COTE: YEAR 2 REACTION

Chapter 11: Kushida's Choice

The viewing was done for the day and the student body dispersed throughout the campus. As I passed through the various cliques of people who congregated and gossiped about what they've witnessed thus far, I was surprisingly greeted with mixtures of warmth and pity. A surprising combo.

One might have expected fear or even anger. After all, I had spent the past year cultivating a facade of mediocrity, a harmless, unassuming background character. The reveal of a true genius would undoubtedly be a blow to the ego, a harsh reality check for those who'd underestimated me for so long.

"That sounded ...cocky," I conceded inwardly. Perhaps a touch of humility wouldn't hurt.

Disrupting someone's self-constructed perception of reality was bound to have repercussions. It was a natural human response, this feeling of being miffed, of having the rug pulled out from under one's beliefs. Yet, the warmth in some of the glances I received defied logic. They weren't angry or resentful. Instead, there was an air of admiration and curiosity. Perhaps it stemmed from my own subconscious expectation of negativity, a bleak outlook on human nature that I hadn't even realised I held.

While I've never given such trivial concepts much thought, this experiment has made me realise how fruitless it has been for me to behave the way I did for the past year.

If tomorrow were to be my last day, what would my legacy be? A collection of "what ifs?" and unrealized potential? Each passing day cemented in my mind the preciousness of these peaceful moments.

In the White Room, I didn't get to experience such freedom of thought. Life there was a monotonous, yet intense, continuity of training and discipline. There was no room for personal growth or genuine human connection. Everything was a calculated move, a step towards some greater purpose defined by someone else.

Despite the perks of living such a life, I find myself not hating that place. It shaped me into who I am today, for better or worse. It gave me the skills and the mindset to survive and excel. But it also took away a part of my humanity, a part I am slowly trying to reclaim here.

Shaking off this unexpected introspection, I found myself drawn to the school's entrance, the gateway to the outside world. It wasn't long ago that I'd stood here with Manabu, engaged in a conversation about my aspirations. Few others commanded such respect, the ability to hold your attention with every word, like a seasoned traveller weaving tales of faraway lands.

He told me that making a lasting impact in this small part of the world, called ANHS, was a worthy goal. It wasn't about showing off my abilities or proving my superiority. It was about finding my place, making a difference, and understanding what it means to live a meaningful life.

It wasn't about gaining approval or admiration. It was about being honest with myself and with others.

Arriving at my destination, I eyed the blonde first-year girl who had become the talk of the school. She stood alone, leaning over the handrail, gazing upon the deep-blue ocean under the vibrant hues of the orange sunset. Her hair, golden and cascading, waved in rhythm with the gentle breeze, mirroring the waves that lapped against the shore in the background.

It was a beautiful sight.

"I was waiting for you," she spoke softly, her eyes still fixed on the distant horizon, lost in contemplation.

"I hope I didn't make you wait too long," I replied, approaching her with measured steps.

She turned her head slowly, her conflicted eyes meeting mine. "I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head slightly. "It wasn't fair of me to project my emotional baggage onto you. You were not responsible for what happened to Eiichiro, nor was it fair for me to sabotage you during that exam. I suppose I owe you an explanation."