I rode the bus to school, bobbing and shaking in my seat. While I looked idly out my window, watching the city's scenery change, the bus picked up more and more passengers.
Most of them were young people wearing high school uniforms. There was also a frustrated salary worker, who looked like the type to have once mistakenly groped someone aboard a crowded bus. An unsteady elderly lady stood in front of me, wobbling so badly I thought she was in danger of falling. Considering I'd known how packed this bus would likely be, I supposed I was simply reaping what I'd sown by getting on.
I was fortunate to have found a seat, but it was still crowded. I forgot about the unfortunate elderly woman and patiently waited to arrive at my destination, my mind clear as a passing stream. The weather was especially fine today, not a single cloud in the sky. It was so refreshing that I nearly fell asleep then and there.
However, my gentle respite was promptly obliterated.
"Excuse me, but shouldn't you offer up your seat?"
My eyes, which were about to close, snapped back open. Huh? Could this person be angry with me? But I realized that it was someone else being scolded.
A young, well-built blond man of high school age had sat down in one of the priority seats. The elderly woman stood right next to him, and another woman stood beside her. This second, younger lady appeared to be an office worker.
"Hey, you there. Can't you see that this elderly woman is having trouble?" the office lady said.
She seemed to want the young man to offer up his seat.
Her voice carried quite well throughout the quiet bus, attracting several people's attention.
"That's a really crazy question, lady," the boy said.
I wondered whether the boy was angry, unobservant, or just painfully honest. In any case, he grinned broadly and crossed his legs. "Why should I offer up my seat? There's no reason for me to do so."
"You're sitting in a priority seat. It's natural to offer up those seats to the elderly."
"I don't understand. Priority seats are just that: priority seats. I have no legal obligation to move. Since I'm currently occupying this seat, I should be the one who determines whether or not I move. Am I supposed to give up my seat just because I'm young? Ha! That reasoning is nonsense."
He didn't speak like a normal high school student. His hair was dyed blond, which made him stand out.
"I'm a healthy young person who certainly wouldn't find standing inconvenient. However, I'd obviously expend more energy by standing than I would by sitting. I have no intention of doing such a pointless thing. Or are you suggesting I should act a bit livelier, I wonder?"
"Wh-what kind of attitude is that to take with your superiors?" she demanded.
"Superiors? Well, it's obvious that both you and the old woman there have been alive longer than I have. There can be no doubt about that. However, the word 'superior' implies that you're referring to someone of a higher position. In addition, we have another problem. Even though our ages are different, wouldn't you agree that you have an impertinent attitude and are being extremely rude?"
"Wha— You're a high schooler, aren't you?! You should be quiet and listen to what adults tell you!"
"It's f-fine, whatever…" the elderly woman mumbled.
She apparently didn't want any further commotion and tried to calm the office lady. But after being insulted by the high school student, the younger woman still seemed very upset.
"Apparently, this elderly woman is more perceptive than you, which is nice. Also, I haven't given up on Japanese society yet. Please enjoy your remaining years."
After flashing a pointlessly vigorous smile, the boy slid his earphones in and began listening to rather cacophonous music. The office lady now clenched her teeth in frustration. Though she tried needling the boy by arguing further, his smug, self-important attitude remained fixed.
At any rate, I had to at least partly agree with the boy.
If you ignored the question of a moral imperative, it was true that he wasn't legally obligated to give up his seat.
"I'm sorry…" Desperately fighting back her tears, the office lady apologized to the elderly woman.
Well, it was all just a minor incident on the bus. I was relieved that I hadn't been caught up in the situation. Honestly, I couldn't care less about giving up my seat for an elderly person.
Clearly, the egotistical boy had won. At least, everyone secretly thought so.
"Um… I think that the lady is right."
The woman received unexpected support from someone standing alongside her. The helper, a girl wearing my high school's uniform, gave her brave and frank opinion to the boy.
"And the new challenger is a pretty girl, eh? It would seem that I'm rather lucky with the fairer sex," the boy said.
"This poor woman appears to have been suffering for quite some time now. Won't you offer up your seat? While you might consider such courtesy unnecessary, I think it would contribute greatly to society."
Crack! The boy snapped his fingers.
"A contribution to society, you say? Well, that is a rather interesting opinion. It's certainly true that offering up one's seat to the elderly could be viewed in such a positive light. Unfortunately, I have no interest in contributing to society. I care only for my own satisfaction. Oh, and one more thing. You're asking me, the one in the priority seat, to give up his spot, but couldn't you simply ask one of the other people seated on this crowded bus? If you truly cared for the elderly, then something like priority seating would be a rather trivial concern, wouldn't you agree?"
The boy's haughty attitude remained unchanged. Both the office lady and the elderly woman simply wore bitter smiles in response. However, the girl didn't back down.
"Everyone, please listen to me for just a moment. Won't someone give up their seat for this woman? It doesn't matter who. Please."
How could someone pour so much courage, determination, and compassion into so few words? That was no simple feat. The girl might have seemed like a nuisance to those around her, but she appealed to the other passengers earnestly and without fear.
Though not in a priority seat, I was near the elderly woman. I imagined if I raised my hand and offered my spot, then the matter would be settled.
I didn't move.
Neither did anyone else.
But then, from a few rows ahead, another boy rose quietly.
Unlike the loud blond, this one had pale golden hair that didn't look dyed, and carried himself with an oddly calm air. His expression was polite, almost gentle, but his presence drew my eyes more strongly than the noisy quarrel ever had.
"Please," he said softly, motioning to his seat.
The elderly woman blinked, then accepted gratefully. She sat down with relief, murmuring her thanks.
The other students relaxed, the uncomfortable tension dissolving at once. Responsibility had passed to someone else, and the problem was solved.
The boy simply smiled faintly and returned to silence.
I closed my eyes again, pretending to sleep
_________
Third pov:
As the students poured off the bus, the sight of a grand gate came into view, its arch formed from natural rock as if carved directly from the earth. Beyond it lay the campus grounds, vast and pristine, waiting to swallow the new arrivals whole.
Among the crowd of boys and girls in fresh uniforms, one boy lingered a moment longer. He hesitated at the threshold, quietly steeling himself. This school, the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, had been established by the Japanese government for a singular purpose: to cultivate the leaders of tomorrow. And from this day forward, it would be his world.
He drew in a breath, ready to step forward.
"Wait."
The word cut through the morning air.
Turning slightly, he found the girl who had sat beside him on the bus. Her posture was composed, her expression unreadable, her eyes narrowed as if dissecting him.
"You were looking at me. Why?" she asked, her voice steady but edged with suspicion.
The boy blinked once, then answered without hesitation. "Sorry. I guess I was just interested, is all. I mean, you didn't think about giving up your seat to the old woman, did you?"
"That's right. I didn't consider giving it up. Is there something wrong with that?"
Her tone was calm, but unwavering, as if daring him to challenge her answer.
"Oh, no, not at all," he said lightly. "I didn't intend to give up my seat, either. In fact, I firmly abide by the philosophy of letting sleeping dogs lie. I dislike trouble."
She studied him for a moment before replying. "You dislike trouble? Then I don't think you and I are anything alike. I didn't give up my seat because I thought it would be pointless. That's all."
He tilted his head slightly. "But doesn't that seem worse than just not liking trouble?"
"Perhaps," she admitted. "I'm simply acting according to my own beliefs. That's different from someone who just dislikes trouble, like you. I don't want to spend any time around people like you."
"I feel the same way," he muttered, though without malice.
Neither seemed inclined to press the matter further. Their words left hanging in the air, both exhaled softly, and without speaking again, they started forward side by side, swallowed by the flow of students heading toward the gate.
A few steps ahead, another boy was already passing through the arch. His golden hair caught the sunlight, though it was clear the color wasn't from dye. His expression was serene, almost gentle, yet he carried himself with such poise that it seemed to part the crowd around him without effort.
Horikita's gaze lingered on him briefly. "That boy," she said, almost to herself. "He gave up his seat on the bus."
Ayanokōji followed her glance. "You're right. He didn't hesitate."
Horikita's eyes narrowed. "I wonder why. Most people avoided the trouble. Yet he moved immediately."
As if overhearing them, the boy turned slightly. His expression remained calm, his voice soft and polite when he spoke.
"Why?" He repeated the question as though tasting it. Then, after a pause, he smiled faintly. "Because it was easier that way."
No further explanation. No grand reasoning. Only a quiet answer, delivered without arrogance or false modesty.
Before either of them could respond, the boy resumed walking, his presence slipping back into the crowd of new students as though he had never stood out at all.
For a moment, however, the impression lingered.
———-
The classroom buzzed with quiet energy as students trickled in, each making their way toward the desk with their assigned nameplate. Bags dropped onto the floor, chairs scraped faintly, and the hum of new beginnings filled the air.
Ayanokōji Kiyotaka walked toward his seat at the back of the room, near the window. A good spot, generally — removed enough from the center to avoid drawing attention, but not so isolated as to stand out.
In front of him, someone was already sitting. A boy with golden hair, neatly kept, sat with a poise that felt almost unnatural for a first-year high schooler. His back was straight, his movements unhurried, precise. Though he hadn't spoken a word, his composure alone gave the impression of someone utterly at ease in unfamiliar surroundings.
Unlike the rotund boy Ayanokōji had noticed earlier, this one didn't exude loneliness or desperation. Quite the opposite — he seemed complete, self-contained, as though the chatter around him was happening in another world entirely.
For a brief moment, Ayanokōji studied the back of the boy's head, sensing something he couldn't quite define. Then, with a faint sigh, he shifted his gaze away.
"That's quite a heavy sigh, considering the school year has only just begun," came a cool voice beside him. "Meeting you again makes me want to sigh."
It was the girl from the bus — Horikita Suzune.
"So, we were placed in the same class, huh?" Ayanokōji mumbled. With only four classes in the year, it wasn't impossible, but still, the coincidence felt sharp.
He decided to take the initiative. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ayanokōji Kiyotaka."
"You just went ahead and introduced yourself?"
"Well, this is the second time we've spoken. Isn't it fine?" He smiled faintly. "Besides, sitting next to someone for a year without knowing their name sounds uncomfortable."
"I disagree." She set her bag down firmly, gaze drifting away as if to close the matter.
Yet after a brief pause, she sighed. Perhaps deciding it was easier this way, she turned back toward him. "I'm Horikita Suzune."
For the first time, Ayanokōji got a proper look at her face. Refined, beautiful — almost too composed for a first-year high schooler.
Their exchange was interrupted by the arrival of another familiar figure.
"This seems like a rather well-equipped classroom. It appears to live up to people's expectations, hmm?"
It was the blond, flamboyant boy from the bus — Kouenji. Without acknowledging anyone else, he strode to his seat, threw himself down, and immediately began filing his nails, humming to himself. Within moments, half the class had instinctively distanced themselves from him.
Ayanokōji's eyes flicked back to the boy seated in front of him — Johan. They had seen him already: on the bus, at the gate, always composed, always quietly present. Now, seated directly ahead, his calm felt even more pronounced.
Just before the bell rang, Johan turned slightly in his seat. His expression was mild, his tone polite.
"My name is Johan Liebert," he said softly, though it was less an introduction than a courtesy. "We've already crossed paths, but it seems we'll be neighbors as well. I look forward to studying with you."
Ayanokōji met his gaze evenly. "Ayanokōji Kiyotaka."
Horikita gave only the smallest nod, acknowledging him without a word.
The bell rang, calling the room to order
At that precise moment, the door opened and a woman entered the classroom. Her presence immediately drew the room's attention. The sharpness of her posture, the controlled tone of her movements — she looked like someone who demanded discipline. If one had to guess, she was around thirty. Her long hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, and she wore a dark suit that fit her with precise formality.
"Ahem. Good morning to you, students." Her voice carried with practiced authority. "I'm the instructor for Class D. My name is Chiyabashira Sae. I usually teach Japanese history. However, at this school, we do not change classrooms for each grade. For the next three years, I will be acting as your homeroom teacher, so I hope to get to know all of you. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The students shifted in their seats, some whispering nervously, others listening intently. At the back of the room, Ayanokōji sat silently, eyes half-lidded as though he were only half-interested. Near him, Horikita stared forward, her composure as unshaken as ever. In the row ahead, Johan rested with perfect stillness, hands folded on his desk, his expression calm and unreadable — like he had already known what would be said.
"The entrance ceremony will be in the gymnasium one hour from now," Chiyabashira continued. "But first, I will distribute written materials with information about this school's special rules. I will also hand out the admissions guide."
Packets were passed from the front rows to the back. The pages contained the familiar guidelines, rules, and details the students had already glimpsed upon acceptance. Still, seeing them in hand made the restrictions feel heavier.
This school was different from ordinary institutions. Every student here was required to live in the dormitories on campus. Contact with the outside world — even family — was forbidden without permission. Leaving school grounds without authorization was also strictly prohibited.
Yet in contrast to its strict control, the campus was lavish, almost like a small city. A karaoke lounge, theater, boutique, cafés, sports facilities. Over 600,000 square meters of grounds dedicated to a single institution.
And then came the unique system that set this school apart.
"I will now hand out your student ID cards," Chiyabashira said, distributing slim plastic cards. "By using your card, you can access any of the facilities on campus, purchase goods from the store, and so on. It acts like a credit card. However, it is imperative that you pay attention to the points that you spend. At this school, you can use your points to buy anything. Anything located on the school premises is available for purchase."
Students exchanged excited looks. Johan took his card between two fingers, studied it for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket with a faint smile that no one else noticed.
"Your student cards can be used simply by swiping them through the machine scanner. The method is simple, so you shouldn't get confused. Points are automatically deposited into your account on the first of every month. You should all have received 100,000 points already. Keep in mind that one point is worth one yen. No further explanation should be necessary."
The classroom erupted into shock and chatter. Whispers ran wild. One hundred thousand yen? Every month?
Ayanokōji leaned back in his chair, unmoved by the noise. He had expected something unusual, though even he had to admit the sum was more generous than he'd thought. Horikita did not join the chatter either; she simply looked down at her card as though it held no particular meaning.
Johan, however, sat quietly, lips curved just slightly. He did not speak, nor did he betray any surprise. If anything, he seemed amused by the reaction of his classmates, as though the revelation was less a gift and more the beginning of a game.
"Shocked by the amount of points you've been given?" Chiyabashira's tone cut through the noise. "This school evaluates its students' talents. Everyone here has passed the entrance examination, which itself speaks to your value and potential. The amount you've received reflects the evaluation of your worth. You can use your points without restraint. After graduation, however, all of your points return to the school. Because it's impossible to exchange your points for cash, there's no advantage to saving them. Once points have been deposited into your account, it's up to you how to spend them. Do as you like. In the event that you don't want to spend your points, you may transfer them to someone else. However, extorting money from your peers is not allowed. This school monitors bullying very carefully."
As bewilderment spread, Chiyabashira's eyes swept the room. No hands were raised. No questions came.
"Well. It appears no one has any questions," she said. "I hope that you enjoy your time here as students."
The chatter rose again almost immediately, full of excitement and disbelief. Most of the students could not hide their astonishment at the school's generosity. To many, it was like a dream.
But not everyone.
At the back, Ayanokōji remained expressionless. Beside him, Horikita flipped the guidebook open, her face calm. And in front of them, Johan Liebert sat with serene composure, the faint smile still lingering, as if he already knew what none of the others did: nothing is given without cost.
"This school doesn't seem as strict as I thought," Ayanokōji murmured under his breath.
He hadn't intended for anyone to hear him, but Horikita, seated beside him, turned her head slightly. Her sharp gaze suggested she thought he was addressing her.
"This school is extremely lenient, isn't it?" she said flatly.
Her words carried a quiet weight. And indeed, despite the restrictions — being forced to live in the dormitories, forbidden from leaving campus, prohibited from contacting anyone outside — no one seemed bothered. If anything, the students looked as though they'd been brought to a paradise.
The Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School boasted almost a perfect placement rate for its graduates, whether advancing to universities or prestigious careers. A government project designed to cultivate the next generation of leaders. Its alumni list included names that had gone on to fame. Unlike most specialized schools — one devoted to music, another to sports, another to technology — this institution promised success to any student, in any field.
Only this school had that kind of name-brand power. Ayanokōji had expected the atmosphere to feel cutthroat, suffocating. Yet the students around him laughed and whispered like any ordinary high school class. No, not ordinary. They had all passed the entrance exam. That alone made them different. If they reached graduation without incident, success was guaranteed. The question was… was such a peaceful path truly possible?
"This is almost too much preferential treatment. It's frightening," Horikita added quietly.
Her tone echoed the unease settling at the back of Ayanokōji's mind. They knew almost nothing about this school. It was as though everything was veiled in mystery. And something so generous, so promising — surely it carried risks hidden beneath the surface.
From the desk just ahead, Johan turned his head slightly, as though he had only been casually listening. His expression was calm, his smile faint but disarmingly gentle.
"Frightening… That's one way to see it," he said. "But isn't it natural to be given what you're worth? If the school has already judged us capable, then maybe this treatment is… appropriate."
Horikita's eyes narrowed. "That's an optimistic interpretation."
"Not optimism," Johan replied lightly. "Just faith in the system. Every gift comes with its price. We'll see ours soon enough."
He turned back to face the front, as if nothing more needed to be said.
The classroom noise swelled around them.
"Hey, hey! Do you want to check out a store with me on our way back? Let's do some shopping!" one girl called brightly.
"Sure. With this much, we can buy anything. I'm so glad I got into this school!" another replied, laughing.
The room grew lively, voices bouncing with excitement. The teacher was gone, and the students, suddenly rich, couldn't contain themselves.
Ayanokōji stayed quiet. Horikita lowered her eyes back to her book. And Johan remained perfectly still, his faint smile unchanged — watching the enthusiasm of his classmates with unreadable calm, as though he already knew where such naïve joy would lead.
"Everyone, can you please listen to me for a moment?"
A boy with neat blonde hair raised his hand. He had the calm, polished air of an honors student—straight-backed, polite, and clearly not the delinquent type.
"Starting today, we're all going to be classmates. I think it'd be good for us to introduce ourselves and get to know each other. We still have some time before the entrance ceremony. What do you say?"
He'd done what most of the class hadn't dared to attempt: taken the lead.
"Agreed! After all, we don't know each other's names yet," one girl called out.
With the ice broken, the room stirred to life.
"My name's Hirata Yousuke. Back in junior high, most people called me Yousuke. Feel free to do the same! I like sports, especially soccer—I'm hoping to play here too. Nice to meet you all!"
Hirata's confident introduction made him instantly likable. His easy smile, his approachable words—it was clear he'd already won over several students. Even the girl seated beside him looked at him with admiration.
"Well then, let's start from the front. Is that okay?" he asked.
The girl seated in the first row hesitated, but the pressure of Hirata's encouragement pushed her to stand.
"M-my name is…Inogashira Ko-Ko…"
Her words stuck in her throat. Her face paled, her body rigid with nerves.
"Do your best!"
"Don't panic!"
Voices called out encouragement, but it only seemed to make her freeze more. Laughter rippled through the room.
"It's okay to go slowly," another girl said gently. "Don't rush."
That small adjustment gave Inogashira the space she needed. Taking a shaky breath, she tried again.
"My name is Inogashira Kokoro. My hobby is sewing… I'm good at knitting. It's nice to meet you."
She bowed quickly and sat, relief flooding her face.
The introductions continued—some nervous, some loud, some strange.
"I'm Yamauchi Haruki. I played baseball in junior high. I was number four on my team, but I hurt myself at the inter-highs. I'm doing rehab now. Nice to meet you!"
A few skeptical looks were exchanged. His story didn't quite add up.
Then came Kushida Kikyou—the same girl who had helped the elderly woman on the bus. She stood with practiced cheer.
"My name is Kushida Kikyou. None of my friends from junior high came here, so I'm all alone. That's why I'd like to make lots of new friends as soon as possible! My goal is to become close with everyone in this class. After we're done with introductions, please share your contact info with me!"
Her words were warm, infectious. Unlike the others, she radiated an openness that wasn't forced. Students clapped when she finished, some smiling brightly at her.
But not everyone shared that energy.
"Tch. What are we, kids? I don't need to introduce myself," a red-haired boy spat, glaring at Hirata. His tone was sharp, rebellious.
"I can't force you," Hirata said calmly, though the rejection clearly stung. "But I don't think it's a bad thing to get along."
The red-haired boy scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and stormed out with a few others. Horikita quietly rose and followed, sparing Ayanokōji a brief glance before leaving as well.
Hirata bowed his head slightly, murmuring, "It's my fault. I pushed too hard."
"No way. You didn't do anything wrong," a girl reassured him quickly.
The introductions went on, some lighthearted, some absurd.
"I'm Ike Kanji. I love girls, and I hate pretty boys. I'm looking for a girlfriend, so if you're a cutie, let's talk!"
The girls groaned audibly, mocking him until he turned beet red.
Then came Kouenji Rokusuke, the flamboyant blond from the bus. He leaned back, placing both legs arrogantly on his desk, speaking like an aristocrat.
"My name is Kouenji Rokusuke. I am the sole heir of the Kouenji conglomerate, destined to carry Japan's future on my shoulders. Ladies, I look forward to your company."
Half the class looked starry-eyed at his wealth, while the rest stared at him like he was insane.
Finally, Hirata's gaze turned toward the back.
"Well then, the next person. Can you introduce yourself?"
"Huh?" Ayanokōji blinked. His turn had come while he was lost in thought. Too many eyes were on him now.
Clack. He stood.
"Um. My name is Ayanokōji Kiyotaka. I don't really have any special skills or hobbies. I'll do my best to get along with everyone. Nice to meet you."
His words were plain, deliberately unremarkable. A few students nodded politely, already half-distracted.
And then Johan rose from the seat just in front of him.
"My name is Johan Liebert." His voice was calm, smooth, carrying across the classroom without effort. His faint smile was polite, but it drew more eyes than even Hirata's charm had managed. "I hope we can all enjoy our time here together. I'd like to understand each of you better in time."
A few students blinked at the unfamiliar ring of his name.
"Liebert…? That doesn't sound Japanese," one boy remarked curiously.
"Yeah, where are you from?" another girl asked.
Johan's smile didn't falter. "My family moved around quite a lot. I've lived in many places. But Japan will be home for now."
His answer was gentle, perfectly vague, and yet it seemed to satisfy everyone. He sat back down gracefully, leaving behind an air of quiet intrigue.
——-
Let me now how it was
And I did make this with AI