The classroom looks like it has just survived a natural disaster called "sports festival."
Chairs are not where they are supposed to be. Bags lie on the floor like fallen soldiers. A water bottle rolls lazily under a desk, as if it too has given up on life.
Students sit in various stages of collapse.
Minato enters, walks two steps, and then drops into his seat like gravity has been personally waiting for him.
"I think I left my soul somewhere on the track," he says, staring at his desk.
A boy behind him immediately replies, "Yeah, I saw it. It tried to run away but your body slowed it down."
Minato turns slightly. "Did it at least look happy?"
"No. It looked tired of your decisions."
A few quiet laughs ripple through the class.
Someone near the window stretches both arms and groans loudly. "My legs still hurt."
"Mine don't," another says.
Everyone looks at him.
"That's not good," someone adds. "That means they've stopped working."
"…Oh."
A girl nearby shakes her head. "I can't even sit properly. Everything hurts."
Minato lifts his head just enough to speak. "That's because your body remembers what you did to it."
"My body should mind its own business."
Another boy leans back dramatically. "I ran once. Once. And I'm still suffering."
"You ran the wrong direction," someone replies. "You ran into responsibility."
More laughter spreads, light but needed.
Minato sighs and presses his cheek against the desk. "If anyone asks, I died a hero."
"Hero of what?" someone asks.
"Of participating unwillingly."
"Respect."
The door slides open.
The teacher walks in.
And just like that, the noise fades, though not completely. It never completely does.
"So listen, everyone," the teacher says calmly, placing his books down like he has not just walked into a room full of broken humans. "As you know, the sports festival has ended."
A soft wave of relief moves through the class.
"Finally," someone whispers.
"But it is not time to relax."
The air changes instantly.
Minato slowly lifts his head, eyes half-open. "Don't…"
"Because midterm exams are waiting for you ahead."
Silence.
Then chaos.
"Oh, man!"
"That bullsh*t again?!"
"You've got to be kidding me!"
A boy in the back clutches his chest. "I just got my will to live back!"
Minato lets his forehead hit the desk. "Take me back to running. At least that pain was honest."
A girl groans. "Why is life like this?"
Another student answers, "Because someone decided balance is important."
"What balance? This is attack."
The teacher continues as if nothing is happening. "Let's begin studying again."
Someone mutters, "He enjoys this."
"I'm convinced," another adds. "He gains energy from our suffering."
Minato raises his hand slowly without lifting his head. "Sir…"
"Yes?"
"…Can we skip this part of life?"
"No."
"…I tried."
"And one more thing," the teacher says.
The entire class groans together, louder this time.
"GEEZ, WHAT NOW?" someone shouts.
The teacher smiles, almost kindly, which somehow makes it worse. "I hope you are enjoying your time in high school. My blessings are always with you, my precious students."
A pause.
He lets out a soft laugh.
And then he leaves.
Just like that.
No apology. No hesitation. Just emotional destruction and exit.
For a moment, the classroom is completely silent.
Then someone says very calmly, "This is a personal attack."
"He's the incarnation of the devil," another adds.
"First sports festival, now midterms?"
"And he says enjoy?"
Minato slowly lifts his head again, his expression empty. "Enjoy what exactly?"
A boy nearby replies, "Suffering builds character."
Minato nods slowly. "Then I must be the main character by now."
A few students clap weakly.
"Speech," someone says.
"I would like to thank my pain," Minato continues, raising his hand slightly. "For always being there for me."
"Very touching," another replies.
A girl sighs and rests her head on her desk. "I haven't opened my books in days."
"Same."
"I forgot we even had subjects."
"Wait… we have math, right?"
The class goes quiet for a second.
"…We're finished."
Minato leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it owes him answers. "I need a miracle."
"You need a textbook," someone replies immediately.
"Same thing at this point."
A boy stands up suddenly and grabs his bag.
"Where are you going?" someone asks.
"I'm going home."
"To study?"
He pauses.
"…To think about studying."
"Honest."
Another student adds, "I'll start tomorrow."
"You said that last time."
"This time I mean it."
"You also meant it last time."
"Stop bringing up my past."
Laughter fills the room again, a little louder now.
A girl flips through her notebook and sighs. "I don't even understand where to start."
"Start from the first page," someone suggests.
"That's too far."
"Start from the last page."
"That's worse."
"Then don't start."
"Best advice so far."
Minato closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again slowly. "You know what? I've accepted it."
"Accepted what?" someone asks.
"My academic downfall."
"Strong mindset."
"I believe in consistency."
"In failing?"
"Yes."
A boy pats his shoulder. "I'll join you."
"Together we fall."
"Together we fail."
"Together we repeat the year."
"Okay, not that far," Minato says quickly.
More laughter.
Outside, the sunlight shines brightly, completely unaware of the tragedy inside.
Inside the classroom, reality settles in slowly.
The running is over.
The cheering is gone.
Now it is just pages, questions, and the quiet fear of not knowing enough.
Minato exhales and looks around at the class, at the chaos, at the shared suffering.
"…This is worse than running," he mutters.
No one disagrees.
Because everyone knows it is true.