Chapter 1: The Typical Bus Scene

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Tokyo Metroplan Advanced Nurturing High School. In this country, it may well be the only place where I can escape the grasp of that man. 

I had such unpleasant thoughts while staring at the scenery passing by in the bus window. It was a world of colour, a far cry from the white room where colour was no more than a word. Of course, it's not as if the entire facility was white: hair, eyes, skin, food, pen ink, pencil led, electronic screens, chess pieces, training equipment, grime, vomit, blood... Nowhere in this world was devoid of colour, even a place like the white room. However, that was only technically true. To compare the outside world and the white room was laughable at best and fatal at worst. If the children took one good glance at the scenery I'm looking at, then returned to that world of bright white cruelty, I'm sure another generation would be filed away as failures.

Dark pavement lined with yellow and white lines, beige-tile sidewalk in front of housing units, Sakura trees planted along the way that dyed the world in pink: "picturesque" would be a good description. I wonder how one would usually feel, looking at scenery like this. Perhaps nothing of note. After all, none of the others in the bus appeared particularly interested in the scenery. An office lady with a stiff expression, a salary worker with an ambitionless gaze, and many others, none of whom were enjoying the scenery.

The three students wearing the same uniform as me included.

A girl with well-kept, waist-length black hair, with one strain tied in a braid. She was reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, which, according to the limited amount of research I did while under Matsuo's care, wasn't a common choice. The more abundant girl with short gold-brown hair seemed to agree, as she was glancing over at the dark-haired girl. Meanwhile, the boy with long blond hair appeared without a care, smirking while lightly brushing his hair back with a comb.

Objectively speaking, I believe they were all good-looking, particularly the girls. Perhaps looks were another criterion for admission into the school. In that case, was I considered relatively handsome? ...Even when I so attempted to joke with myself, I could only mutely dismiss my vain attempts. It was laughable, to the point where I would have laughed had I could.

The dark-haired girl glanced over at me and the gold-brown haired girl in order, seemingly annoyed by our gazes. She seemed to be slightly harsher with me, however. How unfortunate. I seem to have made a bad first impression to a fellow schoolmate. As I look away, we arrive at the last stop before the school, where an old lady comes in. None of the seats are open, though, and she looks slightly distressed as the bus takes off. She wobbles with the bus, looking in danger of falling. She glances over at the priority seat, where the blond boy continues to admire himself, but doesn't say anything.

"Excuse me, shouldn't you offer up your seat?"

A young office lady has spoken up. As this seems like an apt time to observe social interaction, I inconspicuously observe with interest.

"As you can see, this elderly lady is having some trouble, so could you please?"

Several heads turn, allowing me to blend along with them. I can almost imagine spotlights rappelling down, lighting the scene with curious gazes and focusing on the lady as she speaks.

The blond student grins broadly while crossing his legs. "Why should I offer up my seat? There's no reason to do so."

"You're sitting in a priority seat. It's natural to offer those seats to the elderly."

"Priority seats are just that: priority seats. I have no legal obligation to move. Since I'm currently occupying this seat, I should be the one who determines whether or not I move. Am I supposed to give up my seat just because I'm young? Nonsense. While I may be healthy, young, handsome and perfectly capable of standing without inconvenience, it would consume more energy. I have no intention of doing such a pointless thing. Or are you suggesting I should be livelier?"

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