[30] A Thorn in the Eye (3)
The lecture hall buzzed. Class Five. Not just an early promotion—he had skipped up two ranks at once. That was a shocking move, not only to the students but to the school itself.
"Teacher! I object. How can Shirone move up two classes? He can't use magic at all."
Shiina had never heard that before. Ethel hadn't mentioned it either. Maybe Shirone didn't even know—there was little chance to use magic in the lower classes.
"Is that true, Shirone?"
The classmates turned to him. Their eyes seemed to say,
Please say you can't. Say you can't.
"Yes. I can't use any magic yet."
"Huh."
Even so, the early promotion wasn't necessarily wrong. Formal magic instruction started in the upper classes; the lower-class curriculum focused on strengthening the Spirit Zone.
Shirone had learned the basics of the four methods and the size and durability of his Spirit Zone were not inferior to those in the higher classes. So if you judged strictly by that, Class Five was appropriate.
Still, not being able to use magic at all was odd. Any student, even without prompting, would try magic in secret. These kids had come to a magic school desperate to learn.
"The teacher has doubts too. But up through Class Six there are no evaluation items related to magic. Shirone's early promotion will proceed as normal."
"No way—this is unacceptable!"
Mark, the tacit leader of Class Seven, shot to his feet. A big-built kid with a square jaw to match.
"Why are you favoring a student? Show convincing evidence. Didn't you say that omniscience is as important as omnipotence, teacher? Applying special conditions only to Shirone is unreasonable!"
"That's right! Honestly, even if I competed with Shirone right now, I'd win! He can't even keep up in theory class!"
"If you promote Shirone early, we'll petition the Student Council and demand a hearing!"
The students' backlash was far stronger than anyone expected. They were young, but all had clawed their way up through competition from Class Ten. They had hoped Shirone would push them, spur them on—now they glared at him like an enemy.
There's something I don't know.
Seeing the students ready to go to war, Shiina realized how serious the situation was. If the resistance stayed this intense, it could poison the whole class atmosphere.
"Nothing's been decided yet. Any official announcement will be made after the faculty meeting. That's all for today's class."
Back in the faculty office, Shiina propped her chin on her hand and thought.
Competition was inevitable at a special-purpose school. The students had known that when they chose to enroll.
What on earth are those looks about?
It wasn't simple jealousy. Early promotions had happened before, but she'd never seen resistance this vicious.
"Um, Teacher Shiina."
A girl named Maria came to see her.
At nineteen she was the oldest in Class Seven and had spent four years stuck without a promotion, going nowhere.
She wasn't entirely talentless, but she was timid and fearful, and the school watched her with regret.
"Yes? What is it, Maria?"
"Actually…there's something I need to tell you."
After a long hesitation, Maria spilled everything. How Shirone was being treated in class and why the kids had been so angry earlier.
As she spoke, Shiina's brow tightened. This was more than a personal spat—the methods used to torment Shirone were malicious.
When they met him they'd make a show as if they were about to vomit; they deliberately clustered around him and whispered. There were plenty of such incidents.
Maria finished in a choked voice.
"I'm the oldest now, so I don't get a lot of attention, but I went through the same thing. Back then I couldn't focus on studying at all. I think Shirone is remarkable. How can he stay so calm in a situation like this?"
Shiina understood. One student was being ostracized by the group. If fair competition couldn't be guaranteed, the school had no reason to exist.
"All right. Thanks for telling me. I'll handle it from here."
Shirone got back to the dorm around midnight. Since the talk of early promotion, the ostracism had gotten worse; it felt better to return early and read.
Knock, knock.
Someone knocked. He checked the time—it was past one in the morning.
Who would be here at this hour?
Students weren't allowed out and most of the staff had gone home. Could the kids have come this far to bother him?
Wary, he hesitated, then a familiar voice came from beyond the door.
"Shirone, are you awake?"
"Teacher Shiina?"
Shirone hurried to open the door. It really was Shiina.
"May I come in?"
"Ah—yes. Please."
Was Shiina on duty tonight? Her hair still had a little dampness, as if she'd washed it.
Because the senior dorm housed students in their early twenties, it wasn't exactly a place for a female teacher to be wandering late at night. Shiina had chosen this hour to speak privately with Shirone, away from the others.
Unlike most boys' rooms, his was neatly kept. Guessing his character, she checked the books spread on his desk one by one. There were textbooks, but also stacks on subjects he didn't need yet.
Of course. He really does think differently.
At a glance the books looked random, but anyone who knew the whole picture would see how closely the fields connected.
Shiina had a vague idea why Shirone hadn't used magic. It wasn't that he couldn't—he chose not to.
He'd been weak at omniscience from the start. He was desperately searching for ways to make up for his shortcomings. This boy didn't just want to learn magic—he wanted to become a mage.
Shiina approved of his approach. Linking knowledge to knowledge is a hard path, but it yields rich fruit. Connected knowledge doesn't slip away.
"Would you like some tea, teacher?"
"No, thank you. I came because there's something I want to ask."
Shiina sat on the edge of the bed and Shirone pulled over a chair. It was the first time she'd seen his face so close. In casual clothes with his hair down he looked much younger than at school. She felt unexpectedly shy and lowered her eyes.
She studied him calmly.
He blushes easily. Is he always like this?
In class he concentrated as if trying to bore a hole through the teacher's face—this softer side was unfamiliar.
"Is school life hard for you?"
"No. It's fun. I enjoy studying."
"Why didn't you tell anyone? I heard the kids have been bothering you."
Shirone had already guessed. It would be strange if he hadn't—recently they'd started tormenting him openly.
"It's okay. You don't need to worry."
Having heard Maria's report, Shiina didn't believe him.
"You can tell me honestly. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Really, it's fine. I wish I had friends, but if they dislike me, there's nothing I can do."
"Isolating a student is wrong."
"Feelings can't be forced. At first it was hard, but now it's fine. If the kids in Class Seven dislike me, that's their choice. It doesn't mean everyone in the world hates me."
Shiina understood. For some people, the group they belong to is everything; for someone who looks up, such a group is just a temporary stopover.
"I want to meet more people. I believe there's someone out there who will listen to me seriously."
Shirone was clear about his stance on early promotion. He thought that by Class Five or higher he'd find friends who could accept him without feeling inferior.
"Shirone, I hear your resolve. I'll take that into account at the faculty meeting."
Instant Movement (1)
"That concludes my remarks regarding Shirone's early promotion."
With Principal Alpheas and the senior-class teachers present, Shiina submitted documents related to the Class Seven ostracism case and sat down.
The teachers frowned as they read. The evidence showed the students had relentlessly ostracized Shirone, using his inability to perform magic as a pretext.
"Is this reasonable? To bully a classmate for something like this?"
"It happens in the lower classes. There are many young kids; some stay because they lack talent. The lower classes simply don't distinguish ability well."
"Then we should promote Shirone quickly. That child could graduate within four years. With neighboring schools challenging Alpheas School of Magic, the more early graduates we produce, the better."
Graduate age was one metric used to prove a school's excellence. Even if graduates didn't all succeed later, rumors said other schools were competing to produce early graduates.
It was the standard play to raise a school's prestige: secure the title, attract talent, then improve teaching quality.
In a climate of fierce interschool rivalry, Alpheas needed to produce early promotions and, qualitatively, excellent students. The teachers therefore pinned high hopes on Shirone.
"I'm somewhat skeptical."
Sade raised his hand and voiced his opposition. Shiina's expression tightened. With early promotion looking likely, his objection grated. But Alpheas paid attention to the first voice raised.
"Skeptical. Why?"
"We all acknowledge Shirone's talent. But the core issue here is that Shirone can't use magic. The students' backlash stems from that. We should address that point clearly, shouldn't we?"
"I've already explained. Shirone is spending his time learning broad knowledge rather than devoting himself to a single discipline. Personally, I'm convinced this method is optimized for his growth."
"I'm not questioning his method. The problem is that Teacher Shiina is showing too much favoritism toward Shirone."
"What did you say?"
"In any case, the kids in Class Seven also came here and study diligently. Whether Shirone had time to acquire certain knowledge or not, that should still factor into evaluations. Otherwise, other students would have no reason not to receive early promotion. Their Spirit Zones may be weaker than Shirone's, but theoretically they might have the advantage."
"Don't spin sophistry! I'm not making an emotional judgment. This conclusion follows the rules. The primary evaluation criterion in the lower classes is clearly the Spirit Zone."
"The problem is the students' reaction. This could sap their motivation. A teacher shouldn't pour everything into a single genius, right?"
"A teacher also shouldn't abandon a talented student because of misplaced jealousy among others!"
Both of them slammed their hands on the table and stood. It was the all-too-familiar scene that always played out at meetings.