Didn’t You Say I Was Just a Stand-In?

On the podium in Class 1-A, the math teacher held a piece of chalk, tapping it rhythmically against the blackboard as he wrote about set theory.

The concept of sets.

Sufficient conditions, necessary conditions.

The truth value of propositions.

The three types of propositions: converse, inverse, and contrapositive.

The students below listened intently.

Though whether they were truly absorbing the material was another matter.

By the window at the back of the classroom, Kitahara Takashi twirled his pen, keeping up with the teacher's pace.

Truth be told, Japanese high schools cover a lot of material.

In the first half of the first year, students are expected to learn number theory, set theory, quadratic functions, plane geometry calculations, data analysis, and statistics.

Starting in the second half of the year, they move on to probability, permutations and combinations, properties of integers, and the properties of various geometric shapes.

By the second year, the difficulty ramps up even further.

If domestic high school graduates recklessly take the central exams and the secondary exams of various schools here without supplementing their knowledge, their results will undoubtedly be disastrous.

"So, how do those time-travelers manage to become top students without listening in class or reading books every day?"

With memories from his past life and a flexible mind, Kitahara Takashi has no trouble keeping up with the teacher's lessons.

Even so, he still dares not lose focus in class and must pay close attention.

When the bell signaling the end of class rang in Class 1-A, Otani Shota was the first to stand up, rushing over to Kitahara Takashi and Tanaka Kota: "Takashi, Kota, let's go eat!"

The math teacher, who was about to leave the classroom, heard this and stopped in his tracks, giving him a deep look.

He decided then and there to call on him to answer questions in the next class.

Tanaka Kota, afraid of being noticed by the teacher and called on in the next class, immediately slumped onto his desk, silently chanting, "Don't see me, don't see me."

"Hey, why are you slumping down?" Otani Shota, completely oblivious, ran over.

Fortunately, the math teacher had left by then, and Tanaka Kota lifted his head to scold, "Couldn't you wait until the teacher left? What are we eating today?"

"Of course, miso ramen! Miso ramen is the best!"

"What? Teishoku? I think so too."

"Kota, you jerk, I'll teach you a lesson, ora ora ora!"

"Useless, muda muda muda muda!"

"You managed to block all of them? I underestimated you! Behold my domain: Infinite Void!"

"Merely Gojo Shota, witness my ultimate technique: Hollow Purple Cage!"

...

Under the bewildered gazes of their classmates, Otani Shota and Tanaka Kota, these two chuunibyou teenagers, started roughhousing.

Kitahara Takashi silently stood up, pretending not to know them, lowered his head, and quickly walked towards the door.

Kitahara really didn't understand—what's the difference between this behavior and taking a dump in public?

Is this what the anime world is like?

"Takashi, wait for me." x2

Hearing this, Kitahara walked even faster, as if the wind was at his feet.

Just as he stepped out the door, a love letter, carried by a gust of wind, suddenly flew towards him, smacking right into his face.

"Kitahara-kun, please go out with me."

Kitahara, covering his face where the envelope had hit him, looked at the girl in front of him—pretty and well-endowed.

"How many times is this this week?"

"Probably the ninth time."

"Damn, he really deserves to die!"

Class 1-A seemed completely unfazed by Kitahara being cornered at the classroom door for a confession. They watched with interest, waiting for the beautiful girl to be mercilessly rejected.

Some boys even entertained the thought of comforting the girl if she got too upset, hoping to take advantage of the situation.

Don't they say girls like kind guys?

Maybe that pretty girl could become their girlfriend?

People should have dreams, after all.

Kitahara didn't mind being watched, but he really didn't want to be treated as entertainment: "Kumi-san, I'm sorry, I—"

Before Kitahara could finish, the girl looked up in surprise and interrupted him: "Um... my name is Komaki Ayami."

Kitahara: "..."

After a brief silence, Kitahara bowed his head in apology: "I'm sorry."

He really hadn't meant to mix up her name.

As a special scholarship student, ranked first in his grade, guaranteed to enter the advanced class next semester, and destined for a top imperial university, it was only natural that he was popular with the girls.

With the added aura of being a top student, not to mention his strikingly good looks—standing at 177 cm in his first year of high school, with the potential to reach 180 cm—it was no wonder girls were drawn to him.

Kitahara's shoe locker received several love letters every day.

For many people nowadays, they might never even see a love letter in their lifetime.

He received no fewer than seven confessions each week.

Some girls, even after being rejected by Kitahara, didn't give up, determined to try again, believing that persistence would eventually wear him down.

This sometimes led to Kitahara encountering the same girl multiple times in a week.

At Aoba Private High School, where the academic standard deviation was as high as 77, the girls were all the same age, wore the same uniforms, had similar hairstyles, and even spoke in similar tones. If you didn't look closely, it was hard to tell them apart.

"Komaki-san, if there's nothing else, I'll be going now."

After saying this, Kitahara tried to walk past Komaki Ayami.

Komaki Ayami sidestepped to block him: "Kitahara-kun, I haven't finished speaking!"

Kitahara had no choice but to stop and look at her.

Komaki Ayami glanced shyly at Kitahara, feeling embarrassed but mustering the courage to say, "Kitahara-kun, I know you don't know me, and it's presumptuous of me to suddenly confess to you like this. It might trouble you, but please believe me, I... I'm not a frivolous person..."

Under Kitahara's calm gaze, Komaki Ayami lowered her head shyly, her slender, pale fingers twisting the hem of her skirt.

"A week ago, in the afternoon, I saw you in the library..."

She recalled that day—the sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the boy in a clean white shirt was reading with his head down.

The breeze carried the sunlight through the treetops, illuminating the boy's deep-set eyes. The image of him engrossed in his book was etched deeply into Komaki Ayami's heart.

"I think... this must be love at first sight! These past few days, whenever I think of you, my heart races..."

Komaki Ayami's voice grew softer and softer.

In contrast, Kitahara's eyes remained as calm as a still pond.

Perhaps overwhelmed by shyness, Komaki Ayami's face turned as red as a ripe persimmon, as if it might drip juice at any moment.

"I want to get to know you, to be part of your future, so please give me a chance."

This confession was serious.

Komaki Ayami truly liked Kitahara.

She didn't want to have any regrets in her youth.

After patiently listening to her, Kitahara was about to refuse again when a slender, pale hand hooked his arm and pulled him away.

Kitahara looked at Kamikawa Narii: "Hey, what are you doing?"

Kamikawa Narii didn't say a word, her face dark as she dragged him away.

"Stop pulling, you're going to ruin my clothes."

Despite his words, Kitahara obediently followed Kamikawa Narii, silently giving her points in his mind.

You had to admit, her timing was perfect.

Kamikawa Narii pulled Kitahara to a corner, pushed him against the wall, and with a "thud," trapped him with her arms.

'Am I being kabedon'd?'

Kitahara blinked in confusion.

In both his lives, this was the first time a girl had pinned him to a wall.

The thing was, Kamikawa Narii wasn't as tall as him, and her attempt to mimic the kabedon from manga resulted in her hands being under his ribs, making it look more like she was hugging him rather than pinning him.

"Kitahara Takashi, are you doing this on purpose?"

Kitahara: "?"