The concept of a self-introduction is a flawed social construct. It forces the compression of one's entire identity into a ten-second auditory broadcast. This is a structural vulnerability for me. It is not that I desire complete invisibility; statistically, establishing a cooperative network of peers increases the probability of survival and resource acquisition in a closed institutional environment. I want to integrate. I want to form friendships. However, my communication protocols are fundamentally unsocial. I lack the intuitive algorithms required to navigate casual social banter without triggering a rejection response from the group. The mere anticipation of standing and speaking has already elevated my heart rate to 110 beats per minute.
"Alright, settle down. I'm Kuzumi Ichiro. I'll be your homeroom teacher for the year," he said, his voice a dry baritone.
He didn't look at the students; instead, he began rubbing his temples as if anticipating a headache.
"Unlike other schools, we have different rules here. Homeroom begins at 8:15 AM. Classes run from 8:30 AM until 5:35 PM. There will be no homework and no mandatory class projects. You may utilize your time however you see fit, provided you maintain daily attendance and achieve passing metrics on your examinations."
The students gasped. A 5:35 PM dismissal time is a statistical anomaly for standard high schools. The subsequent revelation regarding the absence of homework and projects elicited a collective, audible exhalation of relief.
"Zenith Academy operates on a principle of autonomy—or, as I prefer to call it, 'staying out of your way until you break a rule.' There will be no classes on the first day, so let's start with class introductions. Try to be efficient. Time is the only resource we can't reclaim."
Our teacher displays symptoms of chronic sleep deprivation and high cortisol. His emphasis on time as a non-renewable resource suggests a utilitarian worldview. Kuzumi-sensei will likely prioritize results over process. A superior who desires minimal interaction is the optimal guardian for a student aiming to minimize their social footprint.
Kuzumi-sensei leaned against the whiteboard, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. He uncapped a dry-erase marker and tapped it against the smooth white surface, making a dull thud.
"Right. Introductions," Kuzumi-sensei mumbled. "Stand up, state your name, and tell us one thing you like. Keep it short. I haven't had my second coffee yet. Let's start from row 1 column 1 to row 8 column 5."
The first student, a boy with neatly parted hair and glasses that seemed a size too big for his face, stood up immediately. He adjusted his collar.
"I am Koenji Kenji," he announced with stiff precision. "I intend to run the Student Council President election this year. I enjoy reading the school bylaws and maintaining order."
He bowed at a perfect forty-five-degree angle and sat down.
Great. A rules lawyer. He's going to be the type to remind the teacher about homework assignments.
Next was a girl with bright accessories in her hair. She stood up, giggling slightly.
"Hi! I'm Aoki Kaori! I love karaoke and checking my horoscope every morning! Let's all get along!"
She flashed a peace sign. A few boys waved back.
Subject displays high extraversion. Dopaminergic signaling is evident in her rapid speech patterns. Likely to form the social hub of the class's 'popular girl' clique.
"I'm Tendo Shinji," he said. His voice was naturally charismatic. "I like playing basketball. Let's make this a fun year, everyone." He sat down, and a few girls in the front were already whispering about how cool he looked.
A large boy with a buzzcut stood up next, knocking his desk slightly.
"I'm Fujita Daiki!" he boomed. "Judo Club! If anyone wants to spar, come find me!"
"Please don't spar in the classroom, Fujita," Kuzumi-sensei sighed. "Next."
The introductions continued down the rows. It was a standard distribution of high school archetypes: the gamer, the artist, the sleeper. Finally, the turn reached the row of four desks near the back.
When it reached the middle row, a girl stood up. She had a very pretty face and a gentle, welcoming aura.
"Hello, my name is Tendo Akari," she said softly. "I enjoy listening to music. Please take care of me."
The turns kept moving backward until it reached row 7, column 4—the seat directly in front of Albert. The girl stood up. She was also very attractive, with neat hair and a graceful posture.
"I am Tendo Kyoko," she said clearly. "I like reading literature. It is nice to meet you all." She sat back down.
That makes three Tendos in one class. It's a pretty common last name around my neighborhood; my family actually has four different neighbors with the surname Tendo. Still, it's hard not to notice that all three of them are incredibly good-looking. They are definitely way above average. But that girl's hair…
As she stood there, the whole class couldn't help but stare. Whispers started breaking out across the room. She was the only person in the entire classroom with bright blonde hair.
"Hold on a moment, Tendo Kyoko," Kuzumi-sensei said, cutting through the chatter. "The school is very strict about the dress code, especially regarding hair color. The disciplinary committee usually stops anyone at the front gate who violates this rule. Since you managed to get inside, I assume you have a foreign parent? Or maybe grandparents from Europe?"
Kyoko remained standing. She looked calmly at the teacher and replied, "No, sensei. My family is fully Japanese."
The class started whispering again, looking confused. If she didn't have foreign blood, they naturally assumed her hair was dyed. But if it was dyed, how did she get past the strict gate inspections?
Kuzumi-sensei frowned slightly and picked up his tablet. He scrolled through the screen for a few seconds until his finger stopped on a specific file. He read it quickly.
"Ah. I see. I understand now," he said, setting the tablet back down. He faced the students. "She is completely cleared. There is no rule violation here. You can ask her about it later on your own time.
Let's continue with the self-introductions."
Kyoko gave a small, polite bow and sat down.
Albert watched her from his seat.
Porcelain skin, bright blonde hair, and she seems to have zero physical or visual side effects. People with standard albinism usually suffer from sensitive eyes or poor vision, but she looks perfectly healthy. If it isn't hair dye, there is only one highly probable explanation.
It's a dual genetic anomaly. First, she inherited specific variants of the OCA2 and SLC24A5 genes, which naturally give her exceptionally pale, yet healthy, skin. Second, she possesses a rare de novo TYRP1 missense mutation. In simple terms, her skin is naturally pale by standard genetics, but a random mutation specifically stripped the dark pigment from her hair follicles alone. Because the mutation is isolated to her hair, it completely spared her eyesight and overall health. It is an incredibly rare, but mathematically possible, condition.
Finally, the turn reached the row of four desks near the back.
Sterling Leo stood up.
The shifting of chairs and whispering stopped instantly. The atmosphere in the room changed. It wasn't just his height or his face; it was his posture—relaxed, open, dominated by the parasympathetic nervous system indicating zero stress.
"Hey, everyone," Leo said, his voice projecting effortlessly without shouting. "I'm Sterling Leo. It's nice to meet you all."
He ran a hand through his hair, a habitual tic that somehow looked choreographed, perfectly executed.
"I'll be joining the Track and Field club. I'm aiming for Nationals this year, so if anyone likes running, let's train together."
He flashed his signature grin—the one that involved exactly appropriate zygomatic major muscle contraction to appear genuine but charismatic.
"Let's have a good year."
Leo sat down.
"He's so cool..." a girl in the front row whispered loud enough for half the room to hear."
"Did you see his shoulders? Definitely an athlete," a boy muttered to his friend.
The 'Halo Effect' in action. Because he is physically attractive and confident, observers cognitively bias his other traits—intelligence, kindness, leadership—as positive without evidence. He has captured 95% of the room's attention span.
Next, Tachibana Maya stood up.
If Leo was the calm authority, Maya was the burst of sunlight. She smoothed her skirt and clasped her hands in front of her.
"Hello!" Her voice was a perfect major third interval higher than the ambient noise, cutting through clearly. "I am Tachibana Maya."
She paused, making eye contact with several people across the room, making each one feel acknowledged.
"I love baking cookies and reading mystery novels! I'm a little clumsy sometimes, so please look after me!"
She bowed deeply.
"C-Cute..." the boy sitting in front of her stuttered, his face turning the color of a ripe tomato.
"She's an angel," another whispered. "Did you hear that? She bakes."
Strategic vulnerability. By admitting a flaw ('clumsy'), she disarms potential jealousy from other females while simultaneously triggering the biological protective instinct in the males. A masterclass in social engineering, even if she does it unconsciously. The room's collective oxytocin levels just spiked.
The classroom was buzzing. Everyone was looking at Leo and Maya, whispering to their neighbors about the two stars who had landed in Class 1-4.
I should not be thinking of other things. I should be thinking of how I am going to survive this self-introduction phase.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Then, it was Albert's turn.
Act normal. Don't say nerdy words. Hope that they will ignore me.
Albert stood up nervously.
"I'm Atherton Albert," he said.
Endnote of Chapter 2
The Science of Blonde Hair: Having blonde hair without foreign blood, although rare, is genetically possible. This is not a fictional case because it could exist in real life.