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As both sides took their seats, even the referee—who'd been impassive till now—looked a bit thrown. "Ahem. For this kind of quiz-style event, the side that proposed it generally answers first.
"Sakayanagi's class, any objections? If you think that's unfair, we can flip a coin for first turn."
Maybe out of honor-student pride in the face of this… particular project, the three from Sakayanagi's side were all bashful and had no objections at all. Hearing the referee, they waved their hands in a fluster: "No problem, no problem, let Yukio's class go first."
Nomura's trio were delighted. "Hahaha, then we won't be polite! Let's begin!"
At the referee's nod, they left six chairs from the desks-and-chairs setup used for the math event—three for each side—and got to work.
In no time, the gym's giant event screen began running a pausable PPT. The first slide was a photo of a sweet-looking girl in a thin white blouse, hugging a bottle of plum tea, bare legs swaying, toes peeking.
Nomura, Suzuki, and Oda spoke almost in unison, not even needing to think: "Mikami Yua!"
As the three shouted, a checkmark popped up on the big screen to indicate "correct," and it shifted to the second image.
During the gap, Yukio Class kept cheering them on. "Beasts! As expected of our Resource Trio—true connoisseurs!"
"So this is what 'having watched a mountain of videos' does for your eye, huh? Legendary stuff, Nomura!"
And most ridiculous of all—not only the boys, even the girls of Yukio Class were cheering the three on. "You're actually pretty good! We thought you guys watching this stuff all day was useless! Who knew it'd come in handy in a special exam!"
"Oi, Suzuki—take down Sakayanagi's class for us! If you three win, then even if you pass stuff around in the classroom later, we won't yell at you for it!"
Flattered by the praise, the trio threw their heads back and waved toward their class's section, answering the support.
Next up, Sakayanagi's three. They looked at each other, then again, until the shyest one—a boy in glasses—answered with his eyes squeezed shut: "I-it's… Shiraishi Marina…"
In sharp contrast to Yukio Class, they took no pride in it. Even when the big screen showed "correct," no applause or cheers rose from Sakayanagi's section.
The boys in Sakayanagi's class all sat there mortified and silent, playing it cool with eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at the screen at all—as if terrified the girls in their class would lump them all in together.
The girls in Sakayanagi's class were much the same—faces flushed—some cursing Yukio Class's shameless event, others grumbling that their own three-man team was gross. In short, the atmosphere between the two classes couldn't have been more different.
Maybe that's the biggest gap between a "delinquent" class and an "honor student" class: the honors put on airs for the sake of face—yes, they watch too, but they have to stand on the moral high ground and scold.
The delinquents are simpler. Never mind the boys—even some of the girls might hit Nomura's trio up for "resources." No need to pretend.
After all, the delinquent girls in Yukio's class, when they get mad and start swearing, never leave out the set combo of verbs plus your family members—who's going to believe they "don't know" anything?
In the special-teaching building's command room, Sakayanagi watched with interest—none of that fake-shy act common to ordinary girls, like she'd never seen any of this. "Miscalculation."
"When I first saw this project, I thought it would just take quick memorization. I didn't expect you had to factor in… skin thickness."
"Exactly." Yukio picked up her thread. "This event tests both sheer viewing volume and how thick your members' skin is.
"Your three have obviously crammed hard in a short time—they must remember a lot. But so what? The more correct answers they give, the more it proves how much they've watched—and the more your girls will shun them.
"Even if they're doing it to win class points, your girls might praise them out loud, but inside? They'll feel grossed out and keep their distance, right?
"And since no one in your class is an idiot, everyone can see that, which means those three will get more and more tied up. Even if they know an answer, they might not dare to say it."
Sakagami watched, chuckling, not minding in the least using a setup like this to trip up Sakayanagi's class.
Mashima, meanwhile, let out a long sigh—whether at his own class's lack of cohesion and weak vibe, or at his failure to educate them better… who knew.
Hearing Mashima sigh behind him, Yukio got curious and pointed at the screen. "Mashima-sensei, have you seen this actress's debut?"
On the screen, Suzuki from Yukio's class was loudly and righteously calling out the stage name: "Momotani Erika!"
"Kh—koff-koff!" Mashima's face twitched. Good grief, this is still a special exam! And you're chatting up the proctor with that?
Mashima was about to scold him when Yukio added, all innocent curiosity: "Big reaction, huh? So you have seen it, right, Sensei?"
"No!" There was nothing to think about—Mashima had to deny it. Never mind whether he could discuss this sort of thing with a student—
His own class's girls and Sakayanagi were right there on the other side of the special exam; how could he talk about it? On top of that, Sakagami—his sly old rival—was standing over there too. No matter what, Mashima wasn't about to admit anything in front of them.
"Eh? You haven't?" Yukio feigned surprise. "Momotani's debut, y'know—it's famous. The one with Momotani and two plumbers."
Mashima hadn't caught up yet; out of sheer, ingrained educator's instinct, he reflexively corrected the error. "You've misspoken or misremembered, Yukio. In Momotani's debut there's only one plumber."
"Pfft—!" Yukio couldn't help laughing.
"C-coo… coo-coo!" Even Sakagami had to fight to hold it in, shoulders shaking as he stifled it so hard he cooed like a pigeon.
Only Sakayanagi was full of helpless exasperation, very displeased that her own homeroom teacher let Yukio bait him that easily. "Mashima-sensei, please focus on proctoring."
Mashima's face at that moment looked like a dye shop had splashed it—now green, now black, a brilliant display. Only now did he realize—Yukio had deliberately said the wrong number to fish him!
And the most mortifying part? As a teacher, he'd just been told by a student to please proctor seriously. What teacher can stand that?
So Mashima could only clamp his mouth shut, his expression cycling between green and black. No matter how Yukio tried to reel him back in, he refused to answer and stayed out of it entirely.
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