"This is a priority seat, you know..."
"And I have absolutely no interest in contributing to society."
The argument over the vacant seat was escalating. From his own spot near the exit, Akira Suzuki decided to end it. He stood and gestured to the elderly woman caught in the middle of the dispute.
"Ma'am," he said gently. "Please, take my seat."
"Oh, thank you, young man."
Akira offered a slight nod, steadying her elbow with one hand as she sat down before he retreated to lean against a nearby pillar. As the bus swayed, a refreshing scent of gardenia drifted over to him. He looked up and was met by a pair of smiling eyes.
A girl with light brown hair tilted her head, her movements in sync with the gentle rock of the bus, a lock of her hair brushing lightly across her shoulder. When she saw he'd noticed her, she gave a soft, appreciative nod, a dimple flashing for a moment at the corner of her lips.
"Thank you for your help just now, classmate."
Akira shook his head. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Thank you for contributing to society," the girl said, her own smile radiant. "You really helped me out of a bind. My name is Kushida Kikyo. It's nice to meet you."
"Suzuki Akira," he replied with a small nod. "A pleasure, Kushida-san."
After the brief exchange, the bus carriage fell quiet once more. Akira's gaze, however, lingered on her hair.
So it really is light brown, he thought.
Even after some time in this new world, he was still taken aback by the vibrant hair colors all around him. Everyone had East Asian features, yet the hair of the people on the street was as varied as an overturned painter's palette; it was almost impossible to find two identical shades. It felt perfectly in line with the aesthetics of an anime.
But that was the only anomaly. Everything else here was frighteningly real. The feeling of air filling his lungs, the warmth of the sun on his skin, the breeze whispering past his ear—it was all saturated with the undeniable breath of life.
One moment he was working overtime, the next he opened his eyes to find he had returned to his sixteen-year-old body in a strange new world. A single directive had appeared in his mind:
[Main Task: Successfully graduate from the Advanced Nurturing High School.]
To aid him, a peculiar ability had manifested: the "Daily Intelligence System." Every morning at 8 a.m. sharp, the system would refresh with three new pieces of intelligence. As a light novel fan in his previous life, Akira quickly understood this was his cheat code, a tool to help him navigate the school's challenges.
"But why an intelligence system?" he had grumbled to himself. "Not a study system? Or some god-tier learning ability? Does that mean the real difficulty in graduating from this place isn't the exams, but something else entirely?"
Still, something was better than nothing.
He mentally followed the system's prompt, flicking his little finger three times—a strange but necessary gesture to access the information he'd received yesterday. In the next second, three lines of text shimmered into existence on his retina, glowing with a faint blue light:
[Intelligence 1: On the first day of school at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School, a conflict will erupt between Kushida Kikyo and Koenji Rokusuke on the bus over the issue of ceding a priority seat to an elderly person.]
[Intelligence 2: Kushida Kikyo is two-faced.]
[Intelligence 3: There is a serious misjudgment in Koenji Rokusuke's assessment. His eccentric behavior angered the interviewer, causing his exceptional intelligence and judgment to be deliberately downgraded to D-rank.]
Akira's focus remained on the first piece of intel. It was because of this warning that he had left home thirty minutes early, boarded the bus at the first stop, and chosen a seat by the window, all to verify the system's authenticity.
And now, everything had unfolded exactly as described. A girl named Kushida Kikyo was in a heated argument with a classmate named Koenji Rokusuke over giving up a seat. It seemed the system was perfectly reliable.
But the second piece of intelligence left him puzzled.
Two-faced? Does that mean this is all an act?
His eyes unconsciously drifted back to Kushida. Her light brown hair fell softly over her shoulders, framing delicate, perfectly proportioned features. That, combined with her proactive effort to secure a seat for the elderly woman, painted the picture of a perfect angel.
Yet, the system had told him otherwise. Was this gentle, kind persona just a carefully constructed illusion?
The more Akira considered it, the stranger the situation seemed. Koenji had brazenly taken a priority seat, and Kushida had vehemently insisted he give it up. But her methods were… calculated. She skillfully incited the emotions of the surrounding passengers, turning the pressure of public opinion into her weapon.
Would a truly kind person use social coercion to force a classmate to give up his seat?
Suddenly, it clicked. If this was all part of her plan, then every strange detail made perfect sense.
But to what end? What was she trying to achieve?
He noticed the occasional glances from other students on the bus, and the ghost of a smile that briefly touched Kushida's lips.
I see, he realized.
She's deliberately crafting a public image to draw attention.
The bus slowed to a halt, and an electronic voice chimed through the speakers.
"Now arriving at the Advanced Nurturing High School. Now arriving at the Advanced Nurturing High School."
"Ah, we're here already!" Kushida said. Her eyes flickered for a second to a figure behind her, her brow furrowing slightly, but the expression vanished so quickly it might have been an illusion. "Well," she said, her signature bright smile back in place, "see you later, Suzuki-san. I hope we're in the same class!"
With that, she hopped gracefully off the bus and disappeared into the throng of students on the platform.
Akira looked back thoughtfully. A beautiful, literary-type girl—whose cool demeanor reminded him of Yukinoshita Yukino—closed the hardcover book in her hands and stood up. She walked past him without a glance, her long black hair tracing a cool arc in the air, leaving behind a faint, elegant scent of old paper. Close behind her, a young man with light brown hair followed silently. His gaze met Akira's for a moment, completely expressionless, before he too vanished through the doors.
Akira slowly followed the crowd off the bus, his mind turning over the third piece of intelligence.
That must be Koenji Rokusuke.
He caught a glimpse of the blond-haired student stretching languidly, his nonchalant attitude practically designed to grate on people's nerves. But what was more concerning was the information about his evaluation.
"The interviewer was unhappy… deliberately lowered the rating…"
The words echoed in his mind, connecting into a startling possibility.
Does this school secretly categorize its students by ability?
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