Reincarnated Me Is Surprisingly Ordinary

I, Hajime Kashima.

It sounds ridiculous, but before my reincarnation, I couldn't even hope for an ordinary life. Even though I was in the same class for two years, the girl I had a crush on couldn't even remember my name. I tried hard to make some real, close friends, but maybe I came with a "Megumi Kato" attribute—my presence was barely noticeable. Everyone seemed indifferent to my existence. All I wanted was a normal, plain romance and some ordinary friends who shared my hobbies. Why was that so hard?

So, on my sixteenth birthday, I made a wish over the candles. If—I mean, if it's possible—I hoped to become an ordinary, average high school boy and experience what they call youth's love and friendship. Please! I thought from the bottom of my heart.

I silenced the noisy alarm clock by my bedside, patted my groggy head, and fumbled along the wall to the bathroom door, still half-asleep.

Come to think of it, I felt a bit off today. How should I describe it...

An indescribable strangeness, but I couldn't find anything unexpected happening.

As usual, I examined myself in the mirror.

Hmm... I could say it was the same as always—

Huh? Maybe I found the problem. Somehow, I felt my appearance was more striking than before. I shook my head, trying to focus my eyes on the mirror. It wasn't just my looks—even my aura had changed in ways I'd never experienced. Mid-length black hair, paired with delicate silver-rimmed glasses. Through the thin lenses, I stared into the deep eyes reflected back at me. Even without any effort to dress up, there was a fundamental difference from my previously somewhat gloomy face.

I pinched this "gentleman scoundrel" face of mine. To be honest, I didn't really care about how good-looking I was, but a nice exterior could certainly help a lot in social situations. Besides, I wasn't the type who was bad at speaking in crowded settings. Of course, more than studying my current appearance, what intrigued me more was my current situation.

The walls were all white. A room more than spacious enough for two people, made to feel even larger by the empty backdrop and sparse furniture.

Well, I guess this counts as reincarnation. Even though I don't dislike my current environment, I can clearly confirm this fact.

The room was surprisingly plain. Under the pure white walls, there was only a bed, a row of bookshelves, a small desk, and on it, an admission letter and a photograph.

Dear Hajime Kashima, congratulations on being officially admitted as a first-year high school student at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School. Please report to our school with this letter at 9 a.m. on April 1st.

Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School? I've just reincarnated and don't know much about this world yet, but it's undoubtedly best to first look up information about this world before deciding my next move.

Hmm, as I expected, this world isn't much different from the previous one. Honestly, for a moment, I thought about following in the footsteps of my predecessors and becoming an "ordinary" copycat writer, but whether it's novels, manga, or anime, this world already has them all. I'll just stick to being an ordinary, average high school student.

Thinking this, my gaze was drawn to a photo on the desk.

On the left was me. On the right was...

A roaring wave surged through my mind, fragments of memories and knowledge flooding my brain in an instant.

Hey! I'm not going to achieve some boring feat like "a reincarnator who dies within an hour of reincarnating," am I? That would be too embarrassing. I knelt on the floor, my left hand gesturing unconsciously. I opened my mouth to call for help, but only felt a hoarseness in my throat.

A flood of memories poured into my mind. I stood in endless darkness, browsing through what the past "me" had experienced, done, attempted, envisioned, and what "I" had longed for.

It was a place called the White Room. "I" had once been a part of it, receiving all-around education there. The White Room had only one requirement: do everything possible to defeat others and become the last one standing.

Unexpectedly, "I" was even more capable than I had imagined. I stood out and won every time, until I met him.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji.

He had also made it this far with impeccable skill. Whether in intelligence, academics, judgment, or athletic ability, he was extremely strong. Of course, "I" wasn't bad either. No matter how you judged it, the gap between us was small—almost negligible. But those boring adults always wanted to determine a winner. They believed that if they ran enough experiments and comparisons, a victor would eventually emerge.

So, between the ages of about twelve and fourteen, we met more and more often. We were enemies in competition, but in reality, we were probably...

Friends? Even though we could chat a bit normally, it was hard for "me" to read our relationship from his facial expressions.

To put it complicatedly, his facial expression management was out of control. To put it simply, he had a blank face. Anyway, he was probably "my" only friend in the White Room.

Two months ago, "I" grew tired of everything here. The White Room had nothing left to teach me. Every day was just sparring with Ayanokouji-kun in various ways, for over two years straight.

Even though "I" didn't hate this kind of life, there were many questions I couldn't verify from books.

Like the "Wings of Icarus" in Greek mythology, which says that freedom can sometimes be a dangerous thing that makes people lose themselves. Or the story of "Romeo and Juliet," which depicts people willing to sacrifice their lives for love.

These were things I could understand, yet somehow found hard to grasp.

After all, how could I, with my wings bound, easily judge things I had never known?

Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.

So, I set out on a path called "practice."

I wanted to pursue something new—not the kind of definitions that books had drilled into me.

I submitted a request to the person in charge of the White Room, Ayanokouji's father: "If I defeat your son, Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, I request permission to leave this place."

This man had an almost blind confidence in Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, firmly believing that he was the true genius. So, he agreed.

To be honest, "I" didn't think I could definitely beat Kiyotaka Ayanokouji. The two and a half years of draws were the best proof. But "I" had no other choice. With the restlessness and rebellion of adolescence, I longed to explore the outside world, to explore the infinite truths hidden within those empty words, rather than living aimlessly in a white world. I wanted to freely make up for what I had lost—my empty spiritual and emotional world!

(Ayanokouji)

My name is Kiyotaka Ayanokouji. Sitting across from me now is... probably the only person my age I'm familiar with in the White Room: Hajime Kashima.

I have to admit, even as a fellow male, I'd still give his looks a 98 out of 100—if the full score were 100.

As usual, I was led into the white room. Today's match was chess.

To be honest, I've played against Kashima-kun countless times. Just chess alone, we've had an uncountable number of games. I have to say, he's the most impressive person my age I've ever met. And please include me in that assessment, because so far, we've never settled a winner.

And today, I chose to be the loser. Even though on the surface, our game looked the same as always, I changed one move during the match. The reason wasn't complicated.

His eyes were different from their usual calm. They were filled with longing and hope.

He must have found where his heart belongs. Because this was the first time in all this time that I'd seen such an expression on his face.

So, I chose to become someone who helps him realize his ideals.

After all, this is probably the only thing I can do for my sole friend within the White Room. The feeling is unexpectedly pleasant. He (Ayanokouji's father) probably never guessed I would do this—the White Room never taught me to betray him.

But a voice from the depths of my heart tells me I should go this crazy once.

For the friendship that has accompanied me all this time.

In any case, Hajime Kashima, I hope that after you escape the White Room, when I see you again, you'll be even better than before.

Monotonous memories and a vast system of knowledge flooded into my mind. I rubbed my throbbing head and opened the door. The March sunlight filtered through the lush trees, scattering sporadically across my face. Facing the spring breeze, I took a deep breath.

Let's begin our story.