The wind was sweeping across the barren plains, carrying with it the faint scent of dust and crushed stone. The sun was climbing slowly over the jagged horizon, casting elongated shadows across a landscape that had forgotten the hands of humanity. Birds were circling far above, their cries hollow and lonely, as if echoing through a world that had been silenced for centuries. Somewhere in the distance, a river was trickling over rocks, whispering secrets of a time long past.
Kiyotaka Ayanokōji's eyelids fluttered as he stirred from an unnatural slumber. He was lying on the hard ground, his body stiff, his senses sluggish yet hyperaware. Slowly, his mind was reconstructing what had happened, or rather, what had not happened. He remembered the school, the tests, the calculated games of hierarchy, the social chessboard he had mastered with mechanical precision. Then nothing. Silence. Cold stone.
As he pushed himself upright, his eyes swept across a horizon that was alien in its simplicity. Trees were scarce, their branches twisted and leafless, their shadows stark. Rocks jutted from the earth in jagged formations, and the air smelled of minerals rather than life. His first thought was methodical: Where am I, and how do I assess my surroundings efficiently?
Nearby, a faint metallic glint caught his attention. There was a capsule of some kind, half-buried in the rocky soil, its surface scratched and pitted as though it had been abandoned for centuries. Ayanokōji approached it cautiously, his movements precise and silent, noting every detail: weight distribution, potential contents, structural integrity. The capsule hissed faintly as he brushed debris away, revealing its contents — frozen figures, encased in clear stone, eyes closed, expressions serene.
One figure in particular drew his attention. A boy with spiky hair, striking in his unnatural paleness even through the petrification, lay at the center. Kiyotaka's gaze narrowed. Not an ordinary petrification. He knelt, analyzing every subtle contour of the figure, every line etched in stone. This one possesses intellect.
The air around him shifted suddenly, warm energy buzzing faintly, the unmistakable spark of a scientific experiment underway. Senku Ishigami, already awake from another part of the petrified world, was meticulously assembling components from what remained of a collapsed laboratory. His fingers moved with surgical precision, connecting wires, adjusting levers, his green hair catching the morning light in chaotic streaks. He hummed under his breath, entirely unaware of the new presence observing him.
"Finally…" Senku muttered, his voice low, vibrating with excitement. "A little progress. This might just work." His eyes sparkled, scanning his instruments, recalibrating with a speed that was almost inhuman. He lifted a vial of glowing liquid, analyzing its viscosity and refractive index. "If this is correct…" He paused, adjusting a dial with a slight frown, "then I can wake another batch."
Ayanokōji, still crouched behind a jagged boulder, observed silently. There was no fear, no urgency in his posture, only calculated patience. He did not speak. His mind was already cataloging the variables: the man's intelligence, the technology available, the surrounding terrain, the relative strength of awakened humans versus raw nature. Every factor mattered. Every decision was critical.
Suddenly, the capsule shivered violently. Cracks spread across its surface, the stone fragments breaking away in jagged patterns, catching the light as they fell. Ayanokōji's eyes narrowed. They are waking. Now.
One by one, figures emerged from the petrification. The first groans of awakening echoed across the rocky valley, a sound almost mournful in its strangeness. Limbs flexed stiffly, faces contorted as life returned to muscles that had forgotten motion. Eyes blinked, adjusting to light, scanning for danger, for opportunity.
Kiyotaka stepped forward, unhurried, his expression unreadable. Among the newly awakened students, a girl's eyes met his — sharp, assessing, calculating — as if the unspoken rules of the school still held even here. They did not speak; words were unnecessary. Everything was already being measured, categorized, predicted.
Senku turned abruptly, sensing movement. His eyes widened briefly, then narrowed with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Well, well… Looks like my little experiment has produced some unexpected variables." He stepped closer, his movements deliberate but non-threatening. "And who might you be?"
"I am Kiyotaka Ayanokōji," he said, his voice calm, neutral, betraying nothing. "I observe first. I decide later." His gaze swept across Senku's equipment, the fragile structures, the glowing vials. This man is competent, he thought, but predictable in pattern. That is an advantage.
Senku tilted his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Predictable, huh? That's cute. Let's see how long you stay that way." He crouched to adjust a lever, careful not to expose the fragile mechanism he had spent hours calibrating. "This is the real world now. No tests, no teachers, no safety nets. Just survival and science."
Kiyotaka's mind worked silently, calculating outcomes, mapping potential threats, estimating alliances. He did not flinch. If this man can manipulate the laws of nature, then I must manipulate the laws of people. The equation was simple: knowledge versus strategy. Science versus social calculation. And he would not be the one left behind.
Around them, the valley seemed to exhale, as if acknowledging the awakening of minds capable of reshaping the world. The wind carried the scent of earth and stone, the cries of distant creatures, and the faint echo of humanity's return.
The first alliances would form here, not through words, but through observation. The first conflicts would ignite not through anger, but through choices — who to follow, who to oppose, who to trust. Every step would matter. Every glance would count.
Kiyotaka crouched once more, surveying the newly awakened figures. "We have work to do," he murmured, though no one could hear. And the world will bend to those who act before thinking, or think before acting. I will be neither first nor last — only necessary.
Senku adjusted the final lever, and a spark ran along the apparatus, illuminating the valley with a sudden, artificial brilliance. The petrified figures shivered again, some awakening fully, some hesitant, but all alive. A new age had begun.
And in the shadow of the jagged rocks, two minds recognized the same truth: intelligence alone would not be enough. Strategy alone would not suffice. Only the one who mastered both could hope to shape the civilization rising from the ashes of stone.