Welcome to the Classroom of Espers (Classroom of the Elite x The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Chapter 3: First Day

Shopping with Kanzaki… or rather, “window shopping” would be more accurate. We wandered through several of the facilities, and since it was the very first day of enrollment, most of the people around were fellow freshmen like us.

We bumped into a few of our B-Class classmates along the way, but considering we’d only known each other for a couple of hours, no one went out of their way to approach us. The only ones who came over were Ichinose and Shibata.

Even then, it was just a quick greeting before they returned to their groups. Nothing annoying, nothing troublesome.

If even Class B was this easygoing, I couldn’t help but wonder what Class A was like. But sooner or later, I’d find out anyway.

“Saiki, look—they’ve got one here too.”

I’d tagged along because Kanzaki wanted to stop by a convenience store before heading back. Some of the shops had what they called a “Free Corner.”

Judging by the contents, it seemed like a safety net for students from Classes C and D—whose point stipends were lower—or for those who burned through all their points before the end of the month.

“Because it’s close to the expiration date… you’d think they’d just mark it half-off instead.”

The Free Corner stocked near-expired perishables, retort pouches, instant noodles, cheap daily necessities—all the essentials for survival.

Discounted items existed too, but those were mostly non-essentials like snacks, drinks, and magazines. As for water, that was distributed free, so there was no need to buy beverages at all.

There was a limit on quantities, but since it reset daily, if you were diligent, you could probably survive the whole month without spending a single point.

“What do you think, Saiki?”

(Unless we shuffle seats, we’ll be neighbors for a long time. No harm in knowing how he thinks.)

Sorry, but I already know the “answer” thanks to spoilers before I got here.

If I pretended it was my own deduction, and then in a month it matched the school’s “big reveal” word-for-word, I’d look like some kind of system expert. That’d draw unnecessary attention—from Kanzaki and everyone else.

That’s exactly what I want to avoid.

All I want is to graduate quietly, without standing out. Worst case, I could even drop out. But if I purposely dropped out and went home, I have no idea what my mother would say.

If it were just scolding, fine. But if she cried… I’d feel guilty about it.

That’s why I’d rather just keep things peaceful—living day by day, without needing to use my powers.

So, to Kanzaki, I simply said it looked like a bailout for students who overspent their points.

“I see. I had a similar thought. Still, with a hundred thousand points a month, I doubt students would really run out that fast.”

(Unless there’s some event mid-month that drains points. But utilities like gas, electricity, and water are supposedly free, so what could possibly eat that much? Entertainment alone shouldn’t do it…)

…Well, I suppose I can drop a hint or two.

A hundred thousand points a month, multiplied by all four classes, continued over three years… that’s a staggering sum.

Generous of the government to bankroll us “promising youths” like that. And not just our year—three whole grade levels’ worth.

“…Well, now that you mention it, Hoshinomiya-sensei did call it a reward for admission. She said points would be deposited at the beginning of each month, but… she never actually said it would always be the same amount.”

This convenience store sells sweets cheaper than the one near my house. Same quantity, same packaging. Guess that’s what happens when the government runs the place—they can sell things closer to cost. Not like it matters if it all expires.

“…Maybe I’ll ask Hoshinomiya-sensei tomorrow.”

Sure, go ahead. She’ll definitely dodge the question.

I’d overheard the clerks muttering when a few students from other classes made some big purchases:

(Ah, April’s traditional New Student Splurge Festival.)

(The school’s so sneaky, hiding the S-System until May. But I guess that’s part of the ‘lesson.’)

Which means that until May rolls around, none of us freshmen will get the full details of how the point system really works.

Still, Hoshinomiya-sensei’s mental spoilers are so loud that if I passed them on to Kanzaki, he’d get spoiled too.

Not happening.

If I did that, my psychic powers would be exposed in an instant.

“Thanks, Saiki. You noticed things I never would’ve on my own. I appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”

(Saiki Kusuo… Plain at first glance, but sharp when it comes to observation. And he’s not blinded by the thrill of having 100,000 points. Cool-headed.)

…He didn’t comment on my hairpin. That’s unusual.

My reputation in Kanzaki’s eyes has gone up a little. But really, that’s just because he doesn’t know anyone else yet. Give it two weeks and he’ll be chatting with Ichinose and the others, and I’ll slide back into the average ranks.

Since it’s a dorm school, there’s no unpacking to do, but I was glad we split before sunset—plenty of time to sort what I actually need to buy. Which, for me, is basically just food.

“Oh, welcome back, Kuu-chan. How was school? Think you’ll get along with your classmates?”

I don’t cook at the dorm. I eat at home.

Some might call it cheating, but hey—using the abilities I was born with is fair game, isn’t it? Psychic powers are a kind of skill too.

“Oh my, the meat from the supermarket near your school is really cheap. How much did it cost you?”

Money? No need.

Even if I had it, it wouldn’t work over there.

“Eh…? Wait—don’t tell me it’s another world…?”

In a way, you could call it that.

They’ve got their own currency, and all outside contact is cut off.

I’ll take the trash from here with me. If I don’t, it’ll look suspicious.

I need to make sure I use up some points anyway. If the school reviews my purchase history and notices inactivity, it could draw unwanted attention. And if I threw away items without bringing back the packaging, I could even get accused of illegal dumping.

So, yes—better to carry the garbage back.

Come to think of it, I didn’t buy any seasonings. If someone looks too closely, it’ll probably look like I’m just eating plain grilled meat every day. But I doubt the school’s going to nag students about their dietary choices.

A cell phone terminal… oh, whatever, I’ll just call it a smartphone.

The phone comes with GPS, but I don’t. Which means slipping back home shouldn’t be that difficult.

The problem is the cameras. Not just at school—there are surveillance cameras all over town, even in the dorm’s hallways and entrance.

Teleportation is only safe from places without cameras, like my room, a bathroom, or a changing room.

Not that I’ll need to teleport anywhere besides home. But my other psychic powers are another story. Out in the open, I’ll have to be careful.

So, for now, I’ll spend the first month scouting out blind spots around campus. If there are any.

Dinner’s done.

Time for bed.

“Good night, Kuu-chan.”

(He didn’t even stop to talk to his father… he must be exhausted. Still, he’s late again. It’s not an affair, right? …If it is, I’ll kill him…)

Yeah, good night.

Not that I’m actually sleeping—I just want some time to think.

I already used clairvoyance earlier and saw Dad licking some executive’s shoes. Probably part of his job.

Not an affair, so don’t worry, Mom.

As for “thinking,” the only thing to think about is how I’m supposed to live here.

With the number of cameras on campus, I can’t use my powers carelessly. Clairvoyance is harmless—just looks like I’m going cross-eyed—but teleportation is out, and invisibility or transformation are risky too.

Invisibility would be useful in a pinch, but if the camera catches the moment I vanish, that’s the end of it.

Hopefully I can get through school without needing those powers at all.

. . . .

The day after the entrance ceremony.

The very first classes of my high school life began.

Since it was the opening session, most of it was just talk about the course structure. Some teachers stuck to the textbook, others handed out their own worksheets or notes.

I’ve already covered high school–level material, so I had no problem following the orientation.

“I’m Chabashira. I’ll be teaching Japanese History, and I’m also the homeroom teacher for Class 1-D. You’ll be seeing a lot of me over the next three years, so let’s get along.”

(So this is this year’s Class B, huh. As usual, it looks like they’ve gathered the sharp ones.)

“For my classes, I’ll be using the standard textbook you were issued in advance. Please check now to make sure there are no missing pages or damage.”

(Almost everyone in here scored B or higher. Even Shiranami, who’s weak in physical ability, is still leagues above the rejects in my class when it comes to academics or other skills.)

…Calling your own students “rejects” isn’t a great look.

Then again, judging from the mess of thoughts I overhear from Class D, maybe it’s understandable.

While some kids in our class whisper to neighbors or sneak a glance at their phones, Class D apparently already has students skipping, showing up late, or dozing off on day one.

Chabashira-sensei’s roster apparently includes the evaluations from our entrance exams.

Might be worth peeking with clairvoyance when I’m bored.

The roster probably even notes why Ichinose stopped attending school before—but that’s not something I should pry into. I’ll only look at my own record.

“Taking notes is up to you. There’s no requirement to submit them. Feel free to write directly in the textbook if you prefer.”

(But this year’s Class D has Ayanokoji. Horikita and Koenji may have hopeless personalities, but their potential is high. This time… this time, my class will reach Class A!)

So, Chabashira-sensei is ambitious.

But I thought it was tradition for Class D to gather the weaker students. Even if they could climb up to Class C, is there really enough growth potential to reach Class A?

How exactly do you get a class full of students with “Class A–B ability but hopeless personalities”?

Do they reek like something worse than vomit or what?

And what’s with that Ayanokoji kid? She seems to think he alone can overturn the difference between classes.

Ichinose seems eager to build connections with other classes, so I can probably learn about them through her.

That said, if someone’s deliberately holding back to stay in Class D, Ichinose might not notice.

“Now then, let me explain the curriculum for the first semester. Please turn to the table of contents in your textbook.”

(Heh… but whether Ayanokoji is really someone worth the Chairman’s attention is still uncertain. The midterms will reveal the truth.)

…Is it really okay for a teacher at a national school to think like this?

(This time I’ll finally make Chie eat dirt…! Besides summer vacation and the sports festival, there are also class-versus-class special exams. At those, kukuku…)

So the “Sae-chan” Hoshinomiya-sensei mentioned earlier was Chabashira-sensei.

And just like that, I’ve been spoiled about the existence of summer vacation exams and inter-class battles. Only me, thanks to telepathy.

It’s amazing how she can keep that iron mask face while scheming like this.

I thought the other teachers would leak spoilers in their thoughts too, like Hoshinomiya-sensei and Chabashira-sensei. But Mashima-sensei, the Class A homeroom teacher, and Sakagami-sensei, Class C’s teacher, didn’t think anything of the sort.

Seems like those two have some kind of feud, but hopefully it has nothing to do with me.

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Advanced Nurturing High School Database

Name: Saiki Kusuo

Birthday: August 16

Academic Ability: B+

Intelligence: B+

Decision Making: B

Physical Ability: B–

Cooperativeness: B–

Interviewer’s Comments

He solved the academic test without difficulty, though there were some scattered mistakes. However, since most of his answers were close to correct, his intelligence is considered high.

His physical ability measured about average for male middle school students nationwide.

As for cooperativeness, his former homeroom teacher noted that while he wasn’t the type to actively engage with others, he did reliably fulfill any assigned roles. Thus, he is considered cooperative.

Most of all, his interview performance was excellent—his responses were natural, with no awkward pauses—leading to the conclusion that placement in Class B is appropriate.

Homeroom Teacher’s Comments

His hairpin is charming.

His class attitude and daily behavior are earnest. He seems to spend points only on food and sweets.

He talks when spoken to, but I rarely see him initiating conversation. I’ll make sure to support him so he can blend into the class more smoothly.

Bonus Section: First Impressions of Saiki

General Consensus: (What’s with that hairpin…?)

Ichinose: A classmate with a strange hairpin. Maybe it’s fashion? He’s quiet, but when spoken to, he answers properly. I think he’s a good person.

Kanzaki: He sits behind me. From his introduction, I got the sense he dislikes noise, just like me.

Shibata: The boy I exchanged introductions with last. Since he doesn’t like talking about himself, I’m struggling to figure out how to approach him.

Hoshinomiya (homeroom teacher): Same as above.