There are people in this world who are called geniuses.
A cute girl with short, orange hair stood on her tiptoes, straining to reach the top of the blackboard as she wrote down her solution. The math teacher beside her could only stare, dumbfounded.
"All done, sensei."
The girl turned back, her expression flat and emotionless.
"E–every answer is correct…"
The female teacher gawked in disbelief before stammering: "But… where's the process? Didn't you write out the steps?"
"There's no such thing."
Tilting her head slightly in confusion, the girl replied, "The moment I see the numbers, the answer just appears in my head."
"Ughhh—"
The teacher staggered as if struck by a heavy blow, all the years she had devoted to her craft feeling as though they had been utterly overturned.
When it came to math and physics, none could surpass her. Her intuitive sensitivity to numbers was so overwhelming that she could look at a problem and instantly know the result.
Her height, however, was an unfortunate 143 centimeters…
She was known as the Thumbelina of mechanical science—Ogata Rizu.
"Furuhashi-san!!"
A middle-aged teacher in his forties clutched a sheet of paper to his chest, bawling as though about to collapse. "This essay is soul-shaking! It's a masterpiece of literature and art! To think I have a student like you, it's… it's…"
His tears only flowed more fiercely.
"Ah… um, I really just scribbled something down…"
The girl named Furuhashi Fumino whispered shyly, her voice fading as her cheeks reddened.
I'll repeat myself: there are those in this world who are called geniuses.
In modern literature, classical Japanese, and even ancient Chinese texts, her ability was overwhelming. With such unrivaled literary talent that even teachers could only look on in awe, she was called the Sleeping Beauty of the Forest of Words—Furuhashi Fumino.
In their respective fields, both of them were flawless, beyond question. Just by being near them, anyone could sense how extraordinary they were, their talents deserving of genuine admiration. Humanity, after all, advances thanks to the fruits of such geniuses.
And yet, for two of these prodigies to be enrolled at the same high school, Ichinose Academy…
It was, in a way—
"An absolute misfortune for me."
Hayakawa Shiro propped his chin on one hand, a can of coffee in the other, his expression deadpan.
It was a perfectly natural sentiment, wasn't it? After all, when you go to school with geniuses, no matter how hard you try, you'll never even see their backs. Anyone would feel bitter about that.
Most people would. That's normal. After all, most people are ordinary.
Especially since the classmates around him couldn't seem to shut up about those two. Even if he wanted to ignore them, he couldn't escape it.
"Ahh, Ogata-san is seriously so cute! That delicate little figure of hers, and the calm way she solves problems at the board—it's so cool! The gap between her size and her talent is just too good!"
"…."
Shiro listened silently as the chatter swelled beside him. The coffee can in his hand let out a sharp crack as he squeezed it too hard.
They were students, just like him. Yet his classmates idolized them like celebrities. Shameless.
"Furuhashi-san is amazing too, right? The Sleeping Beauty of the Forest of Words!"
A girl nearby covered her flushed face, practically swooning. "That quiet, refined aura… she feels just like a princess!"
A princess? That white-lotus act of hers? What a joke.
"Damn it!"
Shiro hurled his empty can against the rooftop wall, his face twisted with frustration. He stood fuming for a moment, then collapsed onto a rooftop bench, sprawling out in defeat.
Hayakawa Shiro—destined for greatness. He would be remembered by history like Napoleon, or feared like Nero, a man admired by countless millions.
And yet… at Ichinose Academy, he was the eternal Number Two.
Second in the sciences. Second in the liberal arts.
Top grades, all-around athletic ability, good looks, flawless social skills. Teachers adored him, classmates admired him, and confessions and love letters never ceased. His personality was even considered "gentle."
But in the end, always second place.
"Arrghhhh!!"
He stomped down on the crushed can, the metal screeching pitifully as it flattened under his shoe.
Fine then—"gentle personality" was a lie.
In truth, his desire to win was abnormally strong, to the point of obsession. In short: prideful, arrogant, stubborn, utterly incapable of accepting defeat.
In kindergarten, it was rock-paper-scissors with his teacher. In grade school, arcade Street Fighter matches with classmates. In junior high, running and swimming competitions. No matter the contest, no matter the opponent, he had to win—by any means.
If he lost even once, it was like ants crawling all over his skin, unbearable and maddening.
Lose to him, and nothing happened—that was expected. But beat him? Unlucky you. Because he would keep challenging until he crushed you completely.
And what was that? That was invincibility.
The path of the "Great Emperor Hayakawa" was meant to be one without defeat. Only that would pave his radiant golden road to glory.
Emperor Hayakawa had never allowed himself to be beneath anyone. He had marched proudly forward all his life.
But in high school—where test scores decided everything—that path shattered.
Not once had he beaten them. Those two geniuses crushed him completely in their own domains. No matter how much he struggled, he remained second.
"Guhahaha—!"
A twisted laugh erupted from Shiro's throat, a chillingly dark sound that warped the bright rooftop into something like a haunted scene. Malice radiated from him, thick enough to conjure ghosts.
"Those two… to trample me again and again like I'm nothing… I won't forgive them."
His body trembled as he sat up, eyes glinting unnaturally, his handsome features contorted as though blackened with corruption. His voice rose into a beast-like roar.
"Maybe I should drop the act—show my true nature and take revenge. If they just happened to fall gravely ill, they couldn't sit for exams, could they? Guhahaha!"
Indeed, his real personality was nothing close to gentle. To win, he'd stop at nothing.
Ding-dong!
Just as Shiro was about to begin implementing his wicked "Genius-Falling Plan," the school PA system rang out across the rooftop.
"First-year, Class 2: Hayakawa Shiro. Please report to the principal's office immediately."
"Repeating: First-year, Class 2: Hayakawa Shiro. Please report to the principal's office immediately."
"…Huh?"
Shiro blinked, sitting up. "They're calling me?"
It wasn't like he'd done anything to draw the principal's attention. Normally, he was so yasashii, so kind, so merciful. Those two ran rampant, while he had only just now decided to take revenge—surely his heart was angelic in comparison.
He chuckled smugly.
Well, whatever the reason, if the principal was asking for him, he'd better go.
And so, Hayakawa Shiro headed toward the principal's office.