In regular schools, everything is simple.
You attend classes, take tests, hang out, get your diploma.
You live.
But Hoshin Academy isn't a regular school.
This place is an experiment.
A system of selection. Or… a battlefield.
Everything here revolves around ranks.
Four second-year classes: A, B, C, and D.
We're divided from day one.
Class A — the elite.
Class D — the bottom.
Officially, it's all fair. They say, "You can rise or fall based on your results."
In reality — you fight not only against other classes, but your own classmates too.
Each month, we're given individual and class points.
Class points are based on behavior, performance, and initiative.
Individual points are your personal currency — used to buy food, clothes, entertainment, even library access.
If a class loses points, their privileges and resources are cut.
If a class performs better than the rest, it can climb in the rankings.
In theory, it's possible to move from Class D to Class A.
But in the entire history of this school, only one D-class has ever made it.
There are rumors the administration interferes.
That this place isn't just about education — but about testing models of social control.
Manipulation. Pressure. Division.
Example:
Yesterday, a student from Class 2-C was seen on campus with a tablet showing other students' point balances.
Question: where did he get that access?
Answer: someone has connections.
In my class, I've already identified three who aren't what they seem:
Myself.
Tokizawa.
Aoi.
We're not allies.
We simply understand that we exist on a different level of the system.
The others are smart — but we're playing a different game.
I don't care about reaching Class A.
I don't want their diploma, their money, or their status.
I'm here for another reason.
I want to know who built this system.
Who wrote the rules.
Who pulls the strings.
Because when it all starts to fall apart — I need to be above them.
I opened my notebook again.
– To understand the rules is to break the game.
– While they play fair, I rewrite the board.