Twisting The Twisted

Chapter 2: Classes have commenced

The late afternoon sun bathed the sprawling campus of Advanced Nurturing High School (ANHS) in a warm glow. Lush green lawns stretched out before you, dotted with vibrant flower beds bursting with color in every shade imaginable. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling and creating a calming symphony. Cherry blossom petals, like confetti at a joyous celebration, swirled around you in the gentle breeze, some catching on your hair as you embarked on your journey to Class 1-D.

ANHS boasted a breathtaking architectural style. Towering white buildings with sleek glass facades, reminiscent of futuristic skyscrapers from a movie, lined the meticulously manicured pathways. Sparkling fountains added a touch of elegance, their gentle sprays shimmering in the sunlight. The very air thrummed with the energy of a thousand blooming minds, each student eager to leave their mark on this prestigious institution.

Following the map you snagged during orientation, you navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Sunlight streamed through large open windows, illuminating displays of student achievements and historical artifacts that whispered of the school's rich legacy. A sense of awe settled over you as you passed by a trophy cabinet overflowing with gleaming awards, a testament to the relentless pursuit of excellence that seemed to be ingrained in the very fabric of ANHS.

Finally, you reached a secluded wing of the building. Here, the air held a subtle shift in energy. The once excited chatter had morphed into a more focused determination, a quiet hum of ambition replacing the initial exuberance.

Pushing open the door to Class 1-D, you were greeted by a sight that sent a jolt of surprise through you. Most of the faces were familiar – remnants of your past life you'd hoped to see. But one particular absence caused a knot to form in your stomach. Where was Nanase?

Casually glancing around the room, you scanned the nametags discreetly placed behind each chair. Relief washed over you as your eyes landed on one that read "Nanase Tsubasa." There, tucked away in a corner seat, sat your old friend, seemingly oblivious to your silent search.

Suddenly, the droning voice of a man filled the room, grabbing your attention. A large figure, easily recognizable as the gorilla – I mean, Hosen – shifted in his seat as a gruff-looking man with a faint scar disappearing into his hairline strode into the classroom. This must be Shiba-sensei, your new homeroom teacher.

Hosen, unlike most students, wasn't sprawled out in his chair. Instead, he sat with his back ramrod straight, his imposing physique filling the space around him. His spiky silver-blonde hair seemed to defy gravity, and his icy blue eyes held a glint that could intimidate even the most seasoned upperclassman. Despite his imposing exterior, you detected a flicker of hidden intelligence in his gaze, a dangerous combination in your mi-

As expected, the gruff instructor launched into his spiel with a demeanor that screamed "white room instructor."

"Alright, Class D! Gather around," he boomed, his voice leaving no room for interruption. "Time for your homeroom teacher to give you the lowdown. Buckle up, because this ain't your average high school experience."

He wasted no time addressing the elephant in the room. "We are Class D," he declared, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The rejects, the dregs, the bottom feeders of this prestigious institution. Like it or not, that's our starting point. But hey, even a D can rise above, if you've got the guts."

Next came a rundown of the school's point system. Each student had a stockpile of private points, a "war chest" for anything from fancy meals to academic resources. Points were power in this school, the instructor emphasized, and Class D, unsurprisingly, was dealt a measly 800 class points.