Seriously, he had to be around a hundred and ninety centimeters tall and was built like a tank. With his blond buzz cut, this guy was basically a walking advertisement for Systema martial arts.
Fukuhara’s physique and atmosphere clearly set him apart from the rest. Yet the Boss seemed to completely ignore his massive presence… Was I the only person worried about that?
Everyone else’s utter lack of reaction left me feeling like the weird one.
“Next!”
“Kenjiro Obata.”
Ninth place was another big guy. Not as big as Fukuhara, but probably around a hundred and eighty centimeters tall. Honestly, I was a little jealous. He had short black hair in a crew cut and looked like a textbook Japanese soldier.
He was also the one glaring at me most. Had I done something to offend him?
“Next!”
“Matsuri Ayase.”
Number ten was a girl. Slightly shorter than me and with her blond hair in a side ponytail, she gave off strong-willed, rich-girl vibes. She was also reasonably well equipped. If I had to rank them in that regard, the order would go sixth, fourth, tenth, then first and seventh were about the same. Height-wise, seventh was the tallest, then tenth, first, sixth, and fourth.
Come to think of it, half the class are girls?
This wasn’t just a military school, but a place to train pilots, who would definitely see the front lines. I’d figured it would be all guys. The fact that it wasn’t came as quite a surprise.
Looking around me, I couldn’t help but think that maybe we didn’t need gender-based equal opportunity laws. But perhaps Class A was special.
“Next. Last one, third place.”
“Oh, uh. Keita Kawakami.”
“…And?”
“Huh?”
I’d given my name like everyone else, but the Boss was looking at me like I was an idiot.
“…Fine, I’ll do it for you.”
Did she just sigh at me?
“This guy clearly doesn’t understand the point of what we’re doing here, so I’ll introduce him myself.”
“Wait, what?”
There was a point to all this? Nobody had told me that. Had everyone else known about it except me?
“This is Keita Kawakami. Aged fifteen. Lives with his younger sister. Their parents were researching magicite technology, but they were killed last year during a demonkin counteroffensive while on assignment in Thailand. The main reason he’s joining the military is to support himself and his sister financially. Have I gotten anything wrong so far?”
“…No.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! She wasn’t wrong, so how did she know all that? I mean, sure, of course they’d done background checks on us, but was there a reason why she was announcing it to the whole class?
I promised myself I wouldn’t go against the Boss, but this is… Huh? What’s going on?
Right as I was about to speak up, I noticed something had shifted in the room.
Looking around, I realized the students who had been glaring daggers at me a minute ago had all suddenly lowered their gazes.
“Some of you might have already put two and two together, but I’ll spell it out for you anyway. Kawakami’s parents were direct victims of the Third Division’s rampage and subsequent destruction. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say he’s a victim himself. Don’t forget—military blunders like that don’t just harm other soldiers. Civilians suffer equally as much, if not more.”
The class went silent.
Ah. I see.
It was only then that I finally understood what was going on—both the Boss’s angle and the looks I’d been getting.
First off, those glares had probably come from classmates affiliated with various factions. They all seemed to know one another and have some kind of shared background. To them, I was a complete unknown.
Their families or superiors had probably given them an earful when I’d beaten them in the entrance exams. Sure, it was nothing more than misdirected resentment, but they were still just kids. Of course they would be upset having someone rain on their hard-won acceptance into this program.
Hence, the stink eye.
The Boss had probably revealed my background to make a point: “People like Kawakami are what happen when you lose. Instead of wasting time resenting the victims, get stronger so it doesn’t happen again.”
That would put a stop to any grudge they might hold against me. And if they did keep hanging on to it and tried anything, the Boss would probably hand down some kind of punishment…
It was a warning to me as well: “You’re being targeted, so stay alert.” And really, it wasn’t like she’d given out my home address or PIN. It was just details about my background, stuff anyone could dig up if they wanted.
The Boss hadn’t had any intention of humiliating me; she’d been cautioning a bunch of misguided kids who didn’t realize how childish they were being, and warning me that I was in their crosshairs.
Phew. At least I know now this isn’t the kind of place where teachers would leak a student’s personal info and get them bullied.
If that had been the case, I was ready to take serious action. Which, ironically, would have been my version of holding a grudge.
My bad. Sorry, Boss.
“Good. As long as you all understand. Anything more than that would violate privacy laws, so if you’re curious, get to know one another first and ask for yourselves. Now that we’re done with the introductions, let’s move on to what we’ll be doing this year.”
I didn’t know if she realized I was internally bowing in reverence, but I did notice the classmates who’d been glaring at me earlier were now acting a lot less hostile. Seemingly satisfied, the Boss shifted the topic to a rundown of the curriculum.
Wait, hold on. I still didn’t know anything about the other students. Were we not going to cover that…?
No? I had to find out for myself by talking to them? Yeah, all right.
It was kind of jarring, though. My life story had just been broadcast to the whole class, and now we were continuing like it had never happened. Still, I couldn’t exactly ask the teacher to gossip about everyone else for my sake.
“That’s all from me. You’re to head to the hangar immediately to receive your mechs.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Hmm. I guess socializing can wait… First, I get my very own mech!
Just like that, with a head full of mixed emotions stifled by the thrill of finally receiving my own personal unit, I wrapped up my first homeroom session.