In a world defined by cold logic and precision, Kiyotaka Ayanokoji is the ultimate creation of the White Room, a sterile facility designed to forge children into superior beings. Trained to suppress emotions and dominate through intellect, Kiyotaka'...
As I walked into the classroom, the hum of early morning chatter buzzed faintly in the air. The sunlight streaming through the windows illuminated the familiar scene—a mix of drowsy students nursing their exhaustion and the few lively ones already engaged in discussions. I made my way to my desk without drawing any attention, as usual.
Sliding into my seat, I adjusted my bag on the hook and leaned back, letting my gaze sweep over the classroom. Sudo was in his usual spot, reclining like a king surveying his domain. Ike and Yamauchi were huddled together, their animated gestures suggesting some scheme or another. Nearby, Hirata and Karuizawa chatted effortlessly.
Just as I thought the morning would pass uneventfully, Yamauchi's excitable voice broke through the ambient noise.
"Hey, Professor! Professor!" he called out, practically leaping over to Hideo Sotomura's desk.
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Sotomura, who preferred to blend into the background like a shadow, looked up from his laptop, his glasses catching the light. "Good morning, Yamauchi-dono," he said in his typical polite tone.
"I got something you need to see," Yamauchi declared, his face alight with the fervor of a salesman desperate to close a deal. He reached into his bag and triumphantly pulled out a small black gaming console.
Sotomura's expression remained neutral. "A PS Vita? That's... nostalgic."
"Exactly!" Yamauchi exclaimed, gripping the console like it was a treasure. "Classic, vintage gaming at its finest. And I'm willing to part with it—for you—at a steal! Only 10,000 points."
The Professor blinked, his fingers pausing over his keyboard. "10,000 points seems... excessive for such an outdated piece of technology."
Yamauchi leaned in, undeterred. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Professor. It's not outdated—it's retro. Retro is in, my friend! You of all people should know that. Imagine all the limited-edition games you could play. This baby's in mint condition."
Sotomura adjusted his glasses, glancing briefly at the console. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I must decline. My gaming setup is already sufficient."
Yamauchi wasn't giving up so easily. "C'mon, man. Just look at it! You could mod it, install emulators, play your favorite bishōjo games wherever you want. Aren't you always talking about convenience?"
Sotomura's polite smile didn't waver. "I'm afraid my gaming habits are already well-supported by modern technology."
Frustrated, Yamauchi resorted to desperate measures. He plopped the console onto Sotomura's desk and stepped back as if presenting a holy relic. "Okay, fine. 5,000 points. That's my final offer. You won't find a better deal anywhere on campus!"
Sotomura's eyebrows twitched, a subtle sign of growing discomfort. "Yamauchi-dono, I really don't need—"
"3,500!" Yamauchi interrupted, practically pleading now. "It's practically a giveaway at this point! You're robbing me blind!"
