Classroom of the Elite, I Have a Life Simulator

She did not feel ashamed or resentful about living in a single-parent household; for most of her life, she had simply followed her mother's wish to become a frank and sincere person.

Since her mother was unwilling to dwell on the topic, Ichinose Honami naturally treated everything related to her father as a corpse cast aside, burying it with her own hands as she stepped forward.

Her school life during elementary and junior high was smooth sailing; whether it was boys or girls, the cheerful and generous Ichinose Honami made many friends.

Although she wasn't particularly skilled at sports, she followed the principle that effort could change things, and this shortcoming—if it could even be called that—steadily improved bit by bit.

In her third year of junior high, Ichinose Honami became the student council president she had always dreamed of being, allowing her to stand on a larger platform and reach out to everyone in need, like an angel bestowing blessings upon mortals from the clouds.

But whenever the school bell rang and she returned to the place called home, once the classmates, teachers, and studies faded away, a harsher and sharper reality would emerge, stuck in her throat like a fish bone—a crisis she was powerless to resolve.

In junior high, when everyone wore the same uniform, ate similar meals, and perceived the world as a small domain centered around themselves, the gap between people—between students—was mostly defined by simple things like grades, running speed, or the number of friends one had.

These were things Ichinose Honami could achieve through diligent study, hard training, and a gentle demeanor.

However, the wealth of one's family could not be bridged overnight; even the perfect Ichinose Honami could not achieve that.

All she could do was perform her duties as a daughter and sister well, and strive to become a scholarship student at a private high school, hoping to reduce the high tuition fees and lighten her mother's burden.

In her original plan, Ichinose Honami wanted to quit school and start working after graduating junior high, but her mother stopped her.

Ichinose Honami remembered it clearly; her mother had smiled faintly at the time. It was a long-lost smile, and the fine wrinkles pressing in made her realize the fact that her mother was aging:

"Honami, you don't understand yet. Because you still have a long, unknown life ahead of you, you dare to make bold decisions. You will work hard for what you believe is right, without considering your own future."

"Whether to continue school or go to work... this should be considered the first turning point in your life, just like the first crossroads you ever encounter."

She stroked Ichinose Honami's hand, her somewhat rough palms carrying warmth.

"But I no longer have that kind of future. My life will not change anymore. I have already passed the turning points that led me here, so there is only a straight track stretching out ahead."

"If my life still has any turning points left."

She answered with a weary yet incredibly gentle expression:

"It is you two."

The reason her mother worked so hard was simply because she did not want her two children to repeat her life in the future.

After realizing this, Ichinose Honami abandoned that idea.

Now, she was actually a bit annoyed that time passed too slowly. She knew very well that every day of school life she and her sister spent was built upon the labor of her mother alone. This feeling gave her a sense of suffocation, like slowly drowning. She wished she could fold the four years of her third year of junior high and three years of high school into four days. Perhaps there would be university afterward, but that didn't matter; if she were an adult, she could at least help her mother share the burden.

At school, Ichinose Honami remained a super honor student who was helpful and kind to others; at home, she remained the model sister and daughter who cared for her sister and understood her mother. Ichinose Honami was a clever girl; since she couldn't change the status quo for the time being, she could only wait.

She locked her heart in a cage, waiting patiently like a bear in hibernation.

What Ichinose Honami did not expect was that the one who would eventually drive her out into the freezing snow was her sister, two years her junior.

If Ichinose Honami was an overly sensible child, then her sister, Ichinose Maki, was a normally sensible child.

Perhaps one shouldn't demand the same level of rigor from her as one did from Ichinose Honami; after all, for a girl of twelve or thirteen who was still a child, being able to recognize her family's financial situation and trying not to add trouble for her mother was already a standard of being sensible.

What she lacked compared to her sister was merely a peaceful state of mind.

Ichinose Maki chose to entrust all her expectations and dreams to the entertainers on stage. Watching her favorite person captivate the masses under the spotlight felt as if she herself were flying to heaven. Under the flashing neon lights, Ichinose Maki stopped to look at the idol on the giant street screen.

The hair clip on the other person's head was glowing.

For the first time, she felt a strong desire to possess something.

When that style of hair clip quickly became the most popular trend, and other girls gathered around to comment on it, Ichinose Maki sat at her desk holding her textbook, reading it word by word. Every word seemed to become unfamiliar. She was as earnest as a first-grader just learning the alphabet, and she didn't turn a single page for the entire break.

Ichinose Honami never cared about her own birthday. Every time she heard someone say "a birthday only comes once a year," she would silently retort in her heart, "Isn't every day once a year?"

However, she paid attention to her sister's birthday. Ichinose Maki would only act a little spoiled, fitting for her age, on her birthday—a kind of spoiled behavior that barely counted as such—and both her mother and Ichinose Honami would try their best to satisfy her every time.

But when she noticed her sister's recent preference, she felt troubled for the first time. As the most popular style of the moment, that hair clip was not cheap. It wasn't that the family couldn't afford that amount of money, but if they spent that much just for a hair clip...

During the summer vacation of Ichinose Honami's second year of junior high, on her sister's birthday, she and her sister walked down a long, tree-lined road. They passed the entrance of that department store countless times, where the hair clip was proudly displayed behind the glass cabinet as the best-selling item of the moment.

Ichinose Honami held Ichinose Maki's hand. Sunlight filtered through the mottled leaves, casting spots of light on the ground, and their shadows were cut into fragmented pieces. Ichinose Honami no longer knew whether she hoped the other would say she wanted that hair clip or if she hoped her sister would remain as... sensible as ever.

"Sister."

She was almost startled; Ichinose Maki was looking up at her:

"For this year's birthday, I want to eat two—no, three ice creams."

"...You'll get a stomachache."

"Birthdays only come once a year, after all."

Ichinose Maki turned her head away as she said this.

But in her heart, there was actually a tiny bit of expectation. Ichinose stole a glance at that hair clip. She sighed softly, as if making a wish to candles on a non-existent cake:

If it were next year, the price of this hair clip should come down, right?

Three important things happened during Ichinose Honami's third year of junior high.

Excluding the aforementioned event of her becoming the student council president, the second thing was that a new neighbor suddenly moved in next door.

The time was early July, just as summer vacation had begun.

It was a strange combination of a boy around her age and a cat.

The catalyst for her meeting him was that pure white cat.

At the time, they had just moved in and were still arranging their furniture. Because they had kept the door open for convenience, the white cat lazily sprawled out on a shipping container immediately caught the attention of the Ichinose sisters. Ichinose Maki, being the younger of the two, had almost no resistance to such fluffy, adorable creatures. Though usually somewhat timid, she dared to inch closer this time, seemingly wanting to reach out and pet it.

"Meow."

The white cat showed no intention of dodging, allowing the small hand to stroke its round head.

"Hello, sorry for the intrusion. We should be finished in about half an hour."

Seeming to sense that the Ichinose sisters might be bothered by the containers piled up in the hallway, the young man walked out of the room to apologize.

"Ah... it's fine. I'm Ichinose Honami, who lives next door. This is my younger sister, Ichinose Maki. Our mother isn't home right now."

Ichinose Honami was fearless even when dealing with strangers, and her manners were impeccable.

"I will come by to pay a formal visit later."

Kitagawa Ryo nodded. Seeming to notice their fondness for the white cat, he smiled and spoke:

"This is my cat. It's very well-behaved."

"I'm Kitagawa Ryo. Pleased to meet you."

The boy, nearly one hundred and eighty centimeters tall, stood a full head taller than Ichinose. He wore a loose hoodie and black jeans, his frame sturdy and well-proportioned. His back was straight, and he held a cardboard box full of sundries in his right hand as if it weighed nothing. His dark bangs were slightly long, brushing against his eyebrows, and his handsome features carried a hint of coldness. Most striking were his deep pupils, which resembled a pool of dark water, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Kitagawa... Ryo, is it?"

"I'm Ichinose Honami, living next door. I look forward to your acquaintance!"

Ichinose Honami extended her hand toward Kitagawa Ryo with her usual radiant smile.

"Oh."

"Pleased to meet you."

The windows, not yet fitted with curtains, were wide open. In the dry, hot wind, the early summer sky was somewhat blinding.

For some reason, Ichinose Honami's thoughts suddenly drifted to her sister's birthday this year, and she recalled her mother, who had suddenly started working overtime these past two days.

Kitagawa Ryo lowered his eyes and reached out his hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of that foolish cat having the time of its life with the little girl, and he muttered under his breath:

"Ichinose... huh?"

Chapter 3: The Burdened (Part 2)

The conflict between mother and daughter erupted the day after Ichinose Maki's birthday.

She had just finished picking up medicine according to the doctor's orders. In the hospital corridor—no, the entire hospital's color palette was pale. There were few people in the hallway, and everyone kept their voices low. The timidity and anxiety regarding their loved ones made their expressions look strikingly similar, as if they were wearing masks of varying sizes but identical shapes—masks composed of fear, solemnity, and a glimmer of visible expectation.

But the presence of Ichinose Honami made the place she occupied suddenly brighten, whether because of her brilliant hair color, her vibrant posture, or perhaps both.

The hospital's air conditioning was set just right. Even though one could feel the heat waves radiating from the scorching sun outside through the glass windows, it felt cool inside. Yet, the moment she remembered she was here because her mother was ill, Ichinose Honami's mood gradually sank.

Before entering the ward, Ichinose used the reflection in the glass to smooth out the wrinkles at her collar. After checking herself from top to bottom, she took a deep breath and gently patted her cheeks with both palms. The appropriate force brought a slight stinging sensation, and the most perfect smile, one she had displayed countless times, bloomed on her pure, lovely face.

She didn't want her mother and sister to worry; she couldn't let her mother and sister worry.

Ichinose Honami placed her right hand on the ward's door handle—a pale handle that matched the hospital's color scheme.

From inside came the sound of an argument, a desperate roar that seemed to release all the suppressed emotions within.

Her sister, who had just begun to enter puberty, had a voice sharper than ever before. Like a bird of prey, she used a sharp beak to peck away at her mother layer by layer, until the bloody nerves beneath the skin were exposed.

The daughter was cursing her own mother.

She couldn't compare to girls her age in terms of food, clothing, parents, or love. Nothing could satisfy her heart, not even a shred of vanity.

Ichinose Maki poured out her grievances. Things that adults might scoff at were, to her, the end of the world.

Children lack rationality.

Elementary school students often complain about things adults cannot understand, such as a friend making another friend, or accidentally spilling a lunchbox and becoming the laughingstock of the class. They would also cry out "I'm so tired" after putting down their schoolbags upon returning from cram school.

Ichinose Maki was such a child. For the past entire year, she had been yearning for that hair clip. Even though the fashion trends in her class had changed several times, she remained persistent, almost unreasonably demanding it.

It was as if, if she could just wear that hair clip, she would be able to accept the endurance of the past year.

Her mother was desperately apologizing. Her words were intermittent amidst a continuous fit of coughing. She seemed to want to stand up to hold her daughter's hand, but in the end, she could only barely straighten her upper body. The sunlight streaming in from the window cast a thin, small silhouette on the wall.

This shadow looked fragile, helpless, and a little aged.

She finally covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

Ichinose Maki's voice subsequently shattered into segments of words and symbols. Large, bean-sized tears rolled down her face. She didn't dare look at the person on the bed, but she kept muttering to herself.

From lunchboxes to stationery, from not having a phone when exchanging contact information to being afraid to go out with classmates, and finally, that hair clip she wanted.

Ichinose Maki seemed to be enjoying herself as she spoke, as if on purpose. She dug out all the things she had been bottling up inside, bit by bit, right in front of her mother, pulling them from the deepest well.

She displayed all her past feelings and memories, scattering them in pieces across the floor with no intention of cleaning them up. Ichinose Maki just stood there, numb and exhausted, watching the fragments of emotion strewn about, winding and snaking in a dark, twisted fashion.

Ichinose Honami's hand remained on the door handle, her warm palm pressed tightly against the metal casing, as if she wanted to crush the handle into her hand.

For the first time, she felt a cold, lifeless chill that seemed to want to drain all the warmth from her body.

The hair-raising sensation traveled from her fingertips, through her central nervous system, to her entire body. It was as if she were withering from the point of contact, manifested through the temperature difference and the tactile sensation, reflecting in Ichinose Honami's mind to form vivid pictures and scenes.

Ichinose Honami felt dizzy and lightheaded, wondering for the first time if the air conditioning in the hospital had been set too low.

What made Ichinose Honami even more terrified was that although she felt her younger sister's words were truly excessive, she lacked the courage to reprimand her.

Or perhaps, deep down, she felt she didn't have the right to do so.

Ichinose Honami felt she should do something, but at this moment, her legs seemed to have suddenly lost all strength; or rather, she didn't even know what use she was herself. Biting her lower lip with her teeth until it turned almost white, she dragged her legs to the end of the corridor, crouched down bit by bit, hugged her knees, and let her tears fall drop by drop.

When she finally came to her senses and walked back into the hospital room, everything inside was already in chaos, leaving behind only her weeping mother and the devastating wreckage of the Ichinose family.

Her once barren heart seemed to sprout dense weeds in an instant, and chaotic thoughts flooded her mind as Ichinose Honami couldn't help but ask herself over and over again:

If she could just get... that hair clip, would her sister smile again? Would everything be alright once more?

From that moment on, Ichinose Honami seemed to clearly see a dark, shameful part within herself, something completely different from the Ichinose Honami everyone saw on the outside.

Was that her? Was that really Ichinose Honami?

If it wasn't her, then who else could it be?

Ichinose Honami dared not continue to peer into her own heart; she simply continued to numbly repeat the routine of traveling back and forth between the hospital and her home.

At home was her sister who had lost her smile, and in the hospital was her mother lying bedridden.

Ichinose Honami was caught between two walls, and these two walls were closing in, compressing the air she could breathe inch by agonizing inch.

That day was still a scorching one, the midsummer sky a breathtaking, piercing blue.

Ichinose Honami walked toward the department store, irises blooming sporadically in the greenery along the roadside, the wind in the air carrying a sticky, humid heat as Ichinose Honami drifted into the crowd like a ghost.

She stared blankly at the flow of people before her, passing through them expressionlessly; these elderly people, youths, and children all seemed to turn into the black-and-white static that appeared on television screens before programs started during her childhood, devoid of any life or interest.

Ichinose Honami walked up to the counter displaying the hair clip; it no longer enjoyed the grand, heavily promoted spectacle of a year ago, and dozens of neatly packaged little boxes lay there quietly, much like the produce she often frequented in the grocery section nearby.

Yet, the five-digit price tag on the small display stand highlighted their uniqueness. Ichinose Honami subconsciously calculated how many days of her family's expenses this amount could cover, but she quickly felt ashamed of this instinctive behavior.

The value of this object was not determined by its price; in the final analysis, it was nothing more than a hair clip, and in terms of practicality, it was no different in essence from those cheap, inexpensive ones.