Nagisa, unbelievably, started in the A Class.
No matter how much his mother drilled into him what a useless waste of space he was at home, she was exuberant with his praise at school, predicting that he would soon be one of the academy's top students. The administration was won over by the the woman's commendations, and they set Nagisa up in the most bloodthirsty of classrooms.
It was hell.
No matter how hard he tried, Nagisa simply couldn't get a grip on the strange, theoretical concepts that they discussed. The details flew from his brain as soon as they were inserted.
The teachers gave him chance after chance. In spite of everything, the quiet, diligent student had a gentleness about him that they liked because it contrasted so drastically with the rest of the group's fiery determination to crush each other. After-school tutoring sessions were offered; make-up tests were scheduled again and again and again.
It was no use. Nagisa was good at observations - he knew to keep to the right of the hall when Satsuke was barreling through, he knew when to duck when one of the girls tried to photobomb the class, found all the right ways to make himself appear as inoffensive as possible to his classmates. He agreed wholeheartedly that knowledge was power.
But only the knowledge that helped him survive.
