All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

As a Japanese language teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka also had to complete the same Japanese exam as the students. Upon seeing the questions, she couldn’t help but frown slightly.

The school had certainly raised the difficulty level for this year’s first monthly exam.

For even a Japanese language teacher like her to wonder if the questions were a bit too challenging meant it would be even harder for the students sitting in that very room.

However, remembering what had been discussed in last week’s staff meeting, Shizuka no longer felt surprised at the increased difficulty.

Sobu High School intentionally made this monthly test challenging for only one reason: to acclimate students to more difficult questions, so they wouldn’t fall apart when the midterms rolled around.

The midterm exam itself was still being compiled, but once completed, it would be sealed, making it inaccessible even to the principals. The word was that although there would be two separate tests at midterm—one for regular students and one for high-achievers—the difficulty level would increase for both, particularly for the elite test, which was said to be downright mythological in its intensity.

Some questions would extend beyond typical knowledge points, requiring students to display advanced logical thinking. These kinds of questions couldn’t be tackled with sheer diligence alone; natural aptitude would play a part.

For some, the answers would come easily; for others, they’d remain an unsolvable mystery.

It was a bit brutal but aimed to sift out the students who truly deserved honors track placement. When midterms concluded, it was likely that the number of honor students would change significantly—not for the better, but for the fewer.

”This is a bit hard...”

”These poems weren’t even covered in class. Is this an out-of-syllabus question?”

”The options on these multiple-choice questions are really tricky.”

Even the Japanese teachers sensed the increased difficulty, let alone the students themselves.

Though the students in Class 1-A seemed relatively composed, some still furrowed their brows as they worked through the questions. Their pens kept moving, though, pressing on despite the struggle.

As for other classrooms… despair was already setting in.

Some proctors were starting to question if they’d mistakenly handed out the wrong exams.

”The students are definitely feeling overwhelmed by the difficulty.”

”That’s expected; this exam’s difficulty has gone up a notch. I’ve been teaching Japanese for six years, and even I think it’s tough.”

”Ah, well... the goal of this difficult monthly test was to give them a taste of the midterm challenge ahead. This is probably good preparation.”

”Better they get hit by hard questions now than be blindsided at midterms, right?”

”Right? This is like a ’friendly’ hazing for the freshmen.”

”I’m starting to worry about the midterms. I don’t think the school’s average score is going to look very good.”

”Don’t worry. I’m sure all the other schools will be in the same boat.”

After hearing these murmurs from the other teachers, Shizuka sighed inwardly. The monthly exam was indeed tough, and judging by the reactions she’d seen, it was only a shadow of what the midterms had in store.

Could the students manage to stay composed when the time came? A poor score would be one thing, but if their morale broke, that would be a bigger problem.

It took Shizuka an hour and a half to finish the first half of the exam. She felt the increased difficulty acutely. Normally, she could breeze through the non-essay questions in thirty minutes, then tackle the essay with enough time to review her answers leisurely. But today, even the best students seemed to be slowed by the challenges in front of them.

One quick glance across Class 1-A showed that while students continued to write, their pace was noticeably slower. Some were still on the poetry section, leaving them with the reading comprehension and essay yet to tackle—a cause for concern.

The so-called ”elite” students in Class 1-A were stalling. Shizuka thought about this with some amazement until her gaze drifted over to Kotomi, seated by the window in an inconspicuous spot.

Just one look, and Shizuka couldn’t look away.

Some students had also noticed Kotomi. The same Kotomi, who they had thought would be the least serious of all, was writing quickly and steadily, her pen never slowing for even a moment.

While the others struggled, she seemed to be gliding through it effortlessly, as if all her questions had been written in simple ABCs.

Was she just scribbling down answers?

Several of the students closest to Kotomi glanced over, and seeing her answers carefully written out in detail, they felt a pang of disbelief.

Was it that they weren’t good enough? Or was she just in a different league?

One by one, the students paused and looked at her, unable to tear their gaze away from the sight of her speeding pen.

Being in Class 1-A meant they were among the top students in the school. They had every reason to feel proud—until now, watching Kotomi’s unrelenting pace, their pride cracked under the weight of comparison.

Shizuka couldn’t resist walking over to Kotomi’s desk, and what she saw left her shocked.

Kotomi’s answers were packed with neat, perfectly legible handwriting, organized so flawlessly that anyone grading the exam would find it an absolute pleasure.

While most of the other students were still struggling through the last few non-essay questions, Kotomi was already onto her essay, gracefully penning the final lines of her 800-character composition.

As Shizuka was processing her astonishment, Kotomi suddenly stood up.

”What are you doing?” Shizuka asked, startled.

”All done! Ready to hand in!” Kotomi replied without missing a beat.

Oddly enough, her legs were trembling slightly, as if some unseen switch had been flipped.

”Aren’t you going to check your answers? Just in case?” Shizuka suggested.

Kotomi shook her head, brushing past her teacher, walking up to the podium, and dropping her exam onto the stack before making a beeline for the door.

”Kotomi, wait!” Shizuka tried calling her back, but Kotomi didn’t look back once, bursting out of the classroom with what seemed like great urgency.

Shizuka hurried to the door and looked down the hallway, only to catch a glimpse of Kotomi darting down the stairs, disappearing in a flash.

Scurrying down the hall in tiny, quick steps, Kotomi mentally berated herself for having to be so dramatic about leaving. But this was an emergency!

”Aghhh—It’s going to come out! Why did I drink so much before the test?” Kotomi gritted her teeth, her eyes brimming with the sting of embarrassment.

She desperately wanted to sprint full-speed to the girls’ bathroom, but her body forced her into cautious, mincing steps, afraid that moving too quickly would result in something leaking down her legs.

Worse yet, she wasn’t wearing pants—she had on a skirt! A short skirt!

If the worst happened… it’d be entirely on display.

Even if she were wearing pants, they’d be little use because Kotomi knew there was a lot.

”Where is the bathroom?!” Kotomi whimpered, her legs clamping together as she continued her frantic march, almost on the verge of tears.

I really can’t hold it any longer—!!!

All Kotomi could think about right now was a heartfelt ”thank you” to the grade supervisor for deciding to leave only the first-floor restroom open during the monthly exam—and locking the rest!

And the 1-A classroom? It was placed all the way over in a secluded corner on the second floor to ensure a quiet study environment for the students.

How isolated was this ”secluded” spot? Well, despite her desperate urgency, Kotomi had only just made it down the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, she could still manage a light jog. But as soon as she reached the bottom, jogging was out of the question. Even walking a bit faster felt risky, as if she might lose control at any moment.

”Why...why does the bathroom feel so far away?” Kotomi’s face was on the verge of tears as she muttered.

Taking deep breaths, she summoned every ounce of control, desperately contracting her abdomen to try to hold back the tide. Feeling a small reprieve as it subsided, a faint glimmer of hope appeared in her heart.

She couldn’t stop now. The finish line was in sight!

Then, out of nowhere—

”Ow!” Kotomi’s foot caught on a small bump in the floor. Though she didn’t fall, the sudden movement caused a shockwave that rippled through her body, intensifying the throbbing ache below. The hard-won feeling of control dissipated, making her yelp in distress.

”Ugh...!”

Instinctively, Kotomi let out a soft, helpless whimper—a sound she would’ve found adorable if she hadn’t been in such a bind.

With her body tense, every muscle was dedicated to holding on, her breaths coming in measured gasps as she concentrated all her energy on not letting go.

She had finally reached the first floor, and the bathroom was just ahead. She was so close to relief—she couldn’t let it slip away now!

Bracing herself, she pushed forward, her face flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she looked vulnerable, pitiful even.

But in Kotomi’s mind, there was only one thought:

”Forget this—I’m making it!”

With tiny, careful steps, she inched her way forward, the passage of time stretching painfully. Every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, the restroom sign came into view. The letters ”WC” had never looked so comforting.

Taking a shaky breath, Kotomi stumbled toward the door and staggered into the bathroom.

As much as she wanted to say something in relief, she knew she had other priorities. She was practically hurting from holding it in this long.

Ducking into a stall, she barely managed to pull down her skirt and undergarments in time.

A torrent, like a rushing spring, burst forth in a steady, soothing flow.

She felt like she’d been brought back to life.

Drip, drip—

Kotomi started to cry.

She’d nearly been in tears from holding it in earlier, but now these were tears of gratitude. Tears of survival.

”You really are something—crying out of sheer relief,” a voice chimed in.

Kotomi looked up, surprised to see Kazumi there in her human form, appearing just to tease her. Kazumi handed her a tissue to dab away her tears.

”I almost didn’t make it…” Kotomi sighed, wiping her face.

”Maybe it’s no wonder, considering you had a can of Monster and a can of Sprite right before the exam without going to the bathroom first,” Kazumi replied.

In hindsight, Kazumi finally understood why Kotomi had been speeding through her answers at such a breakneck pace.

To others, Kotomi had looked like a genius demonstrating her skills, breezing through the test with ease. She seemed to be putting on a master class for the elite students, showing them what real prowess looked like.

But only Kotomi and Kazumi knew the truth: it was less of a genius display and more of a desperate race for survival!

After gently wiping away the last of Kotomi’s tears, Kazumi tossed the used tissue in the trash. With a small grin, she held up another tissue and, eyeing Kotomi knowingly, asked, ”Need me to help with any other cleanup?”

Kotomi blinked, then, realizing the implication, flushed. ”I can manage, thanks!”

Once Kazumi returned to Kotomi’s mindscape, Kotomi gave a shiver, finished up, and put herself back together. She took a moment at the sink, washing her hands and smoothing out her appearance in the mirror, not wanting anyone to know just how rough the past few minutes had been.

At that moment, the bell sounded, signaling the end of the exam. Luckily, she had already turned in her paper and didn’t have to rush back.

On her way back to Class 1-A, she overheard groups of students grumbling about the difficulty of the Japanese test, complaining that the teachers had been out to get them.

Difficult?

Kotomi thought back, somewhat puzzled.

To be honest, she’d only really glanced through the first few questions carefully. After that, her bladder’s urgency forced her to barrel through the test, scribbling down whatever answers popped into her head just to finish faster.

She hadn’t even cared if the answers were right—she just needed to be done.

Kotomi had been so focused on finishing quickly that she hadn’t even registered the difficulty of the test.

Back in 1-A, many of the top students were using their break time to review for the next test. The Japanese test had left them reeling, and on top of that, Kotomi’s swift pace had shaken them as well.

The moment Kotomi walked in, she felt the eyes of the entire room on her.

The looks were complex—some questioning, some shocked, others admiring. But regardless, it was clear that her performance in the Japanese exam had left a lasting impression.

Ignoring the stares, Kotomi walked over to Yukino and quietly asked, ”Did Miss Hiratsuka say anything after I left?”

”She was going to tell you to slow down, but you took off before she could,” Yukino replied. ”Was the Japanese exam difficult for you?”

Though she’d often seen Kotomi’s scholarly prowess in class, Yukino herself was amazed by how effortlessly Kotomi had appeared to answer everything earlier. As someone with high marks in Japanese, she intended to take the humanities track in her second year. Yet even she had struggled with the tougher questions this time, taking almost two hours to complete everything.

When Yukino mentioned the difficulty of the questions, Kotomi felt a pang of concern. Could it really have been that difficult?

”Yukino, did you think it was hard?” she asked cautiously.

”Of course. Didn’t you?” Yukino replied.

Hearing this, Kotomi’s heart clenched—not for herself, but for Yui. If Yukino found it difficult, how would Yui have managed?

”It wasn’t too bad,” Kotomi replied lightly, then quickly slipped out of the classroom to find Yui.

She hoped Yui hadn’t been discouraged by the difficulty.

As Kotomi left, her classmates grew more perplexed. Wouldn’t most people try to review a bit before the math test?

How was she so carefree, heading out or napping at her desk? And yet, during the exam, she’d scribbled answers as if she were writing out the ABCs, while they all struggled.

Comparing themselves to her only left them feeling disheartened.

Many of the students in the room now felt like impostors to their own titles as honor students. Izumi Kotomi of Class 1-F, on the other hand, was the real deal.