
As he approached the lectern, the conversations in the gym began to fade, curiosity and intrigue replacing the earlier chaos.
The moment Horikita Manabu, the Student Council President, ascended the podium, the atmosphere in the gymnasium shifted. His tall, composed figure, clad in the crisp uniform of the school, commanded attention effortlessly. His black-framed glasses glinted under the lights as he scanned the crowd with a piercing gaze.
"Good morning," he began, his deep voice resonating through the room. "I am the Student Council President, Horikita Manabu. On behalf of the current students, I would like to warmly welcome the new students who are entering our school this year."
As the words left his mouth, the collected and aloof expression of Horikita Suzune, standing in the ranks of Class 1-D, faltered. Her face betrayed a whirlwind of emotions: nervousness, surprise, joy, and hesitation, all struggling for dominance. It was a rare and unexpected crack in her usually impenetrable facade.
Her back was turned to Ayanokouji Kiyotaka, who stood directly behind her. Though he couldn't see her face, he was observant enough to notice the subtle change in her posture—the slight stiffness in her shoulders, the faint tremor in her stance. His sharp mind cataloged the anomaly, though he gave no outward reaction.
Manabu's voice continued, calm and deliberate. "Our school is a combination of arts and martial disciplines. With its unparalleled admission standards and high employment rate, I trust you all understand the privilege of being here..."
At 9:35 AM, just as the President's speech reached its midpoint, the gymnasium door parted slightly. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable amidst the sea of focused gazes directed at the podium.
From the narrow gap, a boy's face peeked inside, his electric-blue eyes scanning the scene with practiced precision. A mischievous smirk played on his lips as Aiden Takahashi pulled his head back, assessing the situation.
What followed was a masterclass in exaggerated stealth.
First, Aiden's hand slipped through the gap, inching forward with exaggerated caution, as though he were disarming a bomb. Then his slender frame squeezed through, the smooth fabric of his uniform making no sound as it brushed against the doorframe. Finally, his other hand emerged, clutching the unmistakable shape of a coke can.
He left the door slightly ajar, unwilling to risk the loud click that might announce his arrival. Slowly, he crept toward the ranks of Class 1-D, each step deliberately slow and silent. His exaggerated caution was less out of genuine fear of being caught and more for his own amusement.
What Aiden failed—or perhaps chose not—to acknowledge was the undeniable fact that he had already been spotted.
Chabashira Sae stood rigidly near the edge of the gymnasium, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her sharp, observant eyes scanned the gathered first-year students with a calculated coolness, her presence as imposing as ever. Her expression remained neutral, but her mind was far from quiet.
As she surveyed the lines of students, one figure drew her attention like a magnet—Aiden Takahashi, slipping through the doors at 9:35 AM with all the subtlety of a cat burglar.
She watched him with growing irritation as he maneuvered through the room, his lean frame squeezing past classmates with deliberate, exaggerated caution. And then there was the clincher: the coke can gripped shamelessly in his hand.
Sae's lips pressed into a tight line, her thoughts taking a sardonic turn. So, not only does he sneak into the gymnasium late, but he brings a can of soda along as if it's some kind of award for his gall.
She didn't let her expression betray her thoughts, but inwardly, she sighed. This isn't just careless bravado. It's calculated. That act of his—the carefree grin, the exaggerated antics—it's a mask, one I've seen on students who think they can outwit the system. Humor as deflection, mischief as distraction. But masks have cracks, and I'll find them. The only question is whether he'll be a liability—or an asset.
Her thoughts drifted to their earlier encounter in the teacher's lounge. She had gone there to retrieve a set of files but had stumbled upon Hoshinomiya Chie and Aiden instead.
It was a peculiar sight: Chie leaning in far too close, her body language all too suggestive as she toyed with the boy in her usual playful manner. Sae had frozen for a fraction of a second, her sharp eyes catching the subtle tension in Aiden's posture. Interesting, she'd thought, watching as the boy—while playing along—subtly shifted away to maintain a degree of distance.
Is he into older women, or was that discomfort genuine? she mused dryly now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tracked him in the gymnasium.
Her mind lingered on their encounter in the teacher's lounge. He had let Hoshinomiya's flirtations wash over him, maintaining a polite distance yet somehow steering the conversation away from anything meaningful. If he thought he could outmaneuver her, he was sorely mistaken.
(If he's smart enough to leverage his wit, he might prove useful. But if he's careless, he'll drag Class D down with him.)
Sae sighed inwardly. It's only the first day, and I already know this one's going to be a headache.
Hoshinomiya Chie leaned casually against the gymnasium wall, her light brown hair framing her face as she watched the scene unfold with a faintly amused smile. She had noticed Aiden Takahashi the moment he'd slipped into the gym, his awkward sneaking impossible to miss for someone as sharp as her.
Chie had been intrigued by the boy ever since their earlier encounter in the teacher's lounge. His presence there hadn't been a coincidence, nor had it been entirely innocent. She had recognized his intent immediately—his sharp gaze darting to the class core scores displayed on the bulletin board before he'd tried to mask his interest behind a façade of casual banter.
He's bold, I'll give him that, Chie thought now, her eyes glinting with amusement. Too bold for his own good. But the funny part? He's smart enough to piece things together faster than most students, even if his execution is a little sloppy.
She recalled his bluff in the lounge—the way he'd casually asked about class changes with an air of confidence that almost made it believable. Almost.
Too bad for you, Takahashi-kun. You played your cards well—almost too well—but I caught the bluff. Still, it was bold of you to try, and bolder to think you'd get away with it.
Still, Chie wasn't one to spoil a good show. She had let him play his little game, even stepping in to redirect Mashima's scrutiny when it had grown too intense. After all, watching Aiden navigate his self-made traps was far more entertaining than shutting him down outright.
And now, here he was again, strolling into the gymnasium as if he owned the place, a can of coke in hand and a smirk on his lips. Chie chuckled softly to herself. This one's going to be trouble, she thought, not without a hint of fondness.
She glanced sideways at Mashima, who stood stiff as a statue beside her. "Looks like our little investigator found time for a snack," she murmured, her tone light and teasing.
Mashima didn't reply, but the faint tightening of his jaw said enough.
Tomonari Mashima stood at attention near the gym entrance, his steel-gray eyes fixed on the same student who had occupied his thoughts since their encounter in the teacher's lounge: Aiden Takahashi.
Mashima's suspicions had been cemented the moment he saw the boy in the lounge. His timing had been far too convenient, his excuse far too flimsy. Mashima had immediately recognized the signs of someone up to no good—the quick, assessing glances, the casual questions designed to probe for information without raising alarms.
His gaze hard as he watched Aiden slip into the gym. He came to the lounge with a purpose. Probably to gather information about the class system or the competition structure. But he's not as subtle as he thinks he is. There are too many cracks in his act.
Even now, Mashima's mind replayed the moment he had confronted Aiden. The boy had tried to charm his way out of trouble with a rambling speech about coffee and donuts, but Mashima had seen the cracks in his façade. Aiden's confidence had faltered just enough to confirm Mashima's suspicions.
And yet...
Mashima's thoughts shifted as he considered the boy's potential. He's quick-witted, resourceful, and observant. Traits that would make him an asset in the right environment. It's almost a shame he's stuck in Class D. If he were in Class A, he could've been a powerful tool in maintaining their dominance.
But then Mashima saw the coke can, the smirk, the casual way Aiden carried himself as if nothing in the world could touch him, and his lips thinned in irritation. Maybe it's better this way. A troublemaker like him would be a nightmare in Class A.
Kazuma Sakagami, standing at the far end of the gym, spared the scene a cursory glance. He saw Aiden Takahashi sneak into the gymnasium, the can of coke in his hand as blatant as the smirk on his face, and he looked away just as quickly.
Kids will be kids, Kazuma thought with a mental shrug. As long as the boy didn't disrupt the speech, what did it matter? Let the others handle it if they cared so much.
And with that, Kazuma dismissed the matter entirely, turning his attention back to the podium.
Aiden, now firmly in the line with his classmates, raised the can of coke to his lips and took a long, exaggerated sip. His electric-blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned casually against the nearest wall, his posture radiating nonchalance.
He noticed the teachers watching him, of course. He always noticed.
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Author's Note
As you've probably guessed by now, this story will move at a slower pace. The overall plot remains the same, and there isn't much to change in the big picture since Classroom of the Elite is all about those subtle, clever mind games. What I can do is make small, detailed changes to enhance the story—but to really highlight these micro-changes, I need to slow things down a bit. Thanks for sticking with me as we explore the layers of this world!
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