"So, introduce yourself," the teacher said dryly when Takeshi's father (he would definitely remember this moment) almost shoved him into the classroom.
"Takeshi, son of Jiro," he said, joining his hands in the traditional gesture—fist and palm.
"Nice to meet you, Takeshi," the teacher nodded briefly, "You can take a seat in the third row."
The third row, huh?
Takeshi had planned to quietly slip into one of the back desks, avoiding the attention that came with sitting in the second row.
Well, that plan was now ruined.
— So, children. Let us repeat the oath of the Fire Nation.
All the children stood up in unison and turned to face the opposite wall, where a massive portrait of Azulon hung.
"I will give my life to my people," the students began reciting the oath, standing with their heads bowed in the traditional manner.
"I'll fight for the Fire Lord with my bare hands," Takeshi muttered to himself, feeling a bit unimpressed.
Did they really have to chant this nonsense?
It didn't even rhyme!
The ritual continued for a few more minutes, with everyone droning on, while Takeshi stood there, half-heartedly muttering along, only repeating the parts he knew.
It was like hearing the chorus of a song you don't remember but somehow know by heart.
After this lackluster ceremony, the children sat back down, staring at the teacher, who nodded solemnly before speaking:
Now, let's begin with a philosophy test. Write this down.
The Fire Warrior's enemies have stolen his weapon.
As is well known, enemies always lie. The captured enemy claims he stole the weapon. Is he guilty of theft?
What the hell?
Takeshi froze.
This wasn't a basic math problem.
Was this school really so advanced?
This was second grade, and he was suddenly faced with philosophical conundrums.
He wasn't bragging—he was someone who was reincarnated with an adult mind, maybe even some formal education, but this? It was more than a little perplexing.
But, then he realized. It wasn't too complicated.
The enemy always lies.
So, if the enemy said he stole the weapon, then he must be lying, which means he didn't steal it.
Simple logic, right?
Next, let's write this down... you'll decide later.
Let's do the next one.
Three Fire Warriors came to the Fire Lord with a request to decide who among them was the strongest.
The first warrior said: "I am the strongest."
The second warrior said: "The first one is not the strongest."
The third warrior said: "I am the strongest."
The first warrior said: "The third warrior is not the strongest."
The second warrior said: "I am the strongest."
The Lord decided that all the statements of the strongest warrior were true, and all the statements of the other two were false.
Did the Lord decide who the strongest warrior was?
Takeshi rolled his eyes.
These were the kinds of questions they asked in second grade?
It was childish, but at least a little more engaging than the usual elementary school problems.
That's enough.
You have half an hour to solve these problems, so I can make sure your brains haven't turned to mush over the summer," the teacher said, her voice just a tad condescending. "Then we'll move on to the lesson."
It took no more than a couple of minutes to write the answers.
Most of the time was spent perfecting his calligraphy.
Takeshi sat in silence, not wanting to stand out or make a scene.
He was the only six-year-old in a class full of seven-year-olds, and it didn't seem worth stirring up trouble over a small age gap.
Somewhere in the school, there were six- and seven-year-olds in the same class.
No big deal.
The only issue was that he, being six, was still adjusting to life as a child again.
A year or two wasn't a huge difference in the grand scheme of things.
Still, Takeshi couldn't help but notice the disapproving looks from the other kids. Most likely his cousin, who wasn't doing too well in class, was among them.
He'd made quite an impression on his classmates already.
"Ahem, Takeshi," a voice broke his thoughts.
He turned to see the teacher standing next to his desk, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I see you have nothing to do? Maybe your parents were too hasty to send you straight to the second year," she said, grabbing the paper he'd written on.
"Let's see if you've done anything."
What a bitch, Takeshi thought, irritated.
The teacher was nothing like what he had expected. If the rest of the staff were like this, it was no wonder the Fire Nation was filled with problematic fire mages.
He wasn't surprised they left school with complexes.
"Hm, that's correct," she said, trying to hide her surprise. "Why didn't you turn it in right away?"
"I was revising it," he lied with a smile, keeping his expression open and friendly.
"Not for nothing did your parents send you straight to the second year. Maybe they should have gone higher, you have very good results in logic and calligraphy for your age... unlike some," the teacher added, attempting what she likely thought was a compliment.
Takeshi could feel the stares on his back now.
One of them, he was sure, came from his cousin.
It seemed that the teacher's pointed remarks had made it clear who she was talking about.
He would be in for a long day with that little rival.
The teacher moved through the rows, collecting papers, sometimes snatching them from students who were still scribbling away, trying to finish.
G's paper was nearly empty, and what was written down was barely coherent.
Several others at the back of the class were in the same boat, their papers looked more like social gatherings than actual tests.