3

Eita woke up before his phone alarm that morning.

He threw back his covers and sat up. The heating had shut off, so the cool air filling his room was just right for waking up.

The phone alarm went off right on time. Eita flicked it away, got out of bed, and left his room.

“You’re up early,” his mother commented from the kitchen, where she was making breakfast. She was definitely right about that. The clock in the living room read 6:30 AM.

“Got something to take care of today.”

“I’ll say you do. Why take an entrance examination after already getting your university recommendation?” his mother commented offhandedly as she poured a cup of coffee.

“…How do you know about that?”

He hadn’t mentioned the exam to his mom, and not even his dad, who was sitting in the living room reading a newspaper in front of the TV.

“How are you covering the exam fee?” his dad asked, not looking up from his paper.

“My New Year’s money and some other stuff I saved away.”

“Will you have lunch?”

“It’s a morning exam, so that’s no concern.”

“You ought to keep your room a bit cleaner,” his mom commented with a hint of annoyance, putting a slice of toast and a fried egg down on the table at Eita’s seat.

Eita almost said he wasn’t hungry, but his dad chimed in, “You have an exam, so you’d better eat.” Eita obediently sat at the table.

He took a bite of the buttered toast and crammed some egg into his mouth. As he drank some coffee with milk to help stay awake, he swore that he’d get a lockable drawer to make sure his parents wouldn’t find stuff he didn’t want them to see.

Before long, he had a full stomach and plenty of energy, so he began getting ready to leave.

Eita brushed his teeth, washed his face, went to the bathroom, then changed. He double-checked all his stuff before leaving his room, and triple-checked at the front door. His exam ticket and writing utensils were in his bag, and he had enough money in his wallet to cover the fees and transportation.

His mom came all the way up to the front door to see him off, and when she said, “Do your best out there,” he grunted an ambivalent reply and left the house.

He took the normal trip down Prefectural Route 32 before cutting a corner early at the convenience store near his middle school.

The morning air was sharp and cold, and every time he breathed in, the air stabbed through the back of his nose. He was sure his nose was already red. His breath was white every time he exhaled.

But this time around, the cold was rather pleasant. It helped keep Eita on his toes as he headed to the exam hall. He was forced to concentrate a bit more, and he could brush away unnecessary thoughts.

Eita planned to take the Shounan Monorail from Shounan-Fukazawa Station. As he stepped up to the platform, he carefully glanced around. Several passengers were waiting, but nobody that he’d be embarrassed to see.

He let out a sigh of relief.

Eita wasn’t the only one taking an entrance exam. Mio was too, and for the same university. Eita wanted to attend her first-choice university, so they’d be going to the same place for their entrance exams. Worst case scenario would have been bumping into her right at the start of the day. It would have ruined the whole point behind staying silent about the exam to begin with.

Fortunately, it didn’t look like he’d run into Mio, perhaps because he’d left so early. But he was still feeling a little paranoid, so he pulled his scarf up to his mouth and wrapped it around himself another time. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched down against the cold. He awaited the monorail with his head down.

Eita rode the monorail to Ofuna Station before changing to a new train line that headed towards the center of the city.

It was a particularly special day for Eita, but for everyone around him, it was just another weekday. He had gotten on the train during rush hour, and though it wasn’t packed to where he couldn’t move, there were enough people that his movement was severely restricted.

Eita didn’t have the room to take out and open his reference book like he wanted, so he spent the time on the train mentally reviewing various difficult English words and idioms, and reminding himself of a few of the confusing Japanese history names.

It was about a 40-minute ride from Ofuna Station to Shibuya Station. Eita followed the wave of passengers off the train and towards the ticket gates, careful not to disrupt the line.

He was able to find the intersection he’d looked up on a map app the day before, and cross-referenced with the landmark building on its corner. The traffic stops were so crowded it was difficult to maneuver, but he eventually got oriented and followed the slope of the land as he continued on.

The further he went from the station, the thinner the crowds got. By the time he made it to his destination, the working adults in suits were gone, all replaced with younger people around his age.

The air was filled with a certain tension. Everyone walked as if on thin ice, and the atmosphere was as taut as a stretched rubber band.

With a quick glance at the “General Entrance Exam Venue” sign propped up on the gate, Eita stepped on campus. The college grounds seemed almost infinitely larger than his high school. He followed signs to make his way deeper in, and it seemed like the grounds would never end.

It took about five minutes for Eita to reach his assigned classroom from the front gates. The room was a lot wider than high school classrooms. There were four rows of long desks that fit four people each, with exam number slips taped to the ends. Eita’s number put him right smack in the middle of the room.

Eita unfolded his chair and sat down, trying to make as little noise as possible. He had tried to arrive early, but about 70% of the seats were already filled up, so he felt like he was sneaking in.

The silence was suffocating. There were people everywhere, but nobody spoke. The room felt unnaturally calm.

The boy next to Eita across the aisle was watching the clock intensely. The girl diagonal from him was neatly arranging her pencils on the desk. A tall boy sat in front of him, having tucked his exam ticket to be perfectly aligned with the desk corner. Some students were closing their eyes as if meditating, and others had their reference books open, staring down with gaping mouths.

Most of the examinees were wearing their respective high school uniforms, but there was about one kid for every desk that wore casual clothes.

Eita took his exam ticket out of his bag and placed it on his section of desk, then knocked on his mechanical pencil a few times to make sure there was spare lead inside. He put two erasers down, and he was all set.

He took a deep breath, trying to rid the tension overtaking him. But the floating feeling of anxiety rising up inside just wouldn’t go away, so he stopped trying to fight it.

Eita didn’t have anything to do, so he took after the boy beside him, staring listlessly at the clock. Each second ticked itself away, one after another.

Just as the minute hand ticked by, the exam proctor walked into the classroom. She was a plump, middle-aged woman flanked by several young men who were probably serving as assistants. More young men, likely assisting university students, made their way in through the back door.

No instructions had been given, but everyone sat down and looked straight forward.

Every seat was suddenly filled.

“Question packets will now be distributed.”

As the woman’s calm voice rang out, the male assistants walked down the center aisle between the desks, placing one question packet in front of each examinee. As Eita received his packet, the assistant checked his exam ticket and ID photo to verify his identity.

The process was efficient, and everyone had their packets in no time.

A suffocating silence filled the classroom yet again. The ticking of the clock practically echoed across the room. Someone let out a deep breath, and that only made the room more tense.

But that moment couldn’t last forever.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the exam.

Every test-taker flipped open their question packets in unison. Eita joined in, his packet pages ruffling aggressively.