The days that followed our meeting in the garden were filled with a strange anticipation.
Most of Class 1-D wasted their time as usual, enjoying luxuries while they lasted. I watched them with quiet patience, knowing the storm that would soon hit. The countdown had already begun.
But unlike them, we would not be caught unprepared.
I called the group together on a Saturday evening, the second weekend after orientation. We met in an unused study room on the third floor of the library, the fluorescent lights casting a sharp glow over the polished tables.
"I've been thinking about how to keep us ahead," I began, my hands clasped on the table. "If we want to survive here, we need two things: brains and strength. Academics and physical fitness. This school isn't normal—it'll test us in ways we can't predict. So we prepare."
They listened, some curious, some skeptical. Yukimura sat with his arms crossed, always serious. Akito leaned back casually, while Haruka and Mei whispered to each other before falling silent.
I turned to Yukimura. "You care about grades, right?"
"That much should be obvious," he replied dryly.
"Then I want you to lead study sessions—twice a week. Focus on our group. Make sure everyone keeps up with classes and strengthens their weak points. If we fall behind academically, we'll be dead weight. But if we keep our scores above average, we'll stay afloat."
Yukimura adjusted his glasses, considering. "…Fine. But don't expect miracles. Some of them," his eyes flicked briefly toward Okitani and Ijuin, "look allergic to hard work."
The two boys groaned in protest. "Hey!"
I raised a hand. "That's where discipline comes in. You'll handle the academics. As for physical training…" I turned to Akito. "You've got sports in your blood. I want you to coach the guys—basic routines, twice a week in the mornings. Stamina, strength, coordination."
Akito's grin widened. "Finally, something up my alley. Yeah, I can do that."
"Good. And for the girls…" My gaze shifted to An Maezono. "You're active, right? I've seen you moving with energy the others don't have. I want you to run morning sessions for them. Nothing brutal—just enough to sharpen the body."
An blinked, startled. "Me? Leading?"
"Why not? You've got the spirit for it. The others will follow."
Haruka nudged her friend with a playful grin. "See? You're officially a coach now."
An's cheeks warmed, but she nodded. "…Okay. I'll try."
With that, the roles were set. The first structure of our little alliance. Not just friends, but a team.
The first study session took place on Tuesday evening. Yukimura arrived early, setting out textbooks and notebooks in neat stacks. His expression was as severe as a drill sergeant's.
When the others trickled in, he immediately started. "Mathematics. Fundamentals first. Some of you clearly struggle, so we'll begin with practice problems. No excuses."
Groans filled the air, especially from Okitani and Ijuin. Haruka poked fun at them, while Mei tried to whisper answers. Airi sat silently, fiddling with her pencil, her anxiety obvious.
But Yukimura's persistence was unshakable. He drilled them with questions, corrected mistakes without hesitation, and forced repetition until answers stuck.
At first, frustration bubbled. But slowly, the group found rhythm. By the end of the two-hour session, Okitani had actually solved a problem correctly, grinning like he'd won a medal.
"See?" Yukimura said, a hint of pride slipping through his stern tone. "Effort pays off."
It wasn't glamorous, but it was progress.
Thursday morning, Akito took charge of the boys. We met on the track field at dawn, the air crisp and cool.
"Alright, weaklings," he called, clapping his hands. "Warm-ups first—don't want anyone pulling a muscle. Then laps. Three to start. Move it!"
Okitani and Ijuin whined, stumbling through stretches. Yukimura, to his credit, took it seriously, though his endurance clearly lagged. As for me, I paced myself carefully—enough to blend in, not enough to stand out.
Akito barked encouragements and insults in equal measure, his grin wide. By the time we finished, sweat clung to our shirts, and even the complainers had to admit it felt… good.
Meanwhile, across the field, An led the girls. Their routine was lighter—stretches, light jogging, bodyweight exercises. Haruka complained theatrically but still kept up, while Mei pushed herself with surprising energy. Airi struggled, face red, but An stayed by her side, gently encouraging her until she finished.
It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. Discipline was being planted.
But while they trained and studied, I had a different plan brewing.
Private points. The hidden currency of the school, earned through challenges, deals, and clever wagers. Most students didn't even know they existed yet. But I did.
And I knew where to get them.
The Shogi Club.
Rumors floated that its president—a third-year with sharp eyes and sharper hands—offered matches for points. A thousand here, ten thousand there. Some said he even accepted higher stakes, if you had the guts.
I went alone, slipping into their quiet clubroom one afternoon. The faint scent of cedar and ink filled the air. Wooden boards lay set, pieces lined with elegant kanji.
The president, a tall boy with sleek hair, looked up from his board. "You're new."
"Miyamoto Soshi. Class 1-D," I introduced myself. "I heard you accept wagers."
His eyes narrowed, amused. "Brave of a first-year to come here. What do you want to wager?"
"One hundred thousand points," I said calmly.
The room went silent. Other club members glanced up in shock. The president arched a brow. "…High stakes. If you lose, you'll crawl out of here empty."
"If I win?"
"You take the same from me."
I smiled faintly. "Then let's play."
The first game was a blur of tension. My knowledge of shogi wasn't perfect, but I had studied strategy games before—chess, go, even shogi basics. More importantly, I'd prepared. Before this gamble, I'd spent nights quietly practicing against the school's AI shogi apps, drilling openings and mid-game tactics.
The president was skilled, no doubt. His moves were swift, precise, predatory. But he underestimated me. A first-year, walking in blind? He expected an easy win.
When my lance skewered his rook in an unexpected counterattack, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"You've played before."
"Once or twice," I replied evenly.
The game dragged, tense and sharp, but eventually, his king cornered himself in a desperate bid for survival. My gold general slid into place. Checkmate.
Gasps filled the room.
The president leaned back, studying me with new interest. "…Impressive. Most crumble after ten minutes. You've got guts—and skill."
"Shall we play again?" I asked.
And so we did. Again and again. Each time, the stakes remained at one hundred thousand. Each time, I pushed my focus to the limit. My heart pounded, sweat forming at my temples, but I refused to falter.
Win after win piled up. By the twentieth match, whispers filled the clubroom. A first-year had just stripped the president of two million points.
When the final piece fell, the president exhaled sharply, then chuckled. "You're a monster in disguise. Fine. A deal's a deal."
He transferred the points without argument. Two million. Mine.
That night, I called the group together again. They gathered in our usual study room, tired from training but curious.
I stood at the front, my phone in hand. "I have something for you."
Their eyes widened as the notification pings rang out—each one receiving one hundred thousand points.
Confusion and shock rippled through them. Okitani nearly dropped his phone. "W-wait, what? Did we just… get more points?"
"I challenged the Shogi Club," I explained simply. "Stakes of a hundred thousand per match. I won twenty games. Two million points in total. I kept the extra for our group's fund. But each of you deserves a share—for trusting me."
Silence followed, heavy with awe.
Akito whistled low. "You're insane. But damn… I like it."
Haruka's grin widened. "Free shopping spree! You're officially my favorite person here."
Even Yukimura, usually so stern, looked impressed despite himself. "…You actually pulled it off."
Airi clutched her phone tightly, whispering, "T-thank you…" Her voice trembled, but her eyes shone with gratitude.
I raised a hand, silencing them. "Don't get reckless. This isn't free money—it's an investment. Use it wisely. Save most of it. If you splurge, do it carefully. We're building something here—discipline, knowledge, strength. These points are just the beginning."
They nodded, their trust deepening. The room's atmosphere shifted. I was no longer just a classmate with ideas. I was their leader.
Over the next weeks, our routine solidified. Twice a week, we studied under Yukimura's sharp guidance. Twice a week, we trained our bodies under Akito and An's watch. Slowly, progress showed.
Okitani and Ijuin, once lazy, began to improve both in stamina and academics. Haruka's jokes grew sharper, but so did her test scores. Mei's energy pushed the group forward, while An found unexpected confidence in leading.
Airi, though shy, blossomed bit by bit—speaking more, smiling more, her shoulders less burdened.
Even Yukimura, though strict, began to soften. He'd never admit it, but the pride in his voice when someone solved a problem correctly was unmistakable.
We were no longer just individuals surviving. We were a unit. A team.
And when the inevitable day arrived—when Class 1-D's monthly points vanished, and chaos erupted among our classmates—we would stand firm. Prepared. United.
While others flailed in confusion, we would already be two steps ahead.
And that was how power began—not with brilliance or dominance, but with preparation, discipline, and loyalty.