Ayanokoji's POV
April. The school entrance ceremony. 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 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.
However, like everyone else, I didn't move. None of us had thought it necessary to move. The boy's attitude and remarks aside, everyone on the bus had, for the most part, agreed with him.
Now, of course, the elderly have undeniable worth to Japan. But we, the youth, will continue to support Japan into the future. Also, considering that our society ages more and more every year, you could say that our youthful value only increases. So, if you were to examine both the elderly and the young and ask yourself which group is more valuable, the answer should be obvious. That's really the perfect argument, wouldn't you say?
But still, I wondered what the others would do. As I looked around, I saw two kinds of people: those who had pretended not to have heard anything and those who looked hesitant.
However, the girl sitting next to me was different. She alone wasn't swept up by the confusion. Her face remained expressionless.
While I unintentionally stared at her, our eyes met for an instant. Even without speaking a word, I could tell that we shared the same opinion. Neither of us considered it necessary to give up our seat.
Another passenger caught my attention as well. Standing a little ways down the aisle, a tall boy in our same uniform leaned lightly against a handrail, a book open in his hands. He had long limbs and a frame that made him stand out even in the crowded bus, though his posture was relaxed, almost indifferent. Unlike the others, he seemed entirely detached from the commotion, turning a page without even glancing up.
The title caught my eye: Night on the Galactic Railroad. I couldn't tell whether he was actually absorbed in it or merely using it as a convenient excuse to ignore the situation, but his composure contrasted sharply with the heated exchange happening nearby. His stillness was so pronounced that it almost seemed deliberate—like he was making a statement by not making one.
That calm, unreadable attitude wasn't unlike my own. In fact, I felt that if anyone else on the bus truly understood my perspective, it would probably be him.
However, just when I assumed he'd continue reading and remain uninvolved, he closed his book with a soft thud. Slowly, almost lazily, he straightened his posture. His eyes flicked toward the elderly woman, then back to the arguing trio, as though calculating the timing of his next move.
With a small, oddly rehearsed smile, he cleared his throat. "Madam," he said in a voice that carried just enough, "please, take my seat. It would be a tragedy if the stars of our journey dimmed before they had the chance to shine."
His words were strange. Poetic, almost theatrical. He gestured with a half-bow that was probably meant to look gallant, but it came off stilted, like an actor reciting lines he'd memorized without quite grasping their weight. The elderly woman blinked in confusion, then offered him a grateful nod as she slowly sat down.
The office lady gave him a quick, approving smile, though the boy in the priority seat looked entirely unimpressed.
The tall student seemed satisfied with himself, brushing invisible dust from his blazer before resuming his place against the handrail. His book remained closed in his hand, as if he wanted to be seen as both magnanimous and intellectual.
Charming, perhaps, in his own mind. But to me, his performance felt forced—like he was trying to emulate someone he admired, without having the natural ease to make it convincing.
Still, in the silence that followed, I couldn't help but think he had at least succeeded in one regard: he had shifted the mood, if only slightly. The girl beside me tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity. The elderly woman sat more comfortably now, spared from further conflict.
And me? I simply returned my gaze to the window. The bus rumbled on, carrying us toward the school gates.
Akihiko POV
...ah. That was... awkward.
I stayed standing, one hand loosely gripping the rail, the other holding my book closed against my chest like a shield. My "performance"—if you could even call it that—was still rattling around in my skull, each line replaying with the dull thud of secondhand embarrassment.
"Stars of our journey dimmed before they had the chance to shine"? Really?
I could practically hear Yui laughing at me from somewhere in memory. Cyrano would have turned my clumsy line into music. Me? I just sounded like a kid trying too hard. Which, admittedly, I was.
I shifted my weight, jaw tightening, eyes glued to the passing blur of buildings outside the window. If I pretended to be absorbed in the scenery, maybe I could outrun the lingering echo of my own theatrics.
And then—
"Um... excuse me."
A voice. Soft, tentative.
I blinked and turned, only to find the girl from earlier—the one who had stood up to the blond boy—right in front of me. Kushida Kikyo, I would later learn, though at that moment I only registered her as "the brave one."
She held both my hands in hers, small fingers warm and earnest, her big, watery eyes lifted up toward me in a way I'd only ever seen in cheap anime. "Thank you so much for giving up your seat. You're so kind. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't stepped in..."
I froze.
Pretty girl. Very pretty girl. Talking to me. Holding my hands.
...ah.
My ears warmed, though my face, mercifully, stayed blank. I swallowed, forcing down every idiot impulse—every thought screaming say something clever, say something poetic, she'll think you're cool if you—
No. Absolutely not. Not again.
"Think nothing of it," I muttered, gently freeing one hand to tug my book open again. The words sounded flat, even curt, but that was fine. Better blunt than humiliating myself with another Cyrano impersonation.
Her grip loosened slightly, disappointment flickering across her features, but she still smiled. "You're really amazing, you know. Not many people would've done that."
I gave the smallest shrug, lowering my eyes back to the page. No eye contact. No grand gestures. Just the safety of printed words.
Because the truth was simple: I wasn't Cyrano. Not even close. And trying to be would only dig me deeper into the kind of awkwardness I'd never crawl out of.
So I stood there, feigning calm, while inside, every nerve buzzed like I'd just been caught playing dress-up in front of an audience I desperately wanted to impress.
The moment the bus screeched to a halt at the gates of the Advanced Nurturing High School, everyone else poured out in neat little clusters—tidy uniforms, hushed excitement, the kind of nervous chatter that came with beginnings.
Me? I slipped out with the crowd and then immediately peeled away.
The grand entrance ceremony was supposed to be the "important" start to this prestigious school year. The principal would give a speech, people would clap, names would be called, and students would clap again. A perfectly respectable performance.
But honestly? That wasn't my performance.
I had more pressing matters.
Like finding my new hideout.
It was a tradition now, something I'd done at every stage of my life. The First Hideout: an abandoned shed behind my family's summer villa. The Second: the top branches of a crooked persimmon tree, its bark tearing my palms raw the first time I climbed it. The Third: a boarded-up shack by the river where I used to stuff snacks and half-read books until my brothers caught me. The Fourth: an old warehouse where I tried (and failed) to build a telescope out of kitchen junk.
And now—the Fifth.
"Hideouts are necessary," I muttered to myself as I walked away from the swelling crowd. "They're not just about running away. They're about... claiming space. A territory that answers to no one but me."
I could almost hear Yui's giggle in the back of my mind, mocking me. You just want somewhere to eat snacks without Father finding out.
"Untrue," I whispered under my breath, ignoring the stares of a few students who passed by. "Hideouts are strategy. Hideouts are survival."
This school was perfect for the next one. It wasn't just a school—it was practically a city, a self-contained world with shops, dorms, classrooms, entertainment, all meticulously designed to cradle teenage life like a fragile little bird. A paradise, they called it. For me, that meant unlimited opportunities.
I wandered past the dormitories, the convenience stores already buzzing with students testing their new privileges, the artificial greenery that framed the walkways. Every path led to more paths, branching out like an endless labyrinth. I traced them with my eyes, already imagining where the cracks might be—storage sheds, unused classrooms, maybe even rooftops.
"If I find the right place... it'll be perfect. Fifth generation. The magnum opus of hideouts. Cyrano himself would approve," I said, before realizing I had spoken aloud again. My cheeks warmed. I snapped my book shut and stuffed it under my arm, pretending like I hadn't just outed myself as a lunatic on day one.
Minutes passed. Then longer. My watch ticked, reminding me of reality: the ceremony had already started. I should've been lined up, a nameless body in a neat row of uniforms. Instead, I was ducking around back halls and fenced-off areas, squinting at shadows and testing locked doors.
One door—a metal one behind the gymnasium—looked promising. I tugged at the handle. Locked. Another spot, the roof access to the library. Also locked.
My "brilliant" hunt was devolving into me pacing in circles, muttering about the merits of solitude while the rest of the student body was dutifully absorbing the grand speech about the "future of Japan."
"Fantastic," I sighed, glancing at the clock again. "My grand debut as a high schooler: skipping the ceremony to play treasure hunt with myself. Yui would laugh herself silly if she saw me now."
I hesitated, staring at the artificial sky-blue dome stretching over the campus. The sheer size of this place sank in all over again—it was endless. Too endless. Even if I found a hideout today, who knew if I'd ever need it? With everything provided, every corner patrolled, every resource handed to us, was there even a point?
Still. Some habits die harder than reason.
Finally, the reality of time hit me like a brick. My pocket watch glared back at me—five minutes until class assembly. The ceremony might've been optional in my warped logic, but showing up late to my very first homeroom? Even I wasn't reckless enough for that.
"Damn it," I hissed, breaking into a jog. My shoes slapped against the pristine pavement, My book thumped against my ribs with every step.
I weaved past clusters of students already on their way to classrooms, ignoring the stares at the tall boy who looked more like he was running from something than toward it. In a way, both were true.
By the time I reached the Class 1-B door, my lungs burned, my hair was sticking to my forehead, and my heart drummed out the rhythm of my idiocy.
Hideouts could wait. For now, there was only this—
The beginning.