Kouenji slowly raises his silver mirror back up to eye level and tilts his head slightly to inspect the sharp line of his chin.
"Common sense?" Kouenji chuckles softly. "A term used by the mediocre to justify their own complete lack of imagination."
The office worker's jaw clenches tight. His knuckles turn pale white where he grips the plastic seat back.
"If you feel so strongly about it," Kouenji counters flatly without ever looking up from his reflection, "why don't you offer her yours? Oh, wait... you are already standing. What a pity."
The older man's face turns a much darker shade of angry red. He opens his mouth wide to shout an insult, but no words come out. He stands completely disarmed by Kouenji's utter lack of public shame.
The office worker grumbles something incomprehensible under his breath and turns his heavy head away in defeat, staring blankly down at the dirty rubber floor.
The elderly woman shifts her weight awkwardly, her face flushing with deep embarrassment at becoming the center of such a loud public dispute. She releases her tight grip on the hanging plastic ring with one hand and waves it frantically in the air, trying to physically wave away the rising tension.
"Please, it is quite alright," she says. Her voice is fragile and breathless, carrying a heavy tone of apology and offers a strained, pacifying smile to Kushida and the sweating office worker. "There is no need to fight on my account. I truly do not mind standing. Thank you for your kindness, though."
She bows her head several times in quick succession, shrinking her posture down as if trying to make herself invisible to the surrounding crowd.
Kushida refuses to surrender the issue. Turning away from Kouenji's smug reflection, she pivots on her heels to face the entire crowded cabin. Her bright eyes frantically scan the long rows of seated students.
"Excuse me!" she calls out. Her voice projects clearly over the heavy diesel engine, laced with a desperate, pleading edge. "Is there anyone else willing to give up their seat for this sweet lady? Please?"
A suffocating silence immediately blankets the interior. Dozens of passengers actively avert their gaze. Some stare intently down at glowing phone screens, while others suddenly find the passing storefronts outside the windows incredibly fascinating.
From the very back row of the bus, a young woman pushes herself quickly up from her seat.
"Here," the young woman calls out loudly as she waves a hand over the tops of the students' heads. "You can have my seat."
The elderly woman turns her head around. Immediate relief washes over her deeply wrinkled face. "Thank you. Thank you very much."
She bows her gray head repeatedly and shuffles slowly past the solid wall of standing students, her hip bumping against a vertical metal pole, until she finally reaches the empty spot. She sits down heavily onto the bench, letting out a long, very tired breath of air.
Kushida turns around and smiles brightly at the young woman. It is a look of genuine, warm relief.
The heavy tension does not leave the metal cabin. The silence remains incredibly thick and distinctly uncomfortable. Kouenji continues to quietly admire his own reflection in the small silver mirror. He hums a quiet, upbeat tune to himself.
Horikita turns another dry page.
Ayanokouji blinks slowly while silently watching the green trees pass by outside the glass.
Above their heads, a small speaker crackles loudly to life with a burst of static. An automated voice announces their final arrival at the Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.
The heavy bus slows down one final time. The air brakes squeal loudly against the spinning tires as the vehicle rolls over a large speed bump.
The bus stops moving completely. The hydraulic doors hiss open with a rush of pressurized air, letting the morning breeze flood the stagnant cabin.
Tal releases his tight grip on the cold metal handrail and steps forward into the moving, shifting crowd.