A month had passed since I started school.

Before starting school, I could train seven days a week, but now my training time had been reduced to just weekends. I thought that this would be a serious setback in my quest to become stronger, but both Renji-san and my father insisted that my studies were more important at this stage.

They were absolutely right, so I couldn’t argue, and I obediently attended my classes.

If studies are more important, does that mean I’ll be expected to go to university?

Honestly, becoming an exorcist doesn’t require qualifications like a lawyer or a doctor, and I doubt I need any academic credentials. I could probably even become an exorcist without finishing high school, although the idea of a middle school graduate exorcist sounds a bit questionable.

As I pondered these things, I half-listened to the math lesson.

…Hmm, it’s boring.

In my previous life, I wasn’t particularly bright, but I wasn’t so dim-witted that I couldn’t grasp the material in a first-grade classroom.

So, during these classes, I often found myself bored. However, I had come up with a new way to make use of this idle time.

I called it my “Silveit Output Enhancement Training.”

There are three main reasons why being an exorcist is said to be a matter of talent.

First, you need “spiritual awareness” to see monsters. But this isn’t a problem if you’re born into a family of exorcists; everyone in such a family is born with it.

Second, your inherent magical capacity doesn’t change as you grow. However, thanks to the training I’ve done using the “Devouring Magic” method, I’m now at the seventh rank. So, this is also not an issue for me.

But the third reason is the most problematic: magical output.

Magical output refers to the amount of magical energy you can channel at once. For example, if your total magical energy is 100, no one can use all 100 at once. Usually, people can only channel about 20 or 30. Your output is always lower than your total capacity.

The maximum number of silveit threads you can produce is largely determined by this output.

For instance, an exorcist with a magical output of 20 can only produce 20 threads if each thread requires 1 unit of magical energy. If they try to produce threads that require 10 units of energy each, they can only produce two threads.

Honestly, I don’t know how many silveit threads I can produce in total. But I do know how much magical energy I can infuse into each thread. So, I’ve been training to increase that amount by honing my “Thread Technique.”

The training itself is rather simple: I clasp my hands together and gradually increase the amount of magical energy I channel into the threads. It’s a very monotonous exercise.

It’s so monotonous that it’s hard to gauge my progress. After two weeks of this training, I’ve only increased my output by about 1.1 to 1.2 times. It’s a slow process.

But the monotony of this exercise makes it perfect for doing discreetly during class.

So, even now, I’m quietly placing my hands on my desk, clasping my fingers together, and focusing on increasing my magical output.

I need to get stronger, much stronger.

As I was thinking about this, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Today’s lessons were over. All that was left was to clean the classroom, have the final meeting, and then we’d be free to go home. I hoped we could finish up quickly today.

I was packing away my pencil and my math textbook when I noticed that Nina, who sat next to me, stood up and left the classroom by herself.

“Huh? Nina, it’s time to clean,” I called after her.

“…Hmph,” she replied, turning up her nose and walking out of the classroom.

None of the other students in our group said anything about it. There was a general acceptance that “Nina’s just that kind of person,” and no one tried to stop her.

A month after starting school, Nina was clearly isolated in the classroom.

At first, her blonde hair and blue eyes attracted the attention of the other girls, but her aloof attitude as if she was above them quickly drove everyone away. Now, after a month, no one tries to interact with her anymore. Well, except for me.

However, I wasn’t about to chase after her when she left the room, so my attempts to engage with her were limited to lunchtime conversations that she ignored and trying to talk to her during cleaning, which she also ignored. It was starting to hurt my feelings.

“Itsuki-kun, could I talk to you for a moment?” the teacher called out to me just as I was about to start cleaning.

“Yes,” I replied, heading to the front of the classroom.

The teacher met me with a slightly awkward smile and asked, “Itsuki-kun, are you and Nina-chan getting along well?”

“Uh, well… I’m not sure if we’re getting along or not…” I answered, unsure of how to respond.

“Nina-chan just came to Japan, and it seems like she’s having a hard time adjusting to the new environment.”

“I see.”

That much was obvious from our interactions. The whole reason she came to Japan was supposedly to “defeat” me, which seemed a bit strange. It made more sense to think that her family had moved here for work, and after arriving, she learned about me and set a goal to “beat” me.

Then again, she might just have the mentality of “I’m stronger than you” because she heard about the seventh rank. That’s something only a kid would think, and that’s what makes kids scary in their own way.

I couldn’t help but wonder how our teacher reconciled Nina-chan’s fluency in Japanese with her supposedly just arriving in Japan. It struck me as curious.

“Itsuki-kun, I’d like you to be friends with Nina-chan,” the teacher continued.

“With Nina-chan?”

“Yes. I think she might have a hard time coming to school if she doesn’t have any friends. And wouldn’t you feel lonely if a classmate stopped coming to school?”

It’s hard for an adult to easily nod and agree with the sentiment of “loneliness.” As adults, we tend to separate ourselves from others, so if someone stops coming, we just think, “Oh, that’s too bad,” and move on.

But that’s only true for adults.

I didn’t know why Nina-chan was so standoffish, but the fact that she hadn’t told anyone in class that she was an exorcist suggested she might be feeling some sense of alienation.

In that case, the quickest solution would be for me, as a fellow exorcist, to become friends with her.

…Of course, the teacher probably hadn’t thought that far, but since I was the only one in our class who tried to talk to Nina-chan, there weren’t many other options.

Besides, if I could befriend Nina-chan, I’d gain another exorcist friend.

Making more friends would also bring me closer to my goal of “making ten friends” by the time I graduate.

So, I readily agreed with the teacher.

“Okay! I’ll be friends with Nina-chan!”

“Thank you,” the teacher said with a smile, a mix of relief and gratitude in her expression. I felt a small pang of sympathy, realizing how challenging it must be to be a teacher.

Alright, time to find Nina-chan.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep