Kushida Kikyo

Time rewound slightly.

Inside the train car, a mix of murmured emotions and the engine's hum persisted. Shimiya Kuki leaned against the cold window, his breathing steady and deep, his sleep isolating him from the surrounding noise. He remained completely unaware of the small conflict unfolding near the front of the car.

Near the door, an old woman with graying hair and a cane stood hunched, clearly struggling to remain upright. She was positioned beside a seat by the aisle—one conspicuously marked as a "Priority Seat." Sitting in that spot, which should have been offered up without hesitation, was a strikingly noticeable male student.

He was powerfully built, with a mane of dazzling, shoulder-length golden hair that cascaded like a waterfall. His features were handsome to the point of being almost otherworldly, and he lounged lazily against the backrest, as if nothing around him concerned him. Between this imposing youth and the old woman stood a girl.

She had soft, neatly trimmed brown hair and wore the uniform of Ikusei High School. Given the special nature of the school's introduction, she was likely a new student like me. The fact that she was already in uniform before even stepping onto campus suggested she was probably the type of model student teachers favored.

This brown-haired girl furrowed her delicate brows slightly, her fair face carrying an unmistakable seriousness and resolve. Her sharp gaze fixed directly on Takanoji, who sat in the priority seat, and her voice cut clearly through the surrounding murmurs:

"Don't you think you should give up your seat?"

Her voice traveled clearly through the now-quiet front half of the car, naturally drawing the attention of those nearby. For a moment, many eyes focused on the imposing youth, carrying curiosity, scrutiny, or unspoken agreement.

"You over there—can't you see the old lady is struggling?" The brown-haired girl spoke again, her tone heavier, with undisguised accusation. This time, her voice echoed even more clearly through the car, pointedly directed at the imposing youth, once again emphasizing the old woman's difficult situation.

But the youth's reaction surprised many. He didn't immediately get angry, nor did he ignore her or obediently comply. Instead, a grin spread across his handsome face, tinged with a cynical, condescending air. He spoke slowly, elegantly crossing his legs again in a gesture that made him seem even more languid and dismissive:

"That's a Crazy question, Pretty girl."

He lifted his chin slightly, carrying an innate sense of superiority as he added, "But, Girl, I am indeed a healthy young man. Standing wouldn't be particularly inconvenient for me, but it's obviously more tiring than sitting. I have no intention of doing something pointless with no benefit. I, Takanoji Rokusuke, am destined to support this nation's future. Compared to this old grandma, who can no longer contribute much to society, I, as a young person, am clearly more important. So the answer is obvious, isn't it?"

This sneering response, his flippant attitude, and his utterly arrogant declaration instantly made the atmosphere extremely tense and awkward. The old woman grew even more flustered, as if she wanted to say something but didn't dare. The surrounding students showed expressions of shock, disbelief, dissatisfaction, or pure amusement at the spectacle, and whispers began to rise again.

The brown-haired girl clearly hadn't expected such a reaction. Takanoji's contempt, his naked utilitarianism, and his impenetrable attitude left her at a loss. Her fair face flushed slightly with anger, and her chest rose and fell. She took a deep breath, ready to argue her case again.

Just then, Takanoji's smile faded a little. His narrow eyes narrowed further, carrying a mocking look as if examining an insect, and he spoke again, his voice clearly overriding the words the brown-haired girl hadn't yet spoken:

"Oh? Troubled? I'm just stating facts. This 'old grandma's' presence is indeed causing me inconvenience. And," his gaze swept like a cold probe over the silent or restless students around him, finally landing back on the brown-haired girl, his tone dripping with sarcasm:

"Your existence as a hypocrite is what truly bothers me. Deep down, you're thinking, 'Someone should give up their seat,' but you have to put on a show of caring for others and stand on a moral high ground to boss people around. And you lot," he gestured casually and contemptuously with his long fingers at the students around him who were either looking down or glancing away, "you see an old woman standing, and you all think someone should give up a seat, but you stay silent because you can't be bothered or you're waiting for someone else to step up. This collective hypocrisy and cowardice is more disgusting than this old grandma standing here."

His words, like poisoned ice blades, mercilessly pierced the thin veneer of calm in the car, laying bare the hidden thoughts of many—the shameful selfishness, timidity, and hesitation. Several students he pointed at flushed red with embarrassment, lowering their heads or averting their eyes, but their bodies seemed nailed to their seats, even more afraid to move.

The brown-haired girl's face instantly turned pale. The immense humiliation, the embarrassment of being exposed in public, and a surge of anger left her momentarily speechless. A hint of moisture even glistened in her bright eyes, and she bit her lower lip hard to keep that fragility from showing.

Takanoji seemed satisfied with the effect of his words, as if he'd accomplished some trivial task. He leaned lazily back into his seat, as if his shocking remarks had merely brushed away a speck of dust.

However, faced with Takanoji's naked humiliation and the surrounding deathly silence and collective shame, the brown-haired girl's heaving chest wasn't a sign of collapse. The grievance and embarrassment didn't make her retreat; instead, they were like wood thrown into a furnace, igniting the fiercer, more resilient part of her character. She straightened her back abruptly. The pure determination to help the old woman hadn't been extinguished; instead, it burned brighter and more firmly.

She no longer directed her words solely at the immovable Takanoji. Instead, she resolutely turned to face the entire car, raising her voice clearly enough for everyone to hear. Her crisp, pleasant tone carried an undeniable, penetrating force, ringing distinctly through every corner of the car:

"Excuse me, everyone! Is there any student who could give this old grandma a seat? She's having a hard time standing. Please!"

This clear request, at a volume noticeably louder than the previous conversation, carried strong emotion and penetrating power. It was like a boulder thrown into a suppressed deep pool, stirring up powerful ripples. It pierced through the background noise, through the suffocating atmosphere Takanoji had created, and finally broke through the deep barrier of Shimiya Kuki's sleep.

Shimiya Kuki was jolted awake by this raised voice, charged with emotion and force.

He slowly opened his eyes. Beneath his thick eyelashes, his jet-black pupils still held a trace of lingering drowsiness, like a thin mist on the surface of a deep pool. His face showed no displeasure or emotional fluctuation at being disturbed, only a calm as deep as the sea.

He quietly let his eyes adjust to the slightly dim light inside the car (affected by the blue seawater outside the window), then calmly turned his gaze toward the source of the sound—the front of the car near the door.

He saw the brown-haired girl standing there, her face carrying a stubborn defiance after being humiliated and a stronger plea. He also saw the old woman beside her, leaning on her cane, looking isolated and helpless, and the arrogant, golden-haired male student who called himself "Takanoji Rokusuke." The air was thick with the aftermath of the clash, the cold sarcasm Takanoji had left behind, and a vast, awkward silence.

Just then, near the window in the middle of the car, a figure stood up steadily.

Shimiya Kuki rose from his seat and stood in the aisle, his position unchanged. His movement was simple and natural. His gaze calmly passed through the crowd toward the brown-haired girl and the old woman, and his voice, not loud but clear, cut through the car's silence:

"Please sit here."

His voice was flat, without any inflection, simply stating a fact. He pointed to the seat by the window he had just vacated.

The old woman was taken aback, as if confused by this sudden kindness. The brown-haired girl reacted first. A radiant smile of gratitude and warmth bloomed on her face, like sunlight breaking through clouds—sincere and bright, as if it could instantly dispel the gloom left by Takanoji's words. "Ah! Thank you so much, classmate!"

She said this sincerely, her voice crisp and pleasant, carrying a relieved joy. She quickly and carefully helped the still-uncertain old woman, her movements gentle and respectful. "Grandma, this classmate has given you his seat. Please come sit here! Watch your step."

With the girl's attentive help, the old woman finally settled into the window seat. "Thank you, thank you, good child..." The old woman kept thanking Shimiya Kuki, who stood in the aisle, her wrinkled face full of gratitude and kindness.

Shimiya Kuki merely gave a slight nod, acknowledging the thanks, his face still calm and unruffled. He stood quietly in the aisle beside his seat, as if he had done nothing more than a trivial thing.

Takanoji's gaze shifted over again, this time with a hint of amusement and deeper scrutiny. He sized up Shimiya Kuki, from his calm, expressionless face to his upright but slightly lean frame. Those narrow eyes gleamed with insight, and the corners of his mouth curled into his signature mocking arc: "Oh? So it's not all hypocrites and cowards here. But..." He drew out his tone, his voice clearly reaching Shimiya Kuki's ears, carrying an interest like examining a specimen:

"Your act of giving up your seat is essentially no different from theirs. It's still a choice made based on some social conditioning of 'should.' The only difference is that you overcame that trivial sense of 'bother,' while they were trapped by it. In essence, you're all puppets driven by programming. Interesting."

Takanoji's words remained sharp, directly targeting the motivation behind the action, trying to deconstruct every good deed into mechanical obedience.

Shimiya Kuki calmly met Takanoji's scrutinizing gaze. He acknowledged that the "social conditioning" and "overcoming the sense of bother" the other pointed out were objectively existing factors. But reducing all behavior to "puppets driven by programming" was too arbitrary and extreme.

Takanoji overlooked the actual result of the action—the old woman did get to rest. He also ignored that the differences in how individuals made choices when facing the same "conditioning" had meaning in themselves, even if that meaning seemed trivial or laughable to Takanoji. He didn't argue. He simply looked away calmly. Takanoji's insight was sharp enough to note, but the absolutism of his conclusions and his disregard for the complexity of human behavior were things Shimiya Kuki couldn't fully accept.

"This classmate!" After settling the old woman, the girl also stood beside Shimiya Kuki. Her face was radiant with an incredibly bright and warm smile. Her bright eyes curved into beautiful crescent moons, filled with sincere gratitude and pure enthusiasm. She gave Shimiya Kuki a formal bow. "Thank you so much! Thanks to your help!" Her voice was full of energy, a stark contrast to the tension when she faced Takanoji.

She straightened up, her face carrying a bright and genuine smile, maintaining a polite distance, and asked in a warm, friendly tone:

"Are you also a new student at Ikusei High School?"

Shimiya Kuki looked at the brown-haired girl standing before him and replied calmly:

"Yes."

After receiving the affirmative answer, Kushida Kikyo's smile became even more warm and natural. She introduced herself gracefully:

"My name is Kushida Kikyo. What's your name?"

"Shimiya Kuki." He stated his name calmly. His voice still had no inflection, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself.

"Can I call you Shimiya-kun?" Kushida Kikyo then naturally stepped forward, her face carrying an infectiously bright smile, her tone full of anticipation but still maintaining appropriate politeness, and extended her hand toward Shimiya Kuki.

"Then we're classmates from now on. May I ask, can I be friends with you?"

Shimiya Kuki looked at Kushida Kikyo's eyes, full of goodwill and anticipation, and her outstretched hand, a symbol of friendly connection. Her smile was extremely approachable, like the warm spring sun.

"Mm." He responded simply, accepting the request. At the same time, he reached out, politely and briefly, lightly shaking the hand Kushida Kikyo had extended. Her palm was warm and soft. There was no deliberate distance, nor any particular closeness—just a calm response to a kind request, completing this basic social gesture.

"That's great!" Kushida Kikyo's smile grew even brighter, as if making a friend was an incredibly joyful thing, the earlier gloom swept away. "Please take care of me at school from now on too, Shimiya-kun!"

"Mm." Shimiya Kuki responded again, faintly. The chairman's evaluation, the class divisions, this classmate named Kushida Kikyo before him, always maintaining a polite and warm smile... A new environment, new people, and Takanoji Rokusuke's sharp, thought-provoking remarks. He calmly accepted this influx of information, like the deep sea receiving falling droplets.

After a brief ripple, the carriage resumed its rhythm of motion, the blue seawater outside the window still flowing silently. The outline of Ikusei High School flickered in and out of view at the end of the tunnel.