Questions. I had a lot of them. About the cameras. About the expulsion rules. About how students were divided into classes. But asking them now would only make me stand out, and not in a good way. It's too soon to risk drawing unnecessary attention to myself, especially when I haven't even scoped out who's who in this class. Better to blend in for now, keep a low profile—otherwise, how would I pull off my pranks later?
Besides, it wasn't like I'd get straight answers. People in power don't usually hand you the truth on a silver platter, especially in places like this.
Still, something about Chabashira-sensei's little "subtle" push for us to spend points nagged at me. Was it personal bias against our class? No, that didn't make sense. This was her first day with us; there's no way she'd have an agenda this early. It had to be school policy.
The real question was: why? Why hand out so many points and then practically shove us into a spending frenzy? There's always a motive. Nobody gives you 100,000 yen for free without strings attached. This wasn't generosity; it was bait. And I wasn't about to bite.
Before I could sink deeper into my thoughts, Chabashira-sensei left the room, her departure just as brisk and emotionless as her entrance. The moment the door clicked shut, the room transformed.
Chaos erupted.
Students clustered into groups, their voices buzzing with excitement as if they'd just hit the lottery. Plans were flying left and right—some were gushing about shopping for clothes, others were raving about electronics, and a few were practically drooling over the idea of gourmet meals. Their enthusiasm was almost contagious, but I wasn't buying into the hype.
I leaned back in my chair, glancing at my phone screen again. The "100,000 Points" glowing on it felt more like a ticking time bomb than a prize.
"This is almost too much preferential treatment," a girl's voice cut through the noise. It was sharp and controlled, with an edge of skepticism. I glanced over to see a black-haired girl sitting beside the guy who radiated "I don't give a fuck" vibes. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable. "It's almost frightening."
Yeah, no shit. Welcome to the club, Miss Skeptic.
On the other side of the room, a group of girls was practically bouncing off the walls.
"Hey! Hey! Do you want to check out a store with me on the way back? Let's do some shopping!" one of them chirped, her voice dripping with giddy excitement.
"Sure! With this much, we can buy anything. I'm so glad I got into this school!" another chimed in, her tone equally ecstatic.
I glanced at them briefly, my lips twitching into a faint smirk. Their excitement was almost entertaining. Newly rich students, drunk on the high of unexpected wealth, turning into restless little kids in a candy store.
And me? I wasn't giddy or restless. I was prepped for the worst-case scenario: that this 100,000 wasn't per month. What if it was all we'd get for the entire three years?
The thought hit like a sucker punch. God, that's depressing. How the hell do I survive on this?
I stifled a sigh, my mind already running through the math. Sure, I could ration it—live minimally, skip the luxuries, prioritize essentials—but still. It'd be tight. And if the school suddenly decided to pull the rug out from under us, lowering the points even further, I'd be screwed.
"Uncle," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "This is all your fault."
As if hearing me across time and space, a vivid image of my eccentric uncle flashed in my mind—his mischievous grin, his ridiculous antics. He probably thought this was some great cosmic joke. Well, joke's on you, old man.
"When I get out of here," I whispered, my tone dripping with mock menace, "I'm bitching to Miyu about that one time you took me to drinking. She'll take care of you."
The thought brought a small, wicked grin to my face. Miyu had an unrelenting sense of justice when it came to Uncle's antics. All I'd have to do was drop a few choice details, and she'd rain hellfire on him in no time.
The classroom was alive with murmurs and scattered laughter when a calm yet confident voice cut through the noise like a razor.
"Everyone, can you please listen to me for a moment?"
I glanced up from my phone, intrigued by the shift in atmosphere. The speaker was a guy who looked like he had just walked out of a prep school brochure. Neatly combed black hair, an upstanding posture, and the kind of voice that oozed sincerity—yeah, definitely not a delinquent. He had "model student" stamped all over him.
"Starting today, we're all going to be classmates," he continued, his tone as smooth as a politician's. "So, I think it'd be a good idea for us to introduce ourselves and get to know one another. We still have time before the entrance ceremony. What do you say?"
Bold move, I'll give him that. Most of the room was still trying to process the absurdity of 100,000 points, and here he was, taking charge like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Someone from the middle row chimed in enthusiastically, "Agreed! We don't even know each other's names yet!"
And just like that, the ice shattered. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
The guy smiled, clearly pleased. "My name's Hirata Yousuke. Back in junior high, people just called me Yousuke, so feel free to do the same! I like sports in general, but soccer is my passion. I'm hoping to join the soccer club here as well. Let's all get along!"
Hirata had barely finished his introduction before a wave of applause swept the room. A couple of girls even gave him the kind of look that screamed, future boyfriend material.
Smooth operator. If this guy became the class favorite, he'd probably keep everyone motivated and honest all the way to graduation. And yeah, he'd likely end up dating the cutest girl in class. That's just how these things go.
"Well then," Hirata said, still brimming with positivity. "Let's start introductions from the front row. Does that sound good?"
The girl sitting at the front hesitated, her face pale with nervousness. Still, the room's energy was hard to resist, and after a moment, she stood.
"M-my name is… Inogashira Ko-Ko…"
She froze mid-sentence, her words catching in her throat like a fishhook. Her face drained of color as the silence stretched on. A few of the more compassionate girls started encouraging her with a chorus of "Do your best!" and "Don't panic!"
But here's the thing: while well-meaning, those words just made things worse. To someone who's already nervous, "Do your best!" feels like pressure to perform. On the other hand, a calmer voice from the back chimed in, "It's okay to go slowly. No rush."
That did the trick. The girl took a few deep breaths, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
"My name is Inogashira Kokoro. My hobby is sewing, and I'm good at knitting. It's nice to meet you all."
The applause was warm and supportive as she sat down, looking both relieved and embarrassed.
As the introductions rolled on, I kept half an ear on the chatter, noting personalities more than words.
There was a guy named Yamauchi who claimed he'd been the ace of his junior high baseball team. He went on about his jersey number and some injury he got during the inter-high championship—something that didn't even include junior high students. Either he was cracking a bad joke or just full of himself. Probably both.
Then came Kushida Kikyou.
She stood up with a bright, almost blindingly cheerful smile, radiating an energy that could light up a dead room. Honestly, she's almost similar to Ichinose in personality—both give off that sickeningly sweet vibe of being open and approachable, the kind of girls who can walk into a room and instantly create a calm, uplifting atmosphere. It's like they've got some manual for being universally adored.
But there's something… different between the two.
I assumed Ichinose might be a two-faced bitch, which is why I kept teasing her, hoping to crack through the facade. Yet, every time, her reactions felt genuine. Maybe she's just a naïve girl living in a sugar-coated fairytale world. Or maybe, just maybe, she's an Oscar-winning actress who's managed to fool even me. Either way, I'm not ready to drop my guard.
And now, there's Kushida. Is she another two-faced bitch? After the kinds of girls I dealt with in middle school—the ones who could stab you in the back with a smile—I've got every reason to be wary. Experience has taught me that these cheerful types are often the most dangerous. They hide their venom behind their charm.
"My name is Kushida Kikyou!" she chirped, her voice practically sparkling. "None of my friends from junior high made it to this school, so I'm starting fresh here. I'd love to get to know all of you and be friends with everyone!"
Friends. She wants to be friends. My sister always said I should try to make friends here, that it would help me grow. But how? Is it really that easy? Just declare you want to be friends, and it happens? Because if that's how it works, then maybe I've been doing this wrong my entire life.
Kushida's energy was relentless, her enthusiasm bordering on the contagious. She wasn't just introducing herself; she was laying out a damn mission statement.
"My first goal is to be friends with every single person in this class," she announced, her eyes practically sparkling with sincerity. "So please, after we're done with introductions, let's exchange contact information, okay?"
Her voice was disarmingly sincere. If I hadn't spent years learning how to spot fakes, I might've been charmed too. But sincerity like that? It's dangerous. You don't throw that much sunshine at people unless you've got an agenda.
"After school or during breaks, feel free to invite me to anything! Let's make lots of memories together!" she finished with a flourish, her hands clasped in front of her like she was wrapping up some speech at a youth leadership seminar.
The classroom erupted in applause. Thunderous applause. A few of the guys looked like they were ready to propose on the spot, their faces plastered with dumb, mesmerized smiles. Hell, even some of the girls seemed charmed, their eyes sparkling with admiration.
I, on the other hand, was left feeling… unsettled.
What's her angle? Nobody's that genuine without a reason. What does she want? To be admired? To manipulate us? To secure her position at the top of the social food chain? Or maybe she really is that innocent, and I'm just too broken to see it. Feigned innocence or not, her words felt like a declaration of war to someone like me.
And then there was that nagging thought in the back of my mind: Is this what friendship is supposed to look like?
I mean, sure, her enthusiasm was over the top, but maybe this is how people actually connect. Maybe I'm the one who's out of sync, stuck in a loop of distrust and paranoia. Still, I couldn't shake the memory of what girls like her—smiling, cheerful, kind on the surface—did to others in middle school.
The introductions kept rolling, and my attention drifted until a fiery red-haired guy stood up. His energy was explosive—if Hirata was the sun, this guy was a wildfire.
"What, are we little kids or something? I don't need to introduce myself. If you wanna do that, go ahead, but leave me out of it," he snapped.
The tension in the room skyrocketed as Hirata tried to defuse the situation. "I can't force anyone to introduce themselves, of course. But getting along with your classmates isn't a bad thing."
Hirata's calm reasoning only seemed to agitate the redhead further. "I didn't come here to make friends," he growled, storming out of the room with a handful of students following his lead.
Charming.
The rest of the intros ranged from decent to cringe-worthy. There was a guy, Ike, who introduced himself as a girl-obsessed clown, and Kouenji—a rich kid with the personality of a narcissistic peacock.
And then it was my turn.
I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of every eye on me. My red cap cast a faint shadow over my face as I adjusted it, my mind racing for something clever or impactful to say.
"Yo," I began, leaning slightly on the desk. My tone was casual, deliberately so. "Name's Aiden Takahashi. No big speeches or flashy talents here. Just a guy trying to make it through the day without losing his mind."
A few chuckles rippled through the class, though I could sense some confusion too. Perfect. I wanted them to remember me, sure, but not too well.
"I'll try not to get in anyone's way, and you try not to get in mine. Sound fair?" I added with a smirk, sliding back into my seat without waiting for applause.
For a moment, the room was quiet. Then Hirata, ever the diplomat, smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Takahashi-kun. Let's all work together, okay?"
A smattering of applause followed, polite but restrained. Good. I didn't need pity claps or fake enthusiasm.
Then we dispersed for the entrance ceremony.