April.
A cool breeze still blew across Tokyo Bay in the morning, but it could no longer hold back the spread of spring.
A bus drove smoothly across the Cross-Sea Bridge connecting the mainland to the legendary school.
Outside the window.
Pink cherry blossom petals were swept up by the wind.
They skimmed across the deep blue sea like little sprites.
The bus was headed for Tokyo Advanced Nurturing High School, renowned far and wide.
This nationally designated key school was famous for its claim of total meritocracy and its astonishing 100% rates of advancement to higher education and employment.
Whether students wanted to attend a top university or go straight into their ideal company, it seemed they could achieve their goals with ease here.
Not only that, but the school had exceptionally relaxed rules. Hair color, makeup, and casual clothes were unrestricted; students only had to wear the uniform during class hours.
On the other hand, however, the school was managed almost like a closed institution. Unless there were special circumstances, students were forbidden from leaving the artificial island for all three years.
As compensation, the school not only exempted every student from tuition, housing, and meal fees, but also boasted internal facilities so luxurious they were almost unbelievable.
On this artificial island, which covered more than six hundred thousand square meters, there were, of course, school buildings, dormitories, and a library.
There was also a large department store, a shopping mall, karaoke, cafés, all kinds of restaurants, a gym, and even a hospital with comprehensive medical facilities.
Every need for daily life and entertainment could be met without ever leaving the island. Its scale and amenities far surpassed those of ordinary universities, making it a paradise in the eyes of students.
Inside the bus.
Most of the passengers were new students at Advanced Nurturing.
Their identical uniforms marked them out.
The boys wore crisp wine-red suit jackets over clean white shirts, paired with dark blue ties, forest-green trousers, and polished black leather shoes.
The girls wore the same wine-red jackets and white shirts, but with blue bows at the collar, pure white pleated skirts, and small black leather shoes. They were full of youthful energy.
In the middle of the bus, in a window seat, a black-haired boy gazed quietly at the seascape rushing past outside.
He rested his elbow on the window ledge and propped his chin on his palm. His posture was languid, but his eyes, partly hidden beneath his tousled black hair, held a hint of doubt and contemplation.
His name was Akiyama Shin, one of the new students this year.
At 183 centimeters tall, he was slender and lanky, though the well-fitted uniform faintly outlined the just-right muscle he had built through exercise.
He was the type who looked slim in clothes but was muscular underneath.
His handsome face, messy black hair, and the dark red eyes that showed through his strands like congealed blood gave him an aura that warned others to keep their distance.
At that moment, Akiyama Shin was turning over the promotional claims about this paradise of a school in his mind.
He hadn't been specially admitted for his excellence. Quite the opposite: because his family couldn't afford the cost of an ordinary high school, he had come here on the strong recommendation of his middle school teacher, to attend a school that covered all expenses.
For that very reason, he understood better than anyone that there was no such thing as a free lunch.
A 100% rate of advancement to higher education and employment?
Just covering three years of tuition, food, and lodging for the students would cost an astronomical amount.
Then there were the staff salaries and the costs of maintaining those over-the-top facilities...
Where did all that money come from?
And how could they guarantee such perfect results?
To Akiyama Shin, it sounded like pure fantasy.
Unless...
There was some kind of hidden fine print.
Calmly, he analyzed the possibilities. The first was that students had to meet certain conditions.
Since the school openly advertised its meritocracy, that merit must be tied to some kind of assessment or standard. If students failed to meet it, they wouldn't be able to enjoy the promised 100% rate.
The second possibility was much simpler.
And much crueler.
They could simply get rid of students who weren't capable enough before graduation.
For example, if they made them drop out, they could ensure that every student who ultimately graduated was an elite.
Then, from a statistical perspective, achieving a 100% rate of advancement to higher education and employment would be easy.
In Akiyama Shin's view, those were the two most likely possibilities.
Besides, the school placed no restrictions on hairstyles or clothing, and there were so many entertainment and shopping venues that it was practically a closed society of its own.
Since they'd done away with money from the outside world, some kind of substitute currency had to circulate within this little society. It was likely distributed as electronic points, special vouchers, or something else along those lines.
This design deliberately downplayed the idea of traditional money while still letting the substitute serve as an equivalent—a bit like coins or tokens in an online game.
If these points really do exist...
Akiyama Shin mused.
Then competition at this school will probably be fiercer than I can imagine.
How could students earn points?
What could they use them for?
How would points relate to their evaluations, or even whether they were allowed to stay?
Any of these things could spark competition.
It could take place between classmates, between classes, or even between different year groups.
Just as Akiyama Shin's thoughts were growing more involved, a clear, pleasant girl's voice interrupted him. It was full of kindness and carried a hint of entreaty.
"Um... excuse me..."
"Could you give this elderly lady your seat?"
Akiyama Shin turned toward the aisle.
The speaker was a very cute girl with smooth, golden-brown hair cut short. Her figure was slender, but her chest was far fuller than most girls her age.
Her pale violet eyes were clear and lovely, though at that moment they held a trace of trouble as she looked toward a seat not far in front of Akiyama Shin.
An elderly woman stood beside her. Her hair was white, she held a cane, and her back was slightly bent. She seemed to have difficulty walking.
The girl was asking a boy seated in the Priority Seat.
He had long blond hair and was casually playing with a small mirror, admiring his own face as if no one else were there.
Hearing the request, the blond boy unhurriedly put away his mirror and turned around. Then he spoke slowly.
"Oh~"
"What an unbeautiful request~"
His narrow eyes passed over Kushida Kikyo, and the corner of his mouth curved into a half-smile.
"But if it were anyone else, they'd probably be sitting in a Priority Seat right now, and with a cute girl like you asking, they'd most likely say yes. But!"
He paused.
His tone carried the pride of someone making a grand declaration.
"My favorite thing to do, Koenji Rokusuke, is say NO to presumptuous girls like you!"
The smile on Kushida Kikyo's face instantly froze. The trouble and kindness in her expression seemed to have been sealed in ice.
Her pale violet pupils contracted slightly. She clearly hadn't expected that answer at all.
She parted her lips reflexively, as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how to respond. A wounded, misunderstood look and a faint blush of embarrassment quickly appeared on her face.
She looked so pitiful as she lowered her head slightly, her voice catching with emotion.
"I-I'm sorry... I just thought that the old lady..."
But deep inside, in a place no one could see beneath her downcast eyes, it was another story entirely.
What a self-obsessed idiot!
Blond gorilla!
Is there anything in that bastard's head besides his own face?!
I asked so sincerely, and even brought up the old lady. How dare he refuse?!
He's sitting in a Priority Seat and won't give it up, and somehow he thinks he's in the right?!
Damn it! Now I look like an idiot who stuck her nose in and got shut down!
What will everyone on the bus think of me?
I can't even manage something this simple...
Damn you, Koenji! Drop dead!
She was screaming inside!
But on the outside, her shoulders only trembled slightly, as if she were desperately trying to suppress the hurt of being treated so rudely.
The sudden refusal also quieted the noisy bus in an instant.
Many people turned to look, their expressions filled with surprise, confusion, and even a hint of reproach.
"Hey, come on... He actually refused?"
"I mean, the girl did ask out of the blue, but she's trying to help an old woman, and he's sitting in the Priority Seat..."
"That Koenji guy—he's been acting weird ever since he got on..."
"Doesn't he have any manners...?"
"Even if he didn't want to give up his seat, he didn't have to put it like that..."
"That poor girl. She was only trying to help..."
Whispers rose from all over the bus.
Most people were unhappy with Koenji Rokusuke's reaction. In Japanese society, where people were generally expected not to inconvenience others and to respect the elderly and care for the young, Kushida Kikyo's behavior was the kind act people expected. Koenji's blunt, even mocking refusal had clearly broken that unspoken understanding and made him the target of everyone's disapproval.
Akiyama Shin, however, calmly observed the scene.
His gaze moved from Koenji Rokusuke's indifferent expression to Kushida Kikyo's tearful look, then swept over the classmates whispering around them.
Akiyama Shin immediately made an initial assessment of Koenji Rokusuke: an extremely self-centered individual who followed his own preferences without exception and wasn't the least bit afraid of becoming the center of attention.
To Akiyama Shin, Koenji's remarks about the request being unbeautiful and the girl being presumptuous weren't simply excuses to refuse.
To some extent, Koenji was pointing out the coercive element in Kushida Kikyo's behavior.
She had used the moral pressure of the Priority Seat and her identity as a cute girl to try to force him to comply with her act of kindness.
Koenji had keenly noticed this and bluntly called her out on it.
Logically speaking, Koenji wasn't entirely wrong. In Japan, where Priority Seats had no legal force, they were more of a moral appeal. He was under no obligation to give up his seat.
Still, Akiyama Shin's attention was more focused on the girl with short golden-brown hair.
She had chosen her target precisely: Koenji, the person on the bus most morally obligated to give up his seat.
Her expression and tone had been flawless, perfectly fitting the image of a beautiful, compassionate girl.
Yet that very perfection made Akiyama Shin feel something was off. After being refused so bluntly, her hurt and embarrassment seemed completely natural.
But Akiyama Shin had faintly caught a trace of frustration and anger at her plan being disrupted.
"Attention-seeking...?"
"Or perhaps... a tendency to build social capital and earn other people's praise through good deeds?"
Akiyama Shin speculated silently.
Whatever she truly thought, her actions had indeed successfully cast her as a kind, helpful girl who had been treated rudely despite her good intentions.
At the same time, she had put Koenji Rokusuke in an unfavorable position. If it was an act, she was quite skilled. If it was instinctive, then her way of interacting with people warranted serious caution.
He silently noted the girl, as well as the headstrong Koenji Rokusuke.
He turned his gaze back to the window. The Cross-Sea Bridge was already nearing its end.
There lay the artificial island, ringed with cherry blossoms and packed with facilities like a city—the Advanced Nurturing High School in Tokyo!
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