The weeks blurred into one rhythm: class, study group, mock tests, late-night reviews, and silent walks home with new thoughts.
Mao was sharper than ever.
So was his team.
Yuto took charge of logic drills. Aya broke down complicated equations. Mika taught time management. Kenji grilled everyone like a merciless exam coach. And Sora, with her quiet presence, always knew when to push and when to just let silence rest.
And Mao?
Mao absorbed it all like a sponge finally dipped in water again.
By the time the next ranking results came out, people noticed.
"Tanaka's back?"
"He's ranked fourth again?"
"No, third now. Just behind Ren and Yuina."
But Mao didn't smile. Not fully. He wasn't after applause.
He just nodded at the board, turned to Kenji, and said, "We're getting there."
Still, something else was happening.
Late nights blurred lines. Shared laughter between questions turned genuine. And somewhere between quiet study sessions and accidental walks to the station, something shifted between Mao and Mika.
She noticed his glances.
He noticed the way she always waited for his reaction before laughing.
It wasn't dramatic. It was slow. Like trust being built one sentence at a time.
One rainy afternoon, the group stayed late, reviewing essays. As they packed up, Mika lingered beside him.
"Hey," she said, eyes flicking down, then back up. "Want to grab something? Just us?"
He hesitated—but nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."
It wasn't fireworks. It wasn't a confession in the rain.
It was coffee in a quiet corner of a bookstore café, their conversation light, nervous, and real.
He told her about how it felt to fall. She told him about being overlooked despite always being right.
They understood each other in ways that didn't need explaining.
By the time they walked out, the rain had stopped, but their hands were still brushing. Eventually, they stopped pretending not to notice.
They held on.
When Monday came, Mao returned to school with the same bag, same uniform, same quiet face.
But something had changed.
He wasn't alone.
He wasn't finished.
And even though he wasn't number one—not yet—he had something now he hadn't had even at his peak:
Purpose.
And someone to walk beside him.