Chapter 3: 1.1

As I suspected, the classroom was basically busy with different people split off into their own groupings. We have the popular kids, wallflowers, jocks, nerds, and loners, all falling perfectly into their respective high school archetypes.

A lot of research was done before applying here, so I’m aware of most things, and my seating position in the classroom is most definitely one of them.

During our very first day, I tried my best to avoid the backrow window seat because that’s usually where the protagonist usually sits, but unfortunately, due to overanalyzing, I made the fatal error of not securing a seat in the middle or the front of the classroom. So, begrudgingly, the seat next to the protagonist’s desk was allotted to me.

So incidentally, it was a win-lose situation due to the person seated next to me. You can most likely guess who right now.

As I walked through the room towards my seat, my presence wasn’t really acknowledged, much to my delight.

Now, dropping my bag on my desk, I quietly sat down and leaned my head against my hand. I estimated there were at least 3 more minutes until the bell for homeroom rang.

Being alone with my thoughts reminded me of my first day here and the dreaded introduction that most students must endure.

You know the name, age, hobbies, etc.

However, mine went something like this:

"My name is Yamaguri Yuki; um, I don’t really have anything of interest to share at the moment... It’s nice to meet all of you, I guess?"

Complete silence—all that is missing are the lonely chirps of crickets. The atmosphere felt like a comedian who just bombed his first joke of the night, and getting a tomato to the face would likely be more appealing than being intensely leered at.

A couple more moments passed by, and their stares were still passing judgment on me as I placed my hands in my pockets, somewhat unfazed by my current social situation. That was my best attempt at the thing, and a redo of it would produce even poorer results.

When you think about it, it's not really surprising that the blank stares I received were so, um, blank?

The classroom door opened up, and in walked Mashiro Saya in her usual fashion. She rarely ever spoke or interacted with any of us; now that I think of it, and in a world of irony, she sits next to me.

Someone might think because of this, my days are always bright and sunny, but they would be mistaken.

Anyway, she elegantly took her seat, not even so much as glancing at me.

A few moments later, the bell rang, and the door opened one last time. Then in walked our homeroom teacher, Arabella Graham.

She's in her mid-20s, with bosom-length blonde hair and ice blue eyes, and she always wears a business suit, with the exception of a pencil skirt on rare occasions.

It’s one of the many things that a hot-blooded teenager (maybe just myself) would find attractive in a potential girlfriend; unfortunately, we live in a society where those types of relationships are scrutinized and considered taboo. Faithfully holding onto my salacious thoughts for another lifetime, or at least until society devolves enough that my pursuits go unnoticed,

How can I describe her? Graham-sensei is an energetic and fun homeroom teacher who radiates sunshine and rainbows. Her smile can cause a crying baby to stop, and her warm, gentle tone of voice is enough to stop wars just by saying the words "pretty please."

That's how I'd describe our sensei on a different day.

She’s a young foreign teacher who is widely regarded as an educational genius. Her credentials are pretty much valid, and all her proficiency scores exceed those of 90% of educators with decades under their belt.

The only reason I know this is because the principal personally came to our class and rattled it off, mainly because some of the students were concerned about her age.

Our sensei took her seat and pulled out her cellphone, staring at it for around 3 minutes before acknowledging us.

"Liven up, class 1-B. Your most recent test results were okay—nothing out of the ordinary, but there are still quite a few of you who need to try a lot harder."

"Please do hurry up and name the top two students for this exam, teacher," said a male voice.

The person to whom it belongs is named Shigihara Hiroki, a well-built student who possesses impressive intelligence.

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Graham-sensei who didn’t have much enthusiasm, replied, "Shigihara and Mashiro placed 1st and 2nd, respectfully."

Shigihara leaned his chair backward and bellowed a hearty laugh.

"First, once again, is there even a challenge for me?"

Simultaneously, Mashiro, who sat next to me, clicked her tongue. This was her 10th time placing second behind Shigihara.

Waiting for him to finish his celebration, Graham-sensei said, "The difference this time was only by 4 points, with you scoring 92 and her scoring 88."

Laughing once again, Shigihara replied, "Then it wasn’t even close."

A few of our classmates looked at him with a bit of annoyance. However, that’s the most they could do considering he toots his own horn while backing it up.

Ignoring his antics once more, Graham-sensei returned to her phone. Our homeroom time was basically considered free time because she barely informed us about anything, and her reasoning was that the school sends all the important things to our phone, which is true.

Still, usually a teacher would at least inquire about the state of the classroom and the students. Help resolve any minor issues during this time. Thankfully, we barely had anything because of our class representative. No one actually elected her, but she just managed to take over due to her charisma.

Surprisingly, she isn’t here yet. Maybe she’s running late?

Anyway, I pulled out my own cell phone and double-checked a couple of reminders. My after-school schedule isn’t truly packed, but there are one or two errands that need to be completed.

Some moments passed as I felt a wave of being watched wash over me, and each time I attempted to pin down the person, it would end up fruitless. So with that in mind, the only thing that was left to do was just outright ignore it.

From across the room, a female student asked, "Tokinori-kun, do you want to get lunch today?"

Before he could answer, someone else spoke up for him, and that person was Ikeya Rukako, she’s a bit on the gyaru girl side.

"Sorry, but Tokinori-kun already has plans for lunch time."

"Oh..." the girl replied dispirited.

Turning to face the girl that asked, Tokinori clasped his palms together and replied, "Sorry about that, but what about tomorrow?"

"Oh, ok, that can work," replied the student, who was a bit dejected at first but is now content with her make-up lunch date, or whatever she sees it as.

As you can already tell, Tokinori gets along pretty well with the majority of the girls in our class and the rest of the year group as well. Now with that much power comes enemies, or in this case, petty haters, aka a few of my fellow male classmates.

Something like that is to be expected most of the time, I believe.

While continuing to scroll through my phone, the sound of writing caught my attention. It was my neighbor to the left of me, Mashiro.

At times such as this one, she’d usually solve questions or read a book. One can say it was her way of preoccupying herself in an effective and educational way, something that 95% of the class fails to do.

Homeroom concluded when the bell rang and Graham-sensei stood up.

"Please try to pay attention in your upcoming classes."

With that statement, she immediately left, closing the door behind her.

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