The first semester didn't slow down.
It simply changed weapons.
—
After days of dust, whistles, and near-death experiences disguised as "practice,"
the school decided it was time for something worse.
—
"Mid-term exams begin next week."
—
The classroom fell silent.
Not the peaceful kind.
The haunted kind.
—
Minato slowly turned his head toward Shin.
"…We just survived Sports Day practice."
Shin didn't look up from his book.
"And now this," Minato continued, placing a hand over his heart, "they really want us gone."
—
"Study," Shin said calmly.
—
Minato stared at him.
"…You say that like it's easy."
"It is."
—
Minato leaned closer.
"…You're not human."
—
Days passed.
The energy of the field disappeared.
In its place—
books.
Notes.
Panic.
—
The classroom that once echoed with laughter was now filled with whispers.
"Did you study chapter 5?"
"Wait—there's a chapter 5?"
"We're finished…"
—
Minato sat at his desk, staring at his open notebook like it had personally betrayed him.
"…What is this?"
"Math," Shin replied without looking.
"No, I mean—what is this?" Minato pointed at the equation. "This looks like someone fell asleep on the paper."
—
Shin glanced at it.
"…It's basic."
—
Minato blinked.
"…Basic for who? A calculator?"
—
Shin took the pen from his hand and solved it in a few seconds.
There.
Clean.
Simple.
—
Minato stared at the answer.
Then at Shin.
Then back at the answer.
"…You did that too fast. I don't trust it."
—
"Then don't," Shin said, returning the pen.
—
Minato leaned back in his chair.
"I've decided something."
"…What?"
"I'm going to rely on luck."
—
Shin paused.
"…That's not a strategy."
"It is," Minato said confidently. "A bad one, but still a strategy."
—
Exam day arrived.
—
The classroom was tense.
Papers placed face down.
Pens ready.
Hearts unstable.
—
"Begin."
—
The sound of pages flipping filled the room.
—
Minato looked at the first question.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
—
"…Ah."
—
He looked at the second question.
"…Ah."
—
By the third—
he gently placed his pen down.
"…It's over."
—
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Shin.
—
Calm.
Focused.
Writing like he was just copying something he already knew.
—
"…Unfair," Minato whispered.
—
Time passed.
Minutes felt longer than usual.
—
Minato tried again.
He picked up his pen.
Stared at the question.
"…Okay."
A pause.
"…No."
—
He leaned slightly toward Shin.
"…Psst."
—
No response.
—
"…Psst."
—
Shin didn't even look at him.
"…Don't."
—
Minato sighed.
"…I wasn't even going to ask for answers."
"…Then what?"
"…Emotional support."
—
Shin kept writing.
"…You'll survive."
—
"That's not support."
—
Another silence.
—
Minato looked back at his paper.
"…Alright," he muttered. "Let's negotiate."
—
After what felt like hours—
"Time's up."
—
Pens dropped.
Students sighed.
Some relieved.
Some defeated.
Some questioning their life choices.
—
Minato walked out of the classroom like a soldier returning from war.
"…I saw things in there," he said.
—
Shin walked beside him.
"You didn't answer half the paper."
—
"…I answered enough to pass."
—
"…You left questions blank."
—
"That's called confidence."
—
Shin glanced at him.
"…That's called failure."
—
Minato gasped.
"…You wound me."
—
They stepped into the corridor.
The noise of students returned.
Complaints.
Excuses.
Regret.
—
Minato stretched his arms.
"Well," he said, exhaling deeply, "if I pass, I'm celebrating."
—
"And if you don't?" Shin asked.
—
Minato smiled.
"…Then I'll celebrate harder."
—
Shin looked at him for a moment.
—
"…You're strange."
—
Minato grinned.
"And yet, here I am. Still alive."
—
Shin looked ahead.
—
"…For now."
—
Minato froze.
"…That sounded like a threat."
—
Shin said nothing.
—
And just like that—
between chaos, exams, and questionable decisions—
their first semester continued.
Messy.
Tiring.
—
And somehow—
still a little fun.
The days before the exams had turned the classroom into a battlefield.
Not of strength—
but of survival.
—
"Hey, Hitori… can you help me with this?"
"Just one question!"
"Please, I don't understand anything…"
—
One by one—
then two—
then five—
girls gathered around Shin Hitori's desk.
—
Minato watched from a distance.
His eye twitched.
"…Of course."
—
Shin sat there, calm as ever.
Pen in hand.
Explaining each question clearly, patiently—
like it was the most normal thing in the world.
—
"This formula applies here," he said.
"And this step connects to the previous concept."
—
The girls nodded, impressed.
"Wow, you're amazing…"
"So easy to understand…"
—
Minato slowly stood up.
"…I think I have to die."
—
Without even looking at him—
Shin replied—
"Okay. Then go for it."
—
Minato froze.
"…You didn't even hesitate."
—
Shin raised his hand slightly and said in a completely serious tone—
"Minatooo…"
A pause.
"Minato…"
—
Minato stared at him.
"…Are you cheering for my death?"
—
"Minato… Minato…" Shin repeated calmly.
—
"…O gesh, just shut up!"
—
A few girls giggled.
—
Minato sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair.
"…Actually—no, don't shut up."
He walked closer.
Then leaned slightly over the desk.
"…Please help me study."
—
The girls went silent.
—
Shin looked at him.
For a moment—
just observing.
—
Then—
"On one condition."
—
Minato narrowed his eyes.
"…I don't like that tone."
—
"You have to actually study."
—
A pause.
—
Minato blinked.
"…That's it?"
—
"Yes."
—
Minato straightened up immediately.
"Deal."
—
The girls looked… disappointed.
—
"…Then I'll come to your place," Minato added casually.
—
Shin didn't react.
"Fine."
—
Minato smiled.
Victorious.
—
But—
there was something he didn't realize.
—
Something small.
Something important.
—
The girls slowly dispersed.
Whispering.
Sighing.
—
And Shin returned to his seat like nothing had happened.
—
Minato, however—
felt proud of himself.
—
"…Heh," he muttered. "Private tutoring."
—
He had no idea—
what he had just signed himself up for.
—
And somewhere—
very quietly—
his future self was already regretting it.