Storming the classroom like a hurricane is a rather large boy, probably around a head taller than me in height. His muscles, especially his calves, are toned—indicating a well-trained body that must be used to track and field. But for most people, me included, the “signature” part of his appearance is definitely his hair—its artificial neon green shade is just too much to bear. Heck, if the guy slapped some earrings on him and put on a leather jacket, people would undoubtedly mistake him for a delinquent.

  For someone like this person to immediately jump in our class and demand Shiraku, he’s definitely some kind of old-school rival from middle school. Not like I mind that—after all, the notion of a long-time rivalry is the springtime of youth for those jocks, right? But pick a damn time and place, will you? Do you have idea how weird you look right now?

  “Um… Do I know you?”

  And of course it’s the kind of comedic scatterbrain answer coming from the target! Clearly you just met him last year, you dimwit! Even know that, and this is the first time I’ve met the guy in my life!

  “Wat.”

  Ah, poor guy. Just look at the dead fish eyes he’s showing off. The fires of passion and youth, extinguished in just a few words… you have my condolences, Neon Boy.

  But it seems like the victim still hasn’t given up on his ordeal. Not like this, I bet.

  “T-This isn’t a joke, right, Kuroshi Shiraku? C’mon, it’s me! Mikaza Hayato! Surely that name rings a bell, right?”

  Mikaza? I feel like I’ve heard… actually, no, that name before.

  “Sorry for intruding,” I reach out to the boy. “But wouldn’t your name happen to be written as ?”

  Hearing an interruption, the neon boy turns to my side. “Hm? Yeah, that’s right. Written as , read as . You’re a fan of track-and-field?”

  “Ah, no,” I shake my head. “Last year’s Nationals were held at my school, so I happened to see the list of participants. Your name looked special, so it stuck in my head.”

  As if waiting for this, neon boy, now Mikaza, immediately turns to the oblivious genius, his eyes sparkling like he’s just found buried treasure:

  “See! Even this one… Uh, what’s your name again?”

  “Suzuki Tanaka, pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

  “Suzuki… Tanaka? Weird name…” It seems like my kindness is only replied to by having more salt rubbed in my already open wound, as the oddness of my given name is strong enough to even shake Mikaza off his spur of madness. But as all the muscle-heads out there, the guy can only hold his distraction for so long:

  “Anyway, see? Even…

  “Uh, what should I be calling you, actually?”

  I stand corrected.

  “Anything’s fine, right?” I let out an awkward smile, trying my damndest not to let a vein pop up my forehead, or let my mouth’s corner twitch. “I’m , after all.”

  “... My bad.”

  “None taken. Now, I believe you were arguing?” I gesture towards the still-confused white-haired boy on the side.

  “Oh, right.” Feigning a cough, Mikaza continues his flaunty gesture. “, even Tanaka here knows me, so why can’t you?”

  “Well… I’m pretty bad at remembering people’s names, so if I can’t recognize your face…”

  “What do you mean ‘can’t recognize my face’? The Junior High’s Olympiad! National Marathon! The Track-and-Field Tournament last year! I was second in all of those, only after you! We’ve met more than I can count with both my hands!”

  “But… I couldn’t see your face if I was first all the time, right?”

  I place my hand on Mikaza’s shoulder, nodding in sympathy. Oof, man. That hurts. The absolute worst excuse, yet the one that makes the most sense that a Monster like him can make. On the other end, it does look like the guy needs it—Mikaza’s face elongates (though I do not understand , but I swear his face was a few centimeters shorter just a few seconds ago), while his lips lightly twitch as if about to burst into tears.

  Don’t cry, man. You’d make a mess if you did.

  “Sheesh, talk about character assassination, right Tacchan?”

  Michinari, who has somehow stayed quiet for long enough that I forgot about his presence, playfully puts his arm over my shoulder again.

  “I’ve seen worse,” continuing my stiff laugh, I swipe the arm away. “Mere minutes ago, even.”

  “Aw, you meanie,” puffing his cheeks cutely, Michinari takes a step back.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  At the same time, another sound of the classroom door opening, this time with a stiff and formal tone to it. Turning around to see a middle-aged man in a suit and glasses, all of us understand that time for chatter has officially ended – homeroom has begun.

  *

  “Alright class,” the teacher in charge of us for the rest of the year starts his speech, “I’m Ichinose Kyoushiro, and you guys of class 1-C will be under my care for your first year. Pleased to meet you, and I hope that we can get along.”

  It’s a simple and easy first introduction… if you ignore the fact that through all of that time, he’s been giving the stink eye at my seat. I don’t blame him or anything—I was one of the few that stood outside my seat when he came in. And that’s why I’m facing the consequences of my actions by remaining standing up right now when everyone else is still sitting.

  Well, at least I’m not suffering . With a light smirk on my face, I glance over at the two seats to my left and behind me, where a muscular boy with bright, neon green hair and another effeminate one with equally bright pink braids stand respectively.

  “High school is a new chapter, the gateway to your adult life. I hope that you will show an appropriate attitude ,” Ichinose-sensei continues with a stern voice, his eyes gluing to our general premise. “Now, onto introductions. Let’s start with the trouble trio, shall we?”

  “With all due respect, Sensei, I don’t think it’s fair to lump me with–”

  “”

  “... Yes, Sensei.”

  “Good. Now, introduce yourself, if you please.”

  Welp, so much for my high school debut. Not that I had any reputation to keep, at least I can tell myself that.

  “My name is Suzuki Tanaka…”

  Immediately, I can hear murmurs rising like fungus after rain. While I knew that this would inevitably happen, I still have to say: have some tack, will you? It’s not like I this name for myself.

  “” feigning a cough to settle the class, I continue. “My name is Suzuki Tanaka, previously from Amagami Junior High. Though my academic and sporting capabilities are only average, I hope that I can carry the name Aoba well during my three years of high school. Pleased to meet you all.”

  As I finish my piece, however, a sweet, ticklish voice whispers into my ears from behind, sending goosebumps all over my body:

  “Not sure if being serious is the best way to present yourself there, Tacchan.”

  “Dude, stop scaring me like that!”

  “Suzuki-kun, need I remind you that we’re still in class?”

  Sensei’s timely reminder makes me realize that in a fit, I’ve quite literally jumped off my seat, and now I’m turning my behind towards the teacher’s desk. Looking back, I can see Ichinose-sensei shaking his head in disappointment with a hand on his head, while down the class, murmurs have started to turn into giggles.

  “, continue.” As I reluctantly return to my seat, the introduction period continues without much of a hitch. Since Michinari is behind me, I can’t really get back at the guy without attracting more attention, while Mikaza is miserable enough from his earlier spiel with Shiraku that I don’t think messing around with him would be a good idea. Plus, he seems like a decent guy too, if you don’t count the obsessiveness.

  At last, the final person—our class’s no.1, one half of the pair of twins taking Japan by storm, stands up.

  “Hi!” With a booming, yet cheerful and childish voice, Shiraku starts his piece. “I guess many of you have already known me, but I’ll introduce myself again just in case! I’m Kuroshi Shiraku! Since Nii–I mean, my brother is also attending this school, you can call me Shiraku to avoid confusion. I chose Aoba to make lots of new friends, so I hope we can get along!”

  The more I look at it, the more I can’t believe this guy. It’s as if he’s the spit-take that dumps on all of our hard work, mocking us that no matter how hard we try, there are geniuses in this world we can never reach. Come on, a flimsy excuse like “making friends”, and a week of studying got you into Aoba? What does that make me then, chopped liver?

  … Okay, maybe I am, but still!

  While I’m still wailing away my pain, on the blackboard, Sensei has already started the next activity, dividing the black surface in half with the piece of chalk in his hand.

  “Alright, now that we’re done with introductions,” he says, writing in the middle the word ‘Class Representatives’. “It’s time to pick our class leaders. According to Aoba’s tradition, the two top male and female scorers will act as the boys’ and girls’ representatives respectively, so…”

  “Yes, yes, I refuse!” Before Sensei can even finish, Shiraku has already answered, raising his hands in glee even though his words just now act more like a nuclear bomb dropping in the middle of the class.

  “Kuroshi Shiraku-kun,” Ichinose-sensei adjusts his glasses and glares at the insolent white-haired boy. “Do you have a reason for your refusal?”

  “Well, I just think that if you force people to do a job that they don’t like, then they’ll never really get good at it,” the boy explains. And actually, he has a pretty decent point, if I have to be honest.

  “You don’t get to choose your job in life, Shiraku-kun.”

  “Of course. But I just feel like it’s not fair to assign jobs to specific people right away.”

  “… Then what do you have suggested?”

  “How about we draw lots? That way, assignments will be random, and anyone that ends up with the job will have to do it. It both ensures a fair way of assessment and serves as practice for us to handle tasks we weren’t ready for in the future, like the original purpose of the assignment.”

  Again, this guy is way too smart for who he seems to be. Are we sure this isn’t his brother pulling a prank on everyone by dyeing his hair white or something?

  “… Alright, that’s a fair idea. Let’s…”

  “Sensei, hold on!” Now it’s Tsunagi’s turn to raise her hand. “I can take the role of female representative!”

  “Tsunagi Jouko-kun… Well, you are the top-ranking girl in our class. Fair enough. Then we will only draw lots for the male representative. Shiraku-kun, since you were the one who suggested this, prepare the lots and a box for me.”

  “Yes, sir!” Jokingly making a salute to the teacher, Shiraku runs off and returns with an empty cardboard box mere seconds later.

  “We’ll start from the closest to the furthest.” Sensei adjusts his glasses once more and nods towards me. “Suzuki-kun, if you may.”

  I take a deep breath, taking my slow and steady steps to the black board.

  Calm down. I’ve taken a glance at the class. There are well over twenty boys. My chance is less than five percent. Statistically, I shouldn’t have to be worried.

  I put my hand into the dark abyss of the cardboard box.

  Well, here goes nothing.

  I pull out the slip of destiny. Slightly quivering, I pry it open.

  “God damn it!”

  Along with my shout of misery comes the erupting cheer of every boy sitting behind me, quickly turning the entire class into a makeshift festival of a herd of monkeys.

  “Quiet! Quiet, you all!” Ichinose-sensei slams his giant ruler onto the table, clearing the noise in a heartbeat. “Now, as the results are in, the female and male representatives for the class shall be Tsunagi Jouko-kun and Suzuki Tanaka-kun, are there any objections?”

  “No, sir,” Tsunagi answers clearly.

  “No, sir…”

  So long, carefree high school life. It was only for a brief period, but it was good knowing you.