Our math teacher named Mr. Tanaka arrived into our classroom, a man in his thirties with jet-black hair.
He had the air of a typical named character, well-known for being a math teacher and also coaching athletes from the math club.
And he began explaining the topic of the day, quadratic equations. Luna and Kaori had already covered this with me during our study session the previous evening, so I found myself zoning out, not taking any notes.
If you were to glance at my notebook, you'd find only two words on the title page: "Quadratic Equation." The rest of the page was empty.
Writing notes was just not my thing, and I certainly didn't aim to be an honor student or a top achiever. My goal was to remain a background character, an average student.
The quadratic equations that Mr. Tanaka was explaining seemed rather simple. In fact, I could easily grasp how to solve them. However, I refused to actively participate or show any sign of understanding.
It was important to me that I maintain my role as an unremarkable student, allowing me to observe from the background. When the class became too monotonous, I gazed out of the window, letting my mind wander.
After Mr. Tanaka's lengthy explanation, the inevitable came: a quiz on quadratic equations. Mr. Tanaka meticulously wrote ten problems on the board, numbered 1 to 10, each worth two points.
Everyone in the classroom prepared for the quiz, and some of my classmates, including Luna and Kaori, seemed to be locked in silent competition, their eyes filled with determination.
While to others, it might have seemed like friendly encouragement, but for me I could sense the rivalry burning in their eyes. These two were competitors in every sense of the word.
Now, back to my own thoughts. I reluctantly began copying the quiz questions into my notebook, though I was indifferent to the outcome.
I couldn't help but wonder, "What score should I aim for in this quiz?" A 20-point quiz meant a passing score of around 12. The passing score was a gray area, but 12 points out of 20 felt like an appropriate goal.
"Scoring 12 is good, I guess," I muttered to myself, aligning my intentions.
A 12 out of 20 was a score that indicated an average performance, and that was what I strived for.
As I began solving the quiz, something unexpected happened. My focus and determination seemed to take over.
It felt as though a dark aura had enveloped my vision—an intense desire to excel, even if only slightly.
It was peculiar, and I wondered if it was a temporary burst of motivation or if I was merely imagining things.
However, I pushed aside these odd sensations and continued working through the questions.
The process seemed different today, as if an invisible force was driving me forward. There was no turning back.
And as I solved the problems, I couldn't help but notice Luna and Kaori glancing at me with curiosity.
Once I'd answered all the questions, I stopped and pretended to be reviewing my work, looking as though I hadn't quite finished.
Mr. Tanaka wandered around the classroom to prevent cheating, and I followed suit, glancing between my paper and the questions on the board.
When Mr. Tanaka returned to his desk, he checked the time and announced, "You have 3 minutes left to finish your work."
Some of my classmates protested, pleading for more time, while others, including Luna and Kaori, tried to complete their quizzes in haste.
However, I pretended to struggle with my last few questions, maintaining a facade of uncertainty.
As the clock ticked away, I observed my classmates. Renjiro seemed to be frantically scratching his head, an expression of desperation on his face, clearly regretting not studying more.
Kenta, on the other hand, wore an air of confidence, as if he had intentionally set out to fail the quiz.
He was a character of a different sort, fully embracing his role as a background character.
In contrast, Luna and Kaori completed their quizzes seemingly effortlessly, their determined eyes locked on their own papers.
They had more at stake than just a simple quiz; their pride was on the line. They were roommates, after all, and they would not allow the other to excel. Covering their answers, they were wary of potential cheaters.
Finally, the time was up. Mr. Tanaka declared, "Time's up. Please pass your papers to your seatmates."
I exchanged my paper with my seatmate, a young man who seemed to be the typical studious type.
He let out a chuckle while glancing at my paper, as if he found my responses rather amusing.
"Heh... quite the unconventional answers."
It appeared that my answers didn't exactly make sense to him. Well, that was the intention.
My aim was to score 12 and maintain my background character status. There is no need to draw unnecessary attention to myself.
The math quiz was finally upon us, and the classroom was filled with nervous energy. We sat at our desks, papers and pencils ready, bracing ourselves for what was to come.
As I glanced around the room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with my classmates. We were all in this together, facing the impending doom of a math quiz.
And then there were Luna and Kaori, sitting side by side, as always. They exchanged papers, their eyes filled with excitement and determination.
It was clear that they were both eager to know who would come out as the highest scorer in this math quiz. The competition between them was always fierce, and I couldn't wait to see who would come out on top this time.
I also couldn't help but take a quick look at Renjiro, who was sitting a few rows ahead. He had exchanged papers with a boy sitting next to him, and Kenta had done the same with his seatmate.
I had a pretty good idea of what their scores would be. After all, Renjiro wasn't exactly known for his stellar academic performance, and Kenta... Well, Kenta is Kenta. I had a feeling they would both be in the "worst than average" category.
Our math teacher, Mr. Tanaka, scanned the room, ensuring all of us had exchanged our papers.
Finally, he asked, "Have all of the students exchanged papers?"
In unison, we responded, "Yes, sir!"
"Alright, class, remember to write down the name of the student who checked your paper. After the initial check, return it to your seatmate for a final recheck and let them know their score. Then, return all the papers to me. We'll determine the highest scorer and how many of you passed, and remember, this quiz is recorded. Now, without further ado, who's up for question number 1?"
Miharu eagerly volunteered, her hand shooting up.
"Go ahead, Miharu," Mr. Tanaka encouraged.
With confidence, she stood up and approached the board. Miharu tackled the question swiftly and accurately, writing down her solution. Her answer? It was correct.
"Miharu, excellent job! Your answer for number 1 is correct. You may return to your seat."
I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. I had also answered question number 1 correctly, and with Miharu setting a positive tone, things were off to a good start.
The next few questions passed quickly as each of my classmates volunteered to answer. They were all eager to prove themselves. But the real competition was yet to come.
When we reached questions 8 and 9, it was Luna and Kaori's turn. Luna was lightning-fast in solving the problem, impressing Mr. Tanaka with her quick and accurate solution. She wrote it confidently and with a satisfied smile on her face.
"Impressive, Luna. The answer to number 8 is correct," Mr. Tanaka acknowledged.
"Thank you, sir," Luna replied with a gracious bow before taking her seat.
Kaori, not one to be outdone, stood up with an air of confidence. Her eyes sparkled as she swiftly solved question 9, leaving the math teacher in awe. It was as if he had witnessed two prodigies at once.
"Excellent, Kaori! The answer to number 9 is correct," he praised.
"Thank you, sir," Kaori replied with a friendly and approachable smile. She returned to her seat, her victory clearly etched on her face. Luna and Kaori's rivalry was in full swing, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to back down.
The moment of truth arrived as Mr. Tanaka announced, "Now, for the last question, number 10. Who will try to answer this problem?"
Silence filled the room. All the confident students had already taken their turn, leaving only us "average" students—or worse, like Kenta, who was more on the "below average" side. Mr. Tanaka scanned the room, looking for someone to rise to the challenge.
"How about Ced Nakano?"
I couldn't believe my ears. Why me? I hadn't expected to be called upon. What was this teacher thinking? Why didn't he choose one of the other boys? Was it some sort of cruel joke? My mind raced with questions as I reluctantly stood up.
Kaori and Luna both had kind smiles on their faces, cheering me on with their eyes. As I glanced at Renjiro, I signaled for help, a silent plea for assistance. But he averted his gaze, refusing to make eye contact. Kenta, on the other hand, was too busy counting the correct answers from his seatmate, seemingly oblivious to my plight. It seemed like I was on my own.
With no other option, I reluctantly approached Mr. Tanaka. He handed me the marker, and I found myself tasked with the responsibility of writing my solution on the board for all my classmates to see.
The problem at hand was for question number 10, a quadratic equation: 3x² - 8x - 3 = 0. I knew the answer, but I couldn't make it too obvious. After all, my goal was to remain a background character.
As I stood there, marker in hand, I thought about my master plan, which I had rather fancifully named the "Inversion Illusion." Well, perhaps "Just change the signs to make it wrong!" would be a more accurate description, but it lacked a certain flair. The equation before me was my canvas:
x¹ = 3x + 1 = 0.
x² = x - 3 = 0
In reality, the textbook solution was straightforward: move the 1 to the right side, transforming it into a negative. And as for that tricky x² in x - 3 = 0, you'd merely shift the -3 to the right, yielding x² = 3. The logic was sound; there was no way to cancel out the positive three. So, x² was definitely 3, making x¹: 3x = -1 the only equation that needed cracking.
x¹ = 3x = -1
With a simple division by 3, the 3x vanished, and what remained was:
x¹ = -1/3
But that wasn't my goal; I had no desire to be hailed as the hero who corrected question 10. That would elevate me to named character status, something I needed to avoid at all costs. So, instead, I decided to play it safe. I kept the 1 positive, and as for that x², I let it stay as it was:
3x = 1
x = -3
When I divided 1 by 3, I left it as:
x = 1/3
I neatly boxed my final answer, x¹ = 1/3, and x² = -3. With a shrug, I handed the marker back to Mr. Tanaka, fully expecting him to reprimand me for my error.
"Nice try, Ced! You've shown improvement," he remarked, catching me off guard. "You made a mistake with the signs at the end, but your potential is evident. Let's discuss this later; I have an invitation for you."
His words left me stunned. This wasn't the outcome I had anticipated. Feigning hesitation, I stammered, "Uh, sir... o-okay."
Returning to my seat, I couldn't help but contemplate the unexpected turn of events. This wasn't how I had envisioned it at all. The classroom buzzed with whispers and curious glances in my direction. This wasn't the background character status I had aimed for, and I couldn't help but wonder what I had gotten myself into.
As I settled back into my seat, I sighed and muttered to myself, "Another unexpected twist for a background character like me, I suppose."