The atmosphere in the Chairman's Office at Tokyo Koudo Ikusei High School was so still it seemed to hold time itself in place. Chairman Sakayanagi Narumori sat behind his broad desk, his gaze sharp as he examined two files that were utterly different, yet somehow connected.
On the left was a file bearing the name "Ayanokoji Kiyotaka." His Academic Ability, intelligence, judgment, and physical ability—all of his Entrance Test scores—had been marked by the system as slightly below average. Yet one glaring line under "Special Annotation" revealed something unusual: "These scores appear to have been deliberately controlled; the reason is unknown." The cold class recommendation, "CD (due to Special Annotation)," sat at the bottom like a layer of deliberately laid fog.
On the right was a file bearing the name "Shimiya Kuki." The same test categories had earned him outstanding ratings. But beneath the dazzling Report Card lay an even graver truth—"Special Annotation: The medical examination revealed multiple scars on his body. The most severe is on his chest, slanting from his left collarbone to his upper abdomen and measuring 20 centimeters. The scar indicates a deep, open wound that once posed an extremely high risk of death." His class recommendation likewise pointed to "D (due to Special Annotation)."
Two files: one concealing something deliberately, the other covered in scars. They faced each other in silent opposition amid the stillness.
"Knock, knock, knock." A measured rapping broke the silence.
"Come in."
The door swung open. A tall, handsome boy entered. His eyes were deep as an ancient well, calmly reflecting the room's furnishings, yet showing none of the curiosity or emotion one would expect from a boy his age. His posture was relaxed, but his movements held an almost instinctive coordination. His steps were precise, and he carried a composure far beyond his years. He was the outstanding student with the scars—the boy whose file lay on the desk, Shimiya Kuki.
"Hello, Chairman Sakayanagi. I'm Shimiya Kuki, here for an interview today. It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was clear and steady, without a hint of fluctuation. He bowed with the smooth precision of a movement measured down to the last detail.
"Hello, Shimiya Kuki. Please, have a seat." Sakayanagi gestured toward the sofa and regarded him with a gentle gaze.
The boy sat as instructed, his back straight and his hands resting neatly on his knees. His face showed no expression, as still as an iceberg that refused to melt.
"There's no need to be nervous. This is just a routine interview before enrollment," Sakayanagi said gently, trying to put him at ease.
"All right, Chairman." Shimiya gave a slight nod, his gaze fixed attentively on Sakayanagi to show he was listening. His face still betrayed no emotion.
Sakayanagi picked up the Report Card marked "Outstanding" and asked his first question. "So, what are your goals in enrolling here? How would you like to spend the next three years of your high school life?"
A brief silence followed. Deep in the boy's fathomless eyes, a trace of confusion seemed to pass—so faint he might not even have noticed it himself. His voice remained steady, with the frankness of someone stating a fact.
"For certain reasons, my emotions have been suppressed, or even lost. I hope to recover what I've lost and become whole again." He laid out his reasoning clearly, as if solving a math problem.
"Scientific studies show that the three places where people are most likely to experience emotions are home, school, and the workplace. I'm an orphan, so for now I've lost my family. I don't know whether I'll have one again in the future. I can enter the workplace at any time, but I only get one chance at each stage of school. So I've chosen to try to recover my lost emotions through school life first."
Beneath his concise, forceful words, his openness to the possibility of having a family again someday quietly revealed a desire for connection that had not been extinguished deep in his subconscious.
Sakayanagi lightly tapped the glaring annotation about the scars, his voice taking on a note of concern. "I see. According to your file, you have many scars, including one on your chest that could have been fatal. May I ask how you got them?" His sharp gaze met the boy's eyes, trying to pierce the calm shell of ice.
"I'm sorry, Chairman." The boy's voice lowered slightly. It remained steady, but a firm barrier stood behind it. "I can't answer that. I don't want to share those memories with anyone for now. I want Shimiya Kuki's life to begin anew with enrollment. I'm sorry." His refusal was clean and decisive, leaving no room for negotiation. Behind it, Sakayanagi sensed not coldness, but a self-protectiveness so heavy it was heartbreaking.
Sakayanagi Narumori gazed at him intently. His exceptional talents, proven by his grades; the fatal scars and unspeakable past hidden beneath his calm expression; and his fierce resolve to cut ties with the past and begin anew—all these elements intertwined in the Chairman's mind.
"I understand." Sakayanagi finally nodded, a gentle smile appearing on his face. "Then, Shimiya Kuki, welcome to Ikusei High School. I hope you can achieve your goal during your three years here. We'll contact you in advance with the specific school rules and your enrollment date. Goodbye."
"Sorry for the trouble. Goodbye." Shimiya stood and bowed, moving smoothly and silently. He turned to leave, his straight back carrying a lonely, desolate air. The door closed softly, sealing off the room from the outside.
Sakayanagi Narumori leaned back in his chair and looked again at Shimiya Kuki's file on the desk. The only sound in the office was the clock's ticking, like the quiet turning of fate's second hand.
A genius whose Report Card shone with "Outstanding."
A boy whose body was marked by fatal scars, his gaze as still as a fathomless pool.
A soul yearning to recover its emotions at school and reshape itself.
A resolute declaration that sealed away a heavy past completely.
Sakayanagi picked up his pen and carefully wrote his assessment and final ruling in the blank space at the bottom of the file. His strokes held both scrutiny and a trace of hope:
[Chairman's Comments and Class Assignment Ruling:]
"This student possesses outstanding fundamentals. His Academic Ability, intelligence, judgment, and physical fitness are all at an excellent level. However, he bears the marks of extraordinary trauma, his past is shrouded in mystery, and he shows significant psychological irregularities (a lack of emotional expression and strong defensive mechanisms).
"By conventional standards, the risks to his mental and physical well-being are significant, making him a good fit for Class D (Flawed Product). However, he has clearly expressed a strong desire to 'make enrollment a new beginning in life' and 'reshape himself through school life.' That desire itself shows that his core consciousness remains malleable and inclined toward good; his inner self has not been completely twisted or hardened by his past. He is like a 'sheet of paper' stained by the past, but with its true color still unknown, awaiting a fresh start.
"If placed directly in a Class C or D environment, his potential instability and the shadows of his past would very likely lead to destructive behavior under the pressure of competition, possibly even making him a disruptive force. Class A demands purity and a high degree of control, and his emotional absence and potential risk of trauma do not meet those standards. After weighing his exceptional fundamentals, his desire to reshape himself, and the potential risks, I hereby rule that he be placed in Class B.
"Class B's atmosphere is relatively calm, its competition primarily healthy, and its interpersonal pressures moderate. Moreover, a student with distinct qualities who has already passed the interview, Ichinose Honami, has a strong capacity for acceptance and positive guidance. This environment is most likely to provide the stable space and gentle soil he needs to 'write anew,' allowing the kindness still alive within him to take root and flourish and helping him develop in a healthy, well-rounded direction. I hope he can find his own colors in Class B."
Sakayanagi finished writing and placed Shimiya Kuki's file in the stack marked "Processed." His gaze immediately shifted to the file beside it, the one belonging to Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, with its "CD" recommendation.
"Now, the next one..." he murmured. Once again, someone knocked on the office door.
Some time later, on a path through the cherry-blossom-filled grounds of Ikusei High School.
Shimiya Kuki, having just completed his enrollment procedures, was heading toward the dormitories. For the first time, he truly took in his surroundings without any particular purpose. Lush trees swayed gently in the breeze. The clean School Buildings reflected the sunlight. Small groups of students in brand-new uniforms wore expressions of excitement about the future or nervousness at being in a new place. To him, it all felt as unfamiliar as another world.
"Emotions... wholeness..." he murmured, repeating his goal. His voice faded into the flower-scented breeze without stirring any emotional echo, hollow as a valley's reply.
As he passed through a grove of cherry trees, their blossoms as white as snow and rosy as clouds, the faint sound of a gentle girl's voice reached him, accompanied by a kind laugh.
"It's all right, don't worry. Let me help you to the infirmary, okay? Careful..."
The warmth in her voice made him glance instinctively in its direction—
Under a cherry tree not far away, a girl with honey-colored hair reaching her waist was crouched on the ground, carefully checking the ankle of another girl who seemed to have sprained it. Sunlight filtered through the layers of petals and fell across her like scattered gold. She looked up and smiled at her injured classmate. Her smile was pure, bright, and free of shadows, warm enough to melt the hardest ice. It brimmed with unguarded sincerity and kindness.
That smile was a sudden burst of light, striking Shimiya Kuki's frozen field of vision.
His footsteps faltered almost imperceptibly.
For the first time, his eyes—which had always remained calm and untroubled, reflecting the world while refusing to resonate with it—were genuinely drawn to something. They lingered. It was as though a tiny but burning stone had been tossed into a frozen lake.
A ripple so faint and unfamiliar that he couldn't begin to understand it spread, slowly and tentatively, through the depths of his silent heart. He didn't know that the girl with the snow-melting smile was named Ichinose Honami. Nor could he have known that in the cruel classrooms of Ikusei High School, where the doctrine was "Survival of the Fittest," this kindness—so seemingly "fragile" in the face of competition—would become his only point of reference as he redefined himself and searched for the meaning of emotion.
His new life began with that silent gaze.
Beneath the ice, a seed called "being moved" quietly fell into his barren heart.
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