school of  pair test

Afternoons at Kyōiku Middle School were always a little quieter than usual.
The wind teased the curtains, casting lines of light across the classroom.

“Hey… how do you even start something like social media the right way?”

Mahiru murmured from her seat by the window.
Next to her, Seiya paused the pen he’d been twirling over his notebook and smiled slightly.

“There’s probably no ‘right way.’
But beginnings… they’re kind of nerve-wracking, aren’t they?”

Today’s pair test assignment was simple:

“Create a social media post introducing Kyōiku Middle School or the pair test system.
You can use text, drawings, photos—anything.
Just make one post together.”

Unlike regular tests, there were no time limits, no fixed formats.
But “freedom” can be surprisingly difficult.

Mahiru scribbled something in small letters on her notebook:

“At this school, there are problems you don’t have to solve alone.”

Seiya read it and nodded.

“Nice.
But maybe it’s a little too serious?
Let’s add something more… ‘Yubisaki-style.’”

He placed a small slip of paper between their desks.
It had a photo of a paper airplane—one that had fallen during morning homeroom.

“Let’s post this too.
Caption it:
‘At this school, someone’s passing thought can catch the wind.’”

Mahiru nodded and quietly wrote in the corner of the page:

#SchoolOfFingertips

Their “post” hadn’t reached the world yet.
But inside the classroom, it shimmered softly.

—

[Epilogue]

Even after the bell rang, no one stood up.
In this classroom, it wasn’t the sound of solving problems—
but the sound of growing words
that filled the air.

The First Words Written by Fingertips

「…ねぇ、これって、ほんとにテスト？」

すみれはノートのページを指でなぞりながら、声を潜めた。

「うん、でも“テスト”って言っても、“誰かに伝える”ためのテストだって。」

そう答えたのは、となりのケイ。
少し声が大きくて、ちょっと笑いすぎて、でもなんとなく安心できる存在だった。

今日は共育中学校のペアテスト。
お題はこうだった。

『学校やペアテストについて、ふたりで話し合ってSNSの最初の投稿をつくりなさい。形式は自由。』

すみれは、自分が「自由」と言われるのが苦手だった。
「何を書いてもいいよ」と言われると、余計に何も書けなくなる。

ケイはそんなすみれの様子を見て、机の間にそっとメモを滑り込ませた。

『じゃあ、ぼくが質問する。すみれがこたえて。』

すみれは小さくうなずいた。

⸻

「この学校の、いちばんすきなとこは？」

「…答えがひとつじゃないところ。」

「じゃあ、ペアテストって、すみれにとってなに？」

「…“だまってても、となりが待っててくれる”もの。」

「それ、すごくいいな。」

⸻

ケイはそのまま、投稿文をまとめた。

『この学校では、黙っている子の中にも、言葉がちゃんとある。
となりの子と、それを見つけるのがぼくらのテスト。』

ふたりはその投稿に、机の上に並べた文房具の写真を添えた。
すみれの指先が少し写っている。ペンを握るのではなく、そっと触れるように。

⸻

【おわりに】

「…それ、ほんとに投稿するの？」

すみれが恥ずかしそうに聞くと、ケイはにっと笑った。

「うん。たぶん、誰かの“となり”に届くかもしれないから。」

⸻

このペアもまた、教室の片隅でひとつの光を咲かせていた

教室のすみに咲いた一言

From the fifth-floor window, the hospital courtyard stretches below.
In the school building, quiet after the lunchtime bustle, one student stands alone.

His gaze is fixed on a girl in a wheelchair.
She appears like the wind—just for a few minutes—
gently reading a book, then vanishing again like a breeze.

Every day, at the same time—
as if believing in something unseen.

Her presence quietly took root in his heart.
It wasn’t mere curiosity.
It wasn’t pity, either.

“…I want to take a Pair Test with her.”

The words slipped out—surprisingly natural, even to himself.

---

🌱 In the Principal’s Office: The Door That Opens

“A Pair Test, you say?”

The principal looked surprised, meeting the student’s earnest eyes.
“We’d need the hospital’s permission… It won’t be easy to arrange.”

But the student nodded.
“I still want to do it. She’s studying—always, where no one sees.”

A brief silence.
Then, a faint smile lit the principal’s eyes.

“Go tell her how you feel. I’ll contact the hospital myself.”

---

💫 Hospital Reception Room: When Another Door Opens

In the hospital’s reception room,
white-coated doctors and staff gathered.
The student stood among them, shoulders stiff with nerves.

“Why do you want to take a Pair Test with her?”

The doctor asked.
The student lowered his gaze for a moment, then answered clearly.

“I’ve seen her studying alone every day.
I have a classroom, friends, tests…
She wants those things too, but can’t reach them.
…That really frustrated me.
So I thought—why not do it together?”

Silence.
Not cold, but gentle—like kindness soaking into the heart.

“If it truly won’t be a burden to her…”
The doctor’s words unfolded slowly.
“Then we’ll allow the visit and the Pair Test.”

---

☀️ Beyond That Window

The day permission was granted,
the student stood at the hospital entrance, clutching the visitor’s pass given by the principal.

There was no hesitation in his eyes.
From beyond that window, he had taken his first step.

And now—
the girl in the courtyard was about to experience a moment
where her time would gently overlap with someone else’s.

---

💭 Behind This Story…
Perhaps what intertwines here are
healing from loneliness, healing from helplessness,
and a quiet spark of hope.

Epilogue Courtyard seen from the classroom window Kokoro Project ✖︎ Pair Test

ゆびさきでかいた始まりの言葉

“…Hey, is this really a test?”

Sumire traced her finger along the page of her notebook, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. But even if it’s a ‘test,’ it’s one meant to tell someone something.”

The reply came from Kei, sitting beside her—his voice a little too loud, his laugh a little too easy, but somehow always reassuring.

Today was a pair test at Kyōiku Middle School.
The assignment was simple:

“Talk with your partner and create your first social media post introducing the school or the pair test. Format is up to you.”

Sumire didn’t like being told she was “free.”
Whenever someone said, “You can write anything,”
she found herself unable to write anything at all.

Noticing her hesitation, Kei quietly slid a note between their desks.

“Then I’ll ask the questions. You answer.”

Sumire gave a small nod.

—

“What’s your favorite thing about this school?”

“…That there’s never just one right answer.”

“Then what does the pair test mean to you?”

“…It’s something where—even if I stay quiet—my partner still waits for me.”

“That’s… really beautiful.”

—

Kei began to write their post, just like that:

“At this school, even the quietest students have words inside them.
And finding those words with the person beside you—that’s our kind of test.”

They added a photo of the stationery spread across their desks.
Sumire’s fingertips were just barely visible—
not gripping a pen, but gently resting beside it.

—

[Epilogue]

“…Are we really going to post that?”
Sumire asked, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

Kei grinned.

“Yeah.
Because maybe… it’ll reach someone else’s ‘beside.’”

—

And so, in the quiet corner of the classroom,
this pair, too, let a small light bloom.

A word that bloomed in the corner of the classroom 1

Class 2-C, Kyōiku Middle School.
As the afternoon light slid across the blackboard,
Aoi and Hiyori sat facing each other.

They were twins.
Their faces and voices were similar,
but in many ways, they couldn’t be more different.

Aoi talked a lot.
Hiyori listened well.

In front of them lay today’s pair test assignment:

“Convey the culture of ‘learning together’ at this school to someone who doesn’t know it yet.
The method is up to you—words, sound, movement.
Create one thing together.”

Hiyori picked up her pen without saying a word.
She hadn’t thought of what to write yet,
but strangely, she didn’t feel anxious.

Aoi smiled without speaking.

“Let’s try doing this one without talking.”

Hiyori widened her eyes in surprise—
then nodded right away.

They each placed their notebooks between them
and began a silent “conversation.”

—

— In Hiyori’s notebook, written in soft hiragana:

“Hey, why is it that when we’re together, the answers just come to us?”

— Aoi circled it gently and replied:

“Maybe because one person’s thoughts bounce back from the other.”

— Hiyori wrote again:

“Like a mirror?”

— Aoi nodded, then added:

“No… warmer than that.
I think we’re like letters—written to each other.”

—

At the end of the test,
they each tore out a page from their notebooks
and stacked them in the center of the desk.

Their teacher passed by and asked softly:

“Is this your answer?”

Aoi smiled and nodded.

“Yes. But we didn’t speak.
Today, we decided it would be a ‘day of fingertip signals.’”

The teacher said nothing,
but gently marked the page with a ○.

—

[Epilogue]

Later, as they left the classroom,
the two stood side by side at the shoe lockers.
Almost at the same time—without planning it—
they both stepped into their shoes with their right foot first.

“Today’s test was fun.”

“Yeah… it felt like we were writing a diary together.”

Their footsteps echoed softly down the hallway,
click-clacking in quiet harmony.

(1)Signal With fingertips(1)

ASASOBI is the world’s only artist singing of the School of Pair Test.  
These songs are ritual gifts—created with SUNO v5, rooted in SCPRT, and written by the School of Fingertips.  
Each track carries a question. Each question invites you to share a fate.  
If you’ve ever wondered what it means to learn together, this music is for you.

#ASASOBI #SCPRT #GiftOfQuestion #AImusic #SharedFate #SchoolOfFingertips