Hana Shirogane

Sora's reputation spread quickly. By the end of the week, whispers about the "genius strategist" who had outwitted his own teammates circulated among the students. Most were in awe; others were cautious, some even resentful. But one thing was clear: Sora Hayashi was already beginning to redefine the Academy's hierarchy.

In the cafeteria the next day, he sat alone, watching the flow of students around him. This was where people let their guard down, where alliances were built and broken over whispered conversations. For Sora, it was the perfect vantage point to assess his opponents.

A sudden shadow loomed over him. Akira stood there, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. Behind him, Mai hovered, her expression anxious. She still hadn't realized the full extent of Sora's manipulation, but the tension between her and Akira was palpable.

"Sora," Akira said, his voice low but laced with hostility, "we need to talk."

Sora looked up calmly, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Akira clenched his fists. "Yeah, you betrayed us. We were supposed to work together to get that flag, but you manipulated Mai and took it for yourself."

Sora met his gaze without flinching. "Betrayal? I simply offered Mai a choice. It's not my fault if she chose to trust me."

Mai's face paled as she realized how Sora was shifting the blame, subtly hinting that it had been her decision. Akira opened his mouth to protest, but Sora held up a hand.

"Listen," Sora said in a low, controlled tone, "this Academy is not about friendship or loyalty. It's about survival. If you can't understand that, you're not going to last here."

Akira's face twisted with anger, but he said nothing. The message was clear: Sora would do whatever it took to stay at the top, and anyone who stood in his way would only hurt themselves.

---

Later that day, Instructor Kuroda summoned all the first-year students to a large, windowless room that reeked of antiseptic. Rows of desks were lined up facing a large screen, and on each desk was a tablet with a list of student names. Sora's name appeared at the top.

Kuroda's eyes swept over them with a cold satisfaction. "Congratulations on completing your first task. But as you know, the Academy does not reward idleness. Today, we'll begin another exercise — one that will test not only your intellect but also your adaptability."

The students exchanged uneasy glances. Sora's attention sharpened. This exercise would likely delve deeper, something that required quick thinking and psychological resilience.

Kuroda continued, "You will each receive a partner, randomly assigned. Together, you will have to complete a sequence of puzzles that increase in difficulty. But be warned: failing any stage will result in consequences."

Sora's mind raced. A partner would complicate things, but he could use this to his advantage. If he could manipulate his partner, he'd gain a new ally—or, at the very least, a pawn.

One by one, the names on the screen shuffled, pairing each student. Sora's eyes narrowed as his partner's name appeared beside his: Hana Shirogane.

A girl with striking silver hair and an icy gaze stepped forward, clearly unbothered by the attention. Hana was known for her intelligence, almost as renowned as Sora for her reserved, detached demeanor. She was as much an enigma to the Academy as he was.

She approached him with a calm expression, her posture mirroring his own quiet confidence. "Sora Hayashi, right?" she said, voice steady.

He nodded. "You must be Hana. Let's get this over with."

They were led into a sterile, white-walled room where a holographic screen projected the first puzzle. It was a complex series of symbols and patterns, each one requiring an intuitive leap to decipher the connections. They had five minutes.

Without missing a beat, Hana spoke up. "This puzzle is designed to test divergent thinking. We can divide the symbols based on shape and color, but we'll need to rotate each segment in our minds."

Sora was impressed. She understood the puzzle's structure almost immediately, and her ability to analyze calmly was rare. But he couldn't let her know that.

"Correct," he replied, matching her pace. "But be careful of the sequence. Each color holds a hidden numerical value that alters the rotation."

They worked in sync, moving through each puzzle with an efficiency that surprised even him. Unlike others, Hana didn't hesitate or seek his approval; she offered observations, took in his, and adapted without fuss. She was neither a follower nor a competitor — she was a partner, a concept he hadn't considered valuable until now.

As they reached the final puzzle, Sora felt a strange twinge. Working with her was… seamless. For the first time, he found himself curious about someone else's strategy, wondering if there was more he could learn from her.

The last puzzle was a psychological trap, a scenario that forced each partner to decide whether to trust their partner or not. The screen displayed the question:

"Will you trust your partner to solve this? If they fail, both will face elimination and if you solve it by yourself then your total score will get divided by 2."

Hana looked at him, her silver eyes unreadable. "Well, Sora? Do you trust me?"

He saw her challenge and hesitated, analyzing the risk. Every instinct told him to take control, not to trust anyone. But he also knew that Hana has potential. She can solve this.

With a faint smirk, he stepped back. "Fine. I'll let you take the lead this time."

Hana nodded, her gaze unwavering. She took a breath and approached the console, fingers moving with surprising speed as she keyed in her solution. The screen paused, processing. A tense silence fell over the room.

After a moment, the words Puzzle Complete flashed on the screen. They'd passed.

Sora studied her, trying to glean some reaction. But Hana simply looked at him with a hint of satisfaction in her expression, as if she'd expected nothing less.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Not many people I'd actually consider working with here."

"Likewise," she replied, a faint smirk of her own appearing. "But remember, Sora — even alliances have their limits."

Her words lingered as they walked out of the room. Sora knew she was right, but he also knew that alliances, especially ones with people like Hana, could be valuable — as long as he held the upper hand.

---

Back in his room that evening, Sora reflected on the day's events. He realized that Hana might be the most formidable person he'd met at the Academy so far. Not a pawn, not a simple follower. She was an equal, a rival in her own right. For once, he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of facing someone who could genuinely challenge him.

As he prepared for bed, a message alert chimed on his tablet. He opened it to find a single line:

"Tomorrow's test will challenge even the best. Prepare yourself."

It was unsigned, but Sora had a feeling it was from Hana. A test that could truly challenge him? Finally, something to look forward to.