Hiyori Shiina Class D

It's only the first day and I already feel like I've made a friend.

April 1st

The bus ride to ANHS was quiet. Well apart from the other students who'd talk among themselves, it's a bit sad no one speaks to me. But I don't mind, this was something I had gradually gotten used to without dad in my life plus it gave me time to think more freely than others my age.

Lately, I've been wondering if people ever really change. They like to say we learn from history, but if that were true, we wouldn't keep making the same mistakes. Wars, betrayals, greed—it all happens again and again, just with different names and different faces. Even in a school like ANHS, where students are nurtured to be the best, I doubt things will be any difference. Everyone here wants something. Power, influence, acknowledgement perhaps even the freedom of living without their parents. They'll push themselves for it, fight for it, maybe even lose themselves for it. And for what? The stronger people become, the more they seem to hurt each other.

People say that the struggle makes you stronger. That the most capable individuals are the ones who have suffered the most. Maybe that's true. But isn't it strange? The path to success is always filled with conflict, exhaustion, isolation. And even when someone reaches the top, they just find new battles waiting for them. It never ends.

It's ironic, really. We chase after things that are supposed to make life better, only to use them to destroy ourselves. We want peace, but we fight wars to get it. We seek strength, but it turns us into something we never intended to be. It's an endless contradiction.

It reminded me of a dream I kept having. A boy, standing in a sterile white room, surrounded by other children. Their faces were blurred, indistinct, as if they were never meant to be remembered. But that boy... he stands out. Clear. Unshaken. Almost as if he doesn't belong among them, and yet, at the same time, he belongs more than anyone else.

It's strange. The more I think about it, the more it felt like he's the embodiment of the contradiction I keep dwelling on. He's perfect—flawless in a way that shouldn't be possible. But perfection itself is a contradiction of being human, isn't it? Something without weakness, without cracks, without feeling... doesn't that make it empty? And yet, I can't shake the feeling that he's exactly what people strive to become. Or maybe, what they fear becoming.

Too bad it was just a dream.

It must have been my mind playing tricks on me. After all, I saw people I recognized—Arisu-chan, Dad, Uncle Sakayanagi. No new faces. Except his.

But now that I think about it... he looked familiar.

Like Uncle Ayanokoji.

Hiyori pauses, her pen hovering over the page of her new diary she bought to document her high school experience, her eyes flicking across the lines she's already filled.

"I'll run out of pages before the first month at this rate." Hiyori thoughtfully taps her pen to her chin wondering if she should just erase the rubbish she just wrote.

At the same time a commotion broke out near the priority seats making a her jump a little before sighing, her hand resting on her chest as she looked to observe what was going on. A blond-haired boy sat comfortably, his legs crossed, while an elderly woman wobbled beside him, struggling to stay upright. A nearby office worker, clearly fed up, finally spoke.

"Excuse me, but shouldn't you offer up your seat?" Her voice carried across the bus, drawing attention.

The boy smirked. "Why should I?"