CHAPTER 33: NOT SHAPING— GUIDING

Class 1-D — Classroom, Afternoon

Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, casting warm streaks across the desks. The classroom was alive with low chatter and rustling papers as students settled in after lunch. On the board, written in bold letters:

"SPORTS FESTIVAL NOMINATIONS – FINAL DECISIONS TODAY."

Miss Elira had just left them to decide on the participants themselves.

A few students leaned forward on their desks, whispering.

"Who’s going to run the 100 meters?"

"I heard the tug-of-war is worth the most class points..."

Yua flipped through the list of events with a frown. "There’s too many categories."

Suddenly, a loud voice echoed across the room.

"I’ll do it!"

Heads turned. It was Kei, standing proudly with one foot on his chair like a hero about to give a victory speech.

"I’ll represent the class in most of the events!" he declared. "Sprints, long jump, javelin, relay—throw them all at me!"

A pause followed.

"...You?" Caden asked, blinking.

Kei puffed his chest. "I’ve been working out! I can handle anything. And if I win, we all get points!"

Some students clapped half-heartedly. Others looked unsure.

"I mean, that’s great and all..." said Ivy slowly, "but what about the rest of us? Don’t we all need private points too?"

Riven leaned back in his chair. "She’s right. If only one person does everything, only they get participation points."

"Exactly," Meira said. "And if we mess this up, we’ll lose class points as well. We need a plan that helps everyone—not just our track star."

Kei looked slightly deflated. "B-But I’m not doing it for myself..."

"We know," Rika cut in gently. "But the school gives individual private points for each event someone participates in. If only the sporty people compete, then others get left out."

A moment of silence followed. Then Riven suddenly stood, grabbing a marker and rushing to the whiteboard.

"Let’s be smart about this," he said. "We’ll divide the events into Categories A and B."

He scribbled on the board:

Category A – Strength/Skill-Based

100m Sprint

Long Jump

Javelin

Tug of War

Obstacle Course

Category B – Participation/Strategy-Based

Sack Race

Balloon Pop

Three-legged Race

Puzzle Relay

Water Carry

"Okay, listen up!" Riven turned to face everyone. "We can assign Category A to those who are good at sports—so we secure victories—and Category B to those who aren’t athletic, but still want private points. That way, everyone contributes, and no one gets left behind."

Eyes lit up. Murmurs of agreement spread around the room.

Caden nodded. "That’s actually... smart."

"I like it," said Yua.

"Same," Meira agreed. "We make the strong ones go for medals, while the rest cover participation."

Kei scratched his head. "So, I won’t get to do everything?"

Riven smiled. "You’ll still do a lot, trust me. We’re just spreading the chances around."

Kei slowly nodded. "Alright... I guess that’s fair."

Excitement filled the room as students began volunteering for different events. Riven wrote names beside each category, calling out for suggestions.

Torin and Sena would do the puzzle relay.

Riven and Ivy volunteered for the three-legged race.

Caden chose the sack race, despite groaning about how humiliating it sounded.

Kei still signed up for the 100m sprint and javelin.

It was a balanced, inclusive system—and everyone could see the benefits.

Until—

"This plan is inefficient."

The room quieted as Aria stood from her seat, her arms folded, eyes sharp.

All eyes turned to her.

Riven blinked. "What?"

Aria walked to the front of the class, crossing her arms. "Why are we catering to the weakest links when we’re trying to win? This is a competition, not a charity event."

The room tensed.

She pointed to the board. "Giving events to students who can’t perform just for the sake of inclusion will cost us victory. We’re throwing points away."

"But Aria—" Yua began.

"I’ll lead the team," Aria cut in. "We select only the top-performing students for every event. Kei, Kairon, Meira, Riven, myself—those with athletic skill and competitive mindset. Everyone else can support from the sidelines."

Silence.

Kei opened his mouth, then closed it.

Caden narrowed his eyes. "You’re saying the rest of us don’t matter?"

"I’m saying we need to win," Aria replied. "Points for participation mean nothing if we don’t place high overall. Do you want pity points, or a trophy?"

For a moment, it seemed like her commanding tone might sway the class.

Until—

"That’s enough."

Everyone turned.

It was Meira. She stood from her seat, arms at her side, gaze firm.

Aria raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Meira said, stepping forward. "Your plan only helps the few people you think are worthy. But what about the rest of the class?"

Aria’s eyes narrowed. "The rest can’t win. Why should we waste slots on them?"

"Because we’re not just individuals competing—we’re a class," Meira snapped. "This isn’t about you, Aria. Or your obsession with being the best."

A murmur went through the room.

Meira continued, voice calm but unwavering. "We all want to succeed, but not at the cost of stepping over each other. You think it’s weak to include everyone? I think it’s strength to lift others up and still win."

Aria clenched her fists. "So we should settle for mediocrity?"

"No," Meira said. "We rise together."

A powerful silence fell.

Then, slowly, Meira stood. "I agree with Meira."

Akira nodded. "Me too."

Riven stepped back to the board. "We already had a plan that works. Everyone gets to shine in their own way. We’re not throwing it away just because someone wants the spotlight."

Aria’s jaw tightened. She looked around, realizing the room was no longer with her.

Juro spoke from the back, his voice low but cutting. "Aria. You’re strong. No one doubts that. But don’t forget—we succeed as a unit."

She looked at him, a mix of frustration and hurt in her eyes, but said nothing.

Finally, she turned away and returned to her seat without another word.

The classroom exhaled.

Riven clapped his hands. "Alright! Let’s finalize our nominations and submit them!"

Excitement resumed.

And though Aria said nothing more, her eyes flicked toward Meira, thoughtful and perhaps... challenged.

Short Break — Roof — 1:00PM

Kairon stood by the railing, gazing over the school field. Aria approached slowly, arms folded.

"You called me?" she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just passed her a canned drink, unopened.

"Do you know what the first thing people notice about someone is?" he asked.

Aria stayed quiet.

"Their expression," Kairon continued. "Their face. The way they look, just once. And in that one glance, people decide who they are."

"I don’t judge people like that," Aria replied.

He gave her a sharp side glance. "You judged Meira, didn’t you?"

Aria froze.

Kairon continued, calmly.

"I know the expression she gave. It was distant. Cold. She’s always on her phone, right? Always thinks she’s right. Clings to people."

"...How do you—"

"That’s what you told yourself," he said, turning to face her. "But it’s not her truth. It’s just the story you wrote, based on a single expression."

Aria looked down.

"People change," Kairon said. "Their faces lie. Their silence speaks louder than words. You saw a girl hiding. I saw someone surviving."

Aria clenched the can tighter.

"You want to be right. But sometimes, you need to be kind first."

With that, Kairon walked past her.

"Don’t make the same mistake twice," he added, quietly. "Not everyone shows their strength by speaking loud. Some fight their battles in silence."

---

Courtyard – After School

Meira sat on a bench near the fountain, her bag on her lap, staring up at the sky.

Footsteps approached. She didn’t look up.

"You didn’t have to do that," came Aria’s voice.

Meira remained still. "But I did."

Aria stood beside her in silence for a long while.

"You really think I’m selfish?" she asked at last.

Meira turned to her. "I think you care too much about winning. And not enough about who you win with."

Aria didn’t respond immediately.

Then, quietly: "...Maybe you’re right."

Meira looked surprised.

Aria smirked faintly. "Just maybe."

She turned to walk away.

Meira called out, "Aria."

Aria paused.

"Even if we disagree," Meira said, "I still want you on the team."

Aria gave her a glance over her shoulder. "Same to you."

Then she left.

And Meira smiled softly to herself, watching the clouds drift above.

---

Evening – At the Streets

The sun had dipped behind the academy towers, casting long shadows across the marble pathways. Students moved in small groups, laughter echoing in the distance, but the air between Meira and Kairon felt still—tight.

Meira stood with her arms folded beneath her chest, her crimson eyes fixed on the boy beside the tree.

Kairon leaned back against the trunk, as if waiting for her.

"You planned it, didn’t you?" Meira asked quietly.

Kairon opened one eye, not bothering to act surprised. "Planned what?"

Meira stepped closer. "You asked me to challenge Aria’s idea during the nomination meeting. And now I want to know—why? How did you know she’d come up with that exact plan?"

Kairon let out a breath, then pushed off the tree, standing upright.

"Because Aria’s consistent," he said simply.

"She believes in hierarchy. She respects strength. She hates inefficiency. So the moment she realized we were building a plan that focused on balance instead of dominance... I knew she’d step in."

Meira frowned. "But that could’ve gone any way. What if she didn’t speak up?"

"She had to," Kairon said, adjusting his collar. "Aria sees herself as a leader. The moment the class started following a plan she didn’t approve of, her pride wouldn’t let her stay silent. She values control too much."

Meira narrowed her eyes. "And me? Why did you want me to oppose her?"

Kairon met her gaze, calm and analytical. "Because you’re the only one in class who can challenge Aria without it turning into a war."

She blinked.

"You’re strong enough to earn her respect," he continued, "but grounded enough not to provoke her ego. If someone like Kei or even Caden argued, Aria would’ve shut them down or escalated. But you? You speak with reason, not emotion. She listens to you, even if she won’t admit it."

Meira raised an eyebrow. "...So you used me?"

Kairon tilted his head slightly. "No. I trusted you."

She stared at him for a moment longer. "Why me? Why not Ivy, or Riven, or even Aria herself?"

His voice didn’t waver. His face remained unreadable.

"I trust you. That’s why."

Meira looked down at the stone path beneath her boots, thoughtful. "So the whole time, you were playing both sides. Predicting her reaction... shaping the outcome."

Kairon gave a long, unreadable look.

"Not shaping. Guiding."

Then, quieter: "If the class had followed her plan, half of them would’ve lost their motivation. The weak would’ve been sidelined, and Aria would’ve stood alone at the top. We’d win the festival, sure—but we’d lose the unity we’ve been building."

Meira sighed. "You really think that far ahead, don’t you?"

Kairon nodded once. "Maybe."

She gave him a sideways glance, arms still folded. "...Still could’ve warned me."

"I did," he said. "Just not with words."

She stared at him, then scoffed. "You’re impossible."

He turned his eyes back toward the courtyard, his tone flat.

"You followed the right path without needing the full picture. That’s all that mattered."

Meira paused, then gave a faint smirk over her shoulder.

"Just don’t make a habit of it."

And with that, she walked off, leaving Kairon alone—expression blank, gaze fixed forward, untouched by sentiment.