I was Thrown into an Unfamiliar Manga

Midterms.
That name alone strikes fear into the hearts of many students.

Especially in Japan, where midterms typically begin just one to two weeks after Golden Week—the country’s longest holiday period—meaning that anyone who hasn’t been studying regularly starts to feel an odd sense of pressure as exam season approaches.
And that went for Rika too, who I had barely ever seen studying.
“Uweeeh! Help me, Ryu-chan-emooooon!”

“So, what is it this time?”
“No matter how I look at this math problem, I don’t get it! Teach me!”
“…You just plug in the formula I showed you earlier.”

“Hehe, the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» truth is, I didn’t get it at all.”
They say you shouldn’t judge people by appearances, but Rika was, for better or worse, exactly what she looked like.
In class, if it wasn’t a subject she liked, she’d either doze off, doodle, or space out. But now that midterms were approaching, she must’ve instinctively sensed danger.

I heard that if her test scores are low, her allowance at home gets cut.
When I explained the math formula again and taught her how to solve it, Rika thanked me and returned to her seat to work through the mock problems.
As I watched her and let out a small sigh, I was about to resume reading the Jump magazine I had flipped over when—

“Kim-kun. Mind if I ask something?”
The class rep suddenly spoke to me.
“What’s up, Ayase?”

Ayase Satsuki.
Nickname: Class Rep.
She’d been in the same class as me since our first year. She was a model student known for her twin-braided black hair and thick, nerdy glasses.

Ayase was one of the few people in our class who talked to me naturally without hesitation.
Incidentally, she’d also been the class rep back in our first year.
“There were a few parts that Matsuda-sensei said would be on the test, right? I think I missed some of them—could you show me your notes?”
“Just a sec.”

I rummaged through the bag hanging next to my desk and pulled out my history notebook.
Good thing I didn’t leave it at home.
“Here.”

“Thanks. I’ll return it after I copy everything.”
The class rep bowed her head slightly and returned to her seat.
Rika, who had been watching from the side, asked:

“I thought the class rep was supposed to be really smart, but I guess not? She just borrowed notes from Ryu-chan.”
I picked up my Jump again and replied:
“She is really smart. I think she’s in the top ten for the grade.”

“Then why’d she borrow Ryu-chan’s notes? Ryu-chan’s a musclehead who doesn’t know anything but sports.”
“Says the idiot who just asked that same musclehead for help with a math formula.”
I turned the page and continued.

“And I’m actually better at studying than you think, you know? If you heard my grades from first year, you’d probably be shocked.”
Rika tilted her head and asked:
“What rank were you in first year? Like 50th?”

…Considering there are about 270 students in second year, that wouldn’t be a low score—but did she really think I was bad at studying?
Unable to focus due to her barrage of questions, I closed my Jump and replied:
“First place.”

Rika nodded absently, then opened her eyes wide like a startled rabbit.
Then, in true manga fashion, she let out a loud reaction.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?!”

“Quiet.”
I put my index finger to my lips, gesturing for silence, and Rika quickly clamped her hands over her mouth with a flushed face, realizing she’d shouted too loudly.
That’s when Satoru, sitting in front of us, turned around and said:

“Yu-seong does kind of look like he’d be bad at studying. If he hadn’t gotten in as the freshman representative, I probably would’ve had the same reaction as you.”
“You little—”
I shot him a glare, and he flinched and said “Yikes, scary,” but still carried on talking like nothing happened.

“This guy didn’t look this beefy during first semester of first year. I think it was second semester? After he joined the student council, he suddenly got really into working out and ended up like this.”
As Satoru spoke and patted my shoulder, Rika looked at him with fascination.
“Momochi, you’re not scared of Ryu-chan at all, huh?”

Satoru shrugged and answered:
“I know he’s actually a good guy. You do too, right, Kishimoto?”
Rika smiled brightly and nodded.

“Yup. He even showed me the way around when I first transferred.”
Caught off guard by their unexpected praise barrage, I hastily stood up.
Then Satoru asked with a cheeky grin:

“Where you going? Class is about to start.”
“Bathroom.”
Rika chimed in next to him:

“Fufun. You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?”
…These two?
“No, I’m not.”

Saying that, I made a strategic retreat out of the classroom.
***
“Kim Yu-seong-kun, how’s your exam prep going?”

After sixth period on Wednesday, I stopped by the student council room for the first time in a while. The president asked while sipping green tea gracefully.
“Same as always, I guess.”
As I answered and set aside the student council documents I was reading, Minami, the treasurer, added while tapping her calculator:

“He’s the top of our year, after all. Honestly, it’s probably me and Shinjiro-oniisan whose grades are in danger.”
“Hmph, don’t lump me in with you, Minami. No matter how busy I am, I never neglect my studies.”
“And yet you were up all night gaming again yesterday?”

“Hey, that was a raid I scheduled ages ago. If I skipped it, I’d get flamed to hell.”
“If your grades drop again, Auntie said she’s going to smash your computer.”
“…I’ll do my best.”

Despite his brains, the vice president was a hardcore gamer and often relied on last-minute cramming. Minami, who was constantly serving the president year-round, also didn’t have much personal study time, so her grades were apparently shaky too.
After about 30 minutes of catching up on the backlog of paperwork, I finally got to relax with a cup of coffee Minami had brewed. That’s when the president suddenly remembered and asked:
“Speaking of which, how is Alexandra Ivanovna Romanova, the girl who transferred to Class 2-B? I heard she finished her paperwork on Monday, but I’ve been too busy to check in.”

“Oh, yes. Sasha’s doing fine.”
“Sasha? Who’s that? I meant Alexandra Ivanovna Romanova.”
“That Alexandra-something-something you just mentioned—that’s her nickname. Her name’s too long, so the class just calls her Sasha.”

“…How does Alexandra become Sasha? Isn’t it usually Lexi or Lexa?”
“I’m not really sure either.”
I guess that’s just what they do in Russia.

Hearing my response, the president tilted her head with a ???? expression, still not understanding.
Anyway, there were only about 12 days left until midterms.
The exams would run for three days starting Monday the 22nd, so the whole school was in study mode.

The students who usually neglected their studies seemed to think they still had time since most people don’t start cramming until one week before—but still.
Enjoying a rare moment of peace with Minami’s coffee, I figured it was almost time to head home and stood up with my bag.
“Well then, I’ll be going now. See you Friday.”

“Yes, take care.”
“Later, Kim Yu-seong.”
“Goodbye.”

And with farewells from the three of them, I left the student council room.
Time to go home.
***

May 18 (Thu) [AM 11:50]
It had been drizzling this morning.
With only four days left until midterms, the whole class had fallen into a sluggish mood.

Even the bald trio—who would usually mess around and act out comedy skits—were now in full-on study mode.
Break times were still lively, but during lessons, everyone was glued to the teacher, trying to pick up even one more hint for the test.
Of course, I was no exception.

I’d been studying bit by bit for a while, so I didn’t need to cram—but if the teacher was going to openly give out past test questions, there was no reason not to listen.
Just knowing those would save me from having to study overlapping sections separately.
After the fourth period (Classical Literature) ended and lunchtime arrived, everyone groaned as they dragged themselves to lunch.

Karen and Sasha, who had naturally joined our group again today, bickered while picking their menu in the cafeteria.
For reference, I got the pork cutlet rice bowl.
“Haaah… My head’s about to explode. I should’ve studied more before.”

“Same. No matter how much history I memorize, I forget it all. Especially the dates—why are there so many?”
“I find Classical Literature tough. Japanese is hard enough as it is, but that stuff’s all in archaic language.”
The three of them barely touched their food, moaning the whole time.

Even Rika, usually a big eater, only ordered a single rice ball set today—guess she didn’t have much of an appetite.
In contrast, I had nothing to stress over and ate my pork cutlet rice bowl as I asked:
“If it’s that hard, why don’t you guys form a study group or something?”

Watching them, it was clear that each of them struggled in different areas.
Rika, a typical liberal arts student, was weak in most science subjects. Karen had average grades but was terrible with memorization. Sasha was good at everything, but as a foreigner, Japanese and Classical Literature were her weak spots.
If they helped each other with what they were bad at, they could probably improve their grades a lot.

Apparently, they agreed with my logic—because the three of them lit up at once.
“That’s it!”
“You’re a genius!”

“Хорошо (Harasho)!”
But then Rika’s face stiffened as if realizing a fatal flaw.
“Wait, whose house are we meeting at?”

Karen responded:
“What about mine? We’ve got plenty of empty rooms, so you can even sleep over.”
Sasha crossed her arms and nodded reluctantly.

“I don’t like it, but I guess we have no choice.”
And just like that, the study group was decided in a flash.
Watching them, I popped open a can of cider to finish my meal.

“Good luck, you three.”
…It had nothing to do with me anyway.