So there I sat, strategically positioned in the middle of the bus where I could observe without being too obvious about it.
Ichinose had chosen a seat several rows ahead, her back ramrod straight, that waterfall of strawberry-blonde hair cascading down to the seat. She was pointedly not looking in my direction, though I caught her stealing glances at my reflection in the window.
I smirked and turned my attention to the other passengers. The bus was filling with the walking dead – salarymen with hollow eyes staring at their phones, office ladies with practiced smiles that never reached their eyes, all of them trapped in the hamster wheel of modern existence.
Wake up, commute, work, commute, sleep, repeat until death.
My gaze drifted back to Ichinose. She was different from the rest. While the adults around her moved through life like programmed automatons, she radiated a kind of earnest energy. She actually believed in the system. She thought if she worked hard enough, played by the rules, and smiled at the right moments, life would reward her with happiness.
I didn't hate her for it. You can't hate a fish for swimming or a bird for flying. That's just what they do. In some ways, I found her fascinating – like finding a unicorn in a slaughterhouse.
The bus droned on, swallowing more passengers at each stop. The mundane cityscape rolled past the windows – convenience stores, apartment blocks, vending machines, all the familiar trappings of a life I had zero interest in living. I closed my eyes, letting the gentle vibrations of the road lull me into a half-sleep.
"Excuse me. A question, if you'll permit me. Is that striking shade of violet your natural hair color? It's simply exquisite."
The voice jolted me from my reverie – female, melodic, with an undertone that immediately set off warning bells in my head. I opened my eyes to find myself staring into pools of deep crimson.
The girl standing in the aisle was beautiful in a way that transcended conventional standards. Her jet-black hair fell in a perfect hime-cut, framing a face that belonged on a porcelain doll.
She wore the same uniform as Ichinose, but somehow it looked entirely different on her – less like a school requirement and more like formal attire she had chosen specifically to complement her natural elegance.
I recovered quickly. "Does it matter? The effect is the same either way, don't you think?"
Her eyes lit up with something that looked disturbingly like hunger. "Oh, it matters a great deal. An artificial choice speaks of aesthetic and intent. A natural state speaks of a genetic jackpot. Both are fascinating gambles." She gestured to the empty seat beside me. "May I?"
I nodded, intrigued by this strange creature who spoke of hair color as if discussing philosophical principles.
"You didn't answer my question," the girl said, her voice soft enough that only I could hear.
"It's natural," I replied, studying her face for a reaction. "A genetic anomaly, according to the doctors who examined me as a child."
"How fascinating. Genetic anomalies are nature's way of experimenting, don't you agree? Like a dealer changing the rules mid-game to see what happens." She extended a delicate hand. "Yumeko Jabami. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
I took her hand, noting the surprising strength in her grip. "Toshiro Nishida."
"Nishida-san," she repeated. "You're attending Advanced Nurturing as well?"
"What gave it away? The uniform or the direction this bus is heading?"
She laughed. "Your eyes, actually. Another player in this great game."
I raised an eyebrow. This girl wasn't just unusual – she was dangerous. Where Ichinose had been an open book, Yumeko was a puzzle box with hidden compartments and false bottoms.
"And what game would that be, Jabami-san?"
Her smile widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Life, Nishida-san. What other game matters this much?"
Before I could respond, a booming voice shattered our little verbal sparring match.
"SHIRO! NO WAY!"
The entire bus seemed to vibrate with the force of that shout. Heads turned, conversations paused, and even Yumeko's perfect composure slipped for a fraction of a second.
Barreling down the aisle like a human freight train was Ichirou Nakatani – six feet two inches of pure, unbridled enthusiasm wrapped in an Advanced Nurturing uniform that looked one size too small across his broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was its usual mess, his grin wide enough to split his face in half.
"Man, I was hoping I'd see you! You ready for this? Three years of no parents nagging us! It's gonna be awesome!"
He clapped a hand on my shoulder with enough force to rock me in my seat. I couldn't help it – the practiced mask of cool indifference I'd been wearing cracked, and a genuine smile spread across my face.
"Ichirou. You're as loud as ever," I said. "Sit down before you cause a traffic accident."
Ichirou glanced at Yumeko, his expression momentarily uncertain before defaulting back to its natural state of friendly openness. "Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt. I'm Ichirou Nakatani, Shiro's best friend since middle school!"
Yumeko tilted her head, her crimson eyes fixed on Ichirou with the same intensity she'd shown me. "A pleasure, Nakatani-kun. I'm Yumeko Jabami. I was just getting acquainted with your friend."
Ichirou squeezed into the seat across the aisle, his large frame making the standard bus seat look like child's furniture. "Yeah? Shiro's not giving you a hard time, is he? He can be kind of an ass when you first meet him."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the character reference."
"Hey, I'm just being honest! Remember when you told our math teacher his lesson was 'an exercise in intellectual futility' and walked out?"
"The man was teaching us how to solve quadratic equations with a calculator. It was futility."
Ichirou laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "See what I mean?" he said to Yumeko, who was watching our exchange with unnerving focus.
"I find honesty refreshing," she said. "Even when it's wrapped in rudeness."
Ichirou nodded vigorously. "That's Shiro in a nutshell! Rude but honest." He began digging through his backpack, producing crumpled papers, snack wrappers, and finally, his school admission packet. "Hey, what class did you get? I'm in 1-C! Hopefully, we can still dominate the basketball court together!"
I pulled out my own packet, confirming what I already knew. "1-C."
Yumeko's eyes widened slightly, her lips curving into a smile that reminded me of a cat who'd just cornered a particularly interesting mouse. "What a delightful coincidence. I am also in Class 1-C."
From a few rows ahead, a familiar voice joined our conversation. Ichinose had turned fully in her seat, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "You're all... in Class C? I'm 1-B."
"That's cool!" Ichirou exclaimed.
How is that cool?
Ichinose hesitated, then gathered her bag and moved to sit in the empty seat beside Ichirou. "I suppose we should get to know each other, then, if we'll be in the same school."
"Great idea! I'm Ichirou Nakatani," he said, offering his hand with puppyish enthusiasm.
"Honami Ichinose," she replied, taking his hand with a smile that could melt glaciers. "It's nice to meet you."
"Yumeko Jabami," Yumeko introduced herself.
Class 1-C. What did that designation mean? The school materials had been intentionally vague about the class sorting system.
Was it random? Based on entrance exams? Or something else entirely?
The bus turned onto an elevated highway, and suddenly the cityscape gave way to open water. A massive white bridge stretched before us, connecting the mainland to what appeared to be a private island in the distance.
"Whoa," Ichirou breathed, pressing his face against the window. "Look at that! It's like something out of a sci-fi movie!"
He wasn't wrong. As we crossed the bridge, Advanced Nurturing High School came into view, and it was clear this was no ordinary educational institution. Gleaming white buildings rose from carefully manicured grounds. Modern architecture blended seamlessly with green spaces. The entire campus was surrounded by the blue expanse of the ocean, isolated and self-contained.
The bus fell silent as everyone took in the sight. The regular commuters had all departed at earlier stops. Only students remained, all of us heading toward that pristine island prison.
"It's gorgeous," Ichinose whispered, her blue eyes reflecting the approaching campus.
"It's isolated," I corrected, my voice low. "No way on or off except by that bridge."
Yumeko's eyes gleamed with excitement. "The best games always have clearly defined boundaries, Nishida-san. It raises the stakes."
Ichirou nudged me with his elbow. "Come on, Shiro, this is going to be great! Look at those sports fields! And I bet the dorms are way nicer than the ones we saw in the brochures."
I glanced around at my three new schoolmates, each with their own distinct reaction to our approaching future.
Ichinose, all earnest optimism and proper posture.
Yumeko, vibrating with barely contained excitement for whatever "games" she thought awaited her.
And Ichirou, my oldest friend, seeing only the superficial benefits of our new environment.
None of them fully grasped what I already knew: we were leaving the real world behind.
Whatever waited for us on that island was an experiment, with us as the willing subjects.
As the bus rolled toward the security checkpoint at the base of the bridge, I leaned back in my seat, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips.
If this was to be my cage for the next three years, at least it would be an interesting one, populated with some very intriguing fellow captives.
Class 1-C. Whatever that designation truly meant, I had a feeling it was going to be anything but boring.