(This is Dave's backyard, a place to park your brain. P.S. You can pick it back up later. I hope you'll keep reading.)
(The protagonist of this story is a fusion of Ayanokoji from the original Classroom of the Elite novel and a transmigrator from the real world. This setup is meant to make Ayanokoji a little more kindhearted. Ayanokoji has plenty of inner monologues in the original, so anime fans who can't accept that should read with caution.)
(The author guarantees that every character is intelligent and that their actions all follow a clear logic. Please bear with me if my writing falls short. P.S. There's a fan group, and my new book is already being serialized.)
April on Sakurajima. Cherry blossoms drifted through the air.
A soft veil seemed to envelop the entire island.
The streets were as quiet and peaceful as ever, with only a few sanitation workers sweeping up the cherry blossom petals.
Before long,
an unremarkable bus came rolling in from the distance. Through its windows, all that could be seen were red-and-green uniforms.
It wasn't hard to guess where the bus was headed: the only high school on the island, Advanced Nurturing High School.
As the largest and only government-run educational institution on this artificial island, Advanced Nurturing's unique status spoke for itself.
It occupied more land than any other building on the island, with a campus so vast it rivaled a small town.
Since all students lived on campus, the school had also been equipped with just about every facility and service they could need: a hospital, large supermarkets, electronics shops, cafés, karaoke parlors, and more. Its facilities were so complete and luxurious that they surpassed the living conditions of ordinary island residents. People often joked that the students there were on vacation rather than going to school.
Even more astonishingly, the school officially claimed a one-hundred-percent rate for both higher education and employment. Given its ties to the government, no one questioned whether those figures were genuine.
After all, reports of the many Advanced Nurturing graduates who entered politics, finance, and scientific research each year spoke for themselves.
There might have been some exaggeration, but it was still an impressive record.
Rumble—
The bus engine kept humming.
A thick stack of student handbooks rested in the hands of the boy sitting beside the rear door, on the aisle. He couldn't muster any enthusiasm for reading them.
He turned his gaze toward the window. The cherry blossoms scattered along the sidewalk captivated him, carrying his thoughts to another world.
That's right. He was a transmigrator.
Somehow, he had inexplicably wound up in this world. Everything felt like a dream.
Before coming here, he had been an utterly ordinary sophomore in China. The only remarkable thing about him was a wretched relationship he could never forget.
The girl he'd dated for seven years had suddenly told him, right to his face, that she'd fallen for his best friend—and that things had already gone too far to be salvaged!
"I'm pregnant."
The first time Ling Xiaolu heard those words, he was actually a little happy. He started imagining the wonderful life they'd have as a family of three.
Only a moment later did he remember that he hadn't even scored once, let alone crossed the line. He was still a virgin.
His girlfriend had never once agreed to sleep with him in all seven years, yet after meeting his buddy, she'd eagerly said yes one night while Ling Xiaolu wasn't around...
When she came clean, the world spun around him. His heart hurt so much he couldn't speak.
The more you gave, the deeper the scars you were left with.
So, after a bout of hysterical sobbing all alone, he decided to drown his sorrows at a bar.
He boldly declared he'd drink until he dropped, then started pouring alcohol down his throat like there was no tomorrow. But he didn't last three seconds. Before long, he was rushing to the restroom to throw up.
After he finished, he passed out. When he woke up again, he'd become someone else.
A Sakurajima high school student named Ayanokoji Kiyotaka.
At first, realizing what had happened left him shocked and panicked. But after taking in all of Ayanokoji's memories, he was utterly stunned.
How could a boy who had just turned fifteen possess such extensive knowledge and a physique that surpassed professional athletes? He'd never heard of anything like it.
And now, he was himself: an ordinary person named Ling Xiaolu, with everything belonging to the peerless genius Ayanokoji...
How unreal.
Yet even this surprise was nowhere near enough to heal the scars left by that relationship.
The bus slowed to a stop at a bus stop. Ayanokoji was still immersed in the misery of his heartbreak.
A moment later, the doors opened, and an elderly woman with a head of white hair and more than seventy years behind her climbed aboard with unsteady steps.
After getting on, she looked around, but there were no empty seats. So she grabbed a handrail and stood in the middle of the bus.
Everyone on board remained indifferent, acting as though it had nothing to do with them. Only one girl stepped forward to show concern.
A few seconds later, a gentle voice came from the girl. "Would anyone be willing to give up their seat for this elderly lady?"
The passengers looked her way, but no one responded.
Before long, the girl turned her attention to a blond man sitting in one of the priority seats.
"Um, could I ask you to give up your seat for this elderly lady?"
"These are priority seats. I think they should go to the elderly first."
The blond man sat with his arms crossed and a calm smile on his face. He hadn't looked at the girl once.
Only after a few seconds did he slowly speak. "Give up my seat? Why? Just because I'm younger than her, I'm obligated to give up my seat? The law doesn't require me to do that, beautiful miss."
"Besides, standing takes more energy than sitting. Why would I do something that offers me no benefit and only causes me trouble?"
The blond man's voice was clear, rich, and masculine. Every word seemed to radiate an overwhelming sense of manliness.
The girl frowned at his refusal, looking troubled. After a moment's thought, she tried again. "I think it would be a way to contribute to society, and this elderly lady looks like she's having a hard time..."
"I have no interest in contributing to society," the blond man interrupted. "And what about all those people sitting in regular seats behind me?"
"I don't think whether this is a priority seat matters at all."
The man's clear voice fell silent, and the girl was left speechless for a moment.
He was right. The real issue wasn't whether someone was sitting in a priority seat.
The problem was that no one was willing to give up their seat.
No one wanted to make a sacrifice. That was the real issue.
With a worried look, the girl glanced around the bus. Everyone was either focused on what they were doing or deliberately avoiding her gaze.
Just as she was at a loss for what to do, a loud thud came from near the rear door.
She looked up.
The boy in the seat by the rear door had slammed his fist into the safety railing in front of him. The impact rang out, and at first glance, the plastic on the railing seemed to have cracked.
Everyone's attention was drawn to him at once.
Only then did the boy slowly rise. He murmured four words:
"You're all scum..."
His voice was mournful and full of resentment.
After speaking, he lowered his head and quietly walked to the last row of seats. He pressed a hand to his forehead and kept his face lowered so no one could see his expression.
"Tha..."
The orange-haired girl was just about to thank him when she caught sight of tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
So there were still kind people around.
As she was feeling touched, she noticed that the boy was wearing the same uniform as her.
A gentle smile appeared on her face.
But then again,
wasn't his reaction...
a little too much?
At that moment, Ayanokoji hadn't noticed her looking at him.
He leaned against the window with one hand over his forehead. A moment later, his body began to tremble slightly, and he started sniffling like he had a nose full of noodles.
He'd gone to the back because he was afraid of letting anyone see him cry. The area by the doors was simply too conspicuous.
He wanted to have a good cry for the first love he'd lost.
One memory after another flooded his mind.
At last, he could no longer control his emotions.
"Scum! I hope you both rot in hell!"
Before you continue