Episode Arc: Blackboard Wars: The Rival’s Oath
Tomo Kazehaya dreads Monday mornings. The air in Class 2-B crackles with quiet pride. He walks in, pencil between his fingers, eyes cloudy from running late and almost missing the bus. All the seats are taken but his, up front, right next to Shiori Taneda. She’s already reading, posture stiff as if every page hides some vital clue. Who in the class works harder: Tomo, desperate to shine, or Shiori, who never loses?
Let’s zoom in: their school, Shinzuka Academy, is known for its intense study contests. At least six times a year, teachers run the Academic League—a mix of quizzes, essays, group projects, art, and even science demos. Only the highest total score gets the winner’s charm on the special honor roll. There’s no cash but the fame lasts for months and makes resumes sparkle. Tomo cares more about being seen than about grades. He can’t help it. Last year he finished fifth. He’s sure he’d get friends if he just beats Shiori. It feels that way, doesn’t it? Would you chase the top student so hard you lose sleep?
Shiori stays quiet in most classes, head in her work or resting against the glass during breaks. Still, on the day of math club election, she outtalked the seniors and claimed president. Don’t mistake her calm for softness. At home, her dad tutors her for hours. If she drops to second, her family stops her favorite Saturday trips. Frankly, neither Tomo nor Shiori really hates the other, but rumors swirl. “Did you practice flash cards at all? Bet Shiori writes answers in her sleep!” Students gather. Even teachers whisper about the pair. They’re not rivals by choice but by saga.
On Tuesday, rumor strikes again—Mr. Matsushita, their grumpy homeroom teacher, announces a team project. Random pairs must build a working model of some historical device. Tomo draws his breath and hopes. He folds his paper slowly. A scribbled T, a careful S. Tomo & Shiori. Fate’s hand? Or a chance for him to stand out at last?
Shiori glances up and gives a simple, unreadable nod. Group work? It means late busy days and swapping tight notes and competing before their group even faces the class. Their first choice—Da Vinci’s water wheel. Tomo loves mechanical gadgets but hates reading thick journals. Shiori says, “I read something about paddles and tin weights.” Tomo grumbles, “Let’s just test a small one first.” For a while, Tomo thinks Shiori won’t share anything at all. 
The project drags on. Tomo brings spare parts from his uncle’s garage. Dirt marks smudge his shirt. Shiori designs clean sketches in perfect lines, but struggles with real tools. They clash over every step—hardware, water speed, the final look. Hours slip away. Other classmates peek in, smirk, or hiss. Tomo can’t shake the sense the class roots against them. Or worse: waits for them to trip up, prove even the “famous rivals” fail together.
Soon, pride is at stake. Tomo snaps one evening, “Try trusting me for once.” Shiori bites her lip. She retorts, “You never check the math! We can’t wing it!” There’s sweat on her palm and a hint of panic in her voice. Tomo turns her sketch upside down. “So write formulas where I can see!” The words echo in the quiet club room. That night Tomo tosses in bed. In the dark, he again asks, “Why do I care so much what she thinks?” You ever lost sleep stuck thinking over a simple fight?
The next afternoon, thunder rolls in just as Shiori walks in, soaked. Rain clings to her notes. She can’t hide her stress. “Sorry I yelled.” Tomo helps fix a tear at a page’s edge. They improvise with old wires and lost tape. He admits, “Your plans really help.” Shiori grins, first drop of kindness since they paired. She’s honest at last—this pressure from home weighs more than she lets on. There’s a rare moment: rivals shifting to companions in one glance.
The contest ticks closer. The class buzz holds a fevered pitch. Group rumors change. Some support; others joke. A prankster hides their gear the night before. Shiori finds parts missing. Tomo’s ready to scrap everything—and plot revenge. But Shiori leans in and whispers, “Let’s surprise them instead.”
Friday, every group lines up before the judges. Mr. Matsushita eyes them both, stern. The water wheel groans as it spins wetly. Tomo runs test rounds, patches leaks, times gravity. Shiori handles numbers, corrects tilt, calculates the odds by heart. They battle technical bugs the whole time. When time’s almost up and their turn comes, Shiori steps ahead and taps Tomo’s shoulder. “Let’s walk out together.” They share a look: nerves, but linked this time. The model works—barely. Enough for weak applause, but at least it’s not a collapse.
The results slide by the next week’s bell. They didn’t win. But there’s not quite shame in third place. Kids actually comment on how they worked: “Carries her drawings.” “Did you see Tomo run cables at lunch?” Some are kind, some still nasty. But for Tomo the crowd feels less harsh, softer. For Shiori, her mom shrugs but still packs her art pens on Saturday, like always.
Did their fame change? Yes. A bit. They aren’t the untouchables now. More choir kids join in for future contests. Friends drop friendly jibes rather than catty remarks. Tomo walks up to Shiori one dusk, two sodas in hand. His tone’s simple, like they’re old pals. “We weren’t so bad, huh?”
Shiori studies the can, then cracks her own smile. “Depends, can you do math club posters next?” She promises, half-goading. But it’s open in a way Tomo never got from her before. There’s a flash of hope. Their story’s changed, at least for now. Just as leaves go gold outside, the school posts the roster—Tomo and Shiori are in the same club, starting next month. Was it chance, or the wheel they built side by side?
The final bell of this arc sounds as another shadow steps into the frame. A new transfer student, confident, fixer’s belt in hand. Their eyes meet. Time for a new alliance…or the next rivalry? Are classrooms born for rivalries, or can two stubborn hearts shift the rules?
