My Reincarnation Was Surprisingly Ordinary

I was Hajime Kashima.

It was laughable. Before I was reincarnated, I couldn't even hope to be ordinary. I'd been in the same class as the girl I had a crush on for two years, yet she could barely remember my name. I wanted to make a few ordinary friends I could open up to, but maybe I had an innate "Megumi Kato" quality—my presence was hardly noticeable. Everyone seemed indifferent to my existence. All I wanted was an ordinary, unremarkable romance and a few ordinary friends who shared my interests. Why was that so hard?

So, on my sixteenth birthday, I made a wish over the candles. If—if it's possible, I want to become an ordinary, unremarkable high school boy. I want to experience the love and friendship people call youth. Please! I wished with all my heart.

I silenced the noisy alarm clock beside my bed, patted my groggy head, and stumbled along the wall toward the bathroom.

Come to think of it, I felt a little off today. How should I put it...

There was a strange feeling I couldn't explain, but I couldn't think of anything unexpected that had happened.

As usual, I examined myself in the mirror.

Hmm... I'd say I looked just as I always—

Huh? I might have found the problem. Why did I somehow look more handsome than before? I shook my head and tried to focus on my reflection. It wasn't just my appearance; even my whole bearing had changed in a way I'd never experienced before. Medium-length black hair, a pair of elegant silver-rimmed glasses, and, behind the thin lenses, a pair of deep-set eyes staring back at me. I hadn't done much to spruce myself up, but no matter how I looked at it, I was fundamentally different from the somewhat gloomy person I used to be.

I pinched my refined, villainous-looking face. Honestly, I didn't care much about whether I was attractive or not, but a good-looking face really could help with socializing. Besides, I wasn't the type to shy away from speaking up in a crowd. Of course, more than examining my new appearance, I was curious about my current situation.

White walls surrounded me. The room was spacious enough for two people, and with its open layout and sparse furniture, it felt even larger.

I guess I'd been reincarnated. I didn't dislike my current surroundings, but I could still clearly recognize what had happened.

The room was unexpectedly plain. Against the pure white walls stood only a bed, a row of bookshelves, and a small desk. On it were an acceptance letter and a photograph.

"Dear Hajime Kashima, congratulations on your official acceptance as a first-year student at Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School. Please report to our school at 9:00 a.m. on April 1, bringing this letter with you."

Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School? I'd only just been reincarnated, so I didn't know much about this world. But it was undoubtedly best to look up some information about it before deciding what to do next.

Well, just as I'd expected, this world wasn't much different from the one I'd left behind. To be honest, for a moment I'd wanted to become an "ordinary" plagiarist like the many people who came before me. But this world already had all the novels, manga, and anime. I'd be better off just being an ordinary, unremarkable high school student.

As I thought that, a photograph beside the desk caught my eye.

I was on the left. On the right was...

A roaring tide surged through my mind, and fragments of memories and knowledge flooded my consciousness in an instant.

Hey! I wasn't going to achieve the ridiculous feat of being "a reincarnated person who died within an hour," was I? That would be so embarrassing. I dropped to my knees on the floor. My left hand moved unconsciously, and I opened my mouth to call for help, but all that came out was a hoarse rasp.

So many memories spilled into my mind. I stood in endless darkness, looking through what the "me" of the past had experienced, done, attempted, imagined, and longed for.

It was a place called the White Room. "I" had once been one of its students, receiving a comprehensive education there. The White Room had only one demand: do everything in your power to defeat the others and be the last one standing.

Unexpectedly, "I" had been even more capable than I'd imagined, always standing out and winning—until I met him.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji.

He, too, had made it this far with impeccable ability. His intelligence, academic skills, judgment, and athletic ability were all formidable. Of course, "I" wasn't bad either. No matter how you judged us, the gap between us was tiny; we were practically evenly matched. But those bored adults always wanted to decide who was better. They believed that if they ran enough experiments and made enough comparisons, a winner would emerge.

So, when we were around twelve to fourteen, we began meeting more and more often. We were enemies in our contests, but in real life, we were probably...

Friends, right? We could chat a little now and then, but it was hard for "me" to tell what our relationship was from his facial expressions.

To put it in complicated terms, he had no control over his expressions. To put it simply, he was expressionless. All in all, he was probably "my" only friend in the White Room.

Two months ago, "I" had grown tired of everything in that place. The White Room could no longer teach me anything. Every day, I did nothing but compete against Ayanokouji-kun in all sorts of ways. That had gone on for more than two years.

I didn't hate that life, but there were also many questions I couldn't answer from books alone.

The "Wings of Icarus" in Greek mythology suggested that freedom could sometimes be dangerous, causing people to lose themselves. Then there was the story of Romeo and Juliet, who were willing to give up their lives for love.

I could understand those things, and yet I found them difficult to understand.

After all, how could I judge something I didn't know when my wings were bound?

Practice is the only standard for testing truth.

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

I wanted to pursue something new, not just the sort of definition books had fed me.

I made a request to the head of the White Room—Kiyotaka's father. "If I beat your son, Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, I request permission to leave this place."

The man had an almost blind confidence in Kiyotaka, convinced that his son was the true genius. So he agreed.

To be honest, "I" didn't think I could reliably beat Kiyotaka Ayanokouji. Our draws over the past two and a half years were the best proof. But "I" had no other choice. The restlessness and defiance of adolescence had taken hold of me. I longed to explore the outside world, to discover the infinite truths hidden in those empty lines of text, instead of living aimlessly in a white world. I wanted the freedom to make up for the emptiness in my spiritual and emotional life!

(Kiyotaka)

My name was Kiyotaka Ayanokouji. The person sitting across from me was... probably the only person my age in the White Room I could call familiar: Hajime Kashima.

I had to admit, even though we were both male, I'd give him a 98 for looks—if the maximum score was 100.

As usual, we were brought to a white room. Today's match was chess.

To be honest, Hajima-kun and I had played against each other countless times. We'd played chess more times than I could count. I had to admit, he was the most capable person my age I'd ever met—and that included me. After all, neither of us had ever come out on top.

Today, I chose to be the loser. On the surface, our game seemed just like usual, but I changed one move partway through. The reason wasn't complicated.

His eyes weren't as calm as usual. They were filled with longing and anticipation.

He must have found something he wanted to pursue. This was the first time I'd seen him look that way.

So I chose to help him realize his dream.

After all, this was probably the only thing I could do for my only friend in the White Room. Surprisingly, it felt pretty good. He—Kiyotaka's father—probably wouldn't guess I'd do this. The White House had never taught me to betray him.

But a voice from deep inside told me I should do something this crazy for once.

It was for the friendship we'd shared all this time.

Anyway, Hajime Kashima, I hope that after you escape the White Room and we meet again, you'll be even better than you were before.

The plain memories and vast body of knowledge seeped into my mind. I rubbed my aching head and opened the door. March sunlight filtered through the lush trees and fell in scattered patches across my face. I breathed in deeply, welcoming the spring breeze.

Let our story begin.