Third Person POV:
Once upon a time, there was...
A young man.
Like, your 19 y.o. typical average joe strolling down the city streets under the scorching sun, fresh from a grocery run. He's got this slick brown hair, a white shirt that's probably stained with sweat and some shorts that are way too short for his hairy legs.
But who cares about that, right?
You wanna know why?
'Cause here comes a motherfuckin' truck hauling ass at a hundred miles per hour out of nowhere, engine roaring like a pissed off grizzly bear and barreling down the road like its ass is on fire, ready to turn this guy into roadkill.
What about the driver?
Oh, he's losing his shit, blaring the horn like there's no tomorrow while desperately trying to halt the death machine with busted brakes. And our guy's either gone deaf from the noise or just plain oblivious to his impending doom, clueless as a goldfish on a roller coaster.
Take a guess, why that happen?
He's got his earphones jammed in, blasting some god-awful dubstep remix that's probably causing internal bleeding in his ear canals. He couldn't give a flying fuck about the world around him, much less the truck that's about to send him to meet his maker.
But you gotta understand, he's a card-carrying member of the introverts' club who couldn't give two shits about the world around him.
Yeah, that's right.
Our guy's about as sociable as a cactus in the desert.
"Move your fuckin' ass, kid!" Tuckson, the trucker, shouted at the poor young man about to become best friends with the front bumper.
The guy took a look to his right and saw a truck that seemed ready to start a bust some moves on the dance floor with its massive cargo of steel beams.
And the truck...
Well...
It straight-up screamed, 'I'M COMING FOR THAT ASS KIDDO!' Right in his face.
CRAAAASSSH!
But all he hears is the sound of his skull cracking.
The black-haired kid in a blue shirt looking like he just stepped out of a tombstone, rolled his eyes online and bolted upright from his bed, his body smothered in sweat. He started patting himself down, checking out his chest, legs, neck, and his skull, feeling like he'd just woken up from a fucked up dream.
But this wasn't some twisted joke.
This was real shit.
Then he whipped his head around so fast you'd bet your ass you heard something crack, his eyes darting everywhere like a pinball.
Panic mode activated.
'Where the fuck am I?!' Shouted inside his head. Just moments ago, he was on those wild city streets and minding his own business after grabbing some groceries, but now?
Now, he finds himself in some damn random room, with a bed that looks like it's been sat on by a thousand asses, a TV, a tiny-ass desk that's barely holding up his stack of questionable magazines, and to top it all off, his fucking Ikusei school uniform neatly packed in the damn wardrobe.
"..."
'Hold the fuck up, what uniform?'
Who is he again?
The black-haired guy face scrunches up in a cocktail of panic and confusion. He couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something important was missing, it felt like someone had taken a giant eraser and wiped out a crucial part of his damn life.
He's Yamauchi...
But, shit, he's Johnny.
No, he's Yamauchi.
His phone suddenly began to ring in his pants, vibrating and blaring with a ridiculously obnoxious tone. He hastily retrieved it and glanced at the caller ID.
It was Kushida.
It was in Japanese.
And why the hell could he read it—
'Oh, for fuck's sake!'
Taking a deep breath, he answered the call, his tone laced with a hint of anxiety. "Moshi-moshi..." he muttered into the phone, desperately trying to gather his wits. After all, he had just been isekai'ed by a goddamn truck.
"Heya~! Yamauchi-kun!" came the cheerful, feminine voice of his classmate from the other end of the line.
"Oh-uh, yeah, hey, what's going on, Kushida-san?" he stuttered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure amidst the insane of his current situation.
"Can you join our study group later in the library~?" she asked innocently, unaware of the mind-boggling mind-mashing madness he had just experienced.
Now, Johnny—ahem—Yamauchi, in a state of utter panic and response in stammered, "I-I can't—"
But before he could finish his sentence, she interjected with a plea. "Please~?" He could practically sense her puppy eyes on the other end of the call.
"...Yeah, just let me know if you guys are ready," he replied, although deep down, his mind was screaming something entirely different.
'Fan fucking tastic,' his inner voice chimed in sarcastically. As if he had any clue what the hell was going on.
"Great~! I'll give you a call back!" Kushida cheerfully declared before ending the call.
'...Well, shit.'
He plopped down on the bed, feeling utterly alone as he pondered the pressing question of his goddamn identity.
Who the fuck was he, or rather, whose poor bastard of a body had he hijacked and mind-mashed like a potato? He tried to recall any fragments of memory that might shed some light on the situation.
Haruki Yamauchi, that was the name. A first-year student from Advanced Nurturing High School School. He had somehow managed to stumble his way into this prestigious institution, much to his own disbelief. It was a miracle he hadn't tripped over his own damn luck and ended up face-first in a pile of shit.
But, fuck, he, Johnny never asked for this! He could have been isekai'ed into some epic fantasy realm with magic and dragons, but no, he's stuck in a goddamn high school. And not just any high school, but a prestigious, elite one at that. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He was a third-year back in his own world, for crying out loud!
How the hell was he supposed to compete with all those smartasses who had been in this school since day one? It felt like a cruel joke, a twisted restart of his entire school life, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, scream, or just fuck the whole damn situation off.
"..." Wait a minute. He wasn't the only dumbass here. The whole Class D were too.
Oh thank god...
Actually, it was more like some of the students were complete morons. The most famous ones being him, Sudou, and Ike, the Trio.
Ah, now he remembered why Kushida had asked him to study together with others in the library.
The Trio, their group was a bunch of fucking idiots.
He also recalled from Yamauchi's memories that they had made a pact not to study for the mid-term exams...
Call him an asshole and traitor, but there was no way in hell he was going to get expelled just because of a low test score. He had to find a way to survive this shitshow of a school, no matter how much of a dumbass he was.
Surprisingly, when he arrived at the library, he thought he was the only one being from the Trio who actually gave a damn about studying, like he was the only idiot who cared about his academic future in this damn school, no matter how much of a pain in the ass it was.
He had initially thought that this school was only meant for the absolute cream of the crop, the fucking geniuses on par with Einstein. Y'know, the kind of place that was on the same level as Harvard or Cambridge. But clearly, he had overestimated it.
Then again, Yamauchi's memory was as reliable as a dumpster fire. He couldn't even remember how the hell he managed to get into this elite school in the first place. It was like his memories had been dumped into a bin and left to rot.
"...Are you serious? How the hell do you not know basic algebra?" Johnny, or rather, Yamauchi exclaimed in utter disbelief, staring at the red-haired idiot.
Sudou clearly offended by the comment, he shot back, "Like you're one to talk, dumbass..."
Meanwhile, Horikita who sitting beside him, facepalmed and shook her head, probably questioning the very fabric of the universe that allowed Sudou to get into this school.
Seriously, it was suicidal.
"It's basic shit, the fuck are you even talking about?" Yamauchi blurted out, his frustration reaching new heights. The whole table was now in shock, not because of Sudou's lack of knowledge, but because Yamauchi had just unleashed a stream of profanities that would make a sailor blush.
"Fine, you fuckin' moron! Why don't you give it a shot then?" Sudou sneered as he tossed the damn book at Yamauchi, who barely managed to snatch it out of the air with his clumsy hands.
Now, Yamauchi stared down at the quadratic equations in front of him. Well, at least it wasn't some convoluted word and calculation problem that required deciphering some story. It was just a bunch of numbers and symbols, nothing too complex.
He took a deep breath, grabbed his trusty pen, and dived into the task at hand. The pen danced across the paper as he tackled the equations, juggling variables, fractions, and exponents like a goddamn math ninja.
After a few minutes of intense concentration, he finally finished. He tossed the book back at Sudou, who caught it with a bewildered expression. Ike, who had been peering over Sudou's shoulder, also looked at the answers in astonishment.
They both stared at Yamauchi with wide eyes, as if questioning their very existence. It was as if they were thinking, 'Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Yamauchi?' The dumbfounded silence lingered for a moment before Sudou finally managed to stutter out, "Y-yamauchi, what the actual fuck? Since when are you smart at math?"
"It's basic, for fuck's sake! How the hell did you not know any of this?" Yamauchi's disbelief etched in his face as he stared at the two idiots in front of him. Instead of feeling proud of his own smartass, he felt a mix of frustration and confusion.
Kushida chimed in, her confusion mirroring Yamauchi's. "But your math quiz scores were way below average," she pointed out, her perspective of him shifting. It was as if she was seeing a completely different person than before.
Yamauchi couldn't help but remember the infamous quiz, the one that exposed everyone's study scores to the entire class and followed by revealing the harsh reality of the S-system bullshit told by their homeroom teacher. The class had been fooling themselves, thinking they could get away with their points, and lack of effort and attitude. But in the end, their class points plummeted to fucking zero, meaning no credits for anyone.
"Yeah, so what? I finished those damn Algebra shits, right?" Yamauchi interjected. Granted, he was a last-year, almost-graduate from high school back in his own world, but it still didn't explain why Sudou had absolutely no clue about algebra. It was as if the guy had never paid attention in class or bothered to study.
But Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's expression told a different story. He looked at Yamauchi with a perplexed face, as if trying to unravel the mystery behind this sudden transformation. It wasn't just Sudou, Kushida, Ike, and Horikita who were utterly confused by Yamauchi's newfound intelligence and foul-mouthed vocabulary. Even the pretentious genius himself was taken aback.
The whole group sat there, bewildered as fuck, trying to make sense of the situation. The Yamauchi they knew had vanished, replaced by this unexpected blend of intelligence and profanity.
They look at Yamauchi.
He stares back at them.
"...It's not basic, Yamauchi-san. It's advanced algebra," Horikita, with her goddamn raven hair and those intense red eyes, said slowly, studying Yamauchi's face like she was trying to solve a damn puzzle.
Yamauchi now looking like a lost puppy, scratched his head and replied, "Wait, seriously? I thought it was just some simple shit."
Finally Sudou getting fed up, he rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated groan. "I skipped basketball practice for this? I don't need some bookworm to be successful. Being a fuckin' basketball player is all I need."
"Sure, we don't need you in class anyway. Who wants a student who can't answer questions to save their life?" Horikita piped in, her expression as cold as ice.
"You!" Sudou barked, lunging towards Horikita as if he wanted to grab her by the collar.
But before he could lay a hand on her, Yamauchi jumped up like a caffeinated squirrel and shoved Sudou away, his face drenched in sweat and a nervous laughter escaping his lips.
"Whoa, whoa, man! Get a hold yourself!" Yamauchi pleaded, desperately trying to prevent a full-blown brawl.
Sudou, his eyes shooting daggers, forcefully pushed Yamauchi's hands off his chest and began packing up his shit. "I'm outta here, man. I don't need some chick throwing shade at me like that," Sudou muttered, his frustration ringing loud and clear.
He stormed out of the room, leaving behind a cloud of tension and a bunch of confused faces. Yamauchi let out a sigh of relief, muttering to himself, "Damn, that was a close one..."
Ike let out an awkward and sheepish laugh, realizing the tension in the room had reached its peak. "I guess I should go too," he muttered, hastily packing his stuff and making a beeline for the exit.
The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a fucking knife. Kushida finally broke the ice, her voice dripping with concern.
"Horikita-san, that was really rude, you know. No one is going to want to study with you if you keep acting like this."
Horikita sighed, her gaze unwavering as she responded, "I know that. It was a mistake. But if they don't have the commitment to do something about their grades, then they're just holding us back. Let them face the consequences and be expelled from this school. I really couldn't care less."
Kushida's smile faltered, a hint of disappointment in her eyes upon hearing Horikita's cold words. "I-I see. In that case, I'll find a solution for myself. I really don't want to abandon them so soon. After all, you were the one who created this study group, right?" Kushida's words held a glimmer of sincerity, but Horikita's gaze remained icy.
"If you truly mean that, then I wouldn't mind. Or rather, what is it that you're really after, Kushida-san?" Horikita's blunt question hung in the air, challenging Kushida to reveal her true intentions.
"W-what? What are you trying to insinuate? I tried to be friends with you, and I can't believe you have any awful thoughts about me," Kushida stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration.
With a shaky breath, she turned and swiftly left, leaving Yamauchi, Kiyotaka, and Horikita alone at the table. Yamauchi, feeling dumbfounded and utterly confused, scratched his head in disbelief.
"...You're not leaving too?" Horikita asked Yamauchi, her icy demeanor still intact, though her confusion was evident on her tone.
"Uh, are we done here?" Yamauchi replied.
Horikita's expression remained blank and cold as she responded, "Yes, you can leave."
Yamauchi nodded awkwardly, mumbling, "O-oh, okay then,"
Yamauchi jumped up from his chair, hastily shoving his books, pens, and all his shit into his bag. He yanked out his earphones and jammed them into his ears, causing it to be filled with the obnoxiously loud screeching of his dub-dub music.
Kiyotaka winced at the sound, contemplating whether Yamauchi's newfound habit was a sign that he was headed straight for an accident in the future.
Seriously, blasting that shit at full volume? It was a miracle his eardrums hadn't burst yet.
Author Notes: Hey, uh, I'm a newbie and lone writer on FF here...
Anyway, I wanna say much about the story summary, you already know and that is: We all know Haruki Yamauchi, right? A side character, pervert, liar, total idiot. But what if he fuck the script? What if he had a whole different vibe? Toss some poor last-year schmuck (Or is it...?) from another world into him. OC-Haruki Yamauchi.
Yeah, Johnny and Yamauchi's brains kinda merge. So, who's running the show? Does Johnny know about COTE? Here's the lowdown: Both are at the wheel, but Johnny's traits lead the pack. Confused? Just think of the OC as Yamauchi for an easy ride. Oh, and Johnny's clueless about COTE.
Expect identity crisis.
Who's Johnny, you ask? Just a third-year high school boi in his last year. No dark past, just your typical high school chaos – bullying, drama, the jazz. Personally, Johnny's name adds some laughs to the mix of comedy, crack, drama, and action.
Like Johnny-johnny yes papa? Ring a bell? the one where, you know...
Now, why is he such a smartass? Simple. Guy had a bright future back in his world, get a degree and alphabet-style job.
But poor sap got isekai'ed.
So, thanks for reading this.