COTE x God of High School | A Masterpiece

Volume 1 - Chapter 1: Fall from Grace.

Three years. A time span that should have been insignificant. After all, years are just measurements of something fleeting: human ambition, human effort, human failure. 

And here I stand, at the end of those three years, with the bitter, unpalatable taste of success clinging to my tongue. Contrary to what I had heard so far about it being extremely sweet. 

I always believed that if I were to lose, it would be on my terms. I envisioned a worthy class—molded and guided like a parent guiding a toddler how to walk and then run—one that would rise above, strong enough to surpass even me. 

Not because I wanted defeat, but because I wanted to prove that man wrong. But perhaps believing this was my first mistake. I had lied to myself. 

Truth was that the absence of struggle bored me. A lion without prey stagnates. A predator without challenge decays.

I spent years crafting Class D into something more than just a bottom-rung collection of failures. A structure built not on sentimentality or camaraderie but on a calculated vision. The "friends" I made were nothing more pieces on a board. 

One by one, they learned. Grew. Adapted. They believed they were becoming something greater. Maybe they were.

And yet, they couldn't achieve what I needed them to. Not quite.

They failed to push me off the edge.

My defeat never came. Not because they weren't capable, but because I refused to lose. I couldn't.

And that's where the conflict lies.

I should be content. By every measurable standard, I've succeeded. Class 1-A stands at the pinnacle, at the expense of Ichinose, of course. 

Most of the class has to come to terms with it as well. Seeing me as their savior.  

But they don't understand. They can't. Winning was never the goal. 

No, the goal was to transcend the concept of winning. To create something—or someone—that would force me to confront failure, to feel human. To experience that elusive fall from grace.

But instead, all I got was this - standing at the summit, looking down, and there's no one beside me.

I had won a battle but lost the overall war against that man. It made me feel empty. An emptiness that I engineered myself, brick by brick. 

I tried to create a class so formidable it would prove my limits. Instead, I proved I have none—or that I refuse to acknowledge them. I can't decide which is worse.

The person I defeated in the end wasn't someone else. It wasn't Horikita, Ryuen, Sakayanagi, or any of the others. It was me. My arrogance. My idealism that, for once, I could step outside the carefully constructed walls of my existence and experience the vulnerability of loss. 

But that arrogance was crushed beneath the weight of my own instincts. The desire to win is embedded in me too deeply.

And so, I won.

I didn't want to. I wanted to. I never wanted to lose. I needed to.

Both statements exist in parallel. Neither fully true. Neither fully false.

I crafted this victory. But in doing so, I denied myself the very thing I sought.

Was it worth it?

I still don't know. 

As I stood at the gate of ANHS in the evening, a grey hatchback stopped right in front of me. The one that came out was a tall, slender man and was wearing a white formal shirt with black coat. He had straight blonde hair that reached past his neck and a pair of sharp, narrow red eyes.

Red eyes? Lens? Or maybe he just has rare eye color. 

The man's lips had barely parted to speak when I cut him off. "I was told to not talk to strangers. Or get in their vans..." I paused, looking over his shoulder, "...or cars." 

His thin eyes crinkled further. "I was expecting a sense of humor." He spoke, his voice light and oddly obedient. Reminded me of Matsuo. 

I looked at him. Overtly familiar. He knows who I am. "Before you offer me to come with you, can you tell me who sent you?" 

This man did not seem to be associated with White Room at all. The way he carried himself and the way he talked, they were much different than the instructors or anyone related to that place would talk. 

"Oh, pardon my late introductions." He bowed, placing one hand on his chest. "I am R, the head of the 'God of Highschool' committee."

Hmm? God of Highschool? Sounds like one of those games one would play in early 2000's. 

"And what is it that you require of me?" 

He smiled, his eyes slightly opening. "Straight to the point, I see." 

"No use in beating around the bush." I paused, letting the words drawl in my mouth. "A dying man catching at straws, I suppose?" 

A rather sinister smile appeared on his face. "You are qualified to participate in God of Highschool. If you manage to win it, we will grant you any wish you want."

I kept my gaze matched with him for a moment. Any wish? 

"That sounds exaggerated." 

As if expecting me to say it, he smirked. "Your freedom from the White Room is a side-bonus. The reward will be granted separately." 

My grip on my suitcase tightened ever so slightly. "You sound confident." 

"I am." He looked down at his feet and rubbed it against the back of his pants, making it shine once again. "As a matter of fact, I have it already sorted. All I need is confirmation." 

"What is this God of Highschool you speak of?"

He smiled. "It is a martial arts competition, although, not restricted to purely martial arts. You can participate in any event, and usage of weapons is allowed in specific parameters and ruleset."

I stayed silent. Was this some kind of test?  

No, either this man was extremely good, or I was losing my edge, since I couldn't tell with a 100% certainty. 

Suddenly, he took his phone out and directed the screen at me. My eyes took a second to adjust to the unusually high brightness. As the pixels came into focus, I saw that man standing and shaking someone's hand. 

Someone I couldn't make the outline of due to the camera angle. 

"We have already talked and fairly compensated your father." 

"Money isn't the problem." I pointed out. "But I supposed you already know that."

"Yes." He tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. "He wants a high standing political position along with roots that extend far into the future generations."

I stayed silent. 

"We can manage both. So, rest assured, your freedom and a wish are both within arm's length," he took out a letter and held it between his fingers, "should you choose to join GOH."

I took in a deep breath. 

I do not hate the White Room. It is where I spent most of life in, no matter the nature. But a part of me...

Before my thoughts could fully formulate, I reached out for the letter instinctively. 

"I'm in."