"Old Man Ichiraku, I'm heading out..."
After polishing off a bowl of pork ramen that was very, very, very normal, Izuru left his payment on the counter, said his goodbyes, and stepped out of the shop clutching the remains of his "Otaku's Happy Juice."
It was just shy of seven o'clock. In Izuru's pre-transmigration high school life, this hour usually signaled the start of a night-school grind where every second was treated like a battlefield. But now...
"Did you hear? Lelouch of the Obedience starts airing tonight!"
"So what? The J.C. Staff version of One Punch Man premiered yesterday. The PV was insane—the director was scratching his feet on a livestream!"
That was the current atmosphere. Without the shackles of mandatory night study, these liberated youths wandered aimlessly to blow off steam. They didn't look depressed by their curriculum at all; instead, they laughed with the simple-minded joy of idiots, bonding over shared hobbies.
To this, Izuru felt inclined to channel Lu... I mean, Hachiman-sensei, whose identity shall remain nameless: "What we call communication is merely self-satisfaction for the speaker and guesswork for the listener. In the end, it's just an exchange of words while hearts remain utterly disconnected..."
Of course, the original quote wasn't exactly like that, but the sentiment held. It was a philosophy Izuru had forged from a mix of Hachiman-sensei's life lessons and his own.
The guy talking about Lelouch and the guy talking about One Punch Man clearly had different tastes. This meant they weren't truly listening to each other; they were just busy broadcasting their own opinions. Once they finished, they'd realize they had no idea what the other person said. It was just a one-sided emotional dump.
Yet, there were people who couldn't even manage that surface-level communication. They had no "formality listeners"—not a single soul willing to endure the one-sided rants that were usually forgotten the moment they were uttered.
But...
"I guess I'm a little different now."
Walking alone down the prosperous yet lonely main road, Izuru pulled out his phone. He looked at the message he'd sent Kaguya: 'Yashoku, please let me explain. What you saw with Yotsuba and me in the shed... we really weren't doing anything inappropriate.'
Kaguya's reply had arrived a few minutes later: 'It's Kaguya, not Yashoku. But, I believe in the President. I trust that you aren't that kind of person. Tomorrow at noon, please come to the Student Council room early to explain the full context of the incident clearly!'
At the very least, Izuru now had someone to pour his heart out to—someone willing to trust him. Even if he didn't know her true motives or why she was so ready to listen...
"This is enough for now..."
The corners of Izuru's mouth curled into a satisfied smile. Though, what was that "I trust you aren't that kind of person" bit supposed to mean? Was she underestimating my ferocity as the number-one pro driver of Mount Akina?
Whatever, time to head home.
◆━⊰✿✧✿⊱━◆
In front of a very, very, very luxurious apartment complex, Izuru tapped his electronic keycard against the scanner, tucked it back into his pocket, and stepped inside with a deadpan expression.
This apartment reeked of "new money," and one of its rooms was Izuru's home. Granted, it was a rental, but even so, the rent was far beyond what a normal family could afford.
"Well, even with all this, it's just a fancy room at the end of the day..."
Izuru gave a bitter smile. In terms of material wealth, he wasn't exactly a dominating mogul, but he was comfortably well-off. However, in terms of his mental state...
Um, excuse me, but Izuru felt like a total loser (of the "failed heroine" variety)!
Because when he compared himself to the light novel protagonists of this country—guys with average or even dirt-poor families who somehow had childhood friends, non-blood-related sisters, and heroines literally falling from the sky...
Izuru couldn't find a single thing to be proud of.
"Hah! Comparing yourself to people is a recipe for rage, and comparing things just makes you want to throw your stuff away!"
Boarding the elevator and pressing the button for his floor, Izuru let out a melancholic sigh. Once the doors slid open at his destination, he walked to his unit, pushed the door open, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"I'm home!"
No one answered. There was only the cold-toned luxury of the interior. Despite the high-end furniture, there wasn't a human shadow in sight. It was hollow and silent.
Truthfully, Izuru's reason for shouting was just to mimic the homecoming etiquette of this country. He hoped that one day, when he said those words, someone in the room would actually reply.
But...
Thinking back on the day's events, his smile returned.
"If today were written as a novel, it could probably fill twenty or thirty chapters. A few days ago, my life could be summarized in a single sentence..."
The chaos didn't feel like a burden to Izuru; quite the opposite, he found it exhilarating.
The transfer students who seemed to "fall from the sky"—Itsuki, Miku, and Yotsuba—and the likelihood of meeting Nino and Ichika soon. Kaguya catching him in a compromising position, the "Ice Queen" Yukino sitting behind him, and the Bunny Girl he'd just encountered...
"Maybe I'm finally starting to grow a light novel protagonist aura."
With that thought, the cold room felt a few degrees warmer, lifting his spirits.
"Alright, since I ran into such an exciting 'youth protagonist' plot today, let's play some games to celebrate..."
Well, he would have played games all night regardless of how his day went. His otaku nature was hardwired. Perhaps if he had a side hustle as a private tutor for beautiful girls, things might change, but for now...
Booting up the game that has ruined the futures of countless teenagers, League of Legends (LoL), Izuru hopped into solo queue.
MyNameIsGabriel: I'm a pro Yasuo. Give me mid or I troll (feeding)!
Ako-chanInvincible: I'm a pro Zed. Give me mid or I troll!
And so, the two of them began a flame war in the team chat...
"What are these two teammates even doing?!" Izuru sighed in resignation.
Fifteen minutes later, Izuru slammed the surrender button.
"Dammit! A 'Child Zed' and a 'Trash Yasuo,' both of them 0-9. Are you playing with your eyes closed?!"