On an April morning, I packed my bag and locked up the house that had kept me company for half a month of fulfilling days. Today was the entrance ceremony at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School. I rubbed my tousled hair and got ready to take the bus.
Come to think of it, I still hadn't made any friends in the outside world. I'd run into an unexpected event, but in the end, nothing had really come of it.
And why hadn't I even gotten a single person's contact information?
The classic manga scenario I'd imagined—meeting someone, exchanging contact details, then naturally falling in love—was nowhere to be found.
Although getting someone's contact information wouldn't have done me any good. We weren't allowed to leave school or contact the outside world without permission during our three years there.
But being unable to contact them and them not giving me their information were two different things.
I couldn't deny feeling a little disappointed, but at least I'd gained something unique.
My body swayed unconsciously with the bus. More and more young people in high school uniforms appeared around me, but I paid them no attention, my thoughts drifting over the vast ocean outside the window.
For the past few days, I'd been wondering what determined a person's abilities.
Was it their potential? Or their effort?
Sakayanagi Arisu had said that geniuses had high potential to begin with. So, as long as they put in the effort and reached their limits, their high potential meant they would naturally reach the limits of human ability. That, she said, was what made them geniuses.
I had my reservations.
But first, allow me to briefly explain my own perspective:
I don't deny that the biggest difference between a genius and an artificial genius might be the upper limit of their natural talent.
Of course, that also depends on how each person defines a genius.
A lot of people seem to have a rather vague, broad definition of genius. If someone accomplished many things as a child that only highly capable adults could manage, people might praise them with words like, "What a genius!"
There's nothing wrong with using "genius" purely as a compliment for someone whose abilities seem unbelievable.
But in my opinion, can someone who merely reaches the same heights as those before them through repeated practice really be called a genius? "Artificial genius" seems like a better description.
I'm that kind of person myself: an artificial genius who has simply studied the conclusions reached by those before me in various fields, after their experiences and research.
As for what I consider a genius...
Probably someone with exceptional creativity. If I had to give an example, Leonardo da Vinci was the person who came closest to my idea of a genius.
He didn't merely make breakthroughs in his field. In that regard, he was unquestionably far beyond me. I had only learned everything there was to learn, while he had ventured alone into an untouched wilderness and forged a path of his own.
What's more, in his time, da Vinci achieved remarkable success in a considerable number of fields.
A genius, I think, is someone whose learning is outstanding and who can use their abilities to break through barriers where those before them had stopped. Only someone with greater talent can glimpse an opportunity before their peers.
But that would still make them a genius in only one area. I wouldn't lump them under the general label of "genius." Only someone who could achieve that in every field would truly deserve to be called a genius.
But could such a person really exist? Perhaps it might be possible if the human brain were developed to its fullest.
Maybe that sounds a little stiff and difficult to understand, but perhaps it's just the fanciful thinking of an ignorant person like me.
Try following my ranking, and it might not be so complicated: ordinary person → artificial genius in a single field (like the kind I mentioned earlier, someone outstanding in one area but who hasn't forged a path of their own) → artificial genius (all the students in the White Room were forced to aim for this level; so far, in the first four generations, only Kiyotaka and I have reached it) → genius in a single field → genius.
But that's just my opinion. If you insist on defining a genius as simply an exceptional person, that's perfectly fine too.
This was something I'd realized—or perhaps merely brushed up against—by chance. Maybe it was a way to defeat me.
Would it be too soon to start guarding against an unexpected blow born of independent reflection, beyond mere knowledge?
Still, even people who had reached our level were exceptionally rare, so I'd keep the thought tucked away for now.
But perhaps I'd leave a little room in my mind for it.
As I was thinking this, the packed bus stopped at the station. I was glad I'd boarded early and could enjoy my seat in peace, but then an elderly woman got on. Amid the swaying, crowded bus, she looked terribly frail. I glanced at her, then looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman in a suit seemed to be considering whether to speak up.
I acted at once, cutting off her windup:
"Please, have my seat."
I didn't want to get dragged into the center of some incident.
I wasn't a recluse, but I didn't want to get caught up in trivial matters either. I thought something like this was no problem.
Of course, it depended on my mood.
I'd just do as I pleased. I was more certain than anyone else of my own values, and understood them better than anyone.
The woman seemed surprised that someone had spoken before her. After hesitating briefly, she turned away.
The main reason I'd given up my seat was that I didn't want a pointless argument or quarrel over something as small as a seat. The elderly woman sat down and thanked me. I waved gently to show her it was nothing.
I'd planned to daydream for a while, but someone struck up a conversation with me.
The girl who spoke to me was wearing a school uniform, with long pink-gold hair and a sweet smile.
She was outrageously cute...
At that level of cuteness, it was practically cheating.
For a moment, my eyes were drawn to the conspicuous curves beneath her bow, but I made myself look away so I wouldn't be mistaken for a boy in the throes of puberty.
"Hello. Are you a student at Advanced Nurturing High School too?"
"Yes."
"Ah, that was a silly question, wasn't it? You're wearing a similar uniform, after all."
She gave her head a light tap, then looked back at me.
"I guess I made the right choice coming here. My classmates are so kind! Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ichinose Honami, and I'm a first-year student at Nurturing High School. It's nice to meet you."
"Hajime Kashima. Nice to meet you."
Come to think of it, had she gotten the wrong idea because I'd offered my seat? I didn't deny that it was a kind thing to do, but the girl in front of me clearly thought it was a big deal.
"If you hadn't offered your seat, I might have tried persuading some of the people sitting nearby."
She poked her cheek cutely.
"It was no trouble."
"Even if it was no trouble, you were the only one who stood up while everyone else was still hesitating."
I could tell she felt truly lucky to have come to this school.
I smiled in response, and for some reason she seemed to space out.
When I looked at her quizzically, she seemed flustered and averted her eyes.
While I wondered about her strange reaction, I suddenly felt the bus, which had been traveling smoothly, brake hard.
I kept my balance.
Unfortunately, not everyone could do the same.
Ichinose beside me was caught off guard by the force of the sudden stop.
She crashed straight into my chest.
Her soft body pressed against mine.
She'd... crashed into me.
She seemed a little nervous, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
"Thank you. I didn't expect the bus to stop so suddenly... But I also wasn't paying attention and lost my balance. I'm really sorry."
Her pretty face flushed pink. She lowered her head and stepped out of my arms, standing upright again.
"I sincerely apologize to all the passengers. A cat suddenly darted into the road, so I had to brake hard."
The driver bowed deeply to everyone aboard, but no one blamed him.
The pink-haired girl in front of me had apologized sincerely, just because she felt bad about losing her balance and falling against me.
She was so cute.
Before long, the bus reached its destination. We got off together and headed into the school.
"Wow, this school is even more dazzling than I expected."
"It makes sense, considering it's backed by the government."
Standing by the school gate, I had to agree.
"If it's not too much trouble, would you like to go check the class assignments together?"
Ichinose suggested with a smile.
I'd been planning to check them anyway, so I was a little surprised by the invitation from the girl in front of me.
But given what had happened on the bus, perhaps this was simply how she treated her classmates.
A sweet, straightforward girl—that was my first impression of her.
I nodded and started toward the bulletin board. Suddenly, someone came up behind me, hurried past, and bumped into me.
She was a girl, but she was surprisingly sturdy.
She didn't even look back, merely tossing out an apology to the air.
Her voice was calm, indifferent, and she simply walked away.
Her long black hair hung behind her, swaying among the leaves whirling through the air.
"How could she do that? She bumped into you, Hajima-kun, and then gave such a half-hearted apology."
"It's fine. There's no need to make a fuss over something so trivial."
I smiled and waved my hand, then headed toward the notice board with Ichinose.
Standing in front of the board, I searched for my assigned class—and spotted a familiar name.
Sakayanagi Arisu.
What was she doing here?
I couldn't exactly say I was surprised. The entrance exam wouldn't have posed any challenge to her.
Still, running into someone I knew in a completely unfamiliar place felt pretty nice.
Was this... fate?
"Hajima-kun! What a coincidence. We've been assigned to the same class!"
Standing beside the notice board for Class 1-B, Ichinose pointed at my name with a bright smile.
The morning sunlight fell across her face. A delicate fragrance from somewhere drifted in with the spring breeze, and April's cherry blossoms mingled with her pink-gold hair.
The girl stood surrounded by it all.
For a moment, I couldn't tell whether she was the one who had adorned this beautiful scene;
or whether she was the reason it had become so flawless.
My heart stopped, then began pounding again.
Before you continue