The Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.
On paper, it was a government-funded, nationally prestigious institution situated in the heart of the city. It boasted state-of-the-art intelligent teaching equipment, dreamlike single-room student dormitories, and, most remarkably, a 100% university admission and employment rate for its graduates.
But ever since arriving in this world, Akira Suzuki had harbored a vague but persistent doubt about the school.
A 100% success rate? It sounded too good to be true. In Japan, the truly elite high schools prided themselves on metrics like their acceptance rates into the University of Tokyo or Waseda University. A generic "employment rate" sounded less like the slogan of a premier academic institution and more like something you'd see on a brochure for a vocational trade school.
"I have a feeling," Akira murmured to himself, "that graduating from here won't be as simple as it seems."
He stood at the base of the school's entrance steps, his own progress halted by the tense confrontation unfolding at the top. The beautiful literary girl from the bus stood on the highest step, her skirt fluttering in the gentle April breeze. Her delicate chin was raised slightly as she looked down at the light brown-haired boy below her.
"You were staring at me on the bus," she stated, her voice sharp and cold. "What did you mean by it?"
"My apologies," the boy replied, his tone placid. "I simply thought you might be like me—someone who dislikes trouble and prefers not to get involved."
"I refuse to give up my seat out of principle!" she shot back. "That is entirely different from your simple aversion to trouble. We are nothing alike."
Akira, standing off to the side, pretended not to hear and began to make his way up the stairs.
"Hold on, you!"
The girl's piercing gaze suddenly shifted, locking directly onto him. "You were staring at me on the bus as well. Explain yourself."
The abrupt change of target caught Akira off guard. He had, admittedly, glanced in her direction when he got off the bus, but what of it? Was the occasional stray glance in a crowded bus carriage now a federal offense?
"Were you judging me for not giving up my seat?" Horikita Suzune—for he was sure this was her name—crossed her arms, her posture radiating hostility. "Let me be clear. My decision was the result of careful consideration."
"I understand," Akira replied, his voice calm, his eyes reflecting her image like the surface of a still lake. "And I respect your choice. My glance wasn't meant to offend you. It's just that your temperament reminds me of a character from a novel."
Her stubborn brow and icy expression, he thought, are a perfect match for the Yukinoshita Yukino of my memory.
In truth, Akira had no intention of condemning her. Ceding a seat was a courtesy, not an obligation—a small act of kindness performed when one was able, and nothing more. Besides, this girl's directness was almost impressive. Who confronts a stranger so bluntly? Was she an INTJ personality type?
He chose his next words carefully. "If you are unused to social interaction, I can promise to avoid unnecessary eye contact and conversation with you in the future. Would that be an acceptable solution, classmate?"
Horikita Suzune's eyelashes trembled.
This boy... not only did he refuse to preach at her, but he actually considered her feelings and proposed a concrete, logical solution?
"That won't be necessary," she said, her folded arms relaxing slightly. "I only wished to confirm your intentions. If you have something to say, simply say it."
Akira paused on the step. "My name is Suzuki Akira. And you are?"
"Horikita Suzune," she answered, the name leaving her lips almost reflexively. A moment later, a frown creased her brow, as if startled by her own frankness.
"Horikita-san," Akira said with a small, knowing smile. "I'll remember it. Farewell." He turned and continued up the stairs.
Horikita stood frozen, watching until his figure disappeared from view. It was only then that the reality of what had just happened crashed down on her.
Wait… did I just… voluntarily tell my name to a complete stranger? That goes against all of my principles.
The spring wind, carrying the sweet scent of cherry blossoms, brushed past her ears as she mentally deconstructed their brief conversation. From her sharp interrogation to her own unconsciously subdued response, it felt as if every one of her moves had fallen perfectly into the rhythm he had so carefully woven.
What shocked her most was his honesty. He hadn't dodged her questions or tried to placate her. He had simply met every one of her sharp words with simple, irrefutable logic. For years, her interactions with peers had been a miserable mix of hypocritical pleasantries and thinly veiled exclusion. This was the first time she had experienced an exchange like this.
It wasn't… unpleasant.
Akira stepped on a fallen cherry blossom, a faint smile rising to his lips.
"This Horikita-san is surprisingly naive," he muttered to himself, a hint of amusement in his voice.
The girl's expression had been an open book. The surprise and uncertainty that flickered in her eyes revealed a clear awkwardness with everyday social interactions. It reminded Akira of the "special talents" he had frequently managed in his previous life as a lead game planner. The stubbornness of programmers, the paranoia of artists, the obsessive perfectionism of coders—whenever these brilliant eccentrics became a headache, it was his job to step in.
The image of her appeared in his mind: her straight back, her tightly pursed lips, and her intelligent, expressive eyes. She projected the classic image of a "flower on a high peak," but their brief exchange had exposed her true nature. She was the type to be cold on the outside but soft on the inside, with defenses more fragile than paper.
"I didn't even have to try," Akira sighed softly. "Why did you surrender so easily?"
He had used a simple trick—retreating to advance—and his opponent had not only been disarmed but had obediently offered up her name. Such an innocent reaction was a world away from the calculating Kushida Kikyo.
A girl like that, he thought, his eyes following the petals drifting on the wind, would probably devote herself completely to the person she fell in love with.
He quickly pushed the thought aside. First, he didn't even know which class he'd be in. Second, he had only just arrived. It was best to lay low and understand the true nature of this school before making any moves.
Just then, a clear, electronic chime echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Today's information has been updated.]
[Information 1: Today at 10:30 a.m. sharp (after the opening ceremony), Masumi Kamuro of Class 1-A will attempt to steal a can of beer from the campus convenience store.]
[Information 2: Horikita Suzune's measurements are 79-54-79.]
[Information 3: If you need to satisfy your physiological needs, knock on Hoshinomiya Chie's door three times at 2:00 a.m. tomorrow.](This is merely a figure of speech , explained later in book)
Akira's eyebrows shot up. Today's intelligence was… unexpected.
Especially that third piece. Was there really someone at this school providing that kind of special service?
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