As the train neared our destination, I was lost in a fitful slumber, my head nodding with each sway of the carriage. The gentle murmur of the passengers and the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks had created a soothing backdrop for my rest.
That's when I felt a light but insistent touch on my shoulder, coupled with the soft, hushed whisper of my name. "Kenji, it's time to wake up. We're almost there."
My eyelids fluttered open, and I found Ichika leaning over me, her hand still resting on my shoulder. Her voice had a sense of urgency, but it was delivered in a way that wouldn't disturb others on the train. I could see the concern in her eyes, and it jolted me from my drowsiness.
"G-good morning.." I said.
"You needed that 30-minute sleep, huh?" Ichika said while smiling at me.
I mumbled a sleepy acknowledgment and began to gather my belongings.
As we disembarked from the train, a familiar blend of sensations greeted us – the distinct smell of soot carried by the warm air and the bustling crowd of commuters going about their day. It was the typical train riding experience, something so ordinary that it bordered on mundane.
I couldn't help but notice the vending machine we had encountered the day before. It made me reflect on how much had happened in such a short time. It felt as if I had known Ichika for years, even though our reunion had only occurred the day before.
An internal thought crossed my mind, questioning how I could open up to someone so quickly. It was unusual for me, and yet, there was an undeniable sense of comfort around Ichika. I shook my head, deciding to indulge in another energy drink, reminding myself that it wasn't the healthiest choice.
Just as I began to call out to Ichika, I had a moment of hesitation. It struck me that I had consumed an energy drink yesterday, despite mentioning that I rarely drank them. I quickly retracted my desire for a drink, not wanting to make it a habit. Instead, I muttered, "It's nothing."
Ichika's curiosity was piqued, and she responded with an inquisitive "Oh?"
Panicking a little at the unexpected conversation, I needed to come up with something to say. I babbled out, "Uh, why was I… leaning my head on my seat? I remember I leaned on the pole."
Ichika's expression seemed to waver for a moment before she turned slightly red. "Well," she began, "You blocked a passenger's seat, so I moved you."
I felt a twinge of discomfort in my back, a consequence of the way I had been sleeping. Her touch had undoubtedly left an impression on me. "Thank you, Ichika," I managed to say.
As I continued to process the fact that Ichika had moved me, my thoughts meandered into daydreams that were quickly interrupted when she urged me to wake from my reverie. My heart skipped a beat, and I stumbled out, "Ah, it's nothing!"
Swiftly, I made my way up the stairs, attempting to mask my flustered state. Ichika was already at the top, and we continued our journey to school, our steps in sync as we made sure not to be late.
As we approached the school gate, the guard stood there, just as he had yesterday. The memory of my nervousness from the previous day sent a chill down my spine. I had to remember my name this time.
"Kenji, you got the email, right?" Ichika asked, her voice steady.
"Email? What are you talking about?" I replied, perplexed by her question.
"Well, you should have gotten an email with a barcode. You see how the guard scans the students' phones?" Ichika pointed to the guard as she explained.
I couldn't recall receiving any email, probably because my phone's email app was set to silent mode. I had grown tired of the constant spam emails and decided to mute, but now, I was worried.
"Check your phone. We don't want to be late," Ichika urged.
"Right," I mumbled, my anxiety growing. I checked my phone. A glance at my email app revealed a daunting number: 99+ unread emails. I was sure there were more, but none of them had seemed important. Amid the sea of emails, I found the one Ichika mentioned. It read:
'Yume No High School - Entry email: To all students of Yume No High School, please show this email at the gate to enter the school. This is a one-time barcode. Once in class, each student will receive a card for easy access to the school.'
I noticed the fine print at the end, emphasizing that I couldn't share this card with anyone; it was unique to me, bearing my name.
"Got it," I replied, relief washing over me.
We reached the gate, where Ichika showed her phone to the guard. He scanned it and allowed her to pass. I presented my phone next, my heart pounding with anxiety.
'What if this doesn't work? Will I be arrested?' I thought, panic surging through me.
Thankfully, the guard permitted my entry. I breathed a sigh of relief. Ichika was still waiting for me, her bright smile lighting up the morning. I wished we were in the same class, but for now, that seemed impossible.
"Kenjiiiiii," she said my name in a cute, drawn-out way. I couldn't help but blush at the sound of it. I lowered my gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
"W-w-what?" I stammered, my cheeks burning.
Ichika took a step closer, entering my personal space. I was usually protective of my personal space, reserving it only for family and close friends. But I realized something, I had no close friends besides Ichika. Did I even have any friends at all?
"Kenji, listen. I know we're not in the same class, and it's tough for both of us, but I want you to try your best, okay?" she said, her voice filled with genuine concern.
"Okay, I'll try my best," I replied, hoping for a hug. But there was no embrace.
"I'll walk you to your class."
"That's okay. I don't want to bother you," I said, expecting her to insist otherwise. To my surprise, she accepted my response.
"Okay then, Kenji. Have fun, alright?" She said with a warm smile.
"Thank you. You too," I replied.
As she walked away to her class, I couldn't help but wonder where her classroom was located. My class, C, was different from hers, which was B. This school was enormous.
I started to walk to my classroom. It was still early, about 20 minutes before the first lesson, yet many students were already present. I eventually reached class C and pushed the door open.
Class C awaited me as I reached the door. Upon entering, my eyes locked onto a single student engrossed in his phone – my worst-case scenario unfolding before me. The last thing I could afford was to sit in silence, especially since we had already established eye contact. My mind raced back to the contingency plans I had meticulously pondered the previous night.
One option stood before me at this very moment. It involved asking, "Is this class C?" and anticipating the other student's "Yes" response.
This would pave the way for a small talk. With a bit of luck, I could secure a seat while silently hoping that someone would swoop in to rescue me from this uncomfortable situation. All of that just to pass time, something I'm not good at with others.
To make matters more challenging, I hadn't even devised a well-fabricated story for such an inconvenient scenario, leaving me in a conundrum of uncertainty and potential embarrassment.
Well, I gotta say something, it's too awkward now.
As I cautiously pushed the door open, I found myself face to face with another student who seemed just as uneasy about the situation as I was.
"I-is this class C?" I stammered, my nerves evident.
"Uh… Yeah, it should be C," he replied, his discomfort mirroring my own.
But I couldn't just stand there in awkward silence. I needed more, some semblance of small talk to break the tension.
"Why are you here early?" I inquired, attempting to project confidence. His response was hesitant, "W-well! Uh… I-I didn't want to be late." It was a transparent lie. We both knew he, like me, was here early to avoid the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Despite this, I hesitated to point out the obvious. Even I, Kenji, wasn't entirely devoid of social tact.
"Oh yeah…? Me too. I came early to find an open seat," I asserted, subtly guiding the conversation in a direction that might lead to an invitation to sit. My recent interactions with Ichika had given me a crash course in basic social skills, something my fellow early bird seemingly lacked.
"The class is empty, you can sit anywhere," he stammered again.
It was akin to a game of chess, with strategic moves on both sides. I had made a clever maneuver that would allow me to "win material," i.e, sit down and relax. However, he countered with a check. If I chose a seat far from him, it might convey disinterest in friendship (which, truth be told, I did lack). On the other hand, sitting close would require a careful setup.
"Where should I sit, though? There are so many options," I innocently pondered, my true goal being a quiet spot at the front of the class. 'If only Ichika were here, this would be a lot easier.'
"Just sit anywhere you want," he replied, and so began the subtle dance of finding the perfect seat without conceding too much. But I wasn't about to back down.
"Why do you sit in the back?" I questioned, observing his choice of the furthest corner. It seemed counterintuitive for someone who presumably cared about their studies.
"Uh.. I can be on my phone without the teacher noticing me. He said, looking down for a moment, but there was more to that.
"Oh? That's smart. So, w-what's your name?" I asked, recognizing that social finesse was a two-way street, and I had much to learn.
As Kudo Haruto uttered his name, I reciprocated with a friendly greeting, "Nice to meet you, Kudo." The exchange continued with a hesitant inquiry about my name. My response was straightforward, "I'm Yamamoto Kenji."
"Nice to meet you too," Kudo replied with a hint of nervousness. A sigh escaped me as the dream of claiming a seat in the front rows evaporated. The unforeseen checkmate forced me to reconsider my seating strategy, and I found myself resigned to sitting beside Kudo.
Just as I was about to navigate this awkward shuffle, the door swung open. Two girls entered, their gaze fixed more on me than on Kudo. Awkwardly positioned near the door, I greeted them with a tentative, "Hi." However, interconnection was met with a fleeting glance before they resumed their conversation.
"So I told her, 'Do you have a problem with that?'"
"Haha! She should totally kill herself!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, such callousness was uncalled for. As the duo settled in the front of the class, I couldn't help but lament, 'First this stuttering nerd, and now these two…'
With limited options, I made my way across the classroom to take the seat next to Kudo. It was evident that he harbored no objections, the fear in his eyes mirrored my reluctance to question the situation.
A small paper discreetly passed from Kudo to me contained the words, "Wow, those girls must be tsunderes." Confused, I scrawled my misunderstanding on the paper, questioning the meaning of the term 'Tsundere.' Kudo's response indicated that it was a Japanese term related to character development, describing someone with an initially harsh personality who gradually reveals a warmer, friendlier side over time.
As I processed this information, I couldn't help but wonder, 'Is he genuinely clueless, or is he just remarkably naive?' The thought lingered: perhaps he believed this was an anime? (I hope so) "Oh, I didn't know that… You could be right."
Yet, deep down, I was convinced there was no way these two could be anything other than the devil incarnate.