Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.
A massive educational institution built on a government-funded artificial island. A school that boasted freedom, prestige, and an enigmatic system that promised 100% college placement and job security. For most, it was a dream. For one boy, it was an escape.
That boy sat quietly by the window in the back row of Class 1-D, his sharp black hair and listless dead-fish eyes set him apart—not because of anything remarkable, but because of how ordinary he was. His name: Hikigaya Hachiman.
He had transferred here under unusual circumstances. Three weeks ago, on the first day of his former high school life at Sōbu High in Chiba, he had been hit by a car while trying to save a puppy that had darted into the road. The injury left him in the hospital, recovering while the rest of the freshmen formed their social circles, made their memories, and secured their places in the social hierarchy.
By the time he was discharged, he knew the window had closed. Another isolated high school life awaited him—until Shizuka Hiratsuka, his no-nonsense guidance counselor, presented him with a peculiar recommendation letter. She was an alumna of this very school and claimed that an opening had suddenly appeared due to some internal issue with a freshman. Without much thought, she pushed the opportunity toward him.
Tuition-free. Living expenses covered. Total independence from his parents. It almost sounded like a scam.
But it wasn't.
And for a boy like Hachiman—whose younger sister Komachi was still two years away from her own high school entrance exams—it was a rare chance to lift some burden off their family. If he could succeed here, Komachi might follow. So he didn't look back. He packed up, transferred, and now sat among strangers, surrounded by twenty boys and twenty girls, waiting for his turn to speak.
Introductions were underway.
"Excuse me for a moment, everyone. I'm Yōsuke Hirata. I hope we can all get along well and become friends quickly."
Polite. Approachable. That guy was already glowing with social energy.
Then came another.
"Then it's my turn next! My name's Kikyō Kushida. My dream is to become friends with everyone! I want to make so many memories, so please come talk to me anytime, okay?"
She was practically the embodiment of a golden retriever in human form. Smiles, energy, charm. The kind of girl the entire class would fall for instantly.
Hachiman remained seated, eyes slightly narrowed, his face unreadable. He already knew what was coming. He had seen it before.
Next was a girl with long black hair sitting just behind him. Her voice was cool, barely above a whisper.
"Horikita Suzune."
Just her name. Nothing more. No smile. No warmth. The opposite of Kushida and instantly more interesting.
Hachiman's thoughts wandered.
The boys in this class? Most looked like background characters from a discount rom-com. Except for Hirata, none stood out. But the girls? That was a different story.
Kei Karuizawa. Maya Sato. Chiaki Matsushita. Haruka Hasebe.
At least half the girls would've been considered top-tier beauties in any other school. But here they were, all clumped into the same class.
Suspicious, right?
Add to that the absurd promise of 100% employment rates, the "zero cost" enrollment, and the eerily perfect gender balance, and the whole setup felt like something from a dystopian anime.
Still, Hachiman knew what he had to do.
Being alone wasn't a crime. But being alone in a system designed around groups? That was hell. He remembered the P.E. classes where he played baseball by himself. The awkward lunches. The looks.
No more.
Komachi had told him to make at least one real friend. Someone who wouldn't ghost him after group projects were over. Someone who wouldn't disappear when he stopped trying to please them.
So now… it was his turn.
"I'm Hikigaya Hachiman, I'm from Chiba and I share this belief—"
He rehearsed a dramatic, painfully honest speech.
[True friends don't need to fake smiles. They don't laugh at your jokes just to avoid silence. They don't keep in touch out of obligation.]
[The person who rides their bike to meet you at 2 a.m. because you asked for help—that's a real friend.]
[So if anyone here shares that belief… let's be friends.]
And just as he opened his mouth to say anything more—
"What are you doing?"
A sharp voice cut through the room.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of high heels echoed off the classroom floor as a tall woman strode in through the front door. Her jet-black ponytail swayed behind her with military precision. She wore a crisp black blazer, a snow-white blouse beneath it, and black thigh-high stockings fastened with subtle garters. Her heels struck the floor like a metronome set to "intimidate."
She walked with authority, like she owned the room. Her gaze scanned the class—disinterested, calculating, bored.
Her voice was low, almost husky, but there was something magnetic about it. Something that made the entire room fall silent.
If some otaku with delusions were sitting here, they'd probably fantasize about her stepping on them with those heels. Hachiman, meanwhile, thought she'd look far better in a frilly maid outfit, wielding a feather duster and absolute embarrassment.
But that thought passed quickly.
She made her way to the podium, picked up a piece of chalk, and turned her back to the class.
In confident strokes, she wrote her name on the board:
Sae Chabashira.
Then she turned, folding her arms.
"Save the poetry for your diary, Hikigaya. You'll have plenty of chances to embarrass yourself later. For now, sit down."
The class chuckled quietly, and Hachiman lowered himself back into his seat without another word.
So much for a grand entrance.
But maybe—just maybe—it was better this way.
After all, high school was only just beginning. And for someone like him, even survival counted as success.