"Myself Kushida Kikyou, Mind telling me yours?"
Honestly I pretty much expected it to happen.
"Hikigaya Hachiman", I said curtly without much reaction.
She smiled again, this time a much intense one.
I thought of returning the smile with mine, but decided otherwise, imagining my smiling expression would seem like a serial killer trying to look innocent in court — unconvincing, forced, and most of all, unwanted.
Besides, people like her thrive on social cues.
You smile, they take it as an invitation. You talk, they start seeing a friend.
And before you know it, you're being dragged into group photos, birthday wishes, and nauseating good morning messages.
No thanks.
I turned my face back to the window. The city slipped past in long blurs of grey and neon, distant and indifferent. Just the way I liked it.
But the peace didn't last long.
The bus stopped again, and more passengers boarded — not students this time.
A few adults. Among them, an old woman with a walking stick, bent slightly from years of gravity's relentless pull.
She stepped on with that cautious dignity only old age grants, and immediately, the vibe in the bus shifted.
People noticed. No one moved.
Not until she did.
Kushida stood up.
"Ma'am, please take my seat," she said cheerfully, as if she were offering a slice of cake instead of sacrificing her comfort.
A model citizen. Applause, please.
The old woman looked grateful, but before she could respond, a blond-haired boy — tall, smug, wearing the same uniform as us — beat her to it.
Or at least, tried to.
He slid into the seat with the smooth arrogance of someone who thought chivalry was just a fancy word for simping.
"I'm tired too, you know. Equal rights and all," he said with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my childhood.
Kushida's smile didn't waver.
But something sharp flickered in her eyes — just for a moment.
The kind of flicker that tells you the mask is cracking.
"I'm sure someone like you can survive standing for a few minutes, right?" she said sweetly, voice dipped in poison.
Before the conversation could turn into a full-blown shonen arc, an office woman nearby stood up and gently guided the old woman to her seat instead.
"Please, have mine," the woman said warmly.
The old woman nodded, genuinely moved. "Thank you, young ladies."
Kushida just smiled, bowed slightly, and leaned against a pole as the bus resumed its journey.
Everyone went back to ignoring each other, pretending that little moment of awkward human interaction never happened.
Except me.
I watched it all, not with admiration or disgust, but with an odd sense of detachment.
People like Kushida are dangerous.
Not because they're kind.
Because they know when to be kind — and why.
They know it makes them look better.
Likeable. Dependable. Untouchable.
It's calculated.
I could almost respect it, if it didn't make my stomach twist with something I didn't want to name.
That whole performance reminded me of middle school — the time I tried to help a girl being harassed by upperclassmen, thinking I was doing the right thing.
She cried.
I got blamed.
She said I made things worse. That I scared her.
After that, I stopped pretending that good deeds had good outcomes.
That people rewarded sincerity. That truth had value.
I stared out the window again, almost bored.
And that's when my phone buzzed.
Weird.
No one ever messaged me, apart from Komachi — my little sister and the only person with the poor taste to love me — or my parents, whose texts were more emotionally hollow than the school's brochure.
I checked the notification.
Unknown Number Attachment: Classroom Of The Elite Year 1 Volume 1.txt
"The hell?"
This was the moment my imagination and reality all got mixed up, and I still didn't have the slightest idea.
**************
Author's Note :
Please comment down your thoughts on the premise, so that I may continue this one.
Next chapter - The Characters
**************