Two days passed in a blur of library meetings, chaotic notes slowly organizing themselves into a coherent shape, and quiet, surprising conversations that had nothing and everything to do with the Meiji Restoration.
On Friday morning, the results were in.
Mr. Endo stood before a nervous Class 1-B, a stack of marked project booklets in his hands. "I have reviewed your paired assignments. The results, as always, are… mixed." He began calling names, returning booklets with brief comments. Most received polite nods or mild admonishments.
Then, he picked up the last booklet. It was noticeably thicker, secured with a simple blue clip.
"However," Mr. Endo continued, a rare note of something like approval in his voice, "one project stood out for its exceptional clarity, depth, and creative synthesis of historical fact with insightful perspective." He paused, letting the suspense build. "Sato and Tanaka. An excellent effort. You've set the standard. A-plus."
A collective, stunned silence filled the room, followed by a wave of hushed whispers that crashed like a sudden tide.
"What?"
"Tanaka? An A-plus?"
"That's impossible."
Kaito felt a jolt of pure, warm satisfaction. He risked a glance toward the back. Hikari, who had been slouched in her usual posture, had gone perfectly still. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the teacher, as if she'd been told the sky had turned green. Then, a slow, incredulous smile broke across her face—a real, unfiltered expression of joy that made something bright and fierce spark in Kaito's chest.
Mr. Endo placed the booklet on Kaito's desk as he passed. "Truly impressive work. Both of you."
The moment the teacher turned his back, the whispers ignited into open muttering.
"Of course he got an A-plus," Kenji said, not bothering to lower his voice. He gave Kaito a sympathetic, knowing look. "You must have been up all night fixing everything, man. Rough deal."
From the middle of the room, Yui, the girl with the ribbon, leaned toward her friend Mari. "It's so unfair. She gets the same grade as him? She probably just wrote her name on it and doodled on the cover." Her voice was sharp with a jealousy she made no effort to hide.
Hikari's smile had vanished, replaced by a familiar, tight-lipped expression. She stared at the surface of her desk, the joy in her eyes snuffed out by the cold water of her classmates' assumptions. She heard them. Of course she heard them. This was the story everyone knew: Kaito the savior, Hikari the burden. The A-plus next to her name felt like a lie everyone could see through.
Mr. Endo cleared his throat, having caught the discontent in the air. "Is there a problem?" His gaze swept the room before landing on Kaito. "Sato. The project was submitted jointly. Can you confirm the work was a collaborative effort?"
All eyes turned to Kaito. It was the perfect opportunity. A single, humble nod—yes, sensei, we both worked on it—would be enough. It would be polite, it would end the discussion, and it would align with the quiet, non-confrontational image he'd always maintained.
Kaito looked at Hikari. He saw the way her shoulders were hunched, bracing for the polite dismissal she expected. He remembered the chewed pencil, the 'confused swordsmen' note, the cracker on the notecard, the way she'd looked at his rainbow system and seen a confused parrot. He remembered the title—her title, which he'd only helped shape. He thought of the feeling, not just the facts.
He stood up.
The simple act commanded a deeper silence. Kaito's voice, when it came, was clear and steady, carrying to every corner of the room.
"The project was a collaboration, sensei. Tanaka-san's contributions were essential. She developed the core perspective—that the period was less about policies and more about a profound cultural fracture. Her analysis of the primary source materials on social discord gave the project its depth. My role was to structure the research. Hers was to give it meaning. The high grade is as much hers as it is mine. She deserves the praise."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with shock. Kaito Sato, the boy who never raised his voice, never drew attention to himself beyond his scores, had just publicly, definitively, and firmly defended Hikari Tanaka.
Hikari was staring at him, her earlier shock returning tenfold, mixed with something raw and unguarded.
Mr. Endo nodded, a satisfied gleam in his eye. "Thank you for that clarification, Sato. That settles the matter. Let's turn to page sixty-four."
The matter was settled for the teacher. For the class, it was a fresh, burning mystery. Glances shot between Kaito and Hikari, filled with confusion and renewed, hotter jealousy. The girls who had whispered now sat in stiff, silent dissatisfaction. They didn't dare say anything aloud—not after Kaito's firm declaration—but their displeasure was a palpable force in the room. Why was he defending her? What did she do to deserve it?
Kenji just shook his head in bafflement, looking at Kaito as if he'd grown a second head.
Kaito sat down, his heart pounding. He had broken an unspoken rule. He had chosen a side. And he felt no regret, only a strange, solid sense of rightness.
When the bell rang, the class dispersed in a charged, mumbling cloud. As Hikari walked past his desk to leave, she didn't stop. But her eyes met his for one fleeting second. In them was no smirk, no sarcasm, no guardedness. Just a look of stunned, genuine gratitude, so intense it was almost shy.
Then she was gone, disappearing into the hallway.
Kaito packed his bag slowly. The whispers around him now were about him.
"Did you hear how he spoke up for her?"
"Maybe she blackmailed him."
"So weird."
He tuned them out. The only voice in his head was his own from moments ago, and the memory of the look in her eyes. He hadn't defended the girl from the music room. He had defended his project partner. He had defended his friend.
He walked to his next class with a new feeling: not the lonely satisfaction of a top score, but the warm, complicated, and fiercely protective pride of a shared victory. For the first time, his perfect score wasn't a solitary monument. It was a bridge, and he had just crossed it, in front of everyone.
(End of chapter 5)